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There’s an odd serenity in a hospital at three o’clock in the morning. Or maybe it’s because this is the first sense of clarity Carlos has had in the 4-ish hours he’s been sitting in a cramped, uncomfortable hospital chair.
The usually harsh fluorescent lights have been dimmed just enough so patients can sleep while still allowing the staff enough visibility to work, still allowing Carlos to constantly monitor the rise and fall of T.K.’s chest while the chirping of his heart monitor practically pounds in Carlos’ ears.
It’s not like the reality of both their jobs has just suddenly dawned on him. Carlos is logical, practical, sensible. Yet still he can’t help looking at the face of the man he couldn’t get out of his head for weeks and think, this wasn’t supposed to happen.
He supposes he should feel sort of selfish for intruding on T.K. during such a personal moment, even when he moved to the other side of the room so Captain Strand could be by his son’s side, as if he’s abusing the man’s kindness by staying long after the 126 has left and even longer after Michelle offered to drive him home. At this moment Carlo’s doesn’t care that much though, he just needs to know T.K’s going to come out of this on the other side.
It feels weird to feel so deeply about someone he knows so little about, but maybe that is the point of it all. Carlos could feel like they’re on the verge of something special, finally opening up to each other in order to create a foundation based on something real, something that maybe could last.
As cliche as it sounds he wants more time.
And all T.K. has to do is wake up, simple as that. A bitter chuckle threatens to escape from Carlos but hold himself back so he doesn’t wake Captain Strand up after finally falling asleep, his hand still clinging to T.K.'s for dear life. Carlos understands the feeling.
He can still feel the softness of T.K.’s hair through his fingertips, his other hand gently stroking the man’s upper arm. Desperate for something, anything Carlos could hang onto and tell him T.K. was there and he was real. Now Carlos’ fingers shake at the memory.
And also maybe the fact that he’s been up for more than twenty-four hours has something to do with it, plus the polyester of his uniform is now practically digging into his skin at this point.
Still he can’t bother to remove himself from T.K’s vicinity, even though they haven’t gotten an update since the early evening, even though that heart monitor mocks him with every shrill beep.
If T.K. would stop being a stubborn ass for once in his life and just wake up everything would be okay. Carlos doesn’t need anything else.
He hadn’t realised how long he had been lost in his own head until the first specks of sunlight attempt to peek through the rooms’ closed blinds. Maybe he should buy Captain Strand a coffee, an actual cup and not the burnt watery crap from the vending machine, to thank him for including Carlos. That even if he fully didn’t know the depth of the relationship Carlos has with his son Captain Strand understood, and that was enough.
With new determination Carlos stood up as quietly as he could muster, internally groaning at how locked up his joints were, slightly grateful for some sort of relief. He crept across the small room carefully not to wake Captain Strand or disrupt the rare peace of the quiet hospital floor at this early hour.
Turning to walk towards the door Carlos is startled by a light touch on his wrist, spinning around to realize that though Captain Strand hasn’t moved from where he had been resting his eyes are now open.
“Thank you Officer Rey- I mean Carlos” the older man catches himself “For being here it means a lot, to me and well..” vaguely he gestures to T.K. still unconscious “to him.”
Though the man’s voice was hushed and whispered the intent isn’t lost, Carlos can only nod to himself and give off a ghost of a smile, turning before the tears he thought he had cried out long before threatened to spill once again.
Everything would be fine, he just had to have a little faith.