Work Text:
It’s not a big problem until it is.
The uniforms aren’t for show. They’re supposed to protect them from the heat of the flames and from succumbing to smoke inhalation, but the protective padding they all wear can only do so much.
The thing about falling a few stories through a freshly fire ravaged building is that sometimes your internal organs aren’t on board with the idea.
The initial fall doesn’t seem to be so bad, and by the time the team’s come through to retrieve TK, he’s already shakily back on his feet. He’s aching something fierce, but that seems to be pretty reasonable, considering what just happened. Two members of the 126 help guide him back out, sunlight assaulting his eyes as soon as they’re no longer underground.
Owen’s up in his space immediately, a hand on his shoulder as he brushes some of the dirt and debris from his son’s face. “Are you hurt? Paul and Marjan said they found you on the ground level.”
He smiles, anything to reassure his father. “Gonna be sore for a couple days, but I’ve had worse, Dad. It’s fine. I’m okay.”
The cap shakes his head, a few officer’s gesturing for him to come over so they can all finish their paperwork write ups and head back to their respective stations. His dad’s a busy man, he’s got important things to do after a crisis. Owen pats him on the shoulder, points a finger as he goes. “Go see Michelle before we pack up here, just get a once over in case. It’ll make your old man feel better.”
He shoots a smile his father’s way, tucks his helmet underneath his arm and walks off. The thing is, he really does intend to stop over by the ambulance. Except there’s quite a few victims that are being treated from the house fire and the paramedics are super busy so as it is.
Instead, he dusts himself off and heads back to the rig. He’s fine. It’s not a big deal.
By the time dinner rolls around and Paul’s heaping helpings of something that smells delicious on to everyone’s plates in the dining hall, TK’s nauseous as all hell. While everyone else is digging in, TK simply moves bits of pasta around his plate with his fork. Judd peers at him while he takes a swig of iced tea from his glass, but remains silent. Mateo and Owen are excitedly discussing how the probie’s exam went, and the Captain’s son lets everyone else’s conversations wash over him, doing his best not to zone out entirely at the table.
He’s feeling a little guilty about the fact most of his dinner ended up going uneaten, so he siddles up beside Paul, Judd, and Marjan to help with the dishes. The other firefighters side eye him as TK dries dishes with the slow movements of an elderly man, but they all collectively keep their comments to themselves. It’s been a long day. Even with his stunted movements and slow speed, by the time clean up from dinner is over, TK’s exhausted. He’s chocked it up to an adrenaline crash, but somehow it feels like so much more. The brunette starts down the hallway towards the sleeping quarters, bumping into the wall a little as he goes.
“You hittin’ the hay already?” Judd’s striding towards him, probably on his way to work in the weight room for a little.
“Yeah, guess I need my beauty sleep.” He mumbles, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
Judd simply chuckles and nods, heading on his way.
TK practically falls into bed, fitfully moving about under the sheets until he can get comfortable. Not that he really can, though. He’s still so sore and curling up on his left side in a little ball is about as good as it’s gonna get. Maybe he should have talked to Michelle. An ice pack or something couldn’t have hurt. Some shut-eye before their next call would be nice, he just hopes he can make it happen.
He must fall asleep at some point, though, because he’s suddenly being shaken awake by two hands on his shoulders.
“Hey, hey, TK. Wake up.”
Blinking his eyes open is a chore in itself, but he manages. Paul and Judd are staring down at him, concerned looks on their faces. Paul’s the first to speak, tilting his head curiously. “We got worried, heard you coughing all this time all the way over in the weight room.”
He stares back at them for a few seconds, confusion evident on his features. He’d been coughing? No, he’d been sleeping last time he checked. TK rises to a sitting position, slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The other two firefighters step back, still waiting on an answer. It’s then that he’s acutely aware of the fact the cheek he’d had pressed into his pillow is wet. He’s also suddenly aware of the fact he’s falling out of bed.
Thank god for Judd and his Texas cowboy arms, or else he’d have ended up face down on the ground. He’s pretty sure he says as much to the firefighter, but all that really comes out is a jumbled mix of words. There’s a flurry of activity above him as Judd carefully lays him down on the floor, Paul giving horrified glances towards the bed he’d just been occupying. There’s swatches of blood smeared against the pillow. Did he do that?
A feeling akin to being stabbed sticks through his abdomen then, and TK cringes, curling in on himself as a miserable whimper leaves his lips.
Marjan appears in the doorway then, barely processing the scene in front of her. “Is everything okay in here? I heard shouting----”
“Marjan, get the Captain down here, quick! Something’s wrong with TK, we’re gonna need EMS down here too.” Paul shouts to her, bloody pillow still clutched in his hand. She doesn’t need to be told twice, turning on her heel and racing down the corridor from which she came.
“Alright, alright, what’s wrong, TK? What hurts?” Judd’s half-shouting at him, barely masking his panic. Paul’s at his other side, patting a hand at the side of his face every time his eyes start to drift close.
“Mm..my ‘tomach…” He slurs, head lolling against the floor.
They’re hiking his sweatshirt up to take a look just as Captain Strand comes scrambling through the door. It’d be a comical sight in any other situation, the captain with skin cream haphazardly smeared across his face and practically tripping over himself to get into the room.
Everyone’s eyes fall on the ugly, dark, bruising blotted all along the younger firefighter’s abdomen. It’s too real, too viscerally similar to the call a few days ago where they’d managed to save two children from the wreckage of their home, but couldn’t save their father from succumbing to his injuries before it was too late.
They’re roused from that dark line of thinking by TK finally making noise again, pained cries and tears tracking down his face making everyone hurt along with him.
The captain wastes no time, gently cradling his son’s head in his hands. “I’m here, I’m here. It’s okay, it’s okay, TK. I’m here.”
“Dad?” He croaks, obviously not entirely with it. “It hurts, it hurts. ‘ake it stop.”
“I know, I know, son. It’s gonna be okay. EMS is on their way, they’re gonna make it stop.”
They’re crowded around him now, Marjan leaning down to speak with him while Mateo hovers around them all uncertainly. “Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well, huh?” Her tone is faintly scolding, but mostly she just sounds distraught.
“I knew something wasn’t fucking right at dinner. I should have said something.” Judd admonishes himself, fingers still wrapped around TK’s wrist to keep track of his thready pulse.
“We’re not doing this. Playing the blame game isn’t going to solve anything.” Owen cuts in, threading his fingers through the sweaty locks of his son’s hair. “I wish you would have spoken up about this, TK.”
Much to everyone’s relief, Michelle and her team choose that moment to rush into the room.
Everyone respectfully takes a step back to allow them room to work, but Owen just shifts off to the side, never leaving his boy.
Michelle’s already unpacking a menagerie of tools, placing a soothing palm over his forehead with her free hand. “Hi, TK. We’re gonna figure out what’s going on. Just stay awake for us, alright?”
He tries, he really does. But it doesn’t quite work out like that.
Panicked shouting and loud beeping is the last thing he hears before the world shuts off for awhile.
When he comes to again, he doesn’t feel much of anything. The floor beneath him is still cold against his back, and it feels like there’s something stuck in his throat, but everything else seems so still and far away. It’s almost enough to lull him back to sleep. Except someone’s kissing his forehead, and there’s a hand grasping his own. There’s the distinct presence of multiple people around him. He can just barely make out the blurry figures of Marjan and Mateo near his right side, Judd and Paul keeping vigil near his shoulders. He hears his father, still grasping his hand and sounding a few seconds away from crying.
“Please, Please, stay TK. Stay with me, stay with us. Please.”
So he does.