frank had thought it was coincidental, at first. how the patient he was treating, you, looked so much like him your eyes were exactly the same. the same sort of face. you were here for a soccer injury, a dislocated finger.

frank got talking to you as he patched you up. found out you recently moved back here. that you live with your mom — who frank calls. and when said mom walks in? frank almost passes out.

it’s her. his high school girlfriend. amy. the one that frank got pregnant. the one that got an abortion. or— supposedly. because if frank really connects the dots? you’re fifteen, frank is nearly thirty-one and your birthday lines up with when he got her pregnant.

a wave of nausea hits him immediately.

amy seems to recognise frank immediately, because she pales too. looks in between you and frank.

frank realises then, that amy didn’t get the abortion she said she did. a million thoughts run through his head. he’s married. he already has tanner. what’s abby going to think?

“mom? you okay?” you ask, concerned.

amy nods. smooths your hair back.

frank corners her later at the vending machine. “amy—“

“frank—”

“you told me you got an abortion. she’s mine, isn’t she?” frank asks. voice firm. but a shake sneaks through.

amy nods. frank feels sick.

he walks through the er on autopilot. he has a daughter. a teenage daughter. he pushes into the break room. pushes into the bathroom. throws up. he has a little girl. the door opens.

“frank?” dana asks, voice tinged with concern.

frank chokes out a noise. dana drops down beside him.