should've kissed you anyway.

She's his favorite person in the hospital, bar none. No one else even comes close. The absolute, unadulterated fondness and admiration he has for her – as a physician, as a caretaker, as a person – doesn't make sense to many people in the Pitt, he thinks. (He's pretty sure Princess and Perlah are whispering about that behind his back, too.)

He doesn't have the faintest fucking clue why it doesn't make sense to anyone. To him, it makes all the sense in the universe. Apart from being one of the absolute best doctors in the ED, she’s kind and funny and patient and caring and pleasant and so, so, so beautiful.

(He’d let that last adjective slip two weeks ago during one of his countless diatribes about how people should be treating Mel better that he always ended up giving to Abby, of all people. Whatever. He didn’t have any friends, he’d realized over the past year.

Anyway. Abby heard beautiful and signed her copy of the divorce paperwork without hesitation, slid it across the counter to him the next morning, while he was drinking his coffee.

“Abs. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just because I think she’s, uh, pretty,” he said, having the decency to stumble over his words a bit and cough around his sips of coffee, “doesn’t mean I’m in love with her or anything.”

“I know,” Abby admitted. “And me having recurring sex dreams about Tanner’s swim instructor doesn’t mean I’m in love with him either.”

He had outright choked on his coffee at that. It came out of his nose. Abby yanked the paperwork out of the way just in time.

“As I was saying,” she began again, once he had relearned how to breathe, “it might not mean we’re in love with them. But it does mean we’re not in love with each other anymore.”

And that had been that.)

Days with Mel are better than days with anyone else. And, sure, maybe it’s because he spends most of his time with her smiling like a lovestruck idiot, tugging on her braid and cleaning her glasses for her unprompted. But he isn’t letting himself overthink it. He’s spent the past year of his life overthinking every little detail of his life.

Being with Mel is easy. He deserves to have one thing he doesn’t get in his head about.

So, yeah. Rule Number Two: as much Mel as possible.

The third rule is straightforward: stay out of Trinity Santos’ fucking business.

This should’ve been easy enough to follow, and it is, mostly. He makes sure not to take cases with her unless he absolutely has to, keeps his head down and just does his fucking job when they have to work on traumas together. He doesn’t try to teach her, like he did that first day back, or force her into conversations. He tried to extend an olive branch, and she threw it back in his face. Which is her right, he knows. He was an ass. If she wants to hold that against him, so be it.

He stays out of her way, and aside from a stray comment he overhears here and there, she stays out of his. It should be easy, in theory.

The only confounding factor is the Mel of it all.

He isn’t quite sure what to make of Mel and Trinity’s burgeoning friendship, which started with their karaoke session the night of July 4th. An experience Mel described to him as, “uncomfortable, but strangely cathartic. I’d never do it again, but it was nice to try once.”

(If it were up to him, and he had been the one to help Mel unwind that night, he would’ve taken her somewhere quiet where they could’ve finished watching the fireworks together. If he could’ve gotten her to open up, he would’ve just listened to her – to literally anything she had to say, whether it be her deposition, Becca, what she’s been up to the past ten months, her favorite movie, the weather. He could tell, even that day, that no one really listened to Mel. Not like they should. Not with their full, undivided attention.

But he’d still had a wife at home, at that point. So Trinity took her to karaoke. Whatever. Stay out of Santos’ fucking business, and all that.)

As far as Mel has let him know, the invitation came out of the blue. Santos – and everybody else, too, apparently – put zero effort into getting to know her while he had been gone. Which, again, he doesn’t have the faintest fucking clue why. Mel is probably the best person he knows. She should have a million friends. A billion.

Again, what the fuck ever. More Mel for him.

And Santos, it turns out. Although they haven’t been out again since karaoke, Mel tells him she’s been more attentive at work. They have been talking more. Or rather, Santos has been talking. Mel has been, according to her own account, doing a lot of listening.

“What does she talk to you about?” he’d asked Mel once, when his curiosity had gotten the better of him, as they were sharing a protein bar in the stairwell.

“Oh, uh, anything? I think she’s lonely, since Whitaker spends most of his time at the farm or at Robby’s place now. Plus, she and Garcia are very much over.”

“Tell me about it,” he mutters.

He and Yoyo have struck up their companionship again since he’s been back, even though he’s trying to be a little more cautious about it this time, because again, no one – not even Yolanda – reached out to him for ten months. But also, being friends with Yoyo sometimes violates Rule Three. Which means he knows that whatever relationship she had with Trinity is dead in the water.

“Oh, that’s right! You and Yoyo,” Mel had said with a slight laugh – she thinks the fact that he calls Garcia Yoyo is unexpected yet kind of adorable, and he thinks that Mel is fucking adorable for thinking that. “Yeah. So I think me being there for her to, unload on, maybe? Is helpful for her.”

He frowned.

“So what are you getting out of this?”

“A friend!” she’d told him eagerly. “She also gives me…advice, I guess you’d call it?”

“Advice?” he’d questioned, quirking an eyebrow as she shrugged. “On what?”

He hadn’t missed the way Mel’s eyes darted from his when she’d answered.

“Oh, on…relationships, I guess. And life. In general.”

A silence that was almost awkward settled over them. Their silences were never awkward. And he’d decided that, yeah, he didn’t want to know what relationship and life advice Santos was giving Mel.

“But,” Mel had begun, clearing her throat, “the important thing is that we’re friends! I have two friends now.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, saw her brilliant smile. That was the important part. Even though a startingly loud part of him wanted her all to himself. Even if he wished she’d formed a bond with anyone but Santos. That was his own problem; he could get over it.

The important part was friends for Mel.

So he bumped her shoulder with his, and had said, “Fuck yeah you do.”

She’d turned her brilliant smile towards him, and then sighed happily, handing him the last piece of their protein bar.

“Coincidentally, Independence Day might have to become my favorite holiday now, since it gave me you and Santos on the same day.”

He stopped chewing, and tensed up just enough for her to notice.

“What?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” he muttered, around the granola in his mouth. “That’s just…a coincidence. You’re right.”

She hummed. He swallowed.

Quite a fucking coincidence.

*            *            *

He’d gotten his first idea of the kind of relationship advice Santos was offering in the middle of September. It had been exactly one year since that day, the worst day of his life, and he had been feeling antsy since he woke up. Everyone at the hospital kept eyeing him weirdly, like he was about to clear out the entire department of benzos at any moment.

It was more than annoying; it was freaking him the fuck out.

By the time he was able to check his phone – it had somehow been both the fastest and slowest day of his career so far – he was eighteen minutes late to his usual break in the ambulance bay with Mel. He sighed, and looked up at the patient board. He probably didn’t have time to take a breather, and was about to text Mel since he couldn’t actively see her, when he felt Dana’s gaze on him.

He glanced at her, but didn’t say anything.

“You okay, kid?” she asked finally, with a tone that was both genuinely concerned and indicative of the fact that she had eyes on him.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, trying not to be short with her, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He felt like he was wearing a blinking neon sign on his forehead that said drug addict in all capital letters.

“You sure?”

He sighed, and looked back up at the board before closing his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on, his back was killing him, and he was fucking crawling out of his skin.

Fuck it.

“You seen Mel?” he asked.

Dana glanced at him, sharply and warily. He’d only taken his ring off at work last week, and now, the charge nurse watched every interaction between him and Mel with this exact expression on her face.

It felt like she was dissecting them. It felt invasive. She had always had some strange affinity for Abby.

A moment passed. He just barely avoided shuffling back and forth on his feet, squirming under her pointed stare.

“I think she’s in the lounge,” she said finally.

“Cool. Thanks.”

He turned on his heel, and tried not to run from central. But as he approached the break room, he stopped short, and tried not to let out a frustrated huff.

Mel was in the break room. Eating her protein bar. With Santos.

A flash of something like possessiveness curled in his stomach, but he tried to tamp it down. Friends for Mel, he thought to himself. Friends for Mel is the point.

But he was having a bad fucking day, so he hovered about three feet from the doorway, debating whether to walk in anyway and risk pissing Santos off. Then, he heard his name fall from Mel’s lips.

He couldn’t make out the rest of what she was saying, but he could make out distinctly the warm way she always said Dr. Langdon. Another feeling twisted in his gut, over the possessiveness. He gulped.

And he couldn’t help it. His curiosity got the best of him.

He walked closer to the lounge, but didn’t enter, instead standing just to the side of the doorway and leaning against the wall, trying to use every technique for focus he’d learned so far in therapy to eavesdrop on Mel and Santos’ conversation.

He was sure he looked suspicious. He took his phone out of his pocket, pulled up the day’s Wordle, stared at the screen with a furrowed brow, and was pretty positive he looked one percent less conspicuous.

“…just don’t understand what you see in him,” Santos finished saying.

His jaw clenched.

“He’s nice, Trinity,” Mel answered. “He’s so nice, and he always pays attention to me. He was the first person here who did that, ever.”

He tried to ignore the way his heart was swelling, and homed in on his phone. The screen had gone to sleep, so he navigated to Wordle once again.

“I’m nice to you!”

“You weren’t at first,” Mel said lowly.

“Whatever,” Santos muttered, and he could practically hear her eye roll. “I just think you could do better, Melanoma. If you want a guy friend that bad, I’ll pass Huckleberry off to you.”

“I’m fine, thank you. And I’m sorry for bringing him up. I won’t do that anymore. I know you don’t like him.”

“It’s weird.”

His head snapped up, and he found that Ellis was standing in front of him, an amused smile on her lips.

“Oh,” he breathed, but then, he shook his head. “Wait, what?”

“Today’s Wordle. The word is weird. As in, why are you being so weird, Dr. Langdon?”

He blushed, and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“Thanks for spoiling it, Ellis,” he mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t catch on to what he had been doing.

But, of course, Ellis’ gaze shifted to inside the break room, not even a half second later. By the time she looked back at him, her smile had grown.

“Huh. Now that’s interesting.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts his eyes to the ceiling, squinting up at the fluorescent lights.

“Mel and Santos,” she went on. “Who’d have thought they’d become such good friends?”

“I don’t know if I would call them good friends,” he said under his breath.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Brightside.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he sighed, still not making eye contact with her.

“Sure you don’t. Now let’s get back to work, Dr. Langdon,” she told him.

He waited until he heard Ellis’ footsteps on the linoleum floor. Then, he took his phone back out, and pulled up Wordle.

The word wasn’t even weird.

*            *            *

The next time he overheard them, he was headed towards the lockers to get his belongings, a smile on his face. He’d had an okay day – a good one, even. He led a few successful traumas, had cases from chairs that were mostly interesting. There was a steady enough flow of patients that the hours hadn’t dragged, but it had also been slow enough that he was able to take a real lunch break with Mel.

And if it had ended up with him inviting himself over to Mel’s place to watch a movie because Becca was spending Friday at Middle Hill with Adam again? Well, that made it even better.

He had been embarrassed at first, because he really had invited himself over with a shrug and a quiet I could come over and watch a movie with you, if you wanted. He’d immediately started to backtrack, but then saw the beautiful smile that had taken over Mel’s face, and paused.

I would love that, Frank, she’d told him softly. And that was that.

He’d told Mel that he would meet her at her locker, like they were back in middle school, and he was just about to round the corner into the hallway when he heard Santos’ voice.

“Anyway, do you want to go get a drink or something?”

“Oh, um,” he heard Mel respond hesitantly.

He stopped in his tracks, just like he had when he saw them in the break room.

“Come on, Mel,” Santos nearly whined. “Huckleberry has been at the farm like, every night this week and I’m so bored.”

“I can’t, Trinity,” Mel said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

“I, um, have plans. Actually.”

There was a brief silence, and then Santos sighed heavily.

“Ew, with Langdon? You’re ditching me for Langdon?”

“I’m not ditching you,” Mel defended, and he could practically hear the frown on her face. “We never had any plans. I would be ditching him if I decided to go with you.”

“So? Ditch him,” Santos said bluntly, huffing once before continuing. “No, I know you’re not going to. Just…be careful with him, okay?”

“Careful?”

“Yeah,” Santos told her. “Careful. I know he’s somehow convinced you he’s some standup guy or whatever, but he’s not. I don’t know if – “

“Trinity, do we really need to have this conversation again?”

“No!” Trinity exclaimed. “No, we do not. The last thing I need you to do is preach to me about him again. Fine, whatever. Go hang out with him. But don’t come crying to me if this whole thing ends badly.”

A locker slammed, and then he heard footsteps move toward the exit. He sighed, and then came around the corner to find Mel staring at the door leading to the parking garage.

“Hey,” he murmured quietly, trying not to scare her. She still jumped slightly before turning around to stare at him tiredly, even though the corners of her lips did turn up at the sight of him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, taking a few steps closer to him. She sighed, chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “Did you…hear any of that?”

He smiled apologetically at her, and she sighed, looping her hands around the back of her neck and dropping her gaze toward the ground.

“Sorry. I hate when she says stuff like that. I don’t agree with her. Obviously, I don’t agree with her. And I don’t want you to stop being friends with me because you think I do, and I’m just really sorry about the whole thing.”

“Mel,” he said gently, reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder. Her eye darted up to where he’d touched her, but she didn’t flinch or pull away. “Don’t apologize, because it’s not your fault. If anything, it’s my fault. I was an asshole to her.”

“Yes, but your criticisms of her weren’t unreasonable. The rules interns have to follow – reporting structure, and all that – are there for a reason.”

He removed his hand from her hesitantly to stand up straighter, but he couldn’t help the way the corner of his lips twitched up into a half smile. God, he really did not deserve someone like Mel in his corner.

“Still, I delivered it wrong,” he insisted. “That’s on me. She doesn’t have to forgive me.”

Mel frowned.

“I’ve made my peace with it, Mel. I promise.”

“It’s just my luck that I would have two friends who hate each other,” she muttered to herself, and his heart sank a little.

“I don’t…hate Santos,” he said. “And plus, it’s not important what I think about her. If she’s your friend, and you enjoy spending time with her, that’s what matters.”

“I guess.”

“Let’s not think about it anymore tonight,” he offered, hurrying up and opening his locker. He packed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, and then motioned with his head towards the exit. She fell into step beside him. “Now, I have two important questions: what do you want to eat, and what are we watching?”

“Honestly? Anything except Italian and Elf sounds amazing.”

He laughed lightly, and reached out, placed his hand on the small on her back to lead her out the door.

“I think we can manage that,” he promised.

*            *            *

Everything comes to a head not even a week after his first movie night with Mel.

He doesn’t intend to break rule number three going into the day. But for some reason, Santos has decided to stare him down even more than she usually does, especially around Mel. Whenever they’re within six feet of each other, he can feel Santos tracking his every move.

“Is Santos okay today?” he asks Mel at one point, while they’re charting next to each other. He can feel the other doctor’s gaze boring into the back of his head.

“I think so,” Mel says, her lips turning down. “Why? Did she say something?”

“Oh, uh, no. She’s…”

He trails off. What is he supposed to say? She seems extra hostile today, is out of the question. The last thing he wants to do is make Mel worried or upset.

Although, judging by the deepening frown on her face, he might’ve already done that. He mentally kicks himself.

“She just seems to be watching me more than normal,” he decides on, grimacing as the words leave his mouth.

“Oh, oh,” Mel says, her eyes widening a bit, like she’s just realized something. “I did tell her this morning that you and me are going to that pizza place together after work.”

Ah. Bingo.

“I feel bad for declining her invitation to hang out again, but we already had plans, so. And I did invite her to come with us, but…”

She trails off, because he already knows that offer was met with a resounding no. He looks up at her, sees the way her eyebrows are pulled together, the serious expression on her face. His heart breaks a little.

“Mel,” he sighs, and the next words out of his mouth are a testament to just how fucking much he likes her. “You can ditch me if you want.”

Her head snaps towards him, the crease between her brows becoming more prominent.

“Wait, what? Why would I do that?”

“If you’d…rather hang out with Santos, I mean,” he says quietly, looking down at his fingers on the computer keyboard. “I won’t be offended. I promise.”

She doesn’t answer him, and he’s sure she’s figuring out a way to politely take him up on the offer. His heart sinks, even though he’s the one who put it out there in the first place.

After a few more moments of silence, he starts to get antsy. He turns his back in her direction, but she’s staring off at nothing in particular, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Mel?”

“I don’t want to do that,” she says softly, as if Santos might be near and listening to their conversation. She suddenly casts her eyes towards her feet, a soft blush beginning to color her pale cheeks. “I don’t want to cancel our plans. I’d rather – “

She stops short of saying it out loud, begins to chew on her lip again, but the words are implied enough that he knows what she means, and now he bites down to try and tamp the brilliant smile about to take over his face.

I’d rather hang out with you.

He does his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach and even out his voice before speaking.

“Yeah, me too,” he tells her, and her eyes dart to his face. The smile he’s trying to hide breaks out softly when their gazes meet, and she returns it, gently but eagerly.

His heartbeat is tachy all of a sudden. He needs to take a few deep breaths, he knows, but he’s frozen in place, staring at Mel.

“Dr. King, Dr. Langdon!” Dr. Al-Hashimi calls out suddenly. “Incoming MVC – we need both of you.”

Their attending’s voice makes both of them jump a little, breaking whatever trance they’re in. Mel blinks hard once, twice, before she reaches for gloves. She hands him a pair in his size before getting hers, and then stands, smiling at him once more before walking away with a gentle, “Come on,” in his direction.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice breaking slightly. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

He clears his throat and snaps on his gloves, following Mel towards the ambulance bay.

*            *            *

There’s an hour left on shift when he literally runs into Santos coming around a corner. He’s coming back from the supply closet with two boxes of surgical masks when they nearly bowl each other over – he has to quickly take two steps to the side to avoid colliding with her completely, and even then, their shoulders hit. He narrowly avoids dropping the boxes to the floor.

“Watch where you’re walking, asshole,” she mutters harshly, glaring at him.

It irks him; he can’t help it. Especially after his conversation with Mel this morning, and seeing how Santos’ grudge against him was making her feel. It fucking irks him.

And, goddamn it, he breaks rule number three.

“Can I talk to you?”

She stops.

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” she asks, without turning around. “We haven’t worked any cases since the MVC this afternoon.”

“I know,” he says. “It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Mel.”

That makes her turn. She crosses her arms in front of her, eyes him curiously.

“Fine,” she says after a moment. “Come here.”

She walks towards an empty bed. He follows behind her, pulling the curtain partly closed – private enough that no one could overhear their conversation unless they were really trying to listen, but people would still be able to see them if they walked past. The location feels neutral enough.

“Okay,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her. “Talk.”

He exhales slowly.

“Look. I know you don’t like me. Like I’ve told you before, I understand why you don’t, and you never have to like me if you don’t want to.”

“Good. I don’t want to.”

“That’s fine,” he tells her. “That’s okay. But – “

 He pauses, and she rolls her eyes.

“Spit it out, Langdon. I have better things to do than this.”

“You don’t get to ruin my relationship with Mel because you don’t like me,” he says, the words leaving his lips in a rush.

She gapes at him.

“Excuse me?”

He huffs, and runs a hand through his hair before mirroring her position and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I know you asked her to cancel her plans with me tonight,” he tells her. “And it’s got her really stressed out. She doesn’t deserve to feel that way because the two of us don’t like each other. So, let’s just…suck it up and be civil when it comes to her, okay?”

She laughs once, humorlessly.

“Listen. I’m just trying to look out for Mel,” she tells him, her voice harsh. “And if you really, really want to be a good friend to Mel, instead of coming at me, you should leave her alone and let her make relationships with better people.”

“She is the one good thing,” he starts, his fingers twitching at his sides, “the one good thing about this place for me. And just because you’re holding a grudge – “

“A grudge?” she says incredulously, with a scoff.

“Okay,” he relents. “Maybe that was the wrong word.”

“Yeah, it was. I have perfectly legitimate reasons for not liking you. I can’t believe I have to remind you of this, but you’re a fucking criminal who shouldn’t even be a doctor anymore.”

He flinches.

“Does Mel know that, by the way?” she sneers. “Does she know where the Librium came from? And the Ativan?”

“Santos.”

“No, I’m done with this conversation,” she says, turning and flinging the curtain to the room open. “Like I said, if you really want to be a good friend to Mel, leave her the fuck alone.”

He stares at her as she goes, mouth slightly open, the squeak of the curtain rings against metal ringing in his ears.

*            *            *

He doesn’t see Santos or Mel again until he’s officially checked out for the day. He’s about to step into the break room and grab some Advil for the headache he’s had for the past hour, when he sees the two of them standing in front of the fridge, Mel worrying her hands together while Santos leans towards her.

He freezes in place. He can hear Santos’ annoyed voice without even trying to listen.

“…can’t believe that he said that to me,” she hisses. “I literally can’t believe it.”

“I think he was just trying to help,” Mel murmurs.

“Help who? Himself? Because that’s all he thinks about – himself.”

“No, Trinity. He was trying to help me, because he knows this entire situation has been hard for me.”

“What situation?”

“This one,” Mel says, her voice raising slightly as she clenches her hands more tightly. “The fact that you two hate each other!”

“I have perfectly valid reasons…”

“…to hate him,” Mel finishes. “I know that, Trinity.”

“You don’t know the whole story, though,” Santos insists.

“I know he struggles with addiction,” Mel says, her voice measured. “I know he handled that situation with you on your first day incorrectly.”

“Incorrectly? Mel, he screamed at me in the middle of the trauma room, in front of everyone. It was completely inappropriate.”

“Yes, it was. However, I also remember you telling me that he tried to apologize for that – “

“Yeah, with the lamest apology in the history of man,” Santos tells her loudly, cutting her off. Her voice drops into a comically low pitch. “Sorry for being an asshole on your first day. Like, go fuck yourself, please.”

Mel flinches, and he feels something dangerously close to anger flare up inside him. He takes a gradual, deep breath, trying to slow his heartbeat.

“What are you staring at now, Rusty James?”

He registers Ellis’ footsteps approaching, but he can’t look away from the scene in front of him. Like it’s another MVC.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than stand – “

Ellis comes to stand beside him, stopping when she follows his gaze to the situation unfolding in front of them. The focal points of rule two and rule three, gravely close to causing a scene in the middle of the ED.

“Oh, damn,” Ellis murmurs under her breath.

He feels the need to step in, if only to protect Mel, to hold her tense hands in his and take her home. But he doesn’t know how to do that without snapping at Santos, which he’s sure would only make the situation exponentially worse.

“You don’t have to accept his apology,” Mel says, and he can tell she’s trying her hardest to keep her voice steady. “But he did apologize. And I don’t think – “

“Yeah. He apologized for one thing,” Santos murmurs, cutting Mel off again as a smile that sends a chill down his spine appears on her face. “But like I said, you don’t know the whole story.”

His stomach drops.

“You know how he got the drugs, right?” Santos says, her voice almost holding a hint of amusement now, like she’s a cat playing with a mouse that has no way of escaping. “You know he diverted, right? That he stole the drugs from this ED?”

For a moment, the break room falls silent. He hears Ellis inhale sharply beside him. He feels like throwing up.

Then, Mel rolls her neck, squares her shoulders.

“I’m glad he did,” she says calmly, matter-of-factly, like she’s reciting something she read in a medical journal. “I’m glad he had a safe supply before he was able to get help.”

Trinity’s jaw drops open at the same time his does. He’s sure if he was able to tear his eyes away from the situation in front of him, Ellis would look the same way.

“I can’t – “ Santos stammers, before opening and closing her mouth a few more times as she searches for words. “You…I can’t believe you’re still defending him. He shouldn’t be a fucking doctor, Mel. He should be prison, and you’re defending him.”

“Studies show that carceral punishment for addicts is not effective.”

And Santos actually laughs, but there’s a crazy twinge to the sound. Like she just saw someone rise from the dead, or grow a third eyeball.

“You know what?” she says, once she pulls herself together. “Fuck this. I just wanted to be your friend, Mel, but I am not going to put up with this.”

Santos goes to walk out of the room. He notices Mel’s hands are no longer twisted in front of her. Instead, they’re clenched into fists at her sides.

And then, Mel – his perfect, sweet, kind Mel – actually yells.

“You had ten months to be my friend!”

Everyone within ten feet of the break room stops moving. Santos pauses mid-step, and turns back to look at Mel.

“What are you talking about?”

Mel exhales harshly, and then pushes her glasses up her nose.

“You had ten months to get to know me, Trinity. You could’ve invited me over, or to go places with you, or just to hang out sometime. But you didn’t. You talked to me about work things, but you didn’t take the time to talk to me about anything else.”

“That’s not true,” Santos nearly growls. “I ask you about your sister all the time.”

“You didn’t even know Becca’s name until she came into the ED on the Fourth of July.”

Mel takes another deep breath before continuing.

“It wasn’t just you, either. It was everyone. People think I don’t notice how they treat me, but I do. You give me weird looks, you roll your eyes when I don’t get a joke, you leave the room before I’m done talking. Hell, Trinity, you still look at me weird when I talk, even though we’re supposed to be friends now. Frank is the only person here who doesn’t do that. He’s never done that. He listens to me, and supports me. He cares about me, more than anyone else here does by a mile. So, Trinity, I am not going to apologize for justly defending the only person I actually feel connected to here. In fact, excuse me, but I am done with this conversation.”

Santos seems to be still frozen in place. Mel reaches for her tote bag that is sitting on the counter, and turns on her heel.

She’s about three steps from being outside of the break room when Santos finds her words.

“He’s not going to fuck you.”

Mel stops. His brain short circuits. He feels Ellis straighten beside him.

“Dr. Santos,” she says firmly.

“What?” Santos spits, even though he registers (barely – his brain is still blue screening) that she’s trembling slightly. He can see Mel’s face start to grow red. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You have a crush on your senior resident, and you think if you defend his honor enough, he’ll give you the time of day. Langdon is not going to fuck you, Mel.”

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Abbot’s voice booms in an ED that is quieter than he’s ever seen it before.

“Nothing,” Trinity mutters, staring at the ground for a moment before pushing past everyone to make her way out of the room. “I’m going home.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, Dr. Santos,” Abbot calls after her. “Come back with a new attitude tomorrow.”

Once Santos leaves, the focus turns onto Mel. She’s still standing there, half in the break room, half out of it, her face red and eyes glassy.

His heart shatters. He knows, on top of everything else, she hates being the center of attention.

“Mel, honey,” Dana coos from somewhere behind him.

The sound of her name makes Mel jump a bit. She closes her eyes, for a long moment, and then is on the move.

“Mel,” he breathes, reaching for her, his fingertips ghosting over her upper arm as she rushes past him.

He hears the automatic doors to the ambulance bay open and close behind him.

“Okay, everyone,” Abbot calls out. “Back to work. Dayshift, get the fuck out of here. I’ve had far too much of your shit already, and I’m not about to put up with any more.”

He hears people begin to shuffle around behind him, and the regular activity of the ED kicks into gear once again. Suddenly, three blurry figures appear in his line of sight. He blinks slowly, surprised to find that tears have gathered in the corners of his eyes.

When he manages to focus, he sees Abbot, Al-Hashimi and Dana all staring at him cautiously.

“Do you want me to go talk to her, kid?” Dana asks. “Someone should.”

He slowly shakes his head, as his brain begins to come back online.

“No, I…I should talk to her. I want to talk to her.”

“Then go do that,” Abbot says. “Then go home, Frank. There are definitely conversations that are going to be had about whatever the fuck just happened, but right now, you should go home.”

He nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

*            *            *

She’s still standing in the ambulance bay when he walks out of the hospital twenty minutes later, dressed in his street clothes, his backpack slung over his shoulders. He’s carrying her things with him, as well.

He’d wanted to go out to her right away, once he’d gathered himself, but knew she was probably overstimulated like hell. So he gave her some time to herself before gathering his belongings and going out to find her.

And he finds her, in the same spot he found her on the Fourth of July, looking up at the fireworks. He almost smiles at the memory. Her face is turned up towards the sky this time, too, but her eyes are closed, and her arms are wrapped around her body, like she’s trying to hold herself together.

He sidles up next to her without saying anything. He waits for her to come to him.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally, after a few minutes of silence.

“What on Earth are you sorry for?” he asks incredulously.

“For letting the situation get out of hand like that,” she tells him, her words coming fast now. “I should’ve just walked away. I honestly don’t know what came over me, but I know I didn’t handle it well. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I knew it would make her angry.”

“Nothing you said was untrue, though.”

She pauses at that, turns her head, hesitantly meets his eyes.

“You’re right,” he continues. “They had ten months to get to know you, and no one made an effort. That’s shitty of them, Mel. You have every right to be upset about it.”

She hums softly.

“I shouldn’t have yelled, though.”

“Honestly?” he says. “I think you deserve to yell a little. You should do it more often, actually.”

“It was a little cathartic.”

“More cathartic than karaoke?”

“Even more, I think.”

He can’t help the way the corners of his lips turn up. Mel smirks. But then, as silence settles over them, she shuffles on her feet, turns her eyes down towards the ground.

“I’m not embarrassed. At what she said, I mean.”

He watches her carefully. She exhales, her lips puffing out.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little embarrassed. But I’m mostly just…deeply annoyed.”

“About what?” he asks.

She shakes her head.

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“We have to talk about it, Mel,” he tells her gently. “I can’t guess what you’re thinking with this one. And I don’t want us not to talk about it, and then have it make things weird between us.”

“I’m just upset.”

“About what she said?”

“Yes,” she mutters, and then huffs. “But probably not in the way you think I am.”

“There’s a lot of different ways you could be angry about it, Mel. Like I said, I can’t guess. You have to tell me.”

“I just…”

She trails off. He ducks slightly, trying to catch her eyes, but she keeps her gaze stubbornly fixed on the pavement.

“Mel.”

“I just hate that people don’t see me that way!” she says, her voice raising slightly. “I hate that people think it’s silly or impossible that you would see me that way.”

His heart rate picks up, and his brain is starting to fry again.

“Mel.”

“Even though I know you don’t see me that way. And that’s fine! I’m fine with that. I know that you’re you, and I’m me, and that it’s not like that, and it will never be like that.”

“Mel,” he murmurs, his voice half strangled.

“I just hate that other people can see it, too. That someone like you would never…”

She sighs heavily, and her next words are merely a breath.

“Sometimes, I just wish that you would. See me that way, I mean.”

He can’t make himself speak. He knows he needs to say something, but he’s suddenly forgotten every word in the English language.

She shifts her weight again – finally, finally looks at him. There are tears in her eyes again. He despises them.

“Like I said, I know it’s not like that. I’m fine with it, I promise. I’m fine with – “

He can’t make himself speak, but he does still have some control of his movements, somehow. So he leans down and kisses her. Because she’s wrong, and it’s all he wants to do.

She’s still and quiet at first, except for the gasp she lets out against his mouth. When his brain manages to register the reality of what he’s doing, the fact that she’s gone stock still, he pulls away. But he’s barely separated from her an inch when she lifts onto her toes suddenly, pressing her mouth back to his, her fingers slipping around his neck to curl in the hair at his nape.

He pulls away from her after a few moments, but her hands remain in his hair, and she stands taller on her toes.

“Come back,” she murmurs, frowning.

He grins.

“Just a second,” he whispers, and his smile grows when she whines slightly. “I promise. I just…”

He pulls back slightly so he can look into her eyes, finds them shining with something other than tears, finally.

“I just need you to know that you’re wrong, Mel,” he tells her. “I see you that way. Jesus Christ, Mel, I see you that way. I want you that way. I always have. Even that first day.”

The corners of her lips curl up, her eyes widening slightly.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he says with a breathless laugh. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“Oh, sorry,” she murmurs quickly, looking genuinely apologetic. “I know you were married, and that must’ve been confusing for you.”

“Mel, sweetheart, that was a joke. Please don’t apologize for this.”

“Oh, good,” she says. She smirks. “Because I don’t want to apologize.”

“Good,” he breathes, dropping his forehead gently so it’s resting on hers. “Fuck, Mel, I’ve wanted th – “

“I thought I told you two to go home!”

They both jump slightly, and he turns his head to find Abbot standing just outside of the doors to the ER, wearing a paper gown and gloves.

“We are!” he shouts back. “We’re going!”

He looks back at her, finds her beaming up at him, a few stands of hair that have fallen from her braid framing her face. He can just make out the way she’s blushing in the yellow light coming from the overhead lights in the ambulance bay.

“We’re going home,” he says warmly.

He can’t stop staring at her. How could he not see her like that? How could anyone look at her and think that he didn’t see her like that?

She smiles softly.

“We’re going home,” she agrees. “Can you kiss me again, first, though?”

He smiles back at her.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I can do that.”

*            *            *

It takes the three of them having several long conversations with HR – both separately and together – for Santos to finally look at them again. It takes even more conversations with Al-Hashimi for her to finally apologize to Mel.

“I was an ass,” she tells her, and he has to admit, from where he is (once again) eavesdropping, she sounds genuine. “And I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Mel says easily. “I’d love to be friendly at work again, Trinity, but I don’t think I’m ready to try to build a relationship outside of here again. Not yet, at least.”

“I understand. I get it. Hopefully, someday, we can be real friends.”

“I hope so, too.”

He hears a chair scrape against the linoleum floor of the break room, and then hears Mel’s footsteps approach the door. She catches his eye from where he’s standing and charting, and pauses in the threshold, a smirk appearing on her face.

“You were wrong, though, Trinity,” she tells her. “He did want to fuck me.”

“Ugh,” Santos groans, “Mel.”

“And he has. Many times since then.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I was wrong. You’re having lots of sex with Langdon. That’s more information than I need, Melanoma.”

“Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Whatever,” Santos mutters, slowly maneuvering around Mel to leave the room. She looks at him as she passes central, trying not to glare. “Eavesdrop much?”