#rocktober

HEHEHEE lore

His gaze remained fixed on the tablet in his hands with that focused intensity he brought to everything except your relationship. The memory of the words he’d used to end it echoed in your head. I just don’t think this is working anymore. We’re better as colleagues. Delivered with the same tone he used to note an unremarkable lab result. You’d fallen in love with him while he’d apparently been biding his time until something better came along.

You forced your feet to move again, approaching the hub with an air of professional detachment. “Morning,” you greeted Dana with a smile.

Frank looked up at the sound of your voice and his expression shifted from concentration to something like concern. He tilted his head slightly. Yet another gesture that used to make your heart skip that now made your jaw clench tight enough you felt a muscle twitch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, blue eyes scanning you from head to toe.

The genuine note in his voice made it worse somehow. As if he had a right to care about your wellbeing. Your fingers tightened around your stethoscope where it hung around your neck as you imagined how satisfying it would feel to see surprise replace that concern as you shoved him backward into an empty elevator shaft. The doors would close on his startled expression and that would be the last you’d ever have to see of Dr. Frank Langdon. No more awkward encounters, no more pretending his presence didn’t affect you.

“I’m perfect,” you responded, voice dripping with artificial sweetness. Your lips stretched into something more like a grimace than a smile but Frank seemed to accept it at face value. Of course he did. Emotions were never his strong suit.

He handed you a tablet. “Three is reporting flu like systems, high fever. And Five is waiting on a neuro consult for a suspected TIA.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Robby wants us to run point on traumas today.”

You nodded and reviewed the patient information on the screen. Someone called Frank’s name from across the floor and he excused himself with a nod that you didn’t return. As he walked away, you glanced at the clock. Your shift hadn’t even officially started and you were already thinking about Frank’s demise. It was going to be a long twelve hours.

You were halfway through examining a patient with suspected pneumonia when Frank’s voice cut through your concentration. “I need a second opinion on this chest x-ray,” he said, appearing in the doorway as if conjured by your resentment. You glanced at him and wondered idly how much arsenic it would take to poison his coffee. Not that you’d researched it. Much.

“I’m with a patient,” you replied, stethoscope still pressed against the elderly man’s back. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Frank lingered, his presence irritating like a splinter under the skin. “It’s urgent. Possible aortic dissection.”

You sighed and made a mental note to add ‘inability to wait five minutes’ to the list of reasons Frank Langdon deserved to meet an untimely end. You excused yourself from the patient and stepped into the hallway.

Frank handed you the tablet, pointing to the x-ray with that self-assured precision that once made you respect him. Now it just made you imagine slipping a tasteless, untraceable substance into his coffee. Something slow acting that would make him call out sick for a week with mysterious digestive issues. You pictured him doubled over in his bathroom wondering what had gone wrong while you worked blissful Frank free shifts.

“See this shadow?” he asked.

You studied the image. “That’s not a dissection. He had a valve replacement last year.”

His expression remained neutral but you spotted the tightening around his eyes. “Must have missed that in the history.”

“Easy mistake.” Your voice was sweet while your brain mapped exactly where the hospital’s drug lockup kept the paralytics that would stop his heart without leaving a trace.

Two hours and five patients later, you found yourself in the trauma bay alongside Frank and Robby. The patient, who had a piece of rebar shoved through his thigh, moaned as the trauma team worked in synchronized chaos around him.

“BP’s dropping,” Princess called out.

You had just spotted the telltale signs of compartment syndrome developing in the patient’s leg. “We need to release the pressure before—”

“Compartment syndrome,” Frank interrupted, speaking directly to Robby.

Robby nodded. “Good catch, Dr. Langdon. Let’s get him prepped for the procedure.”

Ire flared through you at Frank’s casual theft of your diagnosis. As you helped position the patient, your eyes fixed on the scalpel Robby was unwrapping from its sterile packaging. Your fingers twitched as you thought of the scalpel ‘accidentally’ slipping during the procedure and nicking Frank’s carotid artery. You’d apply pressure of course, you were a doctor after all, but sometimes things just happened. Terribly tragic and all that.

Later, you were walking briskly down the hallway when Frank knocked into your shoulder as he passed. He didn’t even pause let alone mutter a sorry. The casual dismissal of your existence caused a new, more elaborate fantasy. You imagined yourself crawling beneath his sensible sedan with a set of tools you’d purchased with cash from a hardware store across town. How simple it would be to tamper with the brake lines. You’d watch the news the next morning, sipping on your coffee while the somber anchor reported the tragic accident that claimed a promising doctor’s life.

By mid-afternoon your fantasies had evolved into increasingly elaborate scenarios involving Rube Goldberg machines, wild animals, or a piano falling from a great height like something from a cartoon. The more absurd, the more they helped you cope with his continued existence in your orbit.

You caught him looking at you several times throughout the day, his brow furrowed. During a rare quiet moment at the hub, he approached and stood beside you while you updated a chart.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You seem…tense.”

You smiled, teeth clenched behind your lips. “Just focused.”

“If you need to talk…” he offered, trailing off awkwardly.

The sincerity in his voice sparked a new murder method involving his own stethoscope. You tilted your head, studying him with what you hoped looked like friendly consideration rather than homicidal rage.

“Thanks, but I’m just fine.”

He nodded, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to push. As he walked away you noticed the slight hesitation in his step, the way his shoulders tensed. Perhaps he wasn’t as oblivious as you thought. The realization brought a genuine smile to your face for the first time that day.

As the clock ticked closer to the end of shift, you found Robby standing at the hub, his attention fixed on a tablet as he swiped through patient charts. The reflection shown off his glasses as he pushed them back up his nose with a knuckle. You approached quietly and leaned one hip against the counter as you stopped next to him.

“Can I ask you something?” You kept your tone light.

Robby looked at you over the top of his glasses. “Always.”

“Hypothetically speaking, how much of a hardship would it be if your senior resident just…disappeared?”

The question hung between you for a beat and Robby’s expression shifted from confusion to comprehension followed by unmistakable alarm. He straightened and turned to face you fully, eyes darting over your face trying to get a read on you.

“Is there something I should know?” His voice had taken on a cautious quality.

You maintained your innocent smile, the same one you’d perfected during countless patient interactions. “Nope.” You gave a little shrug. “Just curious.”

His gaze intensified, peering at you in a way that made you feel like he was trying to perform a psychological assessment without you knowing. His brow furrowed. “You know,” he began carefully, “the hospital has excellent resources if you’re feeling…stressed. The peer support program is completely confidential.”

Your smile shifted to something more natural. “I appreciate that, Robby, but I’m fine. Just thinking about departmental efficiency.”

You patted his arm and stepped away before he could respond. Something about saying it out loud, even as a hypothetical, had released some of the pressure that had been bubbling up all day. You walked down the hall with a noticeable spring in your step aware of Robby’s heavy gaze on your back.

At the far end of the corridor, Frank appeared, emerging from a patient room with his attention fixed on the chart in his hands. At this distance you could almost remember what attracted you to him in the first place.

Almost.

You glanced back to find Robby still watching you, his expression hovering somewhere between concern and alarm. He looked from you to Frank and back again, clearly debating whether your question was dark humor or something more serious. As you rounded the corner to the locker room, you couldn’t help but smile.

Let him wonder. Let him keep a closer eye on you and Frank during future shifts. Maybe the extra attention would make Frank uncomfortable. Or maybe, just maybe, Robby would assign you fewer shifts together, which would be almost as satisfying as the elevator shaft fantasy.

Almost.