Chapter Text
There was a lot of things about that morning that Mel hadn’t appreciated. She’d slept through her first alarm, which meant she wasn’t able to go for a jog. The water pressure was seemingly getting worse in the apartment, which meant it took longer to rinse the shampoo from her hair. She’d run out of her favourite cereal, leaving her to have toast for breakfast. She’d been late dropping Becca off, which meant she had to drive into work if she wanted to arrive on time. All of those things were annoyances, but not world ending.
No, the worst part of it all was that Mel had been on her way to work, when her world tipped sideways. Until the car in front of her swerved, so she pushed on her breaks, and then the car behind her slammed into her, pushing her into the intersection. When she came to a stop, she thought it was over, counted herself as lucky because there was little intrusion into the car. She let out a breath, starting to list the different things she needed to do, mentally plotting out the route to her first aid kit in the trunk and thinking about insurance and calling Dana to let them know she’d be late, and that was when the car slammed into the drivers side door. She spun, weightless, things moving too fast outside the spiderweb cracks of the windshield to be able to really see the world outside, and then just as quickly as it started, it stopped, and everything was still. She made a hesitant move, trying to open her door, but no matter how much pressure she put on it, it didn’t budge. She was stuck, for now at least, and the thought made her feel hot all over, panic settling into her joints, seizing them up. After that, her memories become a little hazy, things swimming in and out. There was a firefighter asking her a million questions, but he sounded miles away, and that made it easy to rest her head back, let her eyes fall shut. Just for a moment. Five more minutes. Then a grinding noise that made her skin crawl, until she realised the car was vibrating with it too, and then she didn’t know what was sensory overload and what was real sensation, and she wanted to reach out and grab something stable but there wasn’t anything to grab that wasn’t mangled, so she wrapped the arms around herself instead. Then cool air on her skin as the door was ripped off. She wanted her jacket. She wanted to be at work, where things moved just as quickly, but she was in control. Where she fixed things. But once she was hoisted onto the stretcher, tight belts around her to keep her in place, there was no denying that her plans had been irrevocably derailed. A collar was strapped around her neck, and she wanted to beg them to take it off, eyes filling with tears, but she knew they couldn’t. Mechanism of injury flashed through her mind. Injures. Spinal damage, internal bleeding, broken bones, concussion. One of those she felt pretty confident on diagnosing, just on the sluggish way the thoughts came to her, instead of the rushing river she was used to.
“Take her to the Pitt.” One of the paramedics said, like a monkey’s paw wish, and she sat up to argue, to ask to be taken anywhere else. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her colleagues, in fact she trusted them implicitly. She had seen how they treated patients, the lengths they went to to keep someone alive, and she trusted in their knowledge. But Mel had never enjoyed people taking care of her, fussing over her or asking if she was okay. The only time it didn’t make her skin crawl was when Doctor Langdon asked, and that was only because he took her yes at face value. She didn’t want to be vulnerable around them, to be asked that question and have to give an honest answer, and that was how she felt right now. Case in point, it didn’t take much for the other paramedic to push her back onto the stretcher, and the moment she was flat, she was so sapped of energy that she had to stay there. She let herself be moved, rocking in the back of the ambulance as it hit potholes, as it braked and accelerated. As it turned, and then again, and then again, until the back doors opened, and she was wheeled in to the building.
“Mel?” Santos asked, doing a double take as she exited the locker rooms, before jogging to keep up with the stretcher. Mel blinked a couple times, she wasn’t sure when she’d last heard Santos actually use her name, and not some dumb nickname. There wasn’t a lot of time to dwell on that, though, because other people heard. Dana was over her in a heartbeat, with kind eyes and a gentle smile, stopping them in their tracks to look over her. Obviously not satisfied with what she saw, she shook her head.
“Jesus, kid, what happened to you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, though, standing at full height and directing the paramedics to a room with a shout and a point and not giving Mel a chance to tell her that she was fine, that this was all overkill, that she just wanted to go home. That’s how everything seemed to be going, since the crash. She was just a footstep or two behind, just a fraction slower than everyone else. Or maybe they were too fast? She didn’t know, and she didn’t like it, because it felt like she was standing on the beach, the waves coming up to crash over her again, and again, and again, without giving her a second to breathe.
“Mel.” That was Doctor Robby, shining a light into her eyes the moment she was lifted from the stretcher to the bed, standing over her. He’d already abandoned his hoodie, she noted. It was cold, when it was her in the bed, rather than running from task to task. She gave a full body shudder. “They said you were in a car crash. Do you know where you are at the moment?”
“The Pitt.” She replied after a moment, but her voice sounded wrong to her own ears. Slurred, slightly, the way it did on the rare occasions she got drunk.
“Good, and what day is it?” He asked. He was assessing if she was confused, she knew. She’d asked these questions a hundred times before. Except… She wasn’t entirely sure what day it was. That wasn’t always surprising, with shift work throwing off her internal clock, but she had been sure she’d checked the calendar, the one she kept on the wall next to the door, before she left this morning.
“March.” She finally settled on. Month, day, year, right? Except she was still stalling, chewing on the inside of her cheek, but her mouth tasted like blood and that made her feel sick so she went back to the question but she still didn’t have the answer, and she should have the answer, and why couldn’t she just remember? “2025. It’s, uh…”
“It’s okay not to know. Mel, we’re going to have to take off your shirt, to assess for injuries. Do you want me to get Collins, or Mohan?” He had one hand on her shoulder, she assumed to keep her focused, but the touch was more distraction, and she tried to shrug him off, but she didn’t have the right leverage, with the collar around her neck. It pinched against her cheeks, and pushed at her collarbones and she hated it.
“No, it’s fine.” Anything that got this done sooner. He waited, like he expected her to change her mind, but if there was one thing Mel didn’t do, it was change her mind. Once she had made a decision, that was it. He gave a short sigh, eyes shutting for a moment, before moving again, and with Santos’s help cut away the t-shirt she had been wearing in. Thankfully, Santos managed to unhook her bra without moving her. Those were expensive, and she was already looking at an empty bank account.
“Contusion on the chest consistent with drivers side seatbelt. Equal rise and fall of chest, so no obvious displacement of rib fractures.” Santos called out with her usual brusque tone, but there was something more uncomfortable just under it. She hesitated for a moment as she looked down at Mel. “Can I?” She asked, hands hovering over her abdomen. Mel nodded, and Santos started to press. “Abdomen is tender, no distention, but there’s obvious bruising around the left flank. Potential for bruising to the kidney.”
“Exactly..” Robby helped pull a gown onto her, tucking it around her body, but she was still cold. She wanted to say something, to ask for a blanket, but he was standing tall, looking at Santos again, and she didn’t want to interrupt. “We’ll need a X-rays, a trauma pan-scan, and bloods. Blood pressure’s a little soft, so a litre of saline, too. Get back to me with results. Mel, if you need anything, let us know. Do you need us to call someone?”
“No.” Becca was at her program, wasn’t expecting to hear from her until lunch time, and wasn’t expecting to be picked up until eight. There was no one else who would be looking for her. That was sad to think about, so she tried to make a list of things she’d have to do when she got out of hospital. Call her insurance, for one. See how much they’d cover of her car. From there, she’d have to start looking for a new car, because she couldn’t be without one. If it was just her, she’d be fine, but Becca had appointments, and the day program. Things she had to get to, and get to on time. She didn’t know how she’d afford it, but she’d have to. Then there was the medical bills. It was all overwhelming, made her feel like something was sitting on her chest and she couldn’t breathe, but it was better than the never-ending loneliness she felt otherwise. She focused on breathing. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. It made her ribs hurt so bad tears sprung to her eyes, and soon she was biting those back too. If she just stayed still it was bearable. So, she’d stay still. Robby nodded, leaving the room. Likely going to check on someone else. He was good like that, keeping an eye on everyone. He’d come back. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but it meant she had time to pull herself together.
“C’mon, Ace, surely there’s someone.” Santos poked her shoulder, before turning to the computer to put in the orders, missing the was she winced from the pain. It seemed like there wasn’t an inch of her that was spared, and while some of the pain stood out, like her ribs, others sat just below the surface, an ache that would linger. “You have a sister, right?”
“I don’t want to tell her, yet.” And if Santos had been paying any attention at all, she’d know why. But Mel didn’t feel like talking about it right now. Didn’t want to talk about anything. She just wanted to sit, perfectly still, and wait until this was all over. Santos waited, like she expected her to say something else. Still, she only gave her a strange look, before leaving the room, sliding the door closed behind her, and finally she was alone for a moment. Mel let out a deep breath, before taking her own stock of the damage. Hands flew up to her head, probed against her scalp. A few tender places, and a laceration that had dripped blood down her face, but nothing that felt too deep. Down to her nose, which seemed unscathed. She didn’t have her glasses. She wasn’t sure where they were. Could they still be in the car? Probably. Maybe beyond repair, too. Another thing to add to the list. She skipped over the collar, down her chest, gently probing at the sorest of her ribs, fingertips flying away at he first sign of pain. She pressed down through her abdomen, because even though she trusted Santos’s ability as a doctor, she still had to be sure, but there was nothing that stood out. After that, there was nothing left to do but tuck her arms under the gown, and wait. The lights on overhead were too bright, and there was no escape from them. The collar made it impossible to look away, and while she knew the statistics of the likelihood of serious fractures after a crash, she still contemplated taking it off. She considered just getting up and walking there, too, but when she tried to sit pain exploded across her chest like fireworks, and she was forced to lay back down. There was no winning here. Even as the door slid open again, she couldn’t quite twist to see what was going on, not until Langdon stood over her, blocking out the light. And, like always, relief settled in her chest, made her heartbeat slow just a fraction. For all his energy, he was a calming presence for her, had been on her first day, and again when he’d returned from rehab.
“Jesus, Mel.” He hissed through his teeth. He pushed her hair out of her face, she hadn’t even noticed it had been there, then cupped her cheek for a moment. They stood like that, just staring, until he winced again, and he pulled his hand back like it had been burned. “Fuck. The lights, right?” He crossed the room, out of her line of sight, and then the lights dimmed. She sighed in relief.
“Thank you.” She muttered, but the longer she laid there, the more the pain set in. It was starting to hurt to breathe.
“What happened?” He asked. She shrugged, as much as she could.
“Car crash.” She replied, after taking a moment to think of her words. “Someone hit me, and then I was in the intersection, and then someone else hit me.”
“Fuck.” He repeated. “You’re in pain. Don’t say you’re not, you’re doing the little frown-y thing you do when something hurts. I’ll go get them to get you something.” Because he couldn’t. Because he still wasn’t allowed to. Between that, and the NA meetings, and the drug tests, she knew he had to be getting sick of it. But it meant he still worked there. With her. And that was something she’d always appreciate.
“No, thank you.” She replied. She wanted to ask him to stay. She wanted someone at her bedside, to try and make her laugh or just talk to her, to distract her from everything that was going on. But he was working. They were meant to be working together. God, that made her even sadder. The one person she wanted to stay was her work friend, her pseudo-mentor, though he called them partners. She couldn’t ask him to stay, that was wildly inappropriate, and not even possible. So why did she want him so bad? Her eyes filled with tears, and he saw before she could try to dash them away.
“Hey, none of that. You’re alright, you’re gonna be fine.” He grabbed her hand, held it between his. She wanted to hate it, the way she hated when anyone just grabbed at her, but she couldn’t. Not right now, at least. “Talk to me, Mel. What’s going on?”
“My car’s totalled. I don’t know what I’m going to do. How am I going to pick up Becca?” It wasn’t what was really bothering her, but it was close enough to the truth. It was something that was bothering her. That was enough. Just because they were friends didn’t mean she had to tell him every thought that crossed her mind. She knew he didn’t, he kept things to himself until he couldn’t anymore. That’s how he’d gotten in this position in the first place.
“We’ll work something out. Hey, I can get her tonight, if you want? I could bring her here.” He looked like he regretted the words as soon as he said it. “No, you won’t want her to come here. I can call the program, see if they have space for her to stay overnight? And then tomorrow, we can go and get her.”
“Please.” The word was a broken little thing, but in the silence of the cubicle, it didn’t need to be louder. He nodded, and handed her his phone. She dialled, and he stepped out for the call. One less thing to worry about, at least. Her hands twisted in the gown, and when Langdon returned it was with a blanket. One from the blanket warmer, too, and the heat chased away some of the ache.
“Donnie’s gonna come back with something for the pain. Just… Take it, please. We can’t assess you properly without it, you know what a distracting pain can do to mask symptoms. It won’t be strong, just… Enough.” He’s holding the rail of her bed, and she can see his white knuckle grip. She reached out clumsily, because without her glasses the world becomes harder to navigate, and rested her own battered hand over his. She hadn’t seen the scrapes until then, and it makes her want to move, because there was no way he’d want something so scratched and torn holding him. But he puts his other hand over hers, and it’s warm, and she can’t make herself pull away.
“You’ve got other patients.” She says. She’s not even his patient, really. But it makes her feel less guilty, to think about it that way.
“Yeah.” He replies, like that was a decent reply. He strokes his thumb over the back of her hand. She can’t remember the last time someone comforted her like that. The last time she let someone comfort her like that. “I’ll go back out when they take you to CT. Deal?”
“Okay.” It’s selfish, and awful, but she wants him to stay, and she’s so tired and her body hurts too much to argue. He continues the soft strokes, even pressure, even timing, like he wanted her to be able to predict the next move. He doesn’t try for more, or less, or anything different. It’s enough to lull her into a calmer state.
Somewhere between Donnie giving her what he called “a little over a drop” of Ativan and CT, Mel drifted to sleep. She barely woke to be slid over onto the bed, doesn’t remember the time spent in the machine or the journey back to the Pitt. Probably for the best, as she’s escorted enough patients to and from the can to know she wouldn’t like how close the machine gets without touching, or the way it would take multiple people to slide her back and forth, people she didn’t know, people she wasn’t comfortable with. As much as she had protested, she was happier to float in her little bubble of semiconsciousness where things still hurt, but it was far enough away that she didn’t have to think about it. Eventually, though, a soft touch to her shoulder wakes her, and it’s Doctor Robby’s comforting smile above her. He’s a little close, but she can forgive him. It means she can see the lines in his forehead, where he’s frowned, and the laugh lines next to him mouth. Contradictions, but in a nice way. Someone who feels everything across their face. She knows she’s the same, easy to read by anyone who pays even the slightest bit of attention to her. Not so much an open book as a billboard. Except now she realises his mouth is moving, and she probably should be listening.
“Can you repeat that?” She asks. The words are less slurred, sound closer to sleepy, like when she has to answer the phone after it’s woken her up. The world still feels like it’s on a ten second delay, but now she can’t tell if she has a concussion, or if the drugs are working. Makes it difficult, expands her list of differential diagnoses, and she doesn’t like that.
“I said it’s good news, Mel. The scans came back clear. You have a contusion on your kidney, which will heal in its own time, and some rib fractures, but nothing we need to action. We can get you home, as soon as we’ve sutured the cut on your head.” He unhooked the collar, tossed it onto the table. Mel pushed herself up onto her elbows. “I’m gonna send Santos in to do it, is that alright?”
“That’s fine.” She forced herself to breathe through the pain and sat up fully, stretching out her stiff shoulders, rolling her wrists, cracking her back.
“I know residency is brutal, but you’re not coming back for at least a week. Take the time, then let me know if you’re still too sore to work, and I’ll happily sign off on more time.” He placed a few sheets of paper on the table by her bed. “Discharge instructions. Stitches can come out in a week, you know how to look for signs of dehiscence or infection, and while I’d recommend you get them taken out by your PCP, I know you’re more than capable. I’ll send you with a couple spare bandages, too. And you can ask me, if you have any questions about anything.”
“I’ll be fine.” She said that word so often, it started to lose meaning, just became a sound that came out of her mouth, like a laugh or a sneeze.
“I know you will.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up. “That doesn’t mean you have to do it all on your own. We lean on each other here, it’s the only way to survive.” She didn’t want to contradict him, because he was her boss, and he was being nice, but she had heard enough gossip at the nurses station to think he wasn’t taking his own advice.
“I’ll call if I need anything.” She promised. But the thing was, she didn’t need anything. For years, it had just been her and Becca. She had things under control, she kept them floating no matter how hard it was. There was never a situation she couldn’t get them out of, and it was one of the things she was most proud of, even if she couldn’t tell anyone about it. It was her secret, and she carried it like it was precious.
“I’ll send in Santos.” He nodded, closing the door behind him. It was unsettling, being so close to the chaos, but have that separation. She could hear overheads, and codes, and shouts, but she couldn’t help, as much as she wanted to. She sat, and waited, knowing that the sutures were probably one of the least important things in the cubicles right now. She was hyping herself up to just do them herself, when the door slid back open.
“Robby said he was sending in Santos. I told him to fuck off, she’d do the bare minimum to get back on the floor.” Langdon cleared the table before she could even open her mouth to argue, that pulling a senior resident off the floor when it sounded like mayhem out there was a waste of resources, but the way he set up, without hesitation and like he’d done it a million times before, left no space in the room to argue. “No one’s dying out there."
“Okay.” She had to admit, she preferred the thought of him doing it, than Santos. They were friendly, in a passing way. Mel didn’t like the nicknames, Santos didn’t seem to care that she didn’t understand the references. She wouldn’t have asked for someone else, but… Maybe it was okay to be a little selfish. Just this once. Just because she was hurt. He laid the back of the bed down, and she settled back.
“It’s an inch and a half long across your left temple, and looks like the edges will meet up nicely. I’m going to start with five, and see how we go from there.” He nodded, more to himself than to her. She appreciated the commentary, and she knew he was doing it for her benefit. The way she talked to people. He gently cleaned the area, then numbed it, and the way it burned under skin was a foreign feeling. The numbness made her eyebrow feel heavy, and made her skin crawl, but she could feel the pressure of his hands every now and then, insistent but gentle. It was hard to assess the passage of time with her eyes closed, the only sound in the room their breathing, the noise from outside muffled. His hands pulled away, before smoothing a bandage over her forehead.
“Thank you, Doctor Langdon.” She said softly as he retreated for the last time. Hand coming up to probe at the dressing. The bandage stuck weirdly to her head, but she realised he’d trimmed it, so it didn’t tug on her hair.
“I just put seven stitches in your head. Call me Frank. Or, at the very least, drop the title.” He cleaned the area in a chaotic twirl of arms and legs, walking back and forth from the bin at least three times, not quite meeting her eyes even as he stood right next to her. That was fine by Mel, the weight of eye contact was sometimes too much. Except his were such a piercing blue, sometimes she forgot that she didn’t like it.
“Frank.” She tried. It didn’t feel right, but that was fitting for the day, so she decided to go with it. Maybe it would feel better when she wasn’t concussed. Or maybe she’d go back to calling him Doctor Langdon when she came back to work.
“Yeah?” He turned back to her, head cocked.
“No, no, I was just… You know.” She shrugged with an awkward smile. “Trying it.”
“Oh, sure.” He nodded. “I’ll get Donnie to bring in the rest of your discharge paperwork, and I’ll find you something to wear home.” He slipped out the door, chaos filling the room for five whole seconds before the door closed again. Mel had never thought she’d enjoy the overstimulation of an emergency department, but something about the Pitt was like white noise to her now, soothing like her lava lamp or her favourite playlist. She crossed her legs under her, wincing at the stabs of pain at every movement. The next few days were going to be difficult, and she started rationing her Tylenol in her head. She was in stasis, just waiting for the world around her to move when the door opened again, but it was just Frank, with a jumper and a handful of paperwork. He handed over the jumper, turning away, but Mel let out the tiniest sound of distress and he was back, eyes searching her.
“I’m not going to be able to lift my arms.” She admitted, hand stuck halfway up to untie the patient gown. “Maybe I’ll go home in this, and bring it back when I come back to work.”
“Or I could help you.” It was the most logical answer, the most obvious one, but it made her face flush, especially the slightest hint of a smile that she could see on his face. “You don’t have to do everything on your own. I mean, I can send in one of the girls if you want. That’s helping, too. But if you don’t mind me helping, we can get you out of her sooner.”
“Yes, that one.” She dropped her hand, and sighed in relief. This day was a fresh kind of torture, and she tried to remove herself from it, but his hand was warm on the back of her neck as he undid the knot, gently pulling it away from her and tossing it on the end of the bed. It was a body, they’d both seen thousands of them, there was no shame in that. But it wasn’t that, she realised about a second too late. It was the way he guided her hands into the jumper, pulling it up and over her head in a way that jolted her the least, tugging it all the way down. The way he pulled her hair out of the neck, her braid half undone. Then he was taking the hair tie out, and nibble fingers that had saved so many lives were carefully braiding, not too tight but just enough to keep it out of her face.
“Thank you.” For doing her hair. For giving her his jumper, and she could tell it was his because it smelled like his cologne. For stitching her head. For coming to see her. There was so much she was grateful for, but she hoped the simple words would suffice. He nodded, and gave her that look. The one that said he saw her, saw the way the gears turned in her mind, the way he understood her. He had, from that first shift. He dropped the side rail, helped her sit on the side of the bed, knelt on the hospital floor to put her shoes on, and her stomach twisted. He patted her knee as he stood, a grimace crossing his face for a moment, but it was gone in a flash.
“Don’t worry about it. Who’s picking you up?” Langdon leaned on the wall. Mel didn’t have belongings to gather now she was discharged, beyond her small backpack that had been fished from the mangled remains of her car. She supposed she should be grateful she had even that.
“I’m getting an Uber.” She couldn’t really afford it, but she couldn’t bring herself to get the bus when she felt like this. She’d put it on her emergency credit card, and kick herself for it tomorrow.
“No, you’re not. You’re concussed, that’s not safe.” He replied with a shake of his head. “I can call your emergency contact, if you want.”
“I don’t have one.” That shouldn’t have been a shocking admission. She’d told him about her parents, and their extended family. Maybe he hadn’t been listening, the way Santos didn’t, and she just hadn’t picked up on it. That would have broken her heart, actually. Or maybe she was just sensitive because she was tired, and in pain, and wanted to sleep in her own bed.
“No one at all? I mean, I know you take care of Becca, but no friend? Nothing?” He asked, and between the blue eyes and the frown, he looked like he belonged on a movie screen rather than an emergency department. “Christ, Mel. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re gonna sit in the break room, maybe take a nap on the couch or something. My shifts over in just under two hours. I’m gonna drive you home, after. And I’m getting admin to put me as your emergency contact. You can’t just not have one.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.” She hated being indebted to someone, even something as simple as a favour. It left her exposed, and waiting for the shoe to drop. And this was more than just a ride, more important than that. It felt meaningful. She stood up, waited for the room to stop spinning. “I’ll be fine. It’s not far.”
“You’re not fine, Mel. You were in a pretty bad car accident, you’re concussed and bruised and sore. As a doctor, I can’t let you go in an Uber in this state. As a friend, I want to help.” Her head snapped up, looking to him. He was her friend? “Don’t look so surprised. I think you’re the only person in this place that still likes me.”
“That’s not true.” She wanted to run down the list on her fingers, but her mind was foggy, and it wouldn’t be as thorough as it would be when she was okay. “A lot of people like you. You’re… Likeable.”
“We can debate that in the car.” He gestured her forward with his hand, then let it rest in the middle of her back as he walked her to the break room. “Try and rest a little. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“No rush.” She said, mostly to the empty air as the door shut. While she was still upright, she filled a cup with water and downed it, to rid her mouth of the fuzzy feeling coating her tongue. She sank onto the couch, tucked her legs underneath her, and waited. There was no way she’d be able to sleep, not in public, but she rested her head down anyway. Then she closed her eyes, because her head hurt. Then her breathing started to even out, but that was only because she was comfy. Sleep overtook her sneakily, while she tried to outrun it.
A soft touch on her shoulder woke her, for once without startle. Her head was propped up on her arms, which had made her dream of Frank. Her mind, either evil or kind, was replaying the way he looked up at her from his knees when he’d been tying her shoes, but now he was knelt by the couch, their eyes level. He smiled, but it was weary, and he was dressed in regular clothes. The shift must be over, she realised.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Frank offered her his hand. There was no hesitation in Mel’s mind, as she took it. She hated when people fussed over her, when they tried to take care of her. It made her feel like a child, like she had something to prove. She was just as capable as any adult she knew. More, in a lot of cases. She had managed just fine on her own to this point, and was doing a damn good job at it. She was strong, and she could carry the weight of her responsibilities and make it look like it was nothing. But there was a slow realisation, that she didn’t half mind when it was Frank. When he opened the car door for her, it didn’t feel like pity, and when he helped her up the half-step into the SUV, it made her feel warm. She’d have to analyse that, when her brain decided it could string together complex thought again, when she could go through each moment and touch and word with a fine-toothed comb. Until then, she let herself melt into the seat, rattling off her address and letting her eyes fall shut again. There were worse things in the world, she decided, than letting Frank be her emergency contact.