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The thing about getting sober is that it forces you to deal with all of your shit in a very short period of time. Langdon wouldn’t have described himself as oblivious, at least not before the narcotics, and so when he finally does process the full scope of his addiction somewhere around week three, it triggers a full-on identity crisis. He spirals for weeks, obsessive, trying to figure out what else he’s missed, what else he’s been utterly wrong about. He’s humiliated, to say the least.
The spiral does end up being rather productive in the long run, though. His program-mandated therapist tells him that this breakdown, his humiliation, is a good thing and a process that’s necessary for recovery. Addiction is a disease, etc., etc. Langdon has been through medical school, and while intellectually he knows all of this, that doesn't make it easier. He’s tempted to deny all visits during this period and wallow alone in his misery, but Dr. Huang reminds him that reconciliation with the people he’s hurt is another huge part of recovery, so reluctantly, Langdon agrees to the meetings.
He's always known that he has a tendency towards arrogance. He’d always been a good athlete, a good student. He thought he’d been a good husband and father and doctor. And now, suddenly, he's none of those things. To say his ego is bruised is the understatement of the century. Again, says Dr. Huang, all part of the process. That does not make the prospect of apologizing any more appealing.
Robby’s visit is the hardest. Langdon stutters through an apology and then they sit there, making stilted conversation for half an hour before Robby musters up a strained “I’m proud of you”, which somehow makes things worse. He knows that Robby is furious, disappointed, and not a little bit betrayed. Langdon doesn’t want to be forgiven, not yet. He doesn’t think he’s earned it.
He's pleasantly surprised by Mel's visit, but seeing her is hard in a different way. It’s astonishing to him that he’s really only known her for one day, and the pride he feels as she tells him how well her residency is going feels outsized. He’s not surprised, though; he’s known since that first day that she was something special. She keeps in regular contact with him after that, emailing him about some of the more interesting cases, and providing updates on the Pitt in general. Langdon misses a lot of things about his job, but he’s slightly shocked by just how disappointed he is that he's missing all of Mel’s progress in the ED.
Mel isn’t the only one who checks up on him during his leave, either. McKay is another surprise: when she unexpectedly shows up to visit him, he remembers that she herself is sober and has been for years. They’d never been close, but she seems to like him a lot more now that he’s openly a mess. He has a program-mandated sponsor assigned to him when he leaves rehab, but Langdon feels weird talking to him, and McKay unofficially takes the position and commits to it too. One particularly rough night, he calls her in a panic and she stays on the phone with him for hours, despite her working the next morning. He apologizes excessively, until she finally tells him to shut up and do it again if he needs to, she’d infinitely prefer him waking her up to relapsing. She’s one of his closest friends after that, not that it’s a particularly long or exclusive list. Either way, he’s grateful.
When Robby finally tells him that he can come back to work, Langdon is relieved, if apprehensive. Nine months is a long time, especially by ED standards, and he’s well aware that the process of earning back the trust of everyone in the Pitt will not happen overnight. However, while his first few shifts are hard, they’re not as bad as he’d been expecting. Not being able to provide meds is tough and the paperwork is a bitch, but to his surprise, no one is outright hostile. Collins seems sincere when she welcomes him back, Garcia cracks a couple pretty inappropriate jokes at his expense, and Dana shoves him lightly with her shoulder and tells him not to forget about his urine test, but her tone is playful. McKay has the day off, but she calls him about halfway through to check in. Santos and Javadi ignore him, but that’s hardly a shock.
But Mel, Mel is the real saving grace. She’s miles more confident than she was before, yet she still consults him on cases, asks him questions, jokes around a little. Although he can tell it’s intentional, it still feels effortless. With her, it’s like nothing has changed.
Nevertheless, after a few shifts, Langdon starts to notice something. Mel is still his favourite, no surprise there, but she’s also everyone else’s favourite. This is when Langdon, practicing his newfound skills of critical self-awareness, realizes that he is in fact a jealous person. It is not a pleasant discovery.
Langdon knows that she hasn’t had the easiest life, and to watch her flourish in the Pitt really does make him happy. She deserves an incredible career; she deserves all the love and support in the world. Also, they’d only worked together for one day, so he has absolutely no right to be possessive. He knows he’s selfish, too. Always has been. That's another thing he’d had to reckon with in rehab. That doesn’t make it easier, though. It would’ve been another thing entirely if he’d been there as it happened. Her email updates hadn’t fully conveyed the extent to which she was now the ED’s sweetheart, although to be honest, he’s not entirely sure she’s even aware how beloved she is, which is incredibly endearing.
And yet. She’s bonded with Mohan, Collins has seemingly taken over as her mentor, and Garcia has started pulling her in for complex surgical procedures and is uncharacteristically supportive throughout. Dana gives her all the non-critical cases with babies, when possible. Her dynamic with Santos is a little harder to pin down, but he does eventually realize that Santos teases Mel in a way that’s more fond than anything else. Perlah has, shockingly, included Mel in the highly exclusive, historically nurse-only, mid-morning coffee delivery from that café across the street. Robby, well, Robby just likes her, Langdon can tell. And he knows that McKay's a Mel fan too, they’ve talked about it. She’s even connected with Abbot, and they have some strange inside jokes that Langdon can’t begin to understand.
The point is, everybody loves her.
If he deliberately calls her over to work on cases with him, particularly if she’s been working with someone else a lot that day, well, that’s nobody’s business. If he gets a rush every time she chooses to join him, actually, no he doesn’t.
He knows this fixation is unhealthy, but once he realizes that he’s spent an entire shift trying to decipher the precise nature of the relationship between Mel and a tall, handsome EMT who started working there after he left and not thinking at all about benzos, he has to admit that he has probably transferred addictions.
He brings it up in his next therapy appointment. He shocks himself with his willingness to disclose his problems. Dr. Huang is very understanding, and very pleased with his blossoming skills of self-awareness. They come to the conclusion that Mel’s support throughout his recovery had been stabilizing, and provided him a positive connection to his old life; a reminder that he wasn’t entirely a bad person. Overreacting to the realization that this connection has changed while he was gone is understandable. It will get better, Dr. Huang promises.
And so, Langdon tries to be better. He stops stealing Mel from other cases and tries to focus solely on the patient in front of him. He keeps up with his paperwork, and stays away from alcohol, and stops arguing with Abby about custody, and moves out for good. He takes the dog with him. He even makes amends with Santos, and thanks her for turning him in. A year ago, he would’ve rather cut off a hand than voluntarily apologize to Santos, but she'd done him a favour, unfortunately. It’s almost all worth it, though, when Robby finally smiles at him again.
He's supportive when Mel tells him she’s going on a date with Ryan, tall EMT guy, and he’s supportive when she tells him that they’ve decided they’re better off as friends.
She’s a great friend, easily one of the best things in his life these days, which is another short list. The days they work together keep him going. She’s good for him, steadying, although he does try to stay firmly in his lane and not over rely on her, especially since Dr. Huang had recently reminded him that addicts in recovery are supposed to abstain from any new emotionally involved relationships for the first year.
And then he slips. Almost.
Abby mentions that she’s gotten a promotion, one that would have her move to Boston. She'll take the kids.
Things explode. It’s the worst fight they’ve ever had, which is saying something. He breaks a lamp; she throws a chair. Thank the fucking lord that the kids are with her parents tonight.
They’ve never been good for each other, not really. Their relationship was always volatile, more about fighting and fucking than anything else, although it settled significantly once they had kids. Abby had also been surprisingly understanding throughout his recovery process, not filing for divorce until he’d been clean for months and Robby had said that the PTMC would take him back.
Still, as he storms out of her house that night, he's never wanted anything more in his life than a pill or five. He gets in his car and drives, not really aware of where he’s going until he ends up downtown, outside a bar where he’d previously bought Xanax from one of the bartenders.
It’s the lack of parking that ends up saving him. It’s a Friday night in September and students are out in full force; there isn’t even an abandoned alley for him to pull into within three blocks. As he’s stopped at a red light, he finally catches up to the part of his brain that is yelling at him to stop and think for a second. He’s less than two weeks away from a full year of sobriety, and a relapse would probably eliminate any shot he has at shared custody.
He calls McKay, but she doesn’t pick up; he’s 90% sure she’s at work. He has no interest in his program-mandated sponsor, they haven’t met in months or interacted much beyond the occasional stilted phone call. And Robby, well, Robby’s the last resort.
He calls Mel, half-hoping she won’t pick up.
She answers the phone yawning. “Langdon? What’s up?”
Nothing comes out. He suddenly realizes how hard he’s breathing. Mel must hear it too, because her voice is suddenly much clearer, and much more awake.
“Frank. Frank, hey, talk to me. Where are you?”
He manages to choke out his location.
“Okay. Can you make it to my place? Do you remember where I live? Or do I need to come to you?”
He remembers, somehow.
Some indiscernible amount of time later, he pulls up outside her house. She’s waiting outside, hair down, wearing a long fuzzy bathrobe. Some tiny part of his brain registers that it’s covered in Tweety birds and Sylvesters.
She rushes over immediately, assessing him quickly before grabbing him by the upper arms. “Frank, I need you to tell me. Did you take anything?”
He realizes he’s shaking. “She’s trying to take the kids,” he manages to get out, voice cracking on the last word.
Something in Mel’s face collapses. “Okay,” she says softly, and guides him upstairs, depositing him on her couch.
She turns on the kettle, before coming and sitting down next to him, pulling a blanket around his shoulders. She doesn’t say anything else but does reach over and grab his hand, never taking her eyes off him. He focuses on his breathing, until the crushing weight that's been squeezing him into the earth since leaving Abby finally abates. Mel puts a mug of tea into his hands; he wasn’t even aware she’d gotten up.
Finally, he looks up at her. She meets his gaze steadily, waiting.
He exhales. “She got a job offer in Boston.”
He can see the understanding pass through Mel’s eyes as she nods slowly and reaches over, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Frank,” she says quietly.
“Honestly, it’s probably for the best,” he says dispassionately, breaking eye contact and staring into his mug.
“That’s not true,” Mel responds, tone still soft, but there’s a note of admonishment that would almost make him laugh under different circumstances. Santos calls it her kindergarten teacher voice. “You’re a great dad.”
He lets out a bitter laugh that inadvertently turns into a sob at that. “I’m really not,” he says, setting the mug down on the coffee table, and pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I threw a fucking lamp.”
“Okay,” she says, “but they didn’t see it, did they?”
He pauses despite himself. “No. They’re at her parents’ house.”
Mel nods. “You didn’t hurt them. And I bet it was an ugly lamp.”
That startles a laugh out of him. “Yeah, honestly, I hated that fucking thing. Not my style at all.”
He sees her smile slightly out of the corner of his eye. “Exactly. Plus,” there’s something in her voice that makes him look over at her. “You didn’t relapse. You got help. That’s incredible. I’m so proud of you.”
He stares at her, unblinking. “How do you know that?”
Mel shrugs. “I just do.” Then she tilts her head, considering him. “I trust you. I mean, I can make you pee in a cup if you want, but.”
He snorts out another laugh, and then leans over, until he’s resting with his head on her shoulder. Her arm comes up around him, and she starts carding her fingers through his hair. They sit in silence for a few minutes.
“Thank you,” he says, finally.
“Anytime,” she responds. She then pushes him up slightly, and he sits up quickly, but she grabs him by the shoulders again and turns him to look at her.
“I mean that,” she says, quiet but firm. “Anytime. Day or night. Call me.”
He nods. And then he yawns, suddenly bone tired.
“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she offers. “Becca’s only here on weekends, and the couch is really comfortable, I promise. Or you can come sleep with me, if that would help.”
Langdon takes a second to process that. “The couch is great, thank you.” Dr. Huang would be proud of his self-restraint.
Mel nods. “Okay.” She stands up and then looks at him. “You don’t work tomorrow morning, do you?” He shakes his head. She nods again and leaves the room, coming back with a stack of bed linens and a pair of oversized sweats and a huge t-shirt.
“There should be an extra toothbrush in the top drawer under the sink,” she says, passing him the clothes.
Langdon heads to the bathroom, mind blank, and comes out to her making up the couch.
“Okay,” she says, “that should be it,” before turning to look at him. They stare at each other in silence, before Langdon moves forward on impulse, and wraps his arms around her. She’s stiff for half a second before settling into it, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Thank you,” he whispers into her hair after a few seconds. She doesn’t say anything. Langdon remembers thinking that he should probably let her go, but he doesn’t. She pulls back after a few more seconds, but puts her hand on his cheek.
“Tomorrow's a new day,” she says, her eyes almost unbearably soft. “You made it through this one.”
He nods, exhausted. "Good night."
"Sleep well," she says, before turning and padding down the hall in her Tweety bird bathrobe.
Against all odds, he does.