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When he doesn’t hear from TK, Carlos throws himself into work.
He at least knows the other man is alive; well, better than just alive, actually. He and Paul have been texting a lot recently, and the man had let it slip that TK stopped by the station a few days ago, looking sore but standing tall on two feet. Carlos had read that message with a painful kind of joy, happy that TK was up and moving, but hurt that TK didn’t seem to have an interest in seeing him.
He’s not mad at the guy, considering Carlos was the one who practically ghosted him right before he got shot. And it’s not even that Carlos thought TK’s incident would magically change their relationship, or that they would suddenly be attached at the hip.
It’s just that Carlos wants to see him. He wants to drown in TK’s bright green eyes and stare at his chest as it moves up and down in time with his breathing. He wants to stand close enough to feel TK’s breath on his skin and the gentle press of his fingers in-between his own.
He wants to see the proof of TK’s survival with his own two eyes, if for no other reason than to rid himself of the nightmares that keep haunting him every time he sinks into a fitful sleep.
He doesn’t know how far to push, so he keeps his distance. He sent flowers to the hospital, and left a voicemail for TK to listen to whenever he feels like it. It wasn’t exactly how he imagined apologizing to the other man for his distance before the shooting, but it was a start.
So, now Carlos just waits, throwing himself into his job as a way to distract himself from all of the things outside of his control.
He picks up shifts from co-workers who need the day off, works overtime as much as he can. By the time he gets home from his shifts, he barely has enough energy to shove food into his mouth and take a quick shower before falling into bed. When he’s not working, he runs, pushing himself through his exhaustion until he feels like he’s about to break. It reminds him that he’s alive and here - that TK is too, somewhere out there. It’s all he has, and it’s enough, for now.
Michelle has been laying low for a while, and he can’t really blame her, but he checks in with her every few days to make sure she’s resting and eating and showing up to her shifts. It’s the least he can do, and taking care of someone else comes naturally to him, so he’s glad to have someone else to worry about.
It’s been eight days since he saw TK in the flesh, twelve since they’ve spoken to one another face-to-face. After a solid week of working himself to the bone, Carlos realizes that he needs to do a grocery run, having nearly cleaned out his pantry without even noticing.
He’s scanning the collection of protein bars in front of him, his brain only partially invested in making a decision, when he hears a familiar voice behind him.
“I usually go with the peanut butter banana ones, if you haven’t given those a shot.”
He turns, surprised to find Captain Strand standing behind him, a small smile on his face as he points towards the box of peanut butter banana CLIF bars. Carlos looks between the captain and the box, trying to figure out what to say.
The last time he saw this man, he’d been a crying mess as he stared at his comatose, possibly-dying son. He didn’t know when he expected to see the other man again, having been oddly fortunate not to share any recent calls with the 126, but the protein bar aisle of a Trader Joe’s was not very high on his list.
“Captain Strand, I…” Carlos starts, trailing off when the older man immediately shakes his head, waving his words away.
“Please, Officer Reyes, call me Owen,” he says, his voice firm.
Carlos doesn’t know what to do with that request. He’s not exactly sure how much Owen knew about him and TK before he showed up uninvited to the hospital, and he doesn’t want the man to get the wrong idea. This level of familiarity isn’t really necessary if TK plans to never speak to him again.
Something about his face must give away his inner thoughts because he watches as Owen’s smile drops, the man letting out a sigh as he takes a step closer.
“He hasn’t called you yet, has he?” he asks gently.
Carlos feels his breath catch in his throat, his palms sweating as a heat rises on the back of his neck. The reminder punches him right in the gut, and he wonders if he’s been this obvious to everyone for the past week. He’s tried so hard to mask the hurt.
Owen doesn’t seem interested in waiting for an answer. “Listen, son,” he begins, reaching out to rest a hand on Carlos’s shoulder. “It has nothing to do with you, okay? I promise.”
Carlos knows that isn’t true, now sure that Owen doesn’t know about everything that happened before the shooting.
“Sir, I don’t think that’s true,” he starts, his voice breaking against his will. “Before the accident, I-”
“Carlos,” Owen says, speaking over him. “Sorry, hope you don’t mind me dropping the formalities.”
Carlos just stares at him.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Owen continues. “Listen, I don’t know everything that’s happened between you and my son, and I don’t really need to know. He’s an adult, and even though he’s been through a lot, he’s capable of making his own decisions. I trust him to make the right ones.
“But, I also know that getting shot has left him feeling a little lost,” the man presses on, shifting to make eye contact with Carlos. “His mind’s in a hundred different places right now, and he’s searching for answers. If he hasn’t reached out, it’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.
“I think it’s more that he feels like he needs to shield you from all of it,” Owen finishes, looking away. “If there’s one thing I know about my son, it’s that he’ll try to protect anyone from anything, and that includes himself.”
“I don’t want to be protected from him,” Carlos admits, his voice small as he bites down on his bottom lip. “I want to be there for him.”
Owen stares at him for a moment, his eyes wide, before he suddenly moves forward, wrapping his arms around Carlos in a loose hug, patting his back. Though surprised at first, Carlos mirrors the other man after a moment.
“I’m really, really glad to hear that, Carlos,” Owen says, pulling back. “TK needs more people like you in his life.” He pauses, before stepping back with a nod. “There are some answers that he’s gotta find on his own, but he’ll reach out when he’s ready. I know he will.”
Carlos hears the certainty in the older man’s voice, wondering if he can trust it. Not that he has any other choice, under the current circumstances.
“Then I’ll be here,” Carlos assures him, his heart feeling lighter for the first time in over a week. His gaze briefly slides over to Owen’s cart, taking in the contents. “Sir - Owen - do you mind if I say something?” he asks, tone cautionary as turns back to the other man.
“Sure thing, Carlos.”
“You might want to add a few bags of gummy worms to your list,” he says, pointing at the pile of healthy, possibly indigestible snacks that Owen has piled in a corner of his cart. “He likes to shove them in a handful at a time.”
“Oh, Carlos,” Owen scoffs, moving closer to his stash of treats. “Tell me you do not buy a bunch of processed sugar when my son is with you.”
“Well,” Carlos mutters sheepishly, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, a smile pulling at his mouth, “I kind of can’t say no to him.”
Owen laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for the handle of his cart. “You’ve got it so bad, kid.”
Carlos can’t even defend himself, knowing that what Owen says is true. The man takes a few steps away, clearly planning to continue shopping, before he stops, turning back to look at him.
“Where would I find them?” he asks, his eyes practically twinkling.
“Candy’s down aisle five,” Carlos answers, his smile growing as Owen nods before giving him a wave, continuing down the aisle and disappearing out of sight.
The next day, when TK texts him asking to meet up on his next day off, Carlos can’t help but to wonder if the gummy worms factored at all into his decision-making process.