Frank and Abby's marriage ended years ago, the day they received the news, given to them by a soft-spoken paediatrician, delivering the news that their little girl, their desperately wanted and fought for little miracle who was living and breathing and in Frank's arms, tested positive for Mosiac Downs Syndrome.
It died a slow death of heartbreak and fear, their world upended by three words that changed their entire lives. Penny was bright, happy, and cheerful, constantly laughing and had been a mellow baby since her birth. Abby had gotten the NITP testing when she was pregnant, and it was only when they started noticing developmental delays with Penny that it occurred to them that something might be wrong.
Abby blamed herself, and then she blamed Frank, needing something to blame, unable to reconcile that it was the randomness of genetics and chance. Their marriage slowly died long before Frank's injury, before Hagan's over-prescribing and then stopping Frank's medication when he came under review from a previous patient's complaint, long before his addiction and the theft and ten long months of Frank actually being there.
Penny was three now, wearing bright pink glasses, and was just as perfect to Frank as she had been the moment he first held her, and Frank spent those ten long months working on himself, but also being there for his children, for Penny, who Abby had pulled back from after the diagnosis and never truly found her way back to her daughter. Frank knew Abby loved their daughter; there was never any doubt of that, but a part of Abby, filled with heartbreak and loss, grief and guilt put up a wall between them, afraid of connecting, too afraid of what she might lose.
Frank didn't tell anyone at the Pitt about Penny's diagnosis, not out of shame, but because of the strain of his marriage, the need to live up to Robby's impossible standards, and, more importantly, to do everything he could to protect his baby girl. He was part of parent forums and an online support group, and met twice monthly with a group of other parents of children with Down syndrome who had outings with the kids and play dates.
His divorce is finalised, and he and Abby learn to co-parent. She's out with Tanner having one-on-one time, and Frank has Penny for the day, and he cherishes every minute, the same as he does when he has his one-on-one day with Tanner, but today was a Playdate Day. They're at the park, all the kids dressed in blue and yellow, for Downs Syndrome Awareness month, enjoying the crisp october day, when Frank runs into Robby.
Robby who he hadn't really talked to since that last day they worked together, that July 4th when Robby when the conversation on the roof happened, when Frank nearly paralyzed a patient, and when he told Robby he needed help.
His stomach sinks and twists when he sees the recognition fill Robby's eyes that it was indeed Frank, and then when Robby stilled looking at the children playing, and back to Frank, awareness filling his whole face. Frank doesn't want to talk to him, doesn't want to hear how sorry Robby was, or that Penny can have a normal life, he doesn't want to hear how he could have come to Robby, he doesn't want Robby to reject his little girl the same way Robby rejected him.
He says nothing when Robby walks over and stands next to him, watching in silence as Penny plays, her light bown hair escaping the space buns Frank had expertly styled that morning, in little wisps.
"You were right." Robby's voice is hoarse and raw and Frank doesn't look away from one of his two true reasons to keep living. "I needed help."
"I'm glad you got it, man."
"...I'm still getting help."
They stand there for Frank isn't sure how long, just slightly apart from the group, for once just being in each other's presence, with no expectations, with nothing but the simple need of missing each other's presence.
"She has your smile." Robby finally breaks the silence, and Frank looks over at the man he realised he would never stop loving, to see the softest expression on Robby's face as he watched Penny giggle and laugh, playing chase in the sun.
