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Frank and Mel worked best together. Sure, they worked well with others – great even, they had actively managed in the medical field for several years before meeting – but it was just a fact of the matter that they worked best together. A dynamic duo. Peas in a pod. Garcia called them Barbie and Ken. Donnie had referred to the two of them to the newest nurse as, ‘buy one, get one free.’ It was hard not to hear the jokes their coworkers made, ‘two-for-one deal, do not separate.’
So, naturally, Mel was temporarily sent to night shift to cover for a doctor shortage.
He tried not to let it get to him, but it’s a bit difficult when the only person who didn’t treat you like a bomb about to go off was gone. Frank had been back at PTMC for a month now and it still felt like walking on eggshells most days. Everyone was… nice. Clinically so. Like they don’t know what to make of him. Like the benzos changed him so much, they could no longer see the person he used to be, only the actions he became.
Over time the atmosphere seemed to be settling back to normal – or at least, the new normal.
But Mel’s absence was making itself know.
Frank couldn’t help but be a little quieter and more drawn in on himself. Sure, he laughed on cue at unfunny jokes and piped up with shitty quips, but he mostly kept to his work. Dana had clapped his shoulder in passing and reminded him to keep it together, in that tough love way she had about all of her reprimands. In the short period of downtime during their one patient they’d shared, Santos had rolled her eyes and told him to ‘grow a pair.’
Like he said, having no Mel was definitely weighing on him.
However, today was different. This was the first shifts in weeks where there was even a possibility for overlap. And call Frank pathetic or predictable or whatever you’d like, but as soon as he knew she’d been clocked in for at least an hour, he sought her out.
It took a while to track her down – his ‘Mel Sense’, as Princess called it, was embarrassingly out of whack from the odd hours. Eventually he gave up running around like a chicken with his head cut off, and resigned himself to asking around. The only person to take pity on him and actually answer the question was Toomarian, who was still too new to know better than to feed into Frank’s weird hang-ups. He quickly decided to bump her up his list of favorite interns and med students, after thanking her what he deemed a polite amount before taking off for the staircase leading to the surgery level.
By the time he pushed to door open, his dormant ‘Mel Sense’ started back to life. He could feel her before he laid his eyes on her on the stairs above him, staring out the large window into the dark of the Pittsburgh night.
And even in this string of night shifts they had her pulling, Mel was still his sun; radiant and warm, and so so so out of his reach.
Juliet on her balcony, and Romeo leagues below her.
“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!” Frank called up to her from his place at the bottom of the stairs, “Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she.” Reciting, he slowly ascended to the landing tread, stopping just short of where she’s perched herself.
“That’s Shakespeare,” Mel turned to face him, hazel eyes warm and wide with surprise, “I didn’t know you knew Shakespeare.”
“Know it, lived it, performed it – take your pick.”
She doesn’t seem surprised at all to see him. If anything, she looked relieved. It seemed his presence was just as missed by her.
“Does that surprise you?” He asked.
Mel bit her lip like she didn’t want to say. “I guess I just never took you as someone interested in theatre. In my mind, I always pictured you more sports or academically inclined.”
She’d picture him in her mind? He tried to not let the thought dominate all of his thinking capacity, but that was a herculean task. Still, he powered through after promising to allow that to consume his every thought later. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong – but yeah, you’re looking at a certified theatre nerd. I’m practically a day-one member of Lord Chamberlain’s Men.”
It was not a brag or boast – it was nerdy and bordering on embarrassing, yet he said like it was the most important thing he’d ever done anyway.
Shifting from foot to foot, he continued, “I used a track and field scholarship to major in Biology with a minor in Theatre – been in everything from Shakespeare, to Chekov, to Albee.”
“Where you were Romeo?”
“Nope, never had a chance. I have played Macbeth, Benedict, and at one point, Valentine in a very unfortunate and short-lived production of Two Gentlemen of Verona. Basically anything that wasn’t a musical, because no one wants to see that.”
Mel regarded now with those curious eyes of hers, like she was picturing all the information he’d just spilled in the theater of her mind. Her face remained ever sincere, a slight smile curling her lips. “I would’ve liked to have seen it,” she told him earnestly.
“Oh no,” he shook his head with an indignant chuckle, “you definitely would not have wanted to. I’m about as tone-deaf as they come.”
It was her turn to copy the motion, braid swinging behind her, “See you act, I mean. To see you in an environment outside of a hospital, somewhere familiar where you thrive. You speak of it so fondly.”
They stared at each other in that way they always do, the one that made Shen accuse them of trying to achieve telepathy. Normally Frank had to tilt his head slightly to meet her eye line, but now it’s his turn to look up at her. Her posture was straight, but open, with her hands clasped together in front and her shoulders back.
Mel looked how she always looked.
Breathtaking.
Clearing his throat, he feigned sheepishness, “you know… This is the part where you’re supposed say,” thrusting his arm up towards her, with best falsetto he could manage recited; “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”
The weight of her stare on him didn’t leave his face the entirety of the monologue. He looked up at her, picturesquely hazy through his dark lashes. She’s enthralled by the performance. “Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” Frank asked.
Despite herself, Mel laughed at the horrific imitation and it was like hearing – really hearing – for the first time. Her laugh had always been jarring, loud and a little ill-timed, but Frank was sure he’ll never love another sound more. It’s infectious, and he couldn’t help but join in. The two of them stood there laughing for longer than necessary.
“Is that what I sound like to you?” She snorted out.
“Not at all.” He couldn’t help but be overwhelmingly sincere with her. She just had that kind of effect on him. “But I don’t think I could ever recreate how you sound to me. Nothing could ever measure up.”
Bzzzt!
Mel’s eyebrows shot up as she startled, hand quickly grabbing her phone out of her scrubs pocket. Reading over the message, her lips twisted into a frown. “That’s Dr. Abbot, wanting to know where I’ve gone.” Her eyes met his again, reluctant this time. “And your shift is almost over.”
“It is.”
“And I have to get back – I was only supposed to be gone long enough to update Dr. Walsh for Dr. Abbot.” Her hands clasp together, flexing in a tight grip.
“I should let you go.”
Shooting her one last, long look, Frank turned back around and began slowly making his way down the stairs. Every step took forever and no time at all. Back to The Pitt he must go – back to eggshells, back to smiles not meeting eyes, back to just Ken and no Barbie.
He only made it half down before Mel’s voice piped up, loud and desperate, “Dr. Langdon!”
Never in his life had Frank turned around so quickly at the sound of his name.
She faltered, nervously licking her lips. “Uh, I mean, Frank.” She was staring down at him contemplatively over the stairs railing, mulling over something tough in her mind. “I’m sorry, I forgot why I called you.”
A smile pressed his own. “I’ll stay until you remember.”
Mel was the first to reach out, leaning slightly over the railing with her hand out stretched to him. The faint glow of the night sky through the window illuminated her skin, lighting it up like a beacon calling him home. And the sun – his sun – was reaching out to him. Reaching out for him.
Juliet, on her balcony, grasping for Romeo.
The distance between them was too great for their hands to fully meet, fingertips barely grazing, yet it sent a jolt through his body. Her pointer finger crooked slightly, closing the space between them, linking hers to his. And she was smiling now at him, a wide beautiful grin that was all teeth and poorly concealed laughter. It’s a smile that can’t help up brighten the room and left you feeling winded. That’s the only word for what Frank felt any time it was directed his way.
Winded.
Or, knocked off his feet.
Or maybe, head over heels entirely.
The moment was broken by the buzzing of Mel’s phone again, and suddenly, the spell over them collapsed. They weren’t standing on a balcony in Verona, but in a stairwell on a muggy August night in Pittsburgh. Fingers untwined as they both pulled back. Mel quickly checked her phone, grimacing at what was surely another message from Abbot wondering if he needed to send a search party.
“I do actually have to go.” She admitted, tone apologetic.
Frank shoved his hands in his scrub pockets, at a lost for what to do with them now that they weren’t in Mel’s gravitational pull. “I should head out too. Need to check in with Lena to make sure I’m good to go.”
Taking her time, she gave him one last good look up and down. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again – working alongside you.” She meant it, too. Frank had never known Mel to say anything she didn’t mean. He liked that about her – there was an abundance of things to like about her, but he especially relished in this one trait of hers. A cheeky gleam lit up her eyes, and she added on, “Romeo.”
He laughed, really laughed, and Mel looked delighted. “And I, you, Juliet.”
They parted finally, reluctantly, making their ways back to their respective shifts. He, Romeo, back to the Montagues of day shift, and she, Juliet, to those night shift Capulets. Though he could no longer see her, he could feel her essence lingering in the room, livening it with everything about her.
One day she would make her way back to him, no longer waiting restlessly for a few brief moments of overlap. Or, maybe he would join her. If she asked him, he’d follow – wouldn’t matter where, so long as Mel’d be there.
He lingered at the door, not yet ready to return to the real world. Turning around, he cast one last look to the stairs, to their shared moment on a balcony in Verona, far far away from Pittsburgh. If he closed his eyes, Frank still felt her there. Felt her finger crooked around his.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow.”