langdonandmel

"In everyone’s life, there is great need for an anam cara, a soul friend. In this love, you are understood as you are without mask or pretension. The superficial and functional lies and half-truths of social acquaintance fall away, you can be as you really are. Love allows understanding to dawn, and understanding is precious. Where you are understood, you are at home. - John O'Donohue.

"Dr Langdon? We need you in Trauma 6." Emma perked up politely as she ducked her head around the door.

"Yep–give me two seconds." Frank said, distracted. He drew out the word "seconds" as he finished his final stitch on a face laceration–a cute two-year-old who had bumped his head off the corner of a coffee table–Frank had recommended the little soft corner covers that worked for Tanner when he started bumping his head off everything.

"Dr Langdon. We–uh–really need you in Trauma 6." Emma repeated again, sounding gradually more nervous as she kept turning her head backwards and forwards.

"One second," Frank replied, politely, but focused on the task at hand.

"Emm, hun, you've got to be more firm!" He heard Dana's voice boom, all of a sudden. "Langdon, trauma six. Now!" She barked.

Frank smiled at the little boy and his parents before he made a face at Dana that was meant to communicate 'What the hell?'. He didn't even have the patient in trauma six, and his shift was nearly over.

"What's going on?" He asked, as he finally recognised how much Emma and Dana's faces looked like they had seen a ghost.

"It's Mel…she–" He didn't even let Dana finish her sentence before his face dropped and he rushed past her and into trauma six, where Robby, Santos and a just-arrived-in Abbot were all stoic. They fanned Mel with air as they tried to speak with her. She seemed completely out of it, her eyes focused on nothing, and her skin was sickly pale.

"What happened?" Frank hollered, the anxiety in his voice obvious as he made his way through the small crowd of doctors in the cramped room and grabbed Mel's hands in his. She was hot to the touch and had her eyes shut tightly, like she was in extreme pain. She was sweating heavily, too and breathing erratically.

"Mel?" He said, but it was like she couldn't even hear him.

"She fainted out of nowhere by the southbay nurses' station, like she just dropped. She said her stomach hurt a little and boom–she collapsed. She's only coming to now." Trinity said, worry laced throughout her voice, too.

"She was complaining about stomach pain a few hours ago, too. She said it wasn't that bad then." Frank frowned, disappointed that he hadn't insisted she get it checked out earlier.

Frank looked up at the heart rate monitor–120 bpm–high but not shocking considering her fainting spell, and no irregularities in rhythm. Her blood pressure, however, was spiked at 140/90–officially in hyper tension category.

Frank leaned down to Mel's eye line to try and get her to look at him. He continued to stroke her hands softly. "Sweetheart, what's going on?" He said, as he tried to sound as calm as possible.

She still didn't look in his direction or open her eyes. She just shook her head, beads of sweat continued to fall down her face as she snapped her hands out of his and held onto her stomach.

"Did she hit her head?" Frank asked, worried she needed a neuro exam for her out-of-it state.

"No. I caught her before she properly hit the floor." Trinity said.

"Appendicitis, maybe? Maybe it's burst? Or kidney stones?" Frank said as he turned to speak to no one in particular in the room. He's never felt like a worse doctor; he can't focus. He can't think right when it comes to something being wrong with Mel.

"Mel, how bad is the pain? 1 through 10, honey, how bad?" He asked, desperation obvious in his voice.

Mel slowly raised her hands from her stomach and held up 10 fingers. "OK…OK. We're gonna help you, babe." Frank whispered, as he threw his hand through his own hair, one of his typical stress responses.

"Could you be pregnant, Mel?" Robby said as he finally spoke up.

Mel just looked stunned again, like Robby's question didn't even register with her. Frank stroked her back and looked at her with awaiting eyes.

"Could she be pregnant?!" Robby asked, more frustrated, and now directed at Frank.

"I–uh–yes. In theory, yes." Frank said—the tone of nervousness was threaded throughout his voice.

He and Mel had only been dating for the last three months–as far as anyone in the Pitt knew. To be fair, no one had directly asked him, or Mel, about how and when and why and 'who made the first move?' and 'where did you go on your first date?'. Probably because they already suspected something was going on between them, or they saw their pull towards one another as inevitable.

The reveal in of itself that they were dating was an accident anyway; they never really planned a grand announcement, Frank just assumed people would eventually catch on if he waited by the lockers and walked out with her enough times. He just made the mistake of wrapping his arm around her, kissing the side of her head and calling her "babe" one day before they walked out the back doors by the lockers, without seeing Princess and Perlah were right behind them. Oops.

The next day, Donnie congratulated him and thanked Frank for his new watch before Perlah quickly shushed him and dragged him over to Ahmed. Frank assumed he won some sort of betting pool on him and Mel.

"In theory?" Robby snapped back, his tone clearly frustrated. Frank always expected Robby to corner him into a wall at some point and tell him to back off of Mel when it all came out. He was worried he'd even go as far as putting them on separate shifts, but he never did. It's not like he could really say anything. Frank was a divorced man, and Robby probably knew that Frank treated Mel better than he ever had treated Collins.

"Yes. She could be pregnant but as far I know, she's not." Frank sighed and looked up at Mel again, who still looked like a fish out of water.

"Do you know if you're pregnant, sweetheart?" He said gently as he rubbed her back again, but she still wouldn't even look in his direction.

"I'm double-checking that they are fast-tracking those labs!" Santos shouted, the room's phone over her shoulder. Frank just then noticed the IV in her arm, which was presumably used for a blood draw earlier. At least needles never bothered her.

"Has she missed any periods?" Robby asked.

Frank scowled for a second as he considered it. "She takes the combined pill and almost always skips the placebo pill week, so she doesn't really have a period. She gets bad cramps so she tries to avoid it. Maybe she skipped too many and this is a residual cast or something?" He offered.

"Or something." Abbot finally spoke up. He'd been quietly observing the whole time before.

Mel started breathing more intensely and groaned in pain. Frank tried every technique he learned in rehab to stop a panic attack to try and get her to calm down, but it was like she had a force field up that Frank, or Trinity, who also tried to calm her, couldn't get through.

Frank had seen what he thought was the full gamut of Mel's emotions—he'd seen her happy, satisfied, bored, upset, angry, overstimulated and in serious full-breakdown-mode where she has to go lie down in the dark and not hear a pin drop for a while. He's always been good at helping her out of those—giving her what she needed, helping her see the problem from another angle and talking her down. Sometimes he'd lie on top of her or just hold her or make her cum when she's in these states if that's what she wanted. He's never seen her like this, though, completely shutting him out as she slowly rocked her body.

Frank barely registered Abbot as he picked up the ringing phone–presumably to hear her lab results–until the attending's words stung in Frank's ears. "It's confirmed. OB is on their way. Get her in a gown." He said, firmly, calmly.

Fuck. That was what rang through Frank's ears. Fuck.

They were usually really careful. Usually. The first time they slept together was sloppy and messy and kind of sad, but they were safe. They had both worked on a case earlier that day where a little four-year-old girl was hit by a bus. The trauma was extensive: a skull fracture, a broken tibia, a fractured fibula, multiple internal injuries, a tension pneumo–and a little girl too tiny to really do anything about it. They tried really hard to save her. They tried everything for two hours. The little girl looked like Penny—same mousy brown hair and big blue eyes. Frank had to run to the bathroom and throw up after he called the time of death. Then he ran back to find Mel sobbing in the ambulance bay, still covered in the girl's blood. He knelt to the ground and hugged her as she repeated over and over again, "her new was Becca, Frank. Becca." Everything about losing that little girl hit them exactly where it hurt.

Their shift was over anyway, so he insisted on driving her home. On the drive over, she told him she was terrified of the nightmares she would probably have that night, so he said he would stay with her until she fell asleep, if that would help. She reluctantly agreed. But if they were both a hundred per cent honest, they both knew what they were doing. Frank texted Abby and said he'd be staying with a NA buddy who needed support–he felt a terrible twinge in his gut when she texted him back that he was 'such a great friend'. Yeah, a great friend who was sliding his wedding ring into his pocket and was walking into his co-worker's house silently praying she would ask him to fuck her. Just a great guy, all around. The greatest.

He sat on the end of Mel's bed, gingerly, at first. His eyes were transfixed as he watched her get comfortable in her oversized yellow t-shirt that just about covered her purple underwear and made it very obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. Then she started crying again and asked if he could hold her. He immediately climbed into bed next to her–he had already kicked off his shoes at the door–and brought her close to spoon her back against his chest.

Eventually, his hips fell against her backside, and his hand absentmindedly stroked her waist. After ten minutes, Mel turned around and asked him to kiss her. She told him that she knew it was reckless, but she just needed the pain to go away for a little while. That was something Frank knew all about. So he did it, he kissed her. And it felt like something they'd be doing for ten years.

He slid his hand up her shirt, then threw her shirt off. He played with her tits and fucked her with his fingers and then ate her out until she had already cum three times. Then he yanked off all of his clothes and pressed his cock into her inner thigh, thanking God he left a condom in his wallet for emergencies. He made her promise she was sure three times until he finally sank inside her. She felt like heaven. It was the best sex of his life, in a strange, sad sort of way. Their connection was like nothing he had ever experienced in any previous sexual encounters, not even with Abby. He lasted only an embarrassing amount of time before he came inside the condom. They both cried when they came–like actual tears–Frank would be embarrassed if it happened with anyone else, but with her it felt the release he'd needed for a long time. He held her all night then, never feeling so content but so guilty at the same time.

He should've gone back to Abby that next morning and told her it was over and he wanted a divorce, but he didn't. He was scared, and he didn't know if it meant to Mel what it had meant to him.

But then, after almost every shift, Mel would meet him at his car, and they would drive somewhere and fuck. Or sometimes they'd go back to her apartment and eat dinner, then fuck, then cuddle, in some kind of desperate domestic charade.

It was probably the fifth or sixth time they had sex that Frank is now realising he had probably got her pregnant. He had told Abby he had a medical conference to go to in Philly, which was true; he just omitted the part where he had also booked a hotel room to fuck his best friend for the whole weekend he was away.

He had planned everything to a T–what times in between conference talks and meetings he could take her back to the room and eat her out in the middle of the day. The positions he could put her in that he hadn't previously had the chance to. The room service they would order. The movies they could watch, cuddled up together.

Then he realised he had forgotten one very essential ingredient to an all-weekend sex fest: condoms. And this realisation only hit him when Mel was panting above him, already having cum twice and just having had Frank's cock in her mouth, now desperately begging to ride it, that's when he realised. There was no running out and finding a condom at that point; they were both too far gone. Mel was on birth control, but admitted to Frank on more than one occasion that she wasn't that good at remembering to take it, which surprised Frank because she was usually so organised with everything else in her life. So he had said he would warn her when he needed to pull out, but they got caught up in the heat of the moment, and he accidentally came so hard inside her that it dripped out of her and onto the sheets. She took a Plan-B pill the next morning, bought some condoms and had Frank fuck her one more time before they checked out of the hotel room.

Three months in, Frank finally told Abby he wanted a divorce. It happened after he and Mel met up in his car before work one morning. She had climbed into his lap as they lay against the back seat after they both came.

"Am I your new drug?"She had asked quietly. Her glasses were back on, but he could tell she was tearing up, and her head was down, ashamed.

"What?" He had said, almost like it was so absurd that he must've misheard her.

"Am I what you've replaced with the drugs? The new thing you hide? Your new pain relief?" She had asked.

Frank shook his head fast and repeatedly. "No. No. The drugs didn't make me a better doctor. The drugs didn't make me more empathetic and sensitive and fucking happy like you do. I hated myself every time I used, but I don't hate myself every time I'm with you. I never ever loved the drugs. But I do love you." He had confessed.

"I love you too." She sighed. That was all she said as she pulled her clothes back on, fixed her braid and got back in the passenger seat to be driven to the hospital.

That night after his shift, and after a particularly long NA meeting where he experienced about 15 different opinions on the matter, he asked Abby for a divorce. He knew she wasn't happy anyway, not since he came back the day of Pitt Fest and told her he was an addict and a thief; if he was totally honest, he knew she wasn't happy long before then.

He knew Abby probably suspected him of having an affair. He had already made enough excuses about pretending to work late, going to late-night NA meetings and staying over at his parents' house.

Frank was terrified she was going to take everything and never let him near the kids again, but she didn't bring it up and just admitted she was tired of fighting with him. They agreed to go through one of those amicable divorce services–it was all done in about five months. Frank and Mel agreed to stop seeing each other during the first three months of the divorce process, which seemed ironic because he was actually separated by then, so it'd be finally fair game to be fucking the way they were. But it felt right, responsible, to take space and come back to each other when it was all above board.

Abby wanted to meet Mel before she allowed her to meet Tanner and Penny, so they all went for a very awkward dinner a few weeks before the divorce was through. Abby was quiet and short throughout the meal, and Mel tried her best to get her to like her. At the door of the restaurant before he walked Mel out to her car, Abby told him she was "annoyingly nice". Abby didn't give people compliments all that often, and that was about as high a compliment as you could give to the woman your husband left you for. She might be more pissed at them now, bringing an affair baby into the world.

Everyone cleared out of the room so Frank could get Mel out of her scrubs and into a gown. They were both shaking, but she allowed him to pull her scrubs off and stepped into the gown, without looking him in the eyes once.

"Did you know you were pregnant, Mel? I'm not angry if you did know. I just…I want to know now." He said, as softly and calmly as he could manage.

She clutched her stomach again and just shook her head quickly–that seemed like a genuine no to him.

"OK…OK. Thank you, baby, we're going to figure this out, I promise." He whispered while he threaded a hand through the back of her hair.

It's not like she had any sort of bump. She had gained some weight, but they had put that up to Frank cooking for her and having consistent meals for once in her life. "Happy weight", Frank had told her. When you get into a new relationship and go out on dates and eat chocolate and order takeout all the time–that's what people call it.

If he was totally honest, he did notice her tits had gotten bigger, and he did bring it up to her, but she figured it was something to do with her birth control. He did ask her, after their break, if she had ever taken a test, because of the inconsistent periods and the cravings and the size of her tits—God, he felt like an idiot looking back—but she said she had tested negative months ago, and they hadn't had sex in months at that point, so he left it at that.

Trinity knocked on the door, and Frank waved her in. "Can I do the ultrasound? Is that OK, Mel? We're still waiting on OB to come down." She said, gentler than Frank had probably ever heard her before.

Mel looked at Frank, then back at Trinity, then nodded. She lay back, lifted up her gown and clutched her fists together and squeezed her eyes shut. Frank tried to thread his hands with hers, but she pushed them away. He settled for wrapping his arms around her shoulders and tucking his forehead next to hers, which she seemed to mind less.

Trinity set up the ultrasound and spread the ultrasound gel across her stomach. "I'll start here, and if we need to do an internal ultrasound with the wand then we'll tackle that next." She said, matter-of-factly. Frank appreciated that one of them was able to give the appearance of being calm.

"I'm just going to check gestational age—the blood results estimated—wait—" Trinity observed before her words drifted off. Frank saw it too. This wasn't a miscarriage, a placental abruption or an ectopic pregnancy. This was a full-term fetus. This was labour. Fuck.

Trinity went silent for a while. Then she looked at Frank for confirmation and nodded in agreement. "I'd estimate 38 weeks based on these measurements." She said.

Fuck. Fuck. Frank thought, then he did some calculations in his head. The night in the hotel back in January was…38 weeks ago. Shit. So much for Plan-B. He'd been writing a strongly worded letter to the pharmaceutical company.

Frank sat up and threaded both his hands through his hair. Mel remained still with her eyes tightly closed and her body tense. "I've never seen a cryptic pregnancy before." He said quietly, almost to himself, still in shock.

"Mel and I have, not long after we both started here. A college student, she was full-term, went into rapid labour right here in the ER—they thought it was kidney stones at first." Trinity said. Mel nodded as she finally acknowledged her fellow resident, in some way.

"Can you give us a minute?" He asked Trinity. She nodded and walked out of the room.

"I think you're in labour, sweetheart." He said, gently, and rubbed her shoulders again. Mel just shook her head.

As Frank had said, he hadn't seen a cryptic pregnancy directly before. He remembered reading about in med school—how it used to be referred synonymously with a concealed pregnancy, where the patient is aware of the pregnancy but chooses to conceal it, but the terms are more separate now. There is often a psychological element to cryptic pregnancies, Frank remembered learning that there is almost always a level of denial to it. But it's possible not to form any significant bump, not to have any obvious symptoms—he tried to cast his mind back but didn't recall Mel having any form of morning sickness or cravings or nasal congestion or any of the usual suspects when it came to pregnancy symptoms.

They're both doctors, for God's sake. He's been sleeping next to her (and inside of her) almost every night for the last three months, and not once in that time would he have believed she was pregnant, and he already had two kids. Maybe they both didn't want to see the symptoms, in a way. But that didn't matter anymore, because she was going to give birth today whether they liked it or not.

Frank took a deep breath as Mel continued to breathe rapidly and largely ignored him. He wondered what she would've done if she had found out in the weeks they were still having the affair. Would she have wanted to keep it? Would she have wanted an abortion? Would she have run away and never spoken to him again? He feels so guilty–the worst kind of guilt, that she's not in a position to make those choices anymore. This will affect her R4 year. In fact, it will affect her career as a whole. It will affect their relationship, and oh my God, Abby is going to kill him. And his parents. Fuck.

Robby knocked on the door and waved Frank towards him. "I'll be right back." He whispered. He kissed Mel's forehead and slipped out. He turned out the lights for her as he passed the door. Frank knew he must have looked like shit and was probably as pale as a ghost. "You both really had no idea?" Robby asked, firmly but calmly.

"We had no idea. There was a time, months ago I asked her if she could be pregnant but—you've seen her. No bump, no obvious symptoms. Santos' measurements have her at 38 weeks—I just—" Frank stumbled, before Dana came over and made him sit down, afraid he was about to collapse on the floor next.

"I need to get back to Mel." He protested.

"We need to examine her and see if she's in labour. Can someone chase OB again, please?" Robby said, in his polite but not-so-polite way. His patience was clearly wearing thin.

"Let me do it. I can do it." Frank insisted and stood up. No one stopped him, and when he returned to the room, Mel was sat in the dark. She had her glasses sat up on her head as she cried quietly and stared up at the ceiling.

"Oh my sweet girl." He said and approached her side again. He ran his thumb across her face and tried to stop the salty tears from reaching her ears. "I need to examine you, now, Mel. I need to figure out if you're in labour, OK?" He said. He didn't want to do it without her looking at him and saying yes. So he took another step forward and placed the fetal heart rate monitor across her stomach, then set up the EFM machine. She let him, and as he petted her skin and called every sweet nickname he could think of before he made each move.

The EFM machine was clear. She was in labour, her contractions were just mere minutes apart. She was probably already crowning.

He decided to give it one more go–try and make her snap out of the world she was in. Sometimes he would do this when she was spinning out about something—he'd be firmer with her, work down the problem to brass tacks, offer her solutions. It would work a lot of the time. It felt a little cruel to do it now, when she was in this desperate state, but he had to try something.

"Mel. Listen to me." He said as he sat in a chair next to her and gently moved her head to face him. She still wouldn't open her eyes. "Seriously, Mel. Look at me." He said, firmer, slowly annunciating each word.

She slowly opened her bloodshot eyes and frowned up at him. He swore he physically felt his heart break into two. "You need to focus now, OK? You need to talk to me. I'm so sorry this is happening and we can talk about options after but right now I need you to snap out of it. Cause otherwise they're gonna pump you full of drugs and give you a C-section and God knows what else and I need you right now. Please Mel? I need you." He begged, firm and as void of emotion as he could manage.

She finally reached out for his hands and grabbed on tightly. "Frank." She said, her tone so terrified, the kind of tone he had only heard when she had woken up from nightmares next to him in the middle of the night before. Then, she broke out into tears and full-body sobbed.

Frank buried his head into their joint hands and kissed them. "Oh, Mel. Sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." He frowned as he tried to hold back tears himself.

"What are we going to do?" She sobbed, taking a breath and a hiccup in between the words.

"We'll work it out. It'll be okay." He said. He lifted his right hand and softly petted along the top of her head again.

"This is karma, for what we did. The cheating." She said, in between tears and deep breaths.

Frank immediately shook his head. "No–no–sweetheart. A baby isn't bad karma, a little baby. It's a miracle. We're gonna have a kid. Our kid." He said while he caressed his forefinger across her stomach.

Mel shook her head, unsure, and Frank wondered if he just completely fucked up her moment of relative calm by going too woo-woo. "Or we can look at adoption. Whatever you want." He added as calmly as he could.

She shook her head furiously. "Oh my god, Frank. I was taking my birth control pill all throughout the pregnancy–no–worse than that, I was drinking. I went out with Trinity so many times! And I wasn't taking any prenatal vitamins!" She cried and took deep, unsteady breaths.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay. You didn't know. You wouldn't have if you had known. We'll deal with all that later." He comforted her as he tried to get her to calm her breathing again.

"And we,"—she uses her finger to point between her and Frank's bodies—"don't even live together. And we don't have anything that a baby needs! I don't even have room for a baby and Becca–oh my God Becca–someone needs to tell Becca." She yelled as she sobbed. It was like it all hit her in one fell swoop.

"I'll call her, I promise. I'll explain everything, it'll be okay." Frank reassured her as he ran his thumbs over her jaw and kissed her softly.

"I took a test, months ago. Just after we stopped sleeping together when you working out everything with the divorce…but it was negative, I swear. Maybe it was a false negative. Or, I didn't wait long enough for it to process. I should've got a blood test. I was being stupid. Maybe I just wanted it to be negative." She ranted, her head was down, and tears flooded out of her eyes. Frank reached out to wipe them away.

"You're not stupid. You saw a negative test, that's not your fault." He whispered. She was silent for a moment before she looked at him again. She looked so small.

"I love babies." She whispered back with a tiny sob.

"I know." He smiled.

Of course, he knows this. She loves when babies and kids come to the ER, and she's so good with them. She understands them and can calm them when no one else can. Kids are drawn to her like a magnet. They smile at her and laugh with her and hug her. His own kids included. Tanner and Penny are both obsessed with Mel and ask more about seeing her than they do about seeing him these days. Hell, even his dog liked Mel more than him, and who could blame them all? It was impossible not to adore her.

But when it came to Mel having her own kid? Another life for her to care for after caring for so many other people her whole life? He wasn't so sure. They'd only properly discussed it once before. Mel told him she would love to be a mother, one day, in theory, but she was still unsure about when…or if ever. She once told him she'd be happy just being a step-mother to Tanner and Penny. Frank told her he wanted whatever she wanted.

She gently massaged her fingers across his wrist. "I'm just scared." She said quietly.

"I know, Mel. I know. I'm scared, too. But it'll be okay, I promise. I've got you, whatever you want, whatever happens, I've got you." He whispered and kissed her forehead.

Mel nodded. "I love you." She softly cried. Frank smiled against her forehead. "I love you." He echoed.

There was a quick knock before an OBGYN resident that Frank sort of recognised walked in–his face was stoic. Dana and Trinity trailed in behind him.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Olsen Pettyfer. I understand that you are in labour." He said in a super detached, matter-of-fact tone. He clearly tried to project a calm demeanour, and Frank wondered if his fellow Pitt colleagues had struck the fear of God into the guy to deal with this whole thing carefully.

Mel whipped her head to face Frank, her eyes wide, like she hadn't understood that yet, that she was actually in labour. Frank nodded at her, and she let her chin fall down to her chest.

"First pregnancy?" Pettyfer asked. Mel nodded slowly.

"Do we know rough gestational age?" Pettyfer said while he read the EFM data.

"Ultrasound measurements estimated around 38 weeks. That makes sense for our…timeline." Frank piped up.

"OK." He nodded. "Baby's heart rate is looking good. We'll keep an eye on your blood pressure too." He added.

Dana came around to the other side of Mel and held her hand. "Sounds like you're having a baby." She said quietly with a reassuring tone. Mel nodded up at her, her eyes filled with tears and she held her hand with the one that wasn't gripped onto Frank's.

"I'm going to do an examination and then we're going to get you up to labour and delivery." Pettyfer confirmed. Mel looked at Frank again and squeezed her entire hand around his before she tucked her head towards him and averted her eyes. "OK." She whispered.

There were no proper stirrups in this room, so Mel just tucked herself in a way that Pettyfer could do the examination, and Frank's suspicion immediately came true.

"OK. We're not making it up to L&D. We're having this baby here." Pettyfer said in a calm, cool way. Frank didn't know if he wanted to thank him or slap him for his demeanour.

"No." Mel said as a gasp escaped her mouth. She shook her head as she made eye contact with Frank. Dana dipped her head down. "Yep. You're crowning Mel, baby is coming now, hun." The charge nurse announced.

"No." Mel screeched again. The terror in her voice made Frank wince and close his eyes. She's gonna hate me forever.

At some point, Frank couldn't tell you when, Trinity appeared at Dana's side, too. "Baby's heartbeat is rising, Mel. You've gotta push." She encouraged.

Mel tucked her head into Frank's neck. "No. I can't." She cried.

Frank looked up at Dana and Trinity for sympathy, but they both looked at him with eyes that gave none. The sort of expression that says 'You need to toughen the fuck up.' He knew that's what he needed in that moment.

"I know, you're scared, Mel. But you've got to push. For both of you." He said, more sternly.

Mel shook her head again.

"Yes. You've got to push." He insisted.

"I wish I had my mom here. I want my mom." She sobbed, crying out of her mouth, her whole body wracked as she cried.

At that point, Frank got behind her, so his back was pushed against the back of the bed, and Mel was pulled against his chest as he spread his legs around hers. He grabbed her knees and pushed his head against her neck. "I know, I know. You've got me, and you've got to push. Push, now, Mel." Frank affirmed, his nose pushed up against the side of her neck.

Her whole body stiffened against him, and her eyes scrunched up as she bore down with a yell. "Good. Good." Dana said, as she encouraged her.

"Good job, gorgeous." He whispered against her ear, unsure of exactly what progress had been made from this angle.

"Another big push, guys." Dana repeated. Trinity was looking a little stoic and in shock herself, but nodded her head to encourage Mel too.

"Another push, babe, you can do it." He heartened as he rubbed his hands across her knees. Mel let out another fierce groan, which turned into a scream as he felt her push again.

"I can't. I don't think I can do it anymore, Frank." She cried and let her head fall down against his shoulder.

"Yes, you can. You can do anything. One more push, I'm sure, sweetheart. Come on, one more push?" He asked. She sat up again and took a deep breath and let out a loud sob. Frank felt her hold body tense up and push out as she yelled.

And suddenly, there was a new baby in the world. A fierce, beautiful, little cry filled the room.

"Great job, mama!" Pettyfer announced as Dana poked her head around Mel's legs. "It's a girl! She's beautiful!" Dana perked up.

Suddenly, Cassie, Robby and one of the Pedes residents swung the trauma room door open. Dana joined them as they wheeled a cot into the room and checked the baby's obs.

Mel's head collapsed against Frank's shoulder again as she breathed heavily and let her legs fall. "You did so good. I'm so proud of you." He whispered as he kissed the side of her head repeatedly.

"Is she OK?" Mel cried, her face still so laced with worry. There was a beat of silence as the team worked on the baby.

"Any signs of FAS?" She cried out.

"We're checking everything, Mel." Cassie reassured her.

Mel whipped her head back to face Frank with furrowed brows and a frown. "Go check her, please." She whispered, distress in her voice. Frank nodded and kissed her forehead as he slotted out from his position behind her and let her lie back.

He stepped towards where the team of doctors worked. "One off for colour, that's an APGAR of 9. Perfect. She's got a great cry, sounds like she has a good set of lungs. Ten fingers, ten toes. 7 lbs exactly." Robby smiled.

Frank leaned over to look at his little girl and immediately let out a sob. Of course, he had two kids already. He knew this feeling, but something about waking up this morning and not knowing he'd have a new kid in the world–he felt terrified and never more sure of anything at the same time.

Not only that, but he had a kid with Mel. A little baby girl. And she looked just like her, like Mel had basically given birth to herself. He could barely see a spot of himself in the baby—yes, she had blue eyes like many newborns, but they were shaped just like Mel's. Frank had no doubt they would turn brown with a little green in them like hers. She had a little tussle of light, blond, curly hair. The baby also had a beauty mark to the left of her left eye and a birthmark on her lower leg. Mel had a similar one, too.

"She's perfect, Mel." He shouted back and turned his head. Mel smiled at him, out of breath as Trinity helped wipe sweat from her forehead and adjusted her IV.

Cassie wrapped the little girl in a swaddle and handed her over to Frank. "Hello, little girl." He whispered. She made a soft, gurgling noise as she lifted her little eyes a little to look at him. "I'm your daddy." He added.

He cuddled the baby close for a second, then stepped towards Mel. "You want to hold her?" He asked, his eyes still filled with tears.

Mel sat up slightly and nodded slowly. She seemed unsure but curious. "This is your mommy." He whispered against the little girl's ears as he leaned her against Mel's chest.

Mel sobbed immediately at the contact, as she looked down at her. "Hello." She said, with something between a cry and a laugh. "You're so beautiful. You snook up on me, little one." She whispered.

Frank smiled at the pair–his girls. "She's so much like you." Mel said as she stared up at Frank.

He shook his head as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you kidding me? That's a mini Mel King right there." He laughed.

Trinity leaned forward and smiled. "I agree. She's all you, Mel." She said.

"We need to get you up to L&D, Dr King. You'll probably need stitches." Pettyfer said with a reassuring smile. Mel nodded softly, all her attention on her daughter. Their daughter. Frank still couldn't believe it. They had a beautiful baby girl together.

Frank grabbed Pettyfer's hand and shook it. At some point, Robby and Cassie patted Frank's back, too.

After a while, everyone filtered out. Mel and the baby were brought up to L&D. Mel insisted Frank call everyone they needed to call, the part of the day he was least looking forward to.

Easiest to hardest first, he thought. His parents first. His mom was the one to answer the landline they still had. She made Frank swear it wasn't a prank well over ten times. His parents had only met Mel once, but he knew they liked her. His dad eventually grabbed the phone and told Frank he was an idiot who needed to learn how to use a condom–harsh but perhaps fair. His mom eventually grabbed the phone back and said they were very happy for them, despite the shock, and would like to see them as soon as possible.

Becca was next, who was a little confused by Frank calling her in the first place. In the time he spent with Becca, he knew she liked facts. She wanted information as straightforward and honest as possible. No dilly-dallying. So, that's how he delivered it–Mel collapsed at work today. She's OK–she just didn't know she was pregnant. She had a baby girl. They're both doing well. Becca asked if it was like that reality show that used to be on TLC, and Frank had no idea what she meant, but said yes. After that, she needed reassurance that Mel was definitely OK. She then said she was excited to be an aunt and wanted to see them all that night. Frank agreed they could make that work.

Next, Abby. Fuck. Maybe he didn't even need to call her. Yeah, no. He needed to call her. This wasn't one of the things he could bribe the kids with ice cream to keep them quiet. 'Don't tell Mommy that Daddy had a new baby with his girlfriend'. He could hear his heart beating in his fucking chest as the dial tone rang out.

"Frank? Is everything alright?" Abby answered. Fair, because it wasn't his night to watch the kids, and he didn't call her out of the blue very often anymore.

"Yes. Well–it's kinda been a crazy day." He sighed with a sort of crazed chuckle.

"Tough shift?"She asked.

"Something like that." He replied, stalling.

"Do you want to talk to the kids?" She said, clearly confused.

"No. Uh, you're not gonna believe this." He huffed out.

"Huh?" Abby asked.

"Mel kind of gave birth in the ER today, like out of no where." He laughed. He didn't mean to laugh; it was that terrified, absurd, nervous type of laughter.

"What?" Abby said sharply.

"Yeah. A baby girl. We had no idea." He replied.

"She didn't tell you?" Abby asked, her voice sounded bewildered.

"No–she didn't know. Like a total cryptic pregnancy. You've seen her recently, she had no bump. No symptoms. She was skipping the placebos pills on her birth control so she didn't notice any missed periods. It's crazy." He said, another nervous chuckle escaped him.

"Is she okay? Is the baby okay?" Abby asked.

"All perfect. The baby is a little early–maybe around 38 weeks, but she's perfect, Abby. So beautiful." He said, without really thinking about it.

"Oh." She replied.

"Sorry." He said back.

"Don't be. I-uh-thank you for telling me, I guess." She said.

"Mel wanted me too, she sent me right out to call you. The kids are gonna have a fucked up idea of the whole pregnancy and birth timeline now." He laughed again.

"Oh god. They're gonna love this though, they're already obsessed with Mel." Abby said with a soft laugh.

"I thought you were gonna take this much worse. I thought you were gonna kill me." Frank said.

"I think I'm in shock." Abby laughed, too.

"I can work out the timeline, though. We were still married." She said, a little more sombre now.

"I'm sorry, Abby." He said, genuinely.

"It's over now, anyway. And I'm happy for Mel." She replied.

"Just for Mel?" He laughed.

"Be serious for a second and listen to me, Frank." Abby said, her tone suddenly very direct.

"OK." Frank gulped.

"I think she's too good for you. I didn't want to like her. I really wanted to fucking hate her, actually. Part of me probably does. But a part of me finds it impossible to not like her. And she's very much intertwined with all our lives now." She said.

"I know she's too good for me." He agreed.

"Good. That'll keep you on the right path, keeping trying to be worthy of her, right?" She asked.

"I'm trying, Abby." He sighed. And he really was, every day, he tried to be someone Mel deserved.

"I'm serious, Frank. Promise me." She said.

"I promise." He said, with all the purpose and guts he had.

"Do you want me to tell the kids?" She asked.

"Can you hold off, if that's okay? I think I want to ask Mel first. And just think about how we're going to go about it." He said.

"Sure." Abby replied. "Tell Mel I said congratulations." She added.

"I will." Frank smiled.

"Does the baby look like her?" Abby asked.

"Just like her. A little mini Mel." He buzzed.

"Congratulations, Frank." Abby added. And he knew she meant it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mel didn't know if it was the baby's or Frank's stirring that woke her, but she felt a hand push her back down as she tried to rise from her sleeping position. "It's okay. I've got her, go back to sleep, babe." He said, softly and sleepily.

Mel batted her eyes open anyway. "She's been fussy lately, she might not take the bottle." Mel replied with a yawn.

"I'll try with the bottle first. Get some sleep." He smiled and kissed her cheek. She nodded softly, and she couldn't help but let her eyes drift closed again. She had heard how bad newborn exhaustion can be, but she could never have expected this. She always thought of herself as someone who didn't need a lot of sleep, but now she felt she had pushed her body to extremes that she had never felt before. Frank had told her he had built up more resilience with both Tanner and Penny when it came to sleep, so he insisted on getting up with the baby a lot of the time.

After a moment of silence, Mel heard Frank make a hushed "shush" noise in the kitchen as Cara stirred, making her little newborn screech noise. She looked over at their alarm clock on the bedside table, 3:05 AM.

Cara was what they called her—it was Frank's idea. He always loved John O'Donohue's poems, which he quoted to Mel many times. He was most famous for his themes around Anam Cara—the Irish for "soul friend". The word for friend felt pretty perfect for their daughter; it's how they started after all—friends.

Frank didn't get to choose Tanner's name (chosen because Abby saw it on a top 10 list of unique boys' names from a social media influencer) or Penny's (chosen because that's what Abby decided she would name her daughter when she was 5). Mel had never thought much about baby names and was still in too much shock when it was time to sign the birth certificate to really come up with much, so she was thankful for Frank's suggestion. They did choose Mary, her mother's name, for the middle name. Cara Mary Langdon King—King only went second because Mel felt it sounded better.

Mel quietly put on her glasses, bathrobe and slipped on some fluffy socks before she tiptoed downstairs. Frank was standing in the kitchen, his back to Mel as he stared out the window, with only the under-the-counter LEDs softly lighting his face. They moved into Frank's new place because it was bigger and already had enough bedrooms for Tanner and Penny. The fourth bedroom became the nursery, and Frank was in the process of decorating the basement in order for it to be Becca's room.

He gently rocked Cara as he tried to get her to take the bottle. She was decently good at feeding, according to everyone who had babies before Mel. They had to go to the lactation consultant when she was first born, because she refused to be breastfed at first, and Mel felt like it was a huge failure on her part. Eventually, though, they found their rhythm so much so that Cara only ever wanted to be breastfed and hated the bottle.

"I told you she'd be fussy." Mel whispered as she came up behind Frank and kissed the space in between his shoulder blades. His whole body relaxed as he lay Cara against his chest and turned his head to face her.

"I wanted you to get some sleep." He pouted.

"It's okay. I don't sleep very well without you next to me anyway." She smiled as she reached out to take Cara in her arms.

"That's cute." He replied.

"What? That I don't sleep well when I'm not next to you?" Mel asked as she sat down at the dining table and lifted up her shirt in order for Cara to latch on, which she quickly did. The sensation made Mel wince; it was still a feeling she was getting used to after six weeks of being a mother.

"Yeah." He whispered. "It's very romantic." He added as he leaned down and played with her necklace softly. It was her "push present", which Mel told him she definitely didn't need, but he insisted she did. A horseshoe necklace from Tiffany's to match her earrings. A symbol of how lucky he was to have her–Frank's words, not hers.

"Oh." Mel blushed and smiled. "It's true." She shrugged.

"I know, it's the same for me." He said as he rubbed his hand across the back of Cara's head.

"You should be the one getting some sleep anyway." Mel huffed. Frank's six weeks of paternity leave were up tomorrow, and he was going back to work. Robby had negotiated 18 weeks of leave, half of which paid, for Mel's maternity leave. She protested it at first, wanting to get back to work as soon as possible. But after these first six weeks, she realised that it was probably unrealistic, and she suspected she'd have to repeat her R4 year, which Frank felt terrible about. He had apologised for weeks after the birth on an almost daily basis, but Mel reminded him it takes two people to make a baby, and it wasn't all his fault for apparently being the most fertile man in America.

She'd been having Zoom therapy since the birth, to deal with the shock and the feelings of guilt over the pregnancy. Cara had no signs of FAS or any abnormalities. It's not like Mel was binge drinking every weekend; whenever she went out with Trinity, she was usually tipsy after one drink. She also found out she had a tilted uterus in the post-birth investigations, which helped explain her lack of a bump during the pregnancy. But a part of her felt like she failed at being a mother before she even started.

Frank helped, but she knew he still had his own demons to deal with. He tried, to be strong all the time, for her. But he broke down eventually, over all the shock and change. One day he just broke down and cried in her arms. It worried her, what it could all do for his sobriety, but he stayed steady—he kept going to meetings, seeing his sponsor, speaking with Cassie, going to therapy and kept a routine with Tanner and Penny, who adored their new sibling.

The kids treated Mel and Cara like porcelain dolls when they first visited, once they got home from the hospital. Mel wasn't sure if Frank had warned them to be quiet and gentle, or it if came naturally to them the same way it did to Frank when it came to Mel. Penny wanted to dress up Cara in a million different outfits and was so amazed with every move or sound the baby made. Tanner was more interested in how the baby was made, which Frank did his best to explain in six-year-old terms. Abby told Mel she could always text her if she had any newborn questions, which she did, but hadn't gathered the courage to directly ask Abby yet. She usually used Frank as a buffer to ask them for her. Abby was very kind, Mel thought, all things considered.

Once Cara had finished feeding and had started drifting off again, Mel put her over her shoulder and burped her. Frank took Cara back, breathing in her newborn smell, which he warned Mel she would eventually miss so much. He rocked her gently as the pair walked back upstairs.

They were supposed to be sleep training her, letting her sleep in the nursery with the baby monitor, but Mel's postpartum anxiety was still in full force. So they had decided to keep the bassinet in their room for now. She was working on it, but even Frank admitted he was just as anxious about it as she was.

Frank placed Cara back in her bassinet, as he softly cooed at her and rocked their daughter lightly back to sleep. Mel loved watching this, watching him with her. She thought she already had hit the peak of how much she could love another human being, how much she could feel for him. But watching him with their daughter, this tiny human they made brought into the world together…there was nothing more beautiful in the world. There was no love like it.

As he crawled into bed next to her, Mel put her glasses back down on the bedside table and hooked her leg around his hip, making him the little spoon. He softened against her and wiggled himself closer. He grabbed her hands in his and softly petted them as she tucked her nose into his neck.

"How are you feeling about going back to work tomorrow?" She whispered.

"OK, I think." He sighed. "I've been away for longer before so—" He shrugged.

"That doesn't mean you can't be nervous." Mel offered as she kissed his neck.

"I know. I think I'm more nervous about the shit Robby will give me now that's he worked out we were sleeping together long before I had officially divorced Abby. He'll probably try and duel me for your honour." He joked.

Mel giggled against his neck. "A bit late for that."

Frank did offer, to marry her. Mel knew he and Abby quickly got married, at both their parents' insistence, once they got pregnant with Tanner. Obviously, it didn't work out the best for them. Mel felt it was the gold star example of why they should hold off until they wanted to get married on their own terms, when they wanted. She also knew Frank would run away with her and elope if she asked him tomorrow, though.

"You'll do great. You'll come back all excited and full of energy and I'll just live vicariously through you." Mel laughed.

"Yeah, but you get to stay here and get a head start on her saying 'mama' as her first word." Frank smiled. Mel also had a rota of visitors who wanted to see her and meet their little girl—Trinity, Dennis, Princess, Perlah, Yolanda, Dana, Emma, Cassie, Victoria, Mateo, Parker, Donnie, Jesse… She needed to work out a schedule for them all.

"She might look like me, but she's a Daddy's girl, I can tell already. She always calms down when she's with you. Just like me." Mel sleepily whispered against his skin.

"Yeah, I'm great, aren't I?" He joked.

Mel smiled against his skin. "You really are." She chuckled.

That knock that night was answered by her mother. Mel can still feel the cold under her 13-year-old self's feet from when she had slowly crept out of her room that night and heard the cop say her father was in a fatal car accident and had passed away at the scene. She could still hear her mother's precise screams if she thought about it hard enough. Mel didn't even know why her father was out driving so late that night, and she couldn't really ask her mother now, with her being gone as well. Sometimes she wondered if she was better off not knowing.

She's heard that knock in her nightmares during many nights of her life. That sound of that knock would awaken her in a deep sweat, playing in her head over and over again. That's what she assumes is happening again when she tries to close her eyes, but then she hears the knock repeat. A little quicker but still not too loud or intense. That's not the knock she repeatedly hears in her nightmares; it doesn't sound like the way a cop would knock. So, who could be knocking on her door at 2 AM?

She decides to get up, terrified that Becca has somehow got into an accident in the middle of the night. But then she gets the sudden thought that this could be a serial killer at her door, so she has the good sense to grab a weapon, just in case. She settles on grabbing her dad's old clarinet, which she never had the heart to sell or donate, because he loved it so much. It's probably damaged, anyway, because she's always kept it assembled, but she wanted to leave it as her dad had left it.

Mel teeters up to her door slowly, trying to see whose knocking through the frosted semi-circle of glass on top. She peeks up, pointing up on her tiptoes and sees a tussle of brown, floppy hair. That hair, she could almost swear–

"Mel? Please tell you're there." She hears. There's no mistaking that voice.

Before she can really process it herself, she swings open the door, clarinet-weapon in her other hand. She gasps when she sees him.

His lip is busted and actively bleeding; there's blood in his teeth, too. There's a deep gash above his eyebrow and the formation of a soon-to-be black eye around it. His hair is dishevelled, and his eyes look bloodshot, caused either by tears or something worse.

Frank meets her eyes, looking a little shy. He looks very small in this moment, so vulnerable. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go." He says, quietly. He seems so unsure of himself.

"What happened?!" She wails as she steps back to let him inside.

"A fight. Well, actually, I guess I was mugged." He shrugs. Mel thinks he sounds a little drunk and hopes to God he hasn't relapsed.

"Mugged?!" Mel asks. She lightly pushes him into her kitchen so she can assess his injuries in better lighting. She suddenly feels a little embarrassed of her outfit– a white cropped tank top with a picture of Hello Kitty in the middle matched with long stripy pink pyjama bottoms–as she watches Frank's eyes look her up and down.

Frank looks back at her and laughs a little, which makes him wince. "What's with the clarinet?" He grins.

She frowns at him. How could he be laughing in this state?

"It was a weapon in case you were a serial killer." She informs him, as she puts the clarinet back down and flicks on her kitchen light. He quickly rinses his mouth out at her kitchen sink then sits himself up on her worktop.

She assesses him properly now. This is bad. He could easily have a broken jaw or cheekbone. His fists are bloody and bruised too. He's wearing blue jeans and a long-sleeved navy t-shirt, but she suspects he's probably covered in bruises and cuts across his whole body.

"While I'm proud of you for arming yourself before you answer the door at 2 AM, I'm not sure how effective a clarinet will be as a weapon." He smiles at her.

"Stop trying to make jokes right now, this is really bad." She complains, tilting his jaw to the side to assess it.

"You're right. I'm sorry." He says quietly, trying to make eye contact with her, but he can't because her eyebrows are so furrowed down in focus.

"Did you try to fight them?" She says, annoyed with him, as she inspects his bloody, swollen knuckles. "You're not supposed to do that, you're just supposed to give them everything. They could've had a gun. They could've killed you. You have kids." She rants at him, a little cry escaping her throat.

"Well, they got my phone. That's why I couldn't call you to tell you I was outside." He says, still so calm and detached.

"Wait, did they have knives or something, Frank? Were you stabbed?" She worries, lifting up his shirt and removing it without even asking him.

She inspects his skin, starting to bruise like he was thrown to the ground, and he has some scrapes, but no stab wounds. He winces and puffs air out of his clenched teeth as she touches her fingers across his stomach, even though her touch is soft and careful.

"They didn't. Or at least they didn't show me any knives, they literally just beat the crap out of me." He sighs.

Mel nods softly. "Take your pants off."

"What?" He asks.

"I need to make sure they didn't stab your legs." She says, trying to sound in control.

"Mel…they didn't stab me." He protests.

"You don't know for sure. We see it all the time, you might not have felt it with all the adrenaline." She hesitates for a second, then looks up at his eyes. "And I can smell the alcohol on your breath." She adds, trying not to sound too annoyed with him. "I thought you weren't supposed to drink on your programme."

"I had one beer, I even cleared it with my sponsor." He huffs before she turns around so he can unbuckle his belt and remove his jeans. She faces the wall opposite and folds her arms, trying to not think too much about his lack of clothes. He lets his belt and jeans fall to the floor, and Mel can't help herself but pick them up and fold them neatly next to where he's sat on the worktop. He smirks at her while she does it. She doesn't know how he's managing to smirk at a time like this.

"Smells like more than one beer." Mel says as she squats down to inspect his legs for any stab wounds or other injuries.

"Someone bought me a shot of tequila." He shrugs.

"Oh. Was it a date?" She asks, trying to sound neutral on the matter.

He laughs a little. "No. I was celebrating–maybe celebrating isn't the right word. I officially signed the divorce papers today, that's why I left our shift early. I just wanted to go out for a drink after. It was supposed to be the mark of a new era. It's not going to be a regular thing. Alcohol was never my problem anyway. Although maybe this is a sign I shouldn't drink again." He says, quieter and more vulnerable now than he had been before.

"Oh." Mel replies as she stands back up. She knew Frank had been separated for months at this point, and even though she knew divorce was where it was headed, its still a bit of a shock to get it confirmed. He didn't talk much about the whole process. Princess and Perlah will be abuzz with the news soon.

"You're going to be covered in bruises, did they push you down to the ground?" She asks, before opening her freezer and grabbing a bag of frozen peas and wrapping it in a dish towel. She hands it over to him, and he groans in relief once he places the ice to his lip.

Mel turns to a cabinet under the sink to search for her first aid kit.

"I think they got me down on the ground a couple of times." He frowns. Mel pulls her first aid kit up to the kitchen island and places it next to him. It's more like a full paramedic kit, really. Complete with bandages, sutures, a blood pressure cuff, scalpels, lidocaine, even an IV and more.

"You have all that from when your mom was sick?" Frank asks.

Mel looks up at him. "Yeah. She didn't want to go into hospice, so we had everything in our house towards the end. I know it's kind of weird that I moved it all with us when we left Virginia. It just felt strange leaving it all behind." She frowns.

"No, it's not weird. It's a connection to her." He replies as she places his arm in the blood pressure cuff.

"Do you really need to take my blood pressure?" He says, attempting a laugh again, but she immediately scowls at him, so he matches her frown.

"Yes. I need to decide if I'm taking you to the ER or not." She says, removing the blood pressure cuff and monitor. 135/85. A little high, but not immediately concerning. She turns around the monitor and shows him wordlessly.

"I'm not going to PTMC." Frank huffs.

"Fine. We'll go to Presby." She frowns as she reaches for antiseptic spray to clean his cuts, but he quickly shakes his head.

"Too many people know me there…and they all know Robby. Princess and Perlah will be passing around the story by 7:15." He frowns, looking down at the floor.

Mel takes a step back and puts her hands on her hips. "Did you take something, Frank?" She asks in an unsure and unsteady tone.

"No—that's not what I meant. I swear it was just the beer and the shot, I'm not…this isn't a relapse, Mel. I just don't want to give people another thing to talk about. It's why I came to you." He says, putting his face in his hands, then pulling them away when he remembers he's covered in cuts.

"OK." Mel nods, stepping closer. "How did you even get here?" She frowns.

"I walked from downtown. I wasn't really thinking straight. I thought no cab drivers would take me as soon as they saw my beat-up face. And I didn't want to go home to Abby like this. She'd go insane. I think my legs just sort of took me here…and then I was knocking at your door." He says, raising his head to look at her. She realises his pupils are huge when he does, the usual beautiful blue in his eyes drowned out.

"Did you hit your head?" She says, moving her own eyes to see if he follows.

"Maybe when I hit the ground. I think my back took the brunt of it, though." He says, rubbing his spine as he speaks.

"I'll get you some Tylenol. Follow my finger." She says. He rolls his eyes but does as she says. His pupils are still a little wide, but ultimately equal and reactive, which settles her.

"I would still send you for a CAT scan if you came into the ER like this." She huffs. "I want to drive you out to one of the rural EDs." She protests, staring at him, her lip pouted out and her eyebrows in a permanent frown.

"And have some po-dunk doctor misdiagnose me with a brain bleed or something worse? No thanks." He says sarcastically, but gets nothing but a disappointed look from Mel.

"They'll just end up transferring me to the Pitt, anyway. Please, Mel, I'll go in early and get Shen to properly look me over in the morning, I just—I wanted—I came here without really thinking about it." He says, breathing out, as he reaches out for her hand. She lets him grip her hand and looks at him with a sad frown. She lightly dances her fingers against his before she gulps and pulls her hand back.

"Let me clean your cuts." She says, trying to distract herself from his words. She leans in close to the one above his eyebrow first, examining for any debris. "Are you sure you fell on your back and not your face?" She adds, removing a small piece of gravel from his cut with her tweezers.

"Pretty sure. Maybe it was more on my side." He says as she lifts a medical swab treated with anti-septic spray. She carefully cleans out the cut, watching as he winces a little at the sting. "It's fine though, face scars will only make me look cooler." He smirks.

Mel frowns and ignores him, tilting her head close to his. "That's not funny. I think this will need a stitch, Frank." She says in a disapproving tone.

"I trust you." He shrugs, like she's offering something as simple as tying his shoelaces.

"No." She frowns, shaking her head. "I'm not as good at facial lacerations as you are. I'll end up scaring you or something. I sucked at my plastics rotation." She pouts, putting her tools down on the worktop.

"I'll talk you through it." He says, casually as he turns his head to inspect her kit. "This is so cool, you've got everything we need." He smiles softly.

"I don't know." Mel grumbles nervously, still unsure.

Frank lifts one of the sutures closer to read it better. He probably needs his reading glasses at this time of night, or his eyes have been damaged in the mugging.

"It's a 5-0 silk. That's perfect." He says, giving it back to her. He lifts her smallest needle and hands that to her as well with a small smile. "You're good at this, I've seen you do it many times. You can do it." He encourages her, softly.

Mel shrugs in defeat but gives into him. He grimaces as soon as she starts which makes her stop suturing. "Keep going, it's alright." He tells her, so she sighs and starts again.

"Sorry. I just want to be slow to make sure I get it right." Mel says, as she tries to make the stitch as perfect as possible.

"It's alright. I know you don't want to mess up my pretty face, Melissa." He smiles sarcastically.

Mel finally smiles and rolls her eyes at him. "It's really not funny Frank." She shakes her head, trying to not let him make her laugh.

"I still got a little smile out of you, I saw it." He whispers, grinning again.

"Fine. But be serious for a second while I finish the stitch." She asserts.

"Okay." He whispers, very quietly, a little cheekily.

Mel finally closes the stitch, then takes a step back again to look at it. "I think it's alright." She says, and hands him her phone out of her pocket so he can look at himself in her front-facing camera.

"Good job." He says, examining it like he's not the patient himself. "How's my lip looking?" He asks, removing the bag of frozen peas from it, which he hasn't even been keeping on with all his chatting.

Mel averts his eye contact as she tries not to think too hard about staring at his lips. "Can I?" She says, raising her finger.

Frank does a downward smile now, like he's making an effort to be more serious and nods. Mel quickly washes her hands before grabbing a glove from her kit and placing her finger just above his lip. "This one looks okay, I don't think it will need a stitch." She says. He hums in agreement.

She then slowly traces her finger across the cut on his actual lip now, accidentally licking her own lips as she does it. "Um–this one is superficial too. The ice has helped with the swelling." She adds, quickly stepping back.

"So you won't even need to kiss it better?" He smiles smugly. But that smile drops as soon as Mel looks up at him.

"Don't do that to me right now." She snaps, as she walks around and grabs Tylenol and Advil from her medical kit, and takes out two pills each.

"Mel, I wasn't trying to–" Frank starts, his face starkly serious now, but she stops him and just puts the pills into his hand.

"Was it your wallet you fought them for?" She asks, casually as she walks around the kitchen island to look at his back. "Ouch." She whispers to herself. It's covered in scratches and cuts and will definitely be bruised tomorrow. She softly drops her fingers across his tender skin.

"No. They got my wallet too. Fuck, I'll have to cancel my cards in the morning." He sighs.

"Oh, Frank, this is really bad. Your back is going to kill you in the morning." She says, grabbing the bag of frozen peas again and holding it to his back.

He contracts and shivers when she does it. "You have a scar here." She says, softly rubbing towards the base of his spine.

"Yeah. College football, I was knocked on my ass and it was a compression fracture. The scar was caused by nerve inflammation. It honestly wasn't too bad then, I just had to rest for six weeks and I was back on my feet. But I quit football after that and started taking pre-med more seriously. When I hurt my back helping my parents move I guess it was some kind of reoccurrence injury." He sighs. Mel nods silently.

"That feels nice." He whispers softly, and Mel realises she's been absentmindedly rubbing at the spot this whole time.

"Sorry." She says, pulling her hand back.

"So it was your wedding ring you fought them for?" Mel asks.

Even though she can't see his face right now, she can tell by the way he moves his head that he's squashing his eyebrows down in confusion.

"What? No. That's ironically sitting in the guest bedroom where I left it this morning. I would have handed that over to them myself, would've gotten it out of my hands. It's not even worth much." He shrugs.

"Wait. I don't understand, if you let them have your wallet and your phone and you didn't even have your wedding ring on–what did they fight you for?" Mel frowns, shaking her head.

"Mel–" He starts, but she can tell from his tone that he'll try to wiggle his way out of telling her. Mel tilts her head at him when a realisation hits her. "Leave it, Mel." He says, seeing the realisation in her eyes.

"Don't tell me you let yourself get beat up over the pin." She almost shouts, dragging out the last two words, and she walks back over to face him.

He drops his face to his hands like he's shy. "It was, wasn't it? Are you crazy? It wasn't even worth much." She cries, angry with him now, and how reckless he was over a little birthday present.

Frank had mentioned to her that he used to collect these little pins from Fort Pitt as a kid, but he never got the final one to complete the set before they stopped selling them. Mel set up eBay alerts and scoured Facebook Marketplace for the missing one. She dragged Becca around thrift shops and garage sales, digging through piles of different pins and memorabilia, searching for it.

She even sent a chain of emails that went back and forth for weeks until she was eventually introduced to the retired museum curator, who sent her to a collector he knew, who sent her to a different collector, who eventually sold Mel the pin for $13. The collector told her that "her husband" was very lucky to have such a dedicated wife. Mel had no idea how it got miscommunicated that she was a wife looking for a gift for her husband, but it felt nice to hear, so she didn't correct him.

It was a little five-point golden enamel pin with a lighter gold trim around it. Inside, there's a blue circle with a little cartoon fort and trees inside with text that reads "fort pitt" in lowercase white letters.

"It's worth a lot to me." Frank finally snaps, making her feel a little bad. "It was the best thing about that birthday." He adds, folding his arms like a badly behaved middle schooler.

Mel knew this was true. He worked on his birthday. Mel wasn't sure if he couldn't get the day off or if he just insisted on working it–he was still trying to take as many shifts as possible to 'make up for the time he lost in those 10 months'. He came in looking shy and exhausted, and quickly admitted to Mel that he and Abby had a big fight that morning.

"It was kind of about money. I mean she got me this fancy, really expensive watch, which is nice in theory, but where am I ever going to wear this precious watch? It's too expensive to wear at work, she told me. It wasn't even really for me, it was for her to post on her Instagram and show off–like 'look what I got Frank for his birthday'. I should have just said thank you and moved on, but I blew up at her. And she called me an asshole, rightfully." She remembered how he had shrugged and shaken his head.

"I get it. On a lot of birthdays, I just got the same as what Becca wanted, sometimes in a different colour. Our parties were always based around whatever theme Becca decided. I don't think my parents meant badly, I just didn't know how to ask for what I really wanted, I guess. I wanted to make their lives easier and like what Becca liked." She sighed at the time.

"I'm sorry. That sucks." Frank had said.

"Birthdays are overrated." She had smiled. And that had made him smile, too.

But even on the bad birthday scale, this one got worse for Frank by the end of the day, because there was an explosion at a local gas station. It was an endless day of burns, damaged airways, lost limbs, and many patients lost, including two kids. It sucked, and no one was really in the mood for blowing out candles after on the cake Dana had put in the break room for Frank's birthday. So Mel dragged him into a quiet stairwell and gave him his pin.

"I just wanted you to have something good out of today." She had told him. Once he saw the pin, he lit up like he was a kid getting his stocking personally delivered by Santa Clause himself and pulled her into a hug, resting his forehead on the back of her shoulder. His arms pressed around her so tight it was almost a little difficult to breathe, but it felt so nice. It was probably the best hug of her life, even though she was a little embarrassed by how bad she was at reciprocating it.

The next day, Frank turned up with his gift pinned to his winter coat, even though Mel protested he should keep it safely tucked away with the rest of his collection. He said he wanted to keep it close, and she had watched it move from his winter coat to his spring raincoat and now the zip-up jacket he wore in the early summer. It made her heart swell every time she saw it.

"I can't believe you fought them for that, Frank." She says, finally letting tears fall from her eyes.

He pulls her towards him so her hands rest on his bare knee. "I know it was stupid. But they asked me to hand it over and I just refused. They probably thought it was worth a lot of money. I fought them so hard for it they're probably expecting to pawn it for thousands." He laughs a little.

"But Becca told me how much effort you put in to get it. And it just meant a lot to me." He adds. Becca, we need to have a conversation about Things We Don't Tell Frank, Mel thinks.

Mel nods. "You really scared me, Frank." She admits, a little sob escaping her throat. "The last time someone knocked on my door in the middle of the night like that, my dad was dead. So, you can't–you can't do that to me. You can't get into fights in the street. You can't come to my door all beaten up and just smile like it's all OK. It's not OK! It kills me seeing you hurt like that! You could've been killed." She rants, threading her hands together repeatedly.

"Oh, sweetheart." He says, his own voice wobbling. "Come here." He commands, pulling her between his legs to hug her tight. She lets her head fall into the crook of his neck as she finally lets her emotions catch up to her, and cries huge tears onto his skin as she wraps her arms around his shoulders. He rubs his hands over the back of her hair, whispering little shushes to her ear. "I'm so sorry, Mel. It won't happen again." He keeps saying sweetly.

When he kisses the side of her head, she's suddenly very aware of his lack of clothes. And how embarrassed she is to be covering his skin in her deep tears, so she lets her head up, but he holds onto her waist to keep her close.

"I'm so sorry, honey. I know I must've really scared you." He says, lifting his hand to wipe away her tears.

"You did." She frowns. "But thank you for being sorry, and for trying to protect the little pin…even if it was stupid." She adds, letting her face smile a little.

He chuckles. "That's my girl." He says, which gives her butterflies as she coughs awkwardly and steps back.

"I promise I'll call my therapist and my sponsor in the morning after I get Shen to check me over in a few hours. I'll make a police report too, before you start, even though they'll be completely useless because–" He says, before Mel interrupts him by planting a small kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you." She smiles as she watches his whole cheek turn pink and worries she hurt him in some way.

"I'll–um–get out of your hair. I'll try and get a cab and get a couple of hours sleep." He says, picking up his jeans.

"No–no. Please don't. I'm still not 100% confident that you've not got a concussion or something way worse so I'm keeping an eye on you until we go into the hospital." She protests.

Frank smiles and nods softly. "If you insist." He grins. "I'll just take the couch." He says, limping over to it.

"No. You've already hurt your back enough, take my bed. I'll sleep in Becca's room. We share a wall so I'll hear if you start choking or seizing or dying on me." She insists.

"That's a lovely image, Mel." He says, sarcastically and shakes his head. "But okay, I'll do that, if it makes you happy." He adds.

"It will." She smiles as she watches him limp slightly again.

"Do you need a hand getting to bed?" She asks. Frank looks back at her, shyly, like his instinct is to say no, but he tries to take another step forward and stumbles. He then nods slowly at her. "OK." He says, like he's disappointed he can't get himself to the bed.

Mel leans down next to him so he can get his arm around her and lean more of his weight on her, and she thanks her past self for choosing an apartment with no stairs. Even though it sort of hurts to have all his body weight on her, the closeness and warmth of his body undeniably feels nice.

Mel opens the door to her room and watches as Frank looks around with a small smile on his face, scanning the photos on her walls. "Cute." He says, leaning his weight off of Mel and onto her dresser as he lifts up a little duck with glasses and a stethoscope around its neck.

"Becca got me that for my med school graduation." Mel smiles.

"It's very Mel." He grins, mostly to himself.

Mel fluffs up her pillows for him as Frank settles on the end of the bed. "I would've changed the sheets if I knew you'd be sleeping in them. I hope you don't mind." She says.

Frank shakes his head as he lies against the pillows and gets comfortable. "I don't care. Smells good." He says, sleepily, taking in a deep breath.

"Sleep against the wall so I can hear that you're still breathing, please." She points at the side of the bed that's up against the left wall, where Becca's bed sits on the other side.

"Yes, ma'am." Frank says with a grin. She can hear in his voice that he's sleepy now, so she slips out of the room quietly and falls into Becca's bed.

She eventually rolls her body until she's up against the wall, and is relieved to hear Frank snoring, confirming he's survived the two minutes she's let him out of her sight.

Just as she finally lets her own eyes drift off, she gets a call from an unknown number. Now, who is calling at–she looks over at Becca's alarm clock on her bedside table–2:59 AM?

She lets it ring out, but her phone immediately starts ringing again.

"Hello?" Mel says quietly, trying not to wake Frank on the other side of the wall.

"Mel! Have you heard from Langdon at all? Apparently he hasn't come home and his wife–actually, ex-wife–is freaking out. He's not answering his phone, so I'm getting kinda worried too." It takes Mel a second or two to register the voice to Yolanda Garcia.

"Oh. Yeah. He's okay, he's with me." Mel whispers back.

"Oh." Yolanda responds, and Mel swears she can hear a little chuckle in her voice.

"Not like that!" Mel immediately responds, then wonders if she should clear it with Frank before she tells Yolanda about the night he's had.

"He had kind of a rough night. He's in my bed." She adds, before realising that makes it sound worse. "Without me!" Mel shrieks.

Yolanda laughs a little. "I'm not interrogating you, scaredy cat, I'm just glad Frank's okay." She replies, then goes silent for a second. "Should I tell Abby he's with you or…"

"Um–probably not." Mel replies. She'd only met Abby once, when she ran into Frank and his family at the grocery store, and she could hear Abby telling Frank off for how he 'acted' with Mel before she'd even left the aisle. She guessed Abby wasn't her biggest fan.

"That's okay, I'll tell her he showed up at my door. Tell him to call me in the morning, please." Yolanda tells her. Mel feels like she can hear a tone of excitement in her voice by the way she says 'please'.

"Of course." Mel replies.

"Alright, Mel, enjoy definitely not having Langdon next to you in bed." Garcia teases.

Garcia hangs up before Mel can argue back, and her skin burns red when she hears Frank stirring against the wall. Then it sounds like he's groaning in pain, and before she can sit up, she hears him yelling.

Mel runs out towards her room, worried she missed an internal injury somewhere, and he's going to die in her bed.

When she throws open the door, Frank has wrapped himself up in the comforter but still appears asleep as he thrashes and yells.

"Frank!" Mel tries as he bangs his body against the wall. She gets a little closer. "Frank!" She repeats. He continues to move his body like he's currently in the street fight he was in earlier, so Mel reluctantly reaches out to push her hand firmly onto his chest. "Frank, wake up!" She yells.

His body stills for a moment, then he sits up quickly. "Are you okay?!" He says, panicked, his own breathing coming out at a rapid pace.

"You were having a nightmare, I think." Mel replies quietly.

"Oh. Was I?" Frank frowns, leaning back on the pillows. Mel sits down on the end of the bed and nods. "You were yelling a little, and moving around like you were fighting." Mel explains.

"Jesus, I don't think I've had a nightmare like that since I was kid." Frank frowns, rubbing at his back.

"Is your back starting to hurt?" Mel asks, assuming the adrenaline and alcohol were wearing off him now.

Frank looks up at her and nods softly. His face makes Mel want to burst into tears again. The cuts across his face, the black eye beginning to form… his posture is so un-Langdon-like to her. He looks so defeated, a change from the smug, snarky buzz he still had around her an hour ago.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Mel asks, before she can talk herself out of it.

Frank purses his lips and stares at her. "If you want to, yeah." He says sheepishly, but gets closer to the wall to make more room for her.

Mel smiles softly and slides into the bed. Frank flattens out the covers so she can get more of the comforter that he had cuddled around himself. Frank still looks so stiff and unsure of himself. Mel would even say he looks scared, an emotion she wouldn't typically associate with him.

Mel ignores the rapid thumping of her heart, so loud it has started echoing in her ears, as she moves closer to where he's lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"My parents used to do this when Becca and I had nightmares." She whispers and softly lifts her forefinger to the top of his forehead, down the bridge of his nose and up again in a slow, considered, repetitive motion. "My mom used to say doing this has magical powers to make you sleepy, which I believed until an embarrassingly old age." Mel continues, watching Frank's body finally relax under her touch.

"It feels really nice." Frank whispers.

"Is it making you sleepy?" Mel says softly.

"Yeah." He smiles a little. "My mom used to tell me to pray to the Virgin Mary when I couldn't sleep as a kid, but I think the King method is more effective." He adds.

Mel giggles, softly stroking her finger around the full outline of his hairline, then down his jaw. "I've set an alarm for 5 so we can go in early and get Shen to check you out. I'm going with you to file a report to the cops, too, and I don't want to hear you say no." She asserts.

Frank goes to open his mouth when Mel returns to making her signature motion along his nose, silencing him. "Maybe that is magic because I don't even want to say no now." He murmurs.

"Oh, also, Garcia called me a little while ago. She said Abby was worried that you hadn't come home and you weren't picking up your phone so I told her you were with me. I hope that's okay." She says, feeling a little bit of nervousness in her voice.

"Oh crap, I didn't even think about that. I probably should've called her on your phone. Clearly, I'm a bad husband even when I'm officially divorced. Did Garcia–um–tell her I was with you?" He asks, sounding sleepy again.

"No. She told her you were at her place, I think." Mel replies.

"My lease starts on my new place next week, I can't wait to not have Abby track my every move." He sighs. It makes Mel stop her movements for a second, suddenly feeling like she's doing something that she shouldn't be doing.

"I know that kind of makes me sound like an ass when she's rightfully worried the father of her kids hasn't come home. It's just feels like we both need…separation now that everything is official." He sighs.

"That makes sense." Mel says softly.

"She's gonna kill me when she sees the state I'm in though." He frowns.

"Good." Mel says cheekily back, which makes him smirk too.

"Fair." Frank laughs.

"Don't waste any time caring about what anyone in work says, though." Mel says, knowing instinctively that he'll be worried about it. "I'll spread a rumour that you saved a helpless woman on the street and fought the muggers like you were Spiderman." She adds.

"Mel King willing to gossip, for me? I feel very special." He yawns.

"Come here." She says, suddenly feeling braver than she ever has in her life. She cradles Frank around her body in an embrace, and he tucks his head into her upper chest. She wraps her arms around him and strokes his back, leaning her head against his. He tucks his arms around her waist, and their legs thread together. She can feel his light breath on her chest.

"I should be the one holding you, taking care of you." Frank complains, tilting his chin up at her. He looks like he was made to be there—his chin dimple pressed against her skin, his blue eyes reflecting off her dark ones.

Mel doesn't know what overtakes her in the next moment as she leans down and leaves a small, soft kiss on his lips. He still tastes like blood, and maybe even beer, but there's still something so tender and special about it. Frank softly pecks her lip back and smiles up at her like she's the only other human he's ever seen.

When Frank Langdon first started staying over at Mel King's place, lots of things about him surprised her.

He really likes to clean, or at least he cleans a lot. “It occupies my mind.” He told her once, while unscrewing the front of her oven door in order to scrub the glass in between.

He loves to watch hockey games on the TV, but he never watches football. “It's not that I don't like football, it just makes me too mad.” He had told her. That made Mel laugh, because he still got mad at hockey, so she couldn't imagine how mad he’d get at football.

He likes to meditate. “I was taught it in rehab. And I can't do the marathons anymore with my fucking back.” He told her, when she caught him in a lotus pose doing some sort of breathing technique, which she forgot the name of, on the floor of her bathroom once.

He's really good at chess. Infuriatingly good. "My dad taught me. He thought it would help me learn how to focus." He told her. Mel thought she was good at chess after Becca developed an obsession with it when they were teenagers and always made Mel play with her. Eventually, Mel figured Frank was probably letting her win when she played him, which was totally against his competitive nature. Although he never let Becca win when he played her, because she would call him out on it.

He's nearsighted and wears glasses. Well, he wears contacts at work and throughout most of the day. But at night, he wears these thick-framed clear glasses that make him look so hot and studious that it made Mel practically throb when she saw him wearing them for the first time, but she had to wait until he finished the NYT Daily Crossword before she could jump him.

He likes to make Spotify playlists, specifically, he likes to make her Spotify playlists with cute little names like ‘Mel <3’ and ‘Songs that make me think of us.’ The playlists were always filled with 'dad bands' like Styx–who she probably knew the whole discography of by now–The Cure, Eagles, Bruce Springsteen and U2 also frequently featured. She made him a Megan the Stallion playlist in return, which he always has on repeat during their drives together.

But most of all, he likes to be very, very sweet with her all the time. Not that him being sweet was particularly surprising, he's always been so soft and kind with her–but just how extremely sweet he manages to be all the time. That was the surprising part.

He's sweet at work, in the car after work, while they make dinner, on the couch after dinner, while they're sleeping, while they're having sex, after they have sex and in the morning before they get to work. Rinse and repeat. He's always just so sweet.

He's very sweet to her on Friday night restaurant dinners with Becca (and he's very good at being sweet with Becca, too). He's very sweet to her in front of kids on weekends, who pretend to be grossed out when he kisses her in front of them–Tanner has recently learned about ‘cooties’ and warned Penny about them too.

He's always holding her hand, everywhere they go. He is always complimenting her–the clothes she wears, how she did her hair that day, her eyes, her mouth, her moles and her freckles. He loves it all, and he lets her know that he loves it all. She can't stand somewhere for five minutes without him coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, whispering sweet things in her ear–except in work, where he's slightly more subtle.

In the year they've been together, they've only had four fights. And only one proper, blow-out, bad fight. The first fight was over Mel complaining he was driving too erratically after work (to be fair, she had sent him a dirty text earlier in the day, so he was driving home a little faster than usual).

Their second fight was after a long, terrible shift, after which Mel tried to go straight to sleep, but he dragged her out of her blanket cocoon because he needed her to eat something, even though she really didn't want to. She snapped at him but eventually said sorry once she actually ate the tomato and mozzarella pasta he had made, that she, admittedly, really did need to eat.

The third fight was because one of the workers at Chipotle was always flirting with her. (Mel didn't realise he was flirting and thought the guy was just being nice). Frank admitted he was jealous, so the next time they went, she let him have his hands all over her the whole time they ordered.

The worst fight, however, the-tears-falling-down-faces, screaming-at-each-other and slamming-doors kind of fight, that only happened once. Mel had taken Robby's side over a patient case instead of Frank's. It was a patient with distal renal tubular acidosis. Frank was insistent they should go with an aggressive potassium replacement concurrent with alkali therapy–he had read a paper that doing the two treatments at the same time was increasingly being recommended for better patient outcomes–but Robby was insistent they should do the potassium replacement first, then onto alkali therapy separately. Ultimately, Mel agreed that the priority was the potassium correction–the patient was dangerously low. Frank's face fell as soon as she said it.

She knew he was upset about it for the rest of their shift. He could barely look at her. Once they got back to her place, he lost it on her. He shouted that she mustn't trust in his abilities as a doctor, his voice was so loud it almost made her shake. She shouted back and told him she was only doing what was best for the patient. He slammed her front door at 11 PM, and Mel got in her bed and cried. But he returned at 4 AM with his spare key and begged her to forgive him. He got on his knees and put his head in her lap and cried. He told her he was terrified of relapsing and heartbroken that his relationship with Robby would never be the same because of what he did. She scooped him up and held him all night then. That next morning, he made a 9 AM appointment with his therapist and came up with a plan for what he would do the next time that situation happened. He also had a list of five reasons he was grateful for her and their relationship together, but Mel wasn't sure if that was really the therapist’s idea or just Frank's.