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It’s more than an hour after TK’s shift was supposed to be up, and he still hasn’t come home.
Carlos doesn’t want to worry; Owen told him that medical caught a call right at the end of shift, so he knows that TK will be pulling overtime. It’s actually worked in their favour a little, because they’ve been able to set everything up for TK’s party in the time they’ve been waiting. But, from what Owen said, it was only supposed to be a simple call, and whilst Carlos knows as well as anyone that the simplest calls can often turn out to be the most complicated, they really should have been done by now.
He sends off a couple of texts, telling himself that TK is just busy and will reply when he can, even though his instincts are screaming at him that something is wrong. By the time they hit the two hour mark, everyone seems to be getting concerned - which, in a house full of first responders, is not something to be taken lightly.
Carlos crosses over to Owen. “Have you heard from TK?” he asks, trying desperately to keep his voice as low and steady as possible.
Owen shakes his head, flashing Carlos a smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’re just running a little over,” he says, and Carlos isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“But what if it’s not?”
“We can’t think like that, Carlos,” Owen says, not unkindly. “He’s probably just in the shower.”
“He would have texted,” Carlos persists. “You know he would have, Owen. Something’s wrong.”
Owen grimaces, glancing around the room of people, who have started to take notice of their conversation. He sighs. “Try calling him,” he tells Carlos. Then, turning to the room, “Can anyone try and get a hold of Nancy or Tommy?”
“Already did, Cap,” Marjan says. “Nancy’s not picking up.”
“Tommy neither,” Judd adds, and Carlos’s heart plummets as the sound of TK’s voicemail confirms that he, too, is still unaccounted for.
“This isn’t right,” he says, allowing a little desperation to bleed into his tone. He can feel it in his bones; TK wouldn’t leave them hanging like this, especially not on a day like today. Carlos has no idea what could have happened to make all three paramedics drop off the grid, but he knows it’s not just lack of cell service or traffic.
Owen closes his eyes and hangs his head, apparently coming to the same conclusions. “Alright then.” He pulls out his phone, and Carlos frowns.
“Who are you calling?”
Owen sends him a wry look, showing him the three oh-so-familiar numbers he’s dialled. “Desperate times, right?”
Carlos manages a nod, but there’s a lump in his throat at the thought of these being such desperate times that they need 9-1-1. Logically, he knows it’s the right step, but he guesses he still has that little flame of hope left in him - hope he doesn’t want crushed by the confirmation they’re about to receive. Owen places the phone on speaker, and Carlos watches it nervously, waiting for a dispatcher to pick up.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” It’s Grace, and Carlos could cry with relief. If anyone can help them find TK, it’s Grace Ryder.
“Grace,” Owen starts, “it’s Owen.”
“Captain Strand? Is everything alright?”
“We were hoping you could tell us that.” Owen takes a steadying breath, looking once more around their friends, before continuing. “EMS 126 were sent out on a call at the end of our shift, two hours ago. There’s been no word from them since, and we’re worried something’s happened to them. Could you tell us anything about where they were sent and why?”
There’s a brief pause on the other end before Grace speaks again, hesitant and slow. “Captain Strand, that’s not information I’m sure I should be giving out to civilians.”
“I’m not a civilian,” Owen argues. “I may not be on shift, but I’m always Captain of that firehouse. Please, Grace. They’re our family.”
Grace sucks in a sharp breath, then the sound of typing comes through the speaker. Carlos allows himself a single moment of relief before the anxiety takes over again as Grace speaks.
“EMS 126 were dispatched to a pregnant woman in distress,” she reports. “They… Oh.”
Carlos exchanges an alarmed look with Owen, his panic spiking at Grace’s words.
“Oh?” Owen asks, not even trying to hide the worry in his voice anymore.
“Captain Strand, their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared.”
If Grace says anything else after that, Carlos doesn’t catch it. A ringing erupts in his ears and he staggers, all the breath sucked out of him. TK’s missing. Not running late, not on his way; missing. Something happened to him and his team between leaving the firehouse and now, and they’ve all just been sitting here, doing nothing, for two hours . He should have spoken up earlier, when he first got his bad feeling - maybe that wouldn’t have prevented this, but they could be on their way to finding him right now.
And Carlos knows better than anyone here how crucial every second is in a missing persons case.
When he comes back to himself, a hand - Paul’s - is resting on his shoulder, and Owen and Gwyn are locked in an argument, the call with Grace clearly over.
“What’s going on?” he asks, turning to Paul.
Paul shoots him a sympathetic grimace, squeezing his shoulder. “Cap got the address of their last call,” he answers. “He’s insisting on going, but he won’t let anyone else go with him. Gwyn disagrees.”
Carlos stares at Owen, finding himself firmly in agreement with Gwyn, though likely for different reasons. In his mind, it’s a non-issue; he’s going to search for TK, and there’s no-one who can stop him - certainly not Owen Strand.
He strides over to them, not caring about interrupting their quarrel. TK’s life is on the line, after all. “I’m going with you,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument.
“Son -”
“You can’t stop me, Owen.” He levels him with a hard stare. “Besides, I’m a cop, and you need back up. I’m going.”
Owen watches him for a long moment, then sighs, nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” he says, clapping Carlos once on the shoulder. “Let’s go find them.”
Carlos jumps out of Owen’s truck before it’s even stopped moving, flicking on his flashlight as he strides through the garage, praying that he’ll round the corner and find them all in one piece. Behind him, Owen is yelling out for them, the only reply he gets the sound of his own voice echoed back. It sends Carlos’s heart plummeting into his shoes, even as it only confirms what he’s known for a while - they’re not finding TK here.
All they do find is a brown van, all its doors open, and a pile of bloodied rags lying next to it. Carlos refuses to think about whose blood it could be; if he does, he thinks he’ll lose it, and that’s the last thing anyone needs right now, himself included.
“Where would they go?” he asks, turning to Owen. They hadn’t seen the ambulance on the way in, so they must have left in it at some point - or someone had.
Owen shakes his head, a trembling hand running through his hair. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he says, sounding more lost than Carlos has ever heard him. It’s a jarring sight; Owen is usually so put together, so unruffled in the face of emergency, and his appearance now cuts a striking contrast. Carlos understands - much as TK has complained about his parents in the past months, it’s clear they love him, even if they might not be the best at showing it.
Carlos is sure he looks similarly distressed; his curls are beginning to escape from his fingers running through them, and his heart is pounding a mile a minute, but he tries to school his expression into something stronger, as much for his own sake as for Owen’s.
“I don’t know what to do, Carlos,” Owen admits, body sagging in defeat.
Carlos hesitates, then pulls out his phone, tapping through to his contacts. “I might,” he says, and Owen looks up at him in surprise. “My dad is a Texas Ranger. He’ll be able to help, I’m sure of it.”
Owen immediately nods, seeming to steel himself up a little. “Do it,” he says. “I’ll call and update the others; I’m sure they’ll want to know.”
He walks away, giving both of them some semblance of privacy to make their respective calls. Carlos pauses for a brief second, glancing down once more at the pile of bloody rags, his mind flashing back to four years ago, the last time someone he loved went missing. He knows - he knows the situations are nothing alike, that Iris’s and TK’s disappearances are worlds apart. But the grief crawling up his throat and clutching at his heart can’t help but make comparisons, warning him that he’s going to lose someone else.
Carlos swallows roughly and shakes his head, dialling his dad’s number before he can start spiralling. Now is not the time to fall apart; he has to be strong.
His dad picks up on the second ring. “Carlos? ¿Qué pasa?”
“Dad,” Carlos answers, surprising himself with how steady his voice is. “I need your help.”
They’re on their third dead end of the day, and Carlos can feel his grip on control slipping.
His dad had tried to get him to leave when he’d arrived at the garage. “You’re off duty; you shouldn’t be here, mijo,” he’d said, attempting to steer Carlos towards Owen’s truck. “Let us handle this now.”
“No,” Carlos had insisted, shaking his dad’s hands off him. “I have to be here. One of the missing paramedics - it’s TK, Dad.”
It had taken a few moments for the penny to drop, his father’s frown growing once it did. “Your friend from the market? I thought he was a firefighter.”
“He switched fields.” Carlos had drawn himself up, staring his dad down. “I’m not going anywhere until I find him.”
Something had flickered across his dad’s face then, something Carlos hadn’t understood. Whatever it was, his expression had quickly cleared, and he’d lain a comforting hand on Carlos’s shoulder.
“Alright, mijo,” he’d said. “You can stay.”
Now, Carlos can feel his dad’s eyes on him as he stares blankly at the building they’d been so sure they’d find TK, Nancy, and Tommy in. It had been empty, because of course it had, and Carlos is starting to wonder if they’re ever going to find them.
They’re supposed to be celebrating right now. TK hadn’t wanted anything special, but Carlos knows he’d secretly been looking forward to tonight, his one year anniversary of sobriety a source of pride for them both. They should be celebrating it; instead, TK could be injured or worse, and Carlos feels like he’s going out of his mind.
(They’d found the ambulance an hour ago, abandoned on the side of the road. There had been blood staining the inside of that, too, and Carlos had had to swallow back bile at the sight.)
His dad comes to stand at his elbow, a hand on Carlos’s back. “So,” he starts, gently, “this TK boy?”
Carlos closes his eyes, desperately wishing for his dad to drop it. He knows what’s coming next, and he knows there’s no avoiding it this time. He doesn’t have the strength to lie.
“Dad -”
“Who is he, Carlos?” His dad’s voice is careful and measured, lacking any hint of judgement, but Carlos still tenses, not fully prepared for the fallout of this conversation.
He avoids his dad’s eyes as he answers, keeping his gaze fixed on the space in front of him. “He’s my boyfriend,” he says. “We’ve been dating for just over six months, and I - I really love him, Dad.”
The last admission is said quietly, but Carlos feels like he’s shouted it, such is the silence that follows his words. His hands start to shake at his sides and a sick feeling begins churning in his gut, but, still, he doesn’t look over.
“Six months…” his dad eventually says, voice strained. “Which means you were together when we met you at the market. Why did you lie?”
A flash of white-hot anger surges through him, tears burning the back of his eyes as he rounds on his dad. “I could hardly tell you the truth!” he cries. “You’ve made it clear you’d rather not hear about my sexuality. I was trying to protect us!”
A sob crawls up his throat, but Carlos pushes it back, determined not to break down in front of his dad’s entire team. His dad’s face is stricken, a surprising emotion glinting in his eyes.
“Oh, Carlos -” he starts, but he’s cut off by one of the Rangers shouting for them. He throws Carlos a look that lets him know they’re not done with this conversation yet, before they both run over to the Ranger, Carlos arriving slightly ahead of his dad.
“We’ve found them,” the Ranger says without preamble.
Carlos stares, the words sending a spark of hope through his chest, but he refuses to give in to it just yet. “How sure are you?” he demands. He knows it’s not his place to ask these questions - he’s barely allowed here as it is - but he doesn’t think he could take one more false lead, one more dead end. The Ranger, to his credit, only momentarily shows his surprise, quickly schooling his expression back into one of firm neutrality. He nods, once.
“Positive.”
And, for the first time since they’d heard the news, Carlos dares to hope.
He’ll never get used to this.
The heart monitor beeping by his side, the smell of bleach, the hardness of the chairs. It’s not something he should really have to get used to, but, with a family full of first responders, hospitals are a fact of Carlos’s life. Especially with a boyfriend like TK, who seems to insist on gravitating towards danger even when it’s no longer his job.
“How do we keep ending up like this, huh?” he whispers, gently running a hand through TK’s hair.
TK’s asleep, having first woken up around an hour ago. Hopefully, he’ll be discharged later, if all his tests come back okay - which, thankfully they should.
Carlos’s eyes drift to the bandage around TK’s head, the wrappings around his ribs, the scratchy sheets which Carlos knows covers extensive bruising. They’ve been lucky, he knows this, but he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forget the sight that greeted him when they burst into that restaurant. Tommy and Nancy were standing by the table, next to an unmoving body, both shaken but unhurt. TK had clearly borne the brunt of the attack, and Carlos hadn’t needed to stop to wonder why; his boyfriend’s too much of a damn hero for his own good sometimes.
Apparently, TK had tried to pull the fire alarm, but had been caught before he could, receiving a blow to the head for his efforts. They’d also broken his nose and several ribs, and his body is littered in marks from the kidnapper’s boots. Carlos’s heart had nearly stopped when he’d first seen TK, cable-tied to a pole and barely conscious, but now he can only thank god that it isn’t worse.
“Carlos.”
Carlos stiffens as he hears his dad’s voice behind him, dreading the conversation they’re about to have. He tightens his grip on TK’s hand, not yet brave enough to look away from him.
“Hi, Dad,” he says, voice hollow. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”
“Yo también, hijo.” His dad heaves a sigh, footsteps coming closer until he’s at Carlos’s side, easing himself into a second chair. “You know we love you, don’t you?”
Carlos winces. “I know. I’m sorry I yelled at you like that earlier, I was just -”
“No, mijo,” his dad interrupts. Carlos looks up at him sharply, confused by the weariness in his dad’s tone, and he’s taken aback by the sorrow in his eyes. He’s not sure he’s ever seen him cry before, and Carlos doesn’t know what to make of it. “It is me who should be apologising.”
“Dad -”
His dad holds a hand up, cutting Carlos off. “Your mother and I… We have only ever wanted what was best for you,” he says. “When you came out to us - Carlos, I was so proud. I was shocked, yes, but I could see how hard that must have been for you, and I thought you were so brave. We thought that if we carried on as normal, then you wouldn’t feel like anything had changed. Because, to us, it hadn’t. You were still the beautiful son we had always known and loved, and being gay wasn’t going to change that.
“We thought that you would be more comfortable with it like this, but I see now that we made a mistake. I’m so sorry that we made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about these things. I’d like to change that, if you’re willing.”
Carlos blinks, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You’re really okay with it?” he croaks. “You and mami?”
“Of course we are.” His dad chuckles, rubbing Carlos’s shoulder. “You know what your mother’s like; she’ll be fawning over him as soon as she finds out.”
Carlos manages a laugh, though there’s still a little lingering dread in his stomach at the thought of having to tell his mom. He’ll have to do it, and soon, but he can’t get rid of a decade of uncertainty and fear so easily. At least, this time, he’ll have his dad and his boyfriend by his side.
A groan from the bed pulls his attention, and he looks over to see TK’s eyes blinking open. They immediately seek out Carlos, a frown creasing his brows.
“You’ve been crying,” TK murmurs, reaching a hand up to Carlos’s face, only to freeze before it gets there. TK’s eyes widen, frantically darting between Carlos and his dad. “Uh, Mr Reyes, sir. Carlos said that you helped to find us; thank you.”
“Hey.” Carlos catches TK’s hand, still hovering in mid-air, and smiles at him. “It’s okay, Ty. He knows.”
TK’s lips part in shock. “You told him?” he whispers.
“Kind of had to,” Carlos replies, laughing a little. “I could hardly say I was having a meltdown over a friend, now, could I?”
TK’s face clouds with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Carlos,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“Did you ask to get kidnapped?” Carlos asks, raising an eyebrow.
“No, but -”
“Then you have nothing to apologise for.” He presses a gentle kiss to the inside of TK’s wrist, never breaking their gaze. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
TK smiles, visibly relaxing. He squeezes Carlos’s hand, then brings their joined hands to his lips, lingering for a long moment. Carlos loses himself in it, his heart aching at the thought that he could have lost all of this today. But TK is here, and he’s going to be okay, and that’s all that matters right now.
A throat clears behind them, and Carlos jumps, turning to look guiltily at his dad.
“I see I’m no longer wanted here,” he comments wryly. Carlos flushes, but his dad just laughs and pats his shoulder as he stands. “I’ll see you soon, Carlos.”
“Thank you again, Mr Reyes,” TK calls.
Carlos’s dad grins at him. “You take care of my boy, TK.”
TK’s gaze flicks over to Carlos, his eyes full of so much love that it shocks him. “With my life, sir.”
It’s a promise that goes both ways and, as he leans over to kiss his boyfriend, Carlos knows that he’d do anything to keep it.