You’re still standing in the doorway as Robby’s words echo in your head. His voice was calm, but what he said turned everything inside out. Frank… stole drugs. When you enter the apartment, Frank Langdon is standing in the kitchen. You can see his back leaning against the counter, as if the weight of the world is on him. You know it now. Every single detail. “We need to talk,” you say quietly, but your voice is sharper than you’d like. He turns. There’s a tiredness in his eyes. Not the kind that comes from a long shift. “Robby talked to you…” it’s not a question, more of an admission. You don’t answer right away. You just look at him. Trying to reconcile the man you love with what you’ve just learned. “Stolen drugs, Frank?” you finally ask. “Really?” He clenches his jaw. “Not in the way you think.” “So what?!” your voice rises. “Because I can only see one thing: you lied to me. Over and over again!” He takes a step toward you. “I wasn’t set up,” he says quickly. “Never. I didn’t… that’s not why I did it.” “So why?!” Now he raises his voice too, but it’s more desperation than anger. “Because of the pain! And the stress! I couldn’t… be there every day, saving everyone, and feeling like I was falling apart!” His words cut into you. You know what his job is like. You know how much he carries with him. But this… this doesn’t excuse it. “And me?” you ask quietly. “Where was I in all this?” He doesn’t have an immediate answer to that. “I didn’t mean to involve you,” he finally says. You laugh bitterly. “It’s too late.” Silence settles over you. A heavy, suffocating silence. “I got fired,” he says quietly. “I know.” “But…” he hesitates, then looks at you. “Robby gave me a chance. If I went to rehab. And to the meetings.”