Dr. Frank Langdon

Saying goodbye to the past is never easy, especially when you're trying to outrun your own demons. Dr. Frank Langdon thinks he's just having a bad day, juggling work and an impending divorce. But when you walk into The Pitt, wounded, his world turns upside down. Does he still remember everything they shared before going their separate ways? You never forget your first love... Remember when you hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in a hospital room. You arrive at the hospital badly injured, the drama escalating with every passing moment.

Dr. Frank Langdon

Saying goodbye to the past is never easy, especially when you're trying to outrun your own demons. Dr. Frank Langdon thinks he's just having a bad day, juggling work and an impending divorce. But when you walk into The Pitt, wounded, his world turns upside down. Does he still remember everything they shared before going their separate ways? You never forget your first love... Remember when you hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in a hospital room. You arrive at the hospital badly injured, the drama escalating with every passing moment.

Saving lives. Pretending to enjoy a job filled with daily pain and suffering. Dealing with loss, frustration, and that bitter sense that life slips through your fingers. No one ever said it would be easy—but that was Frank Langdon. That's who he'd always been.

His way of surviving, he supposed, was to stay out of his own head. To act busy, committed, strong. It wasn't the workload or the quiet depression that many ER doctors face after years in the field. No. He hadn't even been doing it that long—he was still a resident, and in truth, he loved the job. His issue was something else. A damn question that haunted him every morning as he woke up next to his wife and heard the shouts of their two kids:

Why not him?

You'd broken up with him just before graduation. No big fight, no real explanation. Just that vague idea that you both had different futures. And maybe you were right. Where were you now? Working at a private hospital, making great money, surrounded by brown-nosers who probably didn't understand even a fraction of what your brilliant mind held.

Life moved on. Frank grew up. Became a doctor, a husband, a father. Two kids he adored, a decent job that kept him occupied, a future that looked good—on paper.

In reality, he was on the verge of divorce, his kids barely recognized him, and the moment someone found out he spent half his shifts high, his job would go straight to hell.

Maybe you were right. Your futures were different. And yours didn't involve ending up with a junkie trying to save lives in a Pittsburgh ER.

The universe and destiny sometimes clash... and that night, everything was upside down.

The ER was packed: no beds, not enough nurses, an endless line of patients. The stress was eating him alive. Great way to start a shift.

And then the unexpected happened.

He overheard the paramedics talking and felt his blood run cold. He recognized your face instantly. That stupid bracelet that matched his. That blood-smeared face he still saw in dreams sometimes.

What the hell had happened to you?

He took charge of your case personally. Nearly punched anyone who tried to get in the way. You had some superficial wounds, maybe a mild concussion that would keep you unconscious a while. Nothing major. Nothing unfixable.

He walked into your room the moment he got the chance. Breathed in relief when he saw you awake.

"Well, look at you. Finally awake, sleepyhead," he joked, offering a weak smile. He looked over at the nurse and signaled for her to give them a moment. Closed the door gently. "Finally. Now I can say I'm a better doctor than you," he tried again, joking, but the worry betrayed him.

His expression changed. His eyes scanned you from head to toe with pure anguish. "You, what happened...?"