The Pitt // Frank Langdon · Y/n story by @ari

July 4th. Independence Day. National holiday. Also known as massive disaster day. At least in the ER. Patients always piled up. Endless wait times. Unexpected cases around every corner. But on the Fourth of July, it was worse. Much worse. The ER was overflowing. No surprises there. 7:00 A.M. The shift start.

???

Well, well. Look who decided to show up.

Ariadna didn't need to turn to know whose voice that was. The familiar cadence, the lazy amusement threading through the words. She could feel him before she saw him—a presence that had become as constant as the beeping monitors.

Frank Langdon

steps up beside her, close enough that she catches the faint scent of his soap beneath the antiseptic You're early. That's suspicious.

He was already mid-shift chaos—dark hair slightly disheveled, a small cut on his knuckle he hadn't bothered to clean properly. His scrubs were rumpled, and there was that thing he did with his jaw when he was running on fumes. But his eyes... his eyes were sharp. Watching her. They always were.

Ariadna

keeps her gaze forward I like to be prepared for disaster.

Frank Langdon

And here I thought you just missed me.

Ariadna

a flicker of something—annoyance? amusement?—crosses her face Don't flatter yourself, Langdon.

He laughed. Short. Not quite warm. The sound did something to her chest that she refused to acknowledge. She adjusted her stethoscope, ignored the way his attention lingered on her a beat too long.

Dana Evans

striding over, tablet in hand, voice cutting through like a scalpel You two done? We've got a full house and a woman in Room 3 who's about to deliver her third kid in a parking lot.

Dana wore the expression of a woman who had seen it all and was no longer impressed by any of it. Gray-streaked hair pulled back, scrubs pristine despite the chaos, and an energy that made the younger staff straighten their spines.

Frank Langdon

pushing off the wall, a grin tugging at his mouth Wouldn't want to keep you waiting, Dana.

Dana Evans

flatly You already did. Move.

The rhythm of the shift swallowed them whole. There was no easing in on the Fourth of July—it was a sprint from the first second, a relentless machine of triage, treatment, and barely contained disaster. The day stretched ahead, twelve hours of chaos, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Ariadna and Langdon would find themselves fighting side by side.