i think it would be kind of funny if for the remainder of frank's shift, everything goes swimmingly. like, stupidly perfect, starting from the very moment he and mel finish their conversation in the ambulance bay regarding her outburst in becca's room.
it feels like some sort of cosmic reset.
he makes great calls and excellent saves, all the while tugging mel along with him everywhere he goes. robby isn't glaring at him constantly, he doesn't feel like he's going to fail every single minute that passes. like. he feels good.
so good, in fact, that when becca cancels her tentative plans to watch the fireworks with mel after her shift, frank offers himself up as a tribute. what's another half an hour to forty-five minutes post-shift to watch some bright bursts of light in the pittsburgh sky? he earned it, after all.
while they gather their belongings, mel speaks fondly of her favorite fireworks-related memory - the summer she turned eleven. her father's heath had been declining and it was likely he wouldn't be able to move much in the following months, so they took one last day trip to the lake. she and becca spend most of the afternoon splashing around, but by the time the sun set and dusk blanketed them, mel's father talked them through how to light the sparklers themselves. he'd gotten them from a discount tent on the ride over, just cheap little things that didn't last long, but it was everything to mel. she waved hers at the night sky as bursts of blue and red and pink exploded above them.
he's so lost in her retelling, that as they stumble out of the hospital, frank runs right into another person. a man, dressed in a crisp suit and clearly out of place among the rumpled t-shirts and board shorts and various other fourth of july themed attire everyone else on pittsburgh's streets are wearing.
he apologizes to the man first, stepping out of his way, turning to mel to do the very same thing for interrupting her only to be interrupted himself.
"frank langdon?" the man asks.
"depends who's asking," frank replies skeptically. mel stays silent beside him, wide-eyed and shoulders drawn inward. the man just clears his throat, gaze flicking to frank's badge. "yeah, that's me." he sighs.
"great," the man hands off a thick envelope. "that's for you. happy fourth, man."
and then he's gone. and frank's left with what he quickly concludes to be divorce papers, and mel's gone silent, and the fireworks are going off in the distance and frank expects to collapse right there on the sidewalk but surprisingly he doesn't.
he tucks the envelope into his backpack and turns to mel, who's looking like she's the one who just got served.
"so, fireworks?"
