nav. luv. writer by day. poet by night. jacqueline of all trades. master to none. mastered by none.
luv loves: frank langdon|jack abbot|dean winchester|castiel|talking|poetry|halsey|lana del rey|rain, moon, sun and the fucking stars|asks|everything at once|nothing at all|
your eyes, your poison
{remember, a ten years of happiness, a hundred years of sorrows, and a thousand of pain}
(In Daredevil season 3) After Dex gets arrested, obviously he wasnāt sent to prison right away because of his spinal surgery and that meant a period of recovery treatment afterwards. Instead he was kept at an institution where he was heavily medicated before Vanessa came.
He didnāt have any family or friends so what happens to all his posessions? (I donāt use reddit guys TT) He had a nice furnished apartment, his own car, and even weapons in his safe. What happens to those stuff when someone is incarcerated? Do landlords sell the furniture or just keep it in storage?
hello. this is such an interesting thing to think about because the show understandably never goes into it, but realistically dexās entire life probably got dismantled piece by piece after his arrest while he physically could not do anything about it. and because he had absolutely nobody in his life, no family, no partner, no friends, no support system, there was nobody outside advocating for him or protecting the little life he built for himself. so once he got arrested, everything he owned basically became abandoned property, evidence, or collateral damage from the investigation.
timeline-wise, after the penthouse fight at the end of season 3, dex would not have gone straight to prison. he was paralyzed, critically injured, unmasked, and had just undergone an experimental spinal surgery after fisk damaged his spine. realistically he probably wouldāve been transported directly into a guarded hospital or prison medical ward while the government tried to stabilize him physically enough to even survive. then in between that time doctor oyama somehow wouldāve been able to approach him about the adamantium/cognium surgery that would ultimately make it so he would no longer be paralyzed. and because he was unmasked publicly there at the penthouse, it probably took almost no time at all for law enforcement to fully identify him as benjamin poindexter. especially since he was already an FBI agent publicly connected to fisk. they already knew who he was. so the second he was arrested, his entire life probably became the center of a massive federal investigation.
and this wasnāt a simple low violent crime, this was a federal agent involved in corruption, impersonation of a known vigilante, targeted killings, the bulletin massacre, the clinton church attack, multiple officer deaths, attempted murders, and organized crime connections through fisk. so investigators absolutely wouldāve gone through every part of his life with a microscope. his apartment probably became an active crime scene within hours or days after the arrest. FBI, NYPD, federal investigators, all searching through everything he owned.
considering how meticulous dex was, they probably found a disturbing amount of material there. his gun safe alone wouldāve been huge evidence. all the weapons, ammunition, tactical gear, FBI equipment, electronics, maybe training records, burner phones, documents, anything connecting him to the attacks. they probably searched his computers, froze digital accounts, subpoenaed records, tracked his purchases, went through security footage from the apartment building, questioned neighbors, everything. and meanwhile dex himself is stuck in a hospital bed unable to move, probably barely even aware yet that his entire outside life is being dismantled.
and because he was severely injured and institutionalized immediately after, he couldnāt go home and manage anything. he couldnāt pack up his apartment. couldnāt call anybody. couldnāt pay bills physically. couldnāt protect his belongings. he basically just vanished into state custody while strangers picked through every inch of the life he built.
the money aspect is honestly really sad to think about too because dex clearly had money before his arrest. he had a nice furnished apartment in new york, expensive tailored clothing, a car, specialized weapons, custom equipment, all that. and as an FBI agent he wouldāve had a stable income. but the second he got arrested, all of that probably started collapsing almost immediately. if the government suspected financial ties to fisk or corruption, thereās a good chance some of his accounts were temporarily frozen during the investigation too. and even if they werenāt permanently seized, he still wouldnāt have had access to them while under heavy medical supervision and psychiatric observation.
so bills would just keep stacking up in the background while heās trapped in recovery. rent. utilities. insurance. phone bills. parking. maybe car payments depending on if he financed it. and because there was nobody managing his affairs for him, everything probably started shutting off one by one. his phone disconnected. electricity cut eventually. bank notices piling up unopened. overdue payment warnings sitting in the mailbox while heās lying in a hospital room learning how to walk again.
then thereās the apartment itself, which is one of the saddest parts to imagine because his apartment wasnāt simply a place he lived. it was basically an extension of his mental state. everything there was controlled, ordered, precise. the routines, the organization, the placement of objects, the cleanliness, all of it tied directly into the systems he used to keep himself psychologically stable. dr. mercer taught him from childhood that discipline, routine, and maintaining order were ways to stop himself from āslipping.ā so his apartment reflected that. it was one of the only environments in his life that he had complete control over.
but realistically, after enough months passed without rent being paid, the landlord probably legally repossessed it. especially because dex wasnāt just āaway temporarily.ā he was considered an extremely violent criminal who was likely never going to return to civilian life again. and storage costs money. somebody has to pay for long-term storage of personal belongings. dex wasnāt expected to get out, especially before vanessa manipulated things later and before his eventual escape. so i really doubt anybody was carefully preserving his belongings forever waiting for him to come back.
so eventually the landlord probably entered the apartment legally, maybe alongside investigators at first, and what remained afterward got cleared out. furniture probably donated, sold, or trashed. clothes boxed up and discarded. dishes, random household items, all removed by people who had absolutely no emotional connection to any of it. and i think itās haunting to imagine because somebody probably lives there now completely unaware of who the previous tenant was. the hole in the wall dex punched was probably patched over. the blood cleaned up. the cabinets emptied. all the systems and routines he spent years building erased within a few days by maintenance workers carrying garbage bags.
his car was probably impounded almost immediately too, especially if it was relevant to investigations. law enforcement likely searched it thoroughly for evidence just like his apartment. and after sitting unclaimed long enough, it probably either got auctioned off, repossessed, or scrapped depending on ownership status and payments. same with a lot of his assets honestly. once nobody maintains them, the system eventually absorbs them.
the weapons and anything tied directly to his crimes definitely wouldāve stayed in evidence though. the gun safe, knives, FBI gear, ballistic evidence, maybe even parts of the daredevil suit, all catalogued and stored under evidence numbers. some of it probably stayed archived permanently because of the scale of the case. some maybe destroyed later after legal proceedings ended. but i doubt dex ever saw any of it again after the arrest.
and then what makes the entire situation even worse is the timing of the blip happening in may 2018. because dex gets arrested in late october 2017, and his spinal surgery happens in early november 2017, meaning the world falls apart only months into his recovery and investigation process. so realistically everything probably got delayed massively. courts overwhelmed. investigations paused. psychiatric evaluations delayed. transfers delayed. evidence processing slowed down. entire systems collapsing while governments tried to recover from half the population disappearing.
so dex probably spent years in this weird limbo state where physically heās recovering from paralysis, mentally heās deteriorating, and legally nothing is fully moving forward because the world itself is in chaos. and when his court date finally did happen, i could see him still visibly injured there. maybe walking with assistance or using a wheelchair. and instead of sentencing him to regular prison, the courts clearly decided he was mentally unstable enough that he needed indefinite psychiatric incarceration instead. which says a lot about the state they found him in after season 3.
and the really tragic part is that the psychiatric institution itself clearly was not helping him heal. from what we see later, they were basically just heavily medicating and sedating him rather than actually treating the deeper issues underneath. so while outside his entire life disappears, inside heās just being chemically suppressed. no apartment. no routines. no possessions. no autonomy. no identity outside being āthe patient.ā
and i do think sometimes he probably wonders where all his stuff went. not because heās materialistic, but because for someone like dex objects and routines carry emotional structure. his apartment, his car, his clothes arranged a certain way, all of those things represented control and familiarity. and suddenly theyāre just gone. sold, thrown away, boxed up in evidence lockers, sitting forgotten in warehouses somewhere. everything he knew erased while he was trapped in hospitals and institutions.
what makes it even sadder is that nobody would really mourn those losses except him. to everyone else itās just property belonging to a criminal. but to dex those objects were part of the fragile system he built around himself to function at all. and by the time born again happens, basically every physical trace of the life benjamin poindexter used to have is gone.
Frank had a wife, you have a boyfriend. Did it stop either of you from falling in love?
warnings: emotional and literal infidelity, few medical terms, depictions of assault and chronic pain, the reader is nicknamed Rudy, the reader is said to be Samira's bestfriend and speaks tamil.
a/n: reader and frank are already yearners. And because I suck at creating original characters the reader's boyfriend is basically Dean Winchester.
summary: the world has hilarious ways of kicking you in the nuts just when you start catching your breath.
a/n: hi, guys. this is somewhat of a short chapter. im in quite a slump but this... it feels like me. hope you enjoy it. and oh, ik pball said that langdon was a football player but he feels more like a swimmer to me ā®ā (ā ļ¼¾ā ā½ā ļ¼¾ā )ā ā
7 A.M.
Frank Langdon is good at holding his breath.
He's done it at the school pool too many times. Nearly ten times in the salty ocean in San Francisco. A few times in the disgusting waterpark in the next city.
And... for quite some time now.
Robby doesn't even see him. Not really his fault, though. Frank's head is so low that it's straining his neck. He watches the heavy footsteps pass by and listens for the sound of the door.
He doesn't breathe even after it closes. Two minutes and thirty seconds. That's how long he decides is enough punishment.
The next stop in his breath occurs when he hears your voice.
"Oh, sorry! Coming through! Sorry, could you pleaseā"
Truth is, he doesn't expect you to be here. He thought that you might have transferred as an attending anywhere elseāanywhere that didn't give you this much pain. He probably would have, just as soon as he finished his residency. He needed a clean slate.
Frank would swear that you saw him as you tripped over the patient beside him. The older gentleman just shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Something about hemorrhoids.
"I'm really sorry, sir. I'm just so late."
You rush away, your Converse sliding over the grimy floor.
And you're gone.
So. There's this thing.
There's this thing where, if you're busy enough, if you're somehow distracted enough to forget... you start seeing him in the corner.
The soft hiss of a Red Bull opening, that shift of his feet when he's annoyed, the slight laugh when he teases someone.
It's so subtle. It's so painful. It's like that lump in your throat. Itās been there so long you forget it exists, but... you always remind yourself somehow.
You find him at the edge of a trauma room this time, where the students are running a code. Dennis has totally taken them under his wing. You lightly smile at the new attending, trying to feel a little less hurt by the fact that it wasn't you. "Need help?"
She turns to you, her face serene. "Would you like to run point?"
"Sure." You introduce yourself, arms crossed in front. "You can call me Rudy, though."
She gives a chuckle. "That's a strange nickname. I'm Baran Al-Hashmi."
"Uh-huh." Whitaker switches out of compressions, handing the reins over to Oglie? Ogle? Ogilvie!
"Oh." You take a look at the spiral waves on the EKG. "Looks like your patient needs some bath salts."
Dr. Al-Hashmiās face lights up at your words. "Good diagnosis, doctor."
"Me too, after today." Joy fiddles with her stethoscope, clearly bored and confused by what is going on.
"It's torsades de pointes!" Vic shouts out with a raised hand. "It's magnesium sulphate!"
"Seems like my work here is done." You leave the room with a slight flourish, a slow bow as Robby enters.
He hadn't softened toward you until... the incident. And you hated it. You hated that you falling flat on the E.D. floor was what it took for him to at least be nice to you. Since then, you had been the one to keep the distance. But just as you're out the door, he calls out. "Rudy, stay away from triage today."
Oh? You wonder why, but nowadays, it's a lot better if you don't.
It's why you almost don't believe it when he appears at the nurses' station.
"Ah!" Lena gasps dramatically behind you. "The prodigal son returns!"
Frank tugs at his drawstrings rather shyly. You're surprised at first, then remember ten months is a long time. You try to smile. You think it lands as a pathetic thinning of your lips. You had never considered forgiving him for disappearing on you. It was understandable that what was between you two was a mistake, but he could've returned the phone call. Hell, you didn't even know if he had even listened to it.
"Hey."
"Hey." It's sharp and frosty, but there's still a waver in your voice.
You don't miss the look the mama nurses give you both. You think that's your cue to pick up a new patient and, lo and behold, your savior. "Rudy, we're going to round."
You might just kiss Ellis. No, you'll take her to the Halsey concert next week. You're beyond grateful as you walk toward her. Then she turns around and your heart drops. "You coming, Langdon?"
Shit. You think the breath you take in is audible. Because, just as you slowly face him, he shakes his head at Parker. "You guys go ahead. I'll catch up."
He watches you walk away without a word for the second time this morning. Why were you still rounding? Shouldn't you have been an attending, the one leading the rounds? Shouldn't you be better than him?
"You good, kid?" Dana's glasses rest dangerously close to the tip of her nose. Frank knows she doesn't need them to see him clearly.
"Yeah... yeah." He turns around yet again to watch you. "Shouldn't sheāshouldn't she be an attending?"
Lena exhales a long sigh as Dana pushes her glasses back up on her nose. "She didn't write her boards, kid."
"Why not?" Please God. Don't let this be his fault. He knew he broke you. But not this much. Please, not this much.
"I mean," Lena takes out her glasses, wiping them with a long cloth. "She went through so much last year, losing her boyfriend, the kid... and then..."
"All right. She didn't want anyone talking about it, remember?" Dana cuts her off, placing the tablet on the counter. "I'm sorry, kid. You want to know, you should talk to her, okay?"
He's a little dazed... and worried. What could've been worse than losing Dean? The kid? Were they talking about Millie? Wouldn't she have been with her mom?
"Right." It's all a blur. But he finds Dana's smile reassuring. "It's good to have you back."
And when he finds you in the middle of the E.D., it's not lost on him or you that Mel is more excited to see him than you are.
8 A.M.
It's stupid, really. But you know the only locker available is Collins'. And it's at the bottom right. It's going to do more damage to his back. It takes Dana some convincing to let you switch it with him, and even more to not let him know it was yours. You've had a new locker since you transferred to the night shift. He wouldn't think it was you then. Just Dana working the occasional miracle.
"I'm really concerned about this kid." Trin cracks her knuckles, making you snap your mind shut about him. The case is clearly striking a chord with her.
"Let's not assume the worst. She seems like an active kid." You both might go out for a drink later today, if she doesn't get together with Garcia. You have a feeling you'll need it. "Her answers are pretty normal. She doesn't seem scared."
She rests her palms on her eyes. "Okay, yeah, what do we need to check then?"
"I don't know, what do we need to check, Dr. Santos?" Your tone is teasing and authoritarian. "What is it that might cause exaggerated bruising?"
"ITP? But it's rare, right?"
"So are kids." You give her shoulder a hard smack. "You're doing counseling this week, right?"
"Depends. Are you?"
You retie your hair. "I have a kid. I don't have the time."
"Excuses, excuses." She huffs before continuing. "I can't believe that we got this traumatizing shit while Crash gets the immaculate infection."
You had heard that one before. It always sneaks up on you, how she reminds you of him. "Nun with Hep?"
"Gonorrhea." Her blue eyes are wide, a fond smile on her face. "Rudy, you just get me."
"Ones in community service get poked by needles a lot." You wince slightly before speaking. "Sorry, it's not the first time I've heard it."
Her shoulders drop. "Langdon?"
"Yeah."
"Are you going to talk?" There's an edge to her voice, a clearly defensive tone seeping through as she crosses her arms.
You mimic her movements. "Should I?"
"Hell no." It's a fast and harsh answer, but it's one you needed to hear. "Especially not after that."
You agree with her. More or less.
11 A.M.
Samira is slouched quietly behind the desk as you pass by. You don't spend much time with her nowadays. After Dean died, you moved into the apartment with Millie and she really did try to help you through that time... but it's hard to help someone who doesn't tell you everything.
Truth is, you had always been ready to talk to her; in fact, you wanted to run to her. But yeah, someone wanted to keep a lid on it, didn't he? And maybe you didn't want to tell her, either. She would judge you. She would hold you and judge you at the same time. You take a seat on the stool next to her, a hand on your back.
"Sami."
"Rudy." It's curt, sharp, and exhausted.
"You need to apply to the fellowship here for next year."
She takes a sharp breath in. "Seriously? Isn't that what you're gunning for?"
"Nah." You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, without the whole new reality of your world weighing you down. "It's too stressful for me."
"Isn't Santos helping you through that?"
Ah, how sweet jealousy tastes.
You smile, warmth flooding over your body. "Keep it up and I might think that you care."
"I do care!" She stands up suddenly, then softens at your wide eyes. "I do care... When I was here, you weren't there, and now I don't want to be here and well, here you are."
"I thought you were going to leave for sure, Sam." You wrap your arms around yourself. "And I didn't want to stop you, because it was for your mom."
"So, you pushed me away?"
You shake your head. "No, that's on me."
There's a quiet shuffle as Langdon passes by you. Your head turns to the other side with much effort.
"What's with you and Langdon?" Her voice is softer, reserved.
Maybe you might welcome a little judgment today. "We had a thing. That day, before the Pittfest."
She crosses her arms. There's less surprise on her face than you expected. "A thing?"
"Yeah." That's all you can clarify without something getting stuck in your throat. It still haunts you that you poured your heart out and got nothing in return.
"Okay." And she does what she was always supposed to. She steps closer and puts her arms around you, tight enough that if you breathed a bit more deeply, you might have fallen apart in the middle of the E.D.
"Ouch." It's easy to feel like himself with Dana right now. "First day back, I get kicked in the nuts. One dead, one septic bounce-back."
"Both of those are not your fault." She scours the cabinets in search of something. "You expecting a party?"
"No, not really." The irony of a party when no one even asked him if he was okay. "Didn't hear from anyone while I was gone."
Dana gives him an incredulous look. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Geez, sorry, kid."
The door swings open at that exact moment, leaving you in the middle of awkward, stale stares. "Okay, something in my teeth?"
Frank laughs. It's the most genuine he's laughed in a long time. Dana can't help but crack a smile at the sound. Frank would like to think that she's missed it around the E.D. She turns to you, snarky. "Nah, Rudy, just talking about what a horrible friend you are."
"Oh."
The air snaps like a twig. Frank winces, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Dana walks back to the door as if there's a sudden exit sign appearing above it. "Okay, you two crazy kids. Talk. Don't take too long."
She shuffles out, the door clicking softly behind her.
"What was that about?" You want it to be gentle, a little bit curious. But it's not. Itās fueled by every ounce of doubt and hurt you've felt over the year.
He returns the sentiment similarly. "Just thinking about the fact that you didn't call me until you needed validation."
"Of course I did." It's almost painful how well he knows you. And it's torturous that he still doesn't know what to say. Your eyes are burning now. "I had to make the most important decision of my life and I wanted you there. I loved you."
The past tense makes you feel like your heart is twisting in your chest. You sit down opposite him, the dull ache spreading through your abdomen.
"Me too."
That knocks out whatever breath you had left. "What?"
He tilts his head. "Come on, Rud, it was obvious."
"Not to me." You shake your head frantically. "You didn't say anything."
He waves a hand dismissively, like he's talking about baseball teams. "Didn't think I had to."
"Of course you had to!" You step closer to the table, palms slamming down. "In that car, I told you I loved you and you didn't say anything! I thought I was crazy! That you wereāyou were looking for a way out!"
He's on his feet. But then he closes his eyes and breathes. "I was an addict. Would you have believed me?"
"Yeah." It's too fast, too soon. "I don't know."
"Rudy, it's fine. You were just projecting. You loved Dean."
"Frank. We had broken up." You laugh mirthlessly once. "You want to know why?"
He shrugs, but you can see itāthe storm in his eyes waiting for you to move. And this will be the last time that you do.
"When Dean told me that Lisa asked him to consider their history, I told him it was okay." You run a hand down your face. "I told him that I understood if he was in love with her."
"Why?" His voice is a hoarse, rushed whisper. "Why would you say that?"
"Because I told him I was in love with you."
His eyes are wide. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would it have mattered?" You cross your arms. "You're with Abby. You love her."
"Yeah." Itās a soft noise, like he can't quite believe himself.
i'll be honest with you. i think i'm having a rough time. i'm doubting myself in a lot of things. And the last fic i tried to write backfired and i'm so so disappointed in myself. i feel like... like i can't deliver. that's why redamancy is taking do long to get into the s2.
Every single fic update there is an author trying frantically to find the right balance between a nonchalant aside of "leave a comment if you enjoyed =)" and clinging desperately to the coat tails of a random stranger, dragging along behind them on the street wailing "Please, please! I have to know what you thought! I'm desperate to talk to people about this! Ask me about the alliterative repetition! Ask me about the symbolism!"
summary: some things happened, some things will happen
a/n: this is a very short blurb for redamancy, just as I step into writing for season two. suggestions and ideas are always welcome, loves.
Halloween
"Trust me, this is the last thing I want to do..."
You hate the little leather bound file thingy he has. This forces your eyes to meet his. His eyes are hazel. Mostly. They're almost green when he tilts his head to the right. Your gaze trails over his face. A slightly crooked nose, in a way that's natural, not like the ones that were so by being broken time and time again. Not like him. You wish your hair looked likeā
"Are you not listening?"
"Yes." You blink twice, mulling his words over. "No. Crapā Sorry, Sam."
"No, it's alright." He waves his long fingers, dimissively. "This... This is too much for anyone."
You tug your cardigan closer. You've been pulling at it so much that you're sure you've ruined it. The tiny cats at the end of the sleeves look like they're staring upside down at you. "I.. I don't know what I'm doing here actually. I thought... The funeral was the lastā Uhm."
It's not only you eyes that are blurry. "Yeah."
"I don't deserve to be here, Sam. Weā I broke up with him. That day." You drag both your hands down your face, the edge of your ring scratching your skin. "Iā I told himā"
"I know." Sam nods, the empath in him outshinig despite the hint of betrayal in his eyes. "He told me."
You shake your head, your resolve to meet him dissolving very fast. "Why am I here then? You know I shouldn't be here."
"I'm hereā" He pauses, swallowing as if coals were searing in his mouth, "āas the executor of my brother's will."
"What's there to execute?" You shrug yor shoulders back. "Everything goes to Millie."
"That's true." He sighs, tugging the hair at the nape of his neck. "But... There's one more thing."
You pick the skin on your wrist when he doesn't answer. "Please tell me he left me his car. I love that thing."
"Nope. You're not that lucky " He laughs, the sound grating through his heavy chest. "You know, he used to say that he'd haunt me if I changed anything. I think I should try."
"Sam." You reach out and take the hand resting in the black leather. "He's haunting us already."
There's this moment of terse silence where you think he might disagree on the 'us' part. But he doesn't. He just retracts his hand.
You do the same after a second's pause. "You said he left me something?"
"Something?!" Your name comes out as a soft scoff, but it's all the contempt Sam Winchester can spare for an old friend. "He left you everything."
Christmas Eve
Hey, this is Frank. I'm probably working, so, yeah, leave a message.
"Frank?"
"Uhm. You're probably celebrating Christmas. Tell the family my wishes... I think?"
"Okay. Guess I'm doing this. Okay."
"Look, I know that what we did? Was a mistake. Hard agree. You need to be with Abby and I'm... I'm well, me."
"And yeah, I'll say it. I'm not good. I'm nowhere near good. This is all so stupid. I'm stupid. You're stupid. Everything's justā"
"ā shit..."
"You know, Iā I care about you anyway, right?"
"Okay, uhm... I need you to call me, Frank. You need to know this. It's a decision I made but... You need to know this."
"Just call me back, Bluey."
New Year's Eve
It's stupid. It's so stupid.
He shouldn't have opened that fucking message. He should've deleted it the moment it came in. It was like another one of his hits, right? He wanted to see how much he could resist.
And Frank had lasted barely a week. Six days, twenty-one hours.
You sounded so... exhausted.
Were you okay? What was so important that after two months of avoiding him, you had finally left a message?
What was this thing you needed him for?
Because you surely weren't there when he needed it.
He gets up so sharply that the ache in his back spreads to his stomach, his chest... it's just... it's everywhere.
The vial still rested hidden in that navy sock with ducklings printed. It was the easiest thing in the world right now.
He wasn't going to answer you. You didn't need him. You had other people. You needed him to know something.
That he was the worst thing that happened to you?
The vial is within his reach but he recoils. His arms wrap around himself to suppress the sobs that come breaking through.
This is not about you. It can't be. It has to be about him. What he needs.
And what Frank Langdon needs is whatever help he could get.
to anyone who reads redamancy (or to anyone who wants to read an x Frank Langdon work, please do check it out if you have time)
so, the thing is as i move to season two i have a few key moments planned but what i'm not sure of is the ending.
i realise that i have two options. complete Rudy and Frank's arc in s2 or leave them yearning for s3 (as Patrick Ball suggested that his story arc would most probably be completed then)
to anyone who reads redamancy (or to anyone who wants to read an x Frank Langdon work, please do check it out if you have time)
so, the thing is as i move to season two i have a few key moments planned but what i'm not sure of is the ending.
i realise that i have two options. complete Rudy and Frank's arc in s2 or leave them yearning for s3 (as Patrick Ball suggested that his story arc would most probably be completed then)
Oooh, thanks for the ask! I'd almost forgotten abt the post (ā ā§ā ā½ā ā¦ā )
š(favourite doctor): hmmmm. Last season, it was probably Samira. As someone who has had bad experiences with doctors who do more prescribing than listening, it was refreshing to see someone who did too much listening. This season though, it's a tie between Langdon and Shen.
š (favourite nurse): oh, it's definitely Jesse! This might be weird but I think he's the guy they call everytime they have a creepy patient and he comes running around.
šØ - Best thing your least favorite character has ever done?
šŖ” - Worst thing your favorite character has ever done?
š„¼ - Favorite recurring bit/joke?
āļø - Have you radically changed your mind on a specific character, either after finishing the show or via others convincing you? If so, who? What made your opinion change?
š¦“ - If you were trapped on an island, who are 3 characters you would want to be stuck with? Why?
š« - A character you wish you could save from this show?
š« - A character from another show/franchise you think would thrive in The Pitt?
š - Which character is most like you? Why?
š¦æ - Which character would you ask to watch your drink while you use the bathroom at the bar?
āļø - Best fic you've ever read?
šØ - Best fanart you've ever seen? (Please don't repost art without the creator's permission! If answering this question, please link the artist's post instead of reposting the art itself.)
š§¬ - A scene/plotline/character arc/etc. that you wish had been rewritten?
Frank had a wife, you have a boyfriend. Did it stop either of you from falling in love?
warnings: emotional and literal infidelity, few medical terms, depictions of assault and chronic pain, the reader is nicknamed Rudy, the reader is said to be Samira's bestfriend and speaks tamil.
a/n: reader and frank are already yearners. And because I suck at creating original characters the reader's boyfriend is basically Dean Winchester.
summary: the guiltiest thing you have ever done is being in love. and it shows.
warnings: canon compliant gore and violence, mentions of gun shots, medical inaccuracies, whole lotta angst
part four of redamancy
6 P.M
It seems like you can't escape any of the love around here today.
Robby has wrapped Collins in a hug as you flit past them. But you haven't stopped crying yet. You zoom past everything to the stairwell that once gave you comfort.
It feels like it's fucking haunting you now.
"Hey, we needā Holy shit, are you okay?" Half your hair is out of the bun and you're sobbing so hard you're struggling to breathe. But that's how Santos has the luck of finding you.
You move your head from side to side, "Get Samira."
It's possible that she didn't understand you through all the wrangled sounds coming from your mouth because she doesn't fucking move.
"Sorry," she looks down, almost guilty. "Robby said it would be best if we kept this between us."
You pace the narrow space between the wall and the railing before stepping down. "Then, come here, damn it!"
Just as she steps closer she stiffens. You hands open, half way around her, clinging to a barely there hint of understanding. You somehow manage to string a set of words together. "This okay?"
She nods once and lets you cry more into her shoulder as she launches into her explanation. "I really thoughtā that it was you or you knew or I don't knowā God, I'm so fucking sorry about this."
"I slept with him." Your answer is not what she expects, and there's a sudden distance between you. "A fucking married man and a father and I slept with him."
You can see it in her face, that whatever she understands of your words she only understands halfway. But you need to confess.
And better her than Robby.
"Okay." She nods. "Okay. Then what?"
You laugh. It's the kind you might expect from the mad hatter but it's alright, you're mad already. "I told him to go away."
"Yeah?" This time she hugs you. "Good riddance."
You laugh again because you don't believe it. But maybe right now, if you believe it for her, you could walk out this door.
You pull up your shirt to wipe your tears. It stinks of guilt and betrayal and now, salt. "You did the right thing, Trinity."
She swallows, but the lump in her throat is still there. "Doesn't feel like it. Especially when you're looking at me like this."
"Like what? An idiot?" You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. "Trust me, you were right. Never apologise for doing the right thing."
She straightens and almost smiles. And that's enough. For now.
You only get through, whatā three patients? before Robby corners you. You're sure he just wants an explanation.
Or he's here to judge you because he didn't get to execute you. He takes a look in the staff lounge before stepping in.
And locks the door once you are.
His hands still on the door knob. He doesn't turn but you can feel the disappointment rolling off him in waves. "Why'd you do it?"
"I don't know."
"Bullshit." He whirls to look you in the eye. It hurts very much that he looks so... tired.
You swallow. "I thought... better me than him. He has family, kids. I thought I could convince him to get help without getting a stain on his record."
"Yeah?" He scratches his beard, an absent gaze resting on you. "And what about yours?"
"Honestly?" You shift your feet, crossing your arms. "I hadn't thought that far ahead."
He chuckles wryly. "Jesus Christ, is there something actually going on betweenā I mean, do I want to know?"
"There was nothing till today." You look to your feet. "And now, I don't know if there was anything at all."
Robby nods. And leaves.
7 P.M
Today. Is. Hell.
Frank drove around circles in the hospital for a while before finally going to the fest. You had shoved those two tickets into his hand. Did you already have those? Would you have asked him to come with you if this shit hadn't happened? Would you have said the same things to him?
Shit. He didn't say anything back. But would you have believed him?
For the literal love of God though, he couldn't get out of the car. He couldn't stop looking at the sanctuary he had in the backseat. Roars erupt through the crowd and he can't understand how whatever artist they're screaming to, responds to them coherently.
That is, until his phone pinged like a jet with a missile lock.
ACTIVE SHOOTER AT PITTFEST
You can feel your soul leave your body as you receive the message. But your hands are steady and numb as they dial his number.
There's no answer. Fucking hell.
You can't breathe again. But it feels so different this time. It doesn't feel like your trying to breathe anymore. You don't want to. You force yourself to listen to the instructions for triage.
"The south and central common area over there will be the Pink Zone. That is for patients who will die in under an hour without treatment. McKay and Javadi, you are over there, with help from incoming night shift and surgical staff." Robby waits until they acknowledge their orders to continue. It doesn't take long. "Yellow Zone is the North Corridor. Those are gonna be mostly extremity wounds... good vitals, talking. Rudy and Mel, you're gonna run point there with Santos and Whitaker."
You freeze. You can't be back there. You need to be in the front. Until you see with your own two eyes that he's okay. Mel raises her hand just as you're about to speak. "Uh, what if... what if there's a-a pulseless extremity?
"Oh, if you... if you can't feel a pulse, check for Doppler flow with this." Dr. Abbot hold out a funny looking screen. "It's a mini-ultrasound. Follow the screen prompts."
Robby continues on. "But a yellow can change to a red if they go south. You got to stay on top of them, even if they seem stable."
You raise your hand and your voice. "If Mel's okay with it, can I take triage?"
Robby stares at you for just a second before turning to her, "Dr. King?"
"OK," she nods, "yeah."
"You got this, Dr. King. Green- minor lacs and sprains. They go to Family Medicine. Black and white bands are DOA, imminent death. Peds is now our morgue."
The irony, or the tragedy that the place which should have provided children comfort with it's colours and cartoons was now the place of death.
"We're a MASH unit now." Abbot continues on. "There's no charting, no electronic medical records, no board."
You zone out watching the door. There's really no reason why you're watching it. You don't even notice till Samira shakes you as everyone disperses.
You cross Dr. Abbot as you walk to the doors. "What's a mash unit?"
He follows your stare. "You'll find out soon enough."
You follow Robby to find Shen already out for triage. He hands you your drink. "Good thing I thought of surprising you with caffeine today."
"Yeah, thanks." You take a sip. The taste somehow calms your nerves as Robby shoots you both weird looks.
"Were you at the last mass-casualty faculty meeting?" He addresses Shen and you smother a manic laugh.
"No, I was still a resident three months ago." Shen sucks at the straw before he speaks again. "And she's just jealous."
Robby doesn't acknowledge it. His next question is sharply directed at you. "How do we assess mental status, doctor?"
"Mental status is AVPU. Alert, verbal response, reponds to pain and unresponsive."
"Next?"
John answers this one for you. "Pulse. Where you feel what, tells you where to send them."
"Right." Robby nods satisfied. "Mental status and pulse gives you everything you need to know."
"We got this, Robby." You assure him. But you forget that he can see you pacing.
"We got the front door." Shen backs you up. "You worry about the back."
You clap your hands to get the eyes of the attenders. "Paolo, let's get the heads of theses gurneys at thirty degrees please."
Finally, Robby turn around to go back, satisfied. And you get ready to face a war. With coloured wrist bands.
Frank has just finished packing a wound with pink coloured banners. The next stampede knocks him down once again, and along with him, a boy who looks to be about fifteen. Frank gets back up with a groan, but the boy doesn't. He tries to shake him awake. He tries a sternal rub. It doesn't work.
He's just about to check the abdomen when thunder rains down again. He wraps himself around the boy and holds his breath.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
Tanner, Penny, you.
He only realises what he was thinking of when the bursts stop.
Fuck.
Why the hell did he not tell you?
Frank checks on the boy again. He doesn't have a pulse anymore. And one look at his purple abdomen tells him that there's nothing more he can do. Not here. Frank realises something very important then.
Everything he needs is back in the pitt.
8 P.M
You don't know how many vehicles roll in.
A Toyota Camry brings three.
Female, forties, GSW through the radius and ulna, no vessel or nerve damage, strong radialā yellow,
Male, fifties, superficial head lac, strong radialā yellow,
Female, teens, open fracture of the right tibia, weak and thready femoral and radialā red
A dusty old hatchback brings six. The driver gets to the other side to help Shen.
Female, teen, thready radial with no external wounds, possible internal hemorrhageā red,
Female thirties, unresponsive, no pulseā black.
Male holding her hand, thirties, superficial woundsā green
Female, twenties, bootprints to the abdomen, but regular pulseā pink.
Male, teens, purple distended abdomen, no pulseā black.
Andā andā and, oh, good God.
He sees you first and pauses for a second before he goes on. You turn to Shen. You don't even have to ask.
"Go."
You go in beside them, and your arms find Frank. "Bluey."
That stupid nickname. All because he had admitted that his son loves his show. All because you made fun of his creepy blue eyes. All because you loved him.
You're hugging him in the middle of an MCI and right now, what Frank wants is this frozen, forever. Underneath all the antiseptic and blood, your scent remains. There's still that faint smell of cigarette smoke clinging to you. He wanted to ask earlier, because it had been months since you quit but... who was he to ask? So, he tries a joke instead.
"You know, if you wanted me dead you could've just said it." His watery laugh rumbles through your body. "You didn't have to spend money, get tickets and all."
"I didn't buy those." That, ladies and gentlemen, is what an ice bath feels like. You step back from him. "Theyā they were a gift."
It only takes Frank a second to understand. And for you to take out your phone. And you call him. Of course, there's no answer either.
There's a pathetic look on Frank's face and he knows it. Your forehead pinches in worry again and he knows that all he could give you was a second's peace.
You start walking away from him. "I gotta head out there."
He nods. But you've already turned away.
It's been... a long, long time.
It's quiā slowing down out here.
But you're so scared... again. You haven't heard anything from Dean. You even resorted to calling Lisa who begrudgingly agreed to tell you if she heard from him. And she expected the same.
Robby stepped out of the E.D, hands rubbing together. "How's it going out here?"
You shake yourself out of the trance. "It's been 12 minutes since the last critical."
"I think it's quieting." Shen adds. Fucker.
"Are you insane?"
He shrugs innocently. "What?"
"You said the Q-word!" You shove him with your shoulders. "We don't say the Q-word!"
"Come on." He raises an eyebrow at apparently how ridiculous you're being. "Don't tell me you believe in that superstitious shit."
"Oh, let's see how superstitious I'm being."
"Doctor of medicine, woman of science, people." He moves away to check if there's anymore actually coming in. And finds out that there is.
"Watch out!"
SWAT is already at the door as shen all but jumps back. "Hands up! Any weapons? Everyone stand back!
"No..." The driver mutters incoherently, "no weapons."
The uniformed officers still check the car over once.
"All clear!"
Shen heads to the driver, as Robby heads to the one in the seat beside him. "Are you okay, sir?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Guy in the front is gone, guy in the back needs help. Sorry about the parking job. Getting a little woozy."
You open the back door to find a kid, male, twenties, looking like the Naa'vi. Total cyanosis. With a Pittsburgh PD jacket.
Okay. Breathe.
"What happened?"
"I found him in the festival parking lot. Gave him Narcan from my kit, but he didn't respond." He pauses, then breathes in. "Might be benzos... I don't know."
"You a medical worker?" You hear Robby asking. The kid has a pretty steady pulse for now.
"Navy corpsman. I'm okay. I'm sorry about the cop."
Your attention snaps. Oh, god. "What?"
Robby shakes his head at you and addresses the corpsman. "Your leg does not look okay."
"I got shot through and through. This one shielded me, you know." He slowly settles in wheelchair brought to him. "I stayed to help as long as I could. Bullets flying everywhere. It was a fucking nightmare."
"Hey." Robby softens at you and for the first time in a long while you feel startled. "How's the passenger?
"Cyanotic, no trauma, good pulse." You try lifting him out of car and just barely get him out. "Needs a gurney and oxygen."
You watch the other man collapse in his wheelchair and get the boy into the gurney. Unfortunately for you, you turn back.
And in the front seat, open-mouthed like he's having the best sleep of his life, is Benny.
You breathe in, you breathe out. You scramble to check the sleeve of the boy's jacket, and there it is. A Princess Sophia sticker inside.
Ellis is waiting just inside. You breathe in, you breathe out. "Mind taking this one? Cyanotic, no trauma, no response to narcan, regular pulse."
She nods, "I got you, girl."
You follow Shen into trauma one. Abbot steps in right behind. "Taking over."
"Thanks brother."
"Can I stay, Dr. Abbott?" One look at your face and he concedes.
You put yourself on the E-FAST. "No abdominal hemorrhage, no tamponade."
"Pulse ox is 89% on 15 litres. That's not good." Samira keeps her eyes on the screen the same time Jesse announces. "Blood pressures 95 over 58."
The man drifts back into consciousness. "Vinny Rivera, is he here?"
"I don't know, sir. But I will do everything I can to find out." You move to talk to him, "The cop, did you seen anyone with him? His partner maybe?"
"He... I think he went back, when the second shots came."
You step back just as another woman enters the room. "Brian?"
"You okay?" Samira has her eyes on you, and she's halfway stopped through whatever she's doing. "Rudy?"
"Yeah... Yeah." You wave dismissively as you push yourself out the door. You know she can't follow you.
9 P.M.
It's all over. It's done. The hospital is closed to any trauma for now.
And you can't drag yourself back in.
But it's not like you're hiding. You're just behind a bush. You're just crouched down against the wall. And you can't move.
For now.
The spat that Frank and Robby had didn't help either. Now, Frank stood alone at the door.
Your phone rings.
Amazing.
It's Lisa. You pick it up after three seconds.
Frank is so fucking unsettled that he can only make out a few words you say.
"Yeah, nothing yet.... Mmmhmm... Yes, I am his emergency contact... Yes, I'll let you know... Yeah. Bye."
He waits for you to stand up, but you don't. So, he moves to sit beside you.
"I'm guessing he wanted to kill you with the tickets."
You set out a scoff. But there's no real malice in it, just exhaustion. "Well, was I trying to kill you?"
"oh, one hundred percent, I know." You don't laugh. You don't even smile. Frank stares out into the bay. Into the now calm night. And wonders how much time and blood it had taken to get this silent.
The kind of silence that won't let you sleep unless you break it. "You know what you need to do, don't you?"
Frank tries to nod but his neck doesn't let him raise his head. His hands wrap around his knees. "I don't. I really, really don't."
He turns to you. "Do you?"
You swallow. "I need to find Dean."
"Oh, fuck him." Your eyes widen as you stand at him. His face is scrunched. You've never seen him this angry. "You weren't thinking of him, were you? In the car?"
That tears a ragged breath through you. "Frank. What do you think?"
"I don't know. I don't know what to think, or how to think, or... I don't know." He runs both his hands through his hair. "I just know that I care about you and... Fuck!"
You turn around so fast that your neck starts hurting again. "Oh, wow, it's that bad to say out loud, isn't it?"
"What? No, I meanā Yes, shitā" His blue eyes are wide. "Yeah, it's bad when you think I'm a drug addict."
"And why would I think that?"
"Robby does."
"I'm not Robby."
For the first time today, he really looks at you. You're so tired. You look like you've been through a war. He sighs. "I didn't say anything in the car because... I wasn't sure you'd believe me."
"I probably wouldn't have." You admit, wringing your wrists. "I don't even know if you're in your right mind, now."
Just as he opens his mouth, your phone rings again. Fuck that thing. It's an unknown number this time.
"Yes, this is she... Yeah, okay... Yes, I'll be there... Yeah, okay. Okay." You hang up the phone and your eyes glaze over. "That was Presby. Dean's there."
"Okay... That's good, right?"
There's a mocking sound out of your mouth as you put your head on his shoulder to muffle your cries. And Frank thinks about the irony of comforting a woman he loves through the loss of a man he couldn't stand.
a/n: and that's a wrap on season one folks. hope you enjoyed the ride so far (ā Ā ā āā āæā āā Ā ā )ā ā”
