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Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.
But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. Some might call it a father’s intuition—there are, after all, numerous reasons why someone newly-engaged might be running late—but the hard truth is that they’ve been here before.
Owen sits a few more moments at his desk, trying to convince himself that he’s wrong, that TK is going to walk in any second now. But he doesn’t appear, and, besides, TK is usually fairly punctual—certainly never this late. This is something he’s never done before.
Except once.
Owen taps his foot, checking his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. TK is supposed to be meeting him for dinner, or was , twenty minutes ago. It’s entirely possible that he’s forgotten, but Owen has sent him enough messages asking where he is for that to become a non-issue. Equally, he could have been delayed at the Academy, but as time ticks on, Owen becomes less and less certain in his convictions on that.
He hasn’t missed TK becoming more distant lately. He supposes that’s what comes with a kid growing up and moving out, but it’s more than that, he knows it is. Teenage rebellion wasn’t enough to describe TK’s outbursts at that age, and adult independence doesn’t even begin to cover whatever’s going on now.
With a heavy sigh, Owen pulls out his phone and calls the lieutenant in command—he’s not above using his own position to get information on his son.
“This is Anderson.”
“Anderson, it’s Strand. I was just wondering if you were still in session at the Academy.”
Anderson sighs, his raised eyebrow practically audible. “Owen, if you’re calling to ask about TK, just say so,” he says. “You’re not subtle.”
Owen winces—he supposes it is pretty obvious. He keeps his silence, which seems to be confirmation enough for Anderson, not that he ever really needed it.
“Please don’t make a habit of doing this, but just this once, I can tell you that TK didn’t show up today.”
He freezes, a cold dread washing through him. “He call in sick or something?” he asks, swallowing, hoping against hope for an affirmative.
Another sigh. “Nope, not a peep. Whenever you do see him, do me a favour and tell him that kind of behaviour won’t fly, not now and definitely not in the future.”
“Sure thing,” Owen says tightly. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t know what’s going on with his son, but it can’t be anything good. The erratic behaviour, the standoffish-ness, and now this… It doesn’t make any sense.
He heads off to TK’s apartment like a shot, his bad feeling growing with each passing second.
When TK doesn’t open the door, Owen’s suspicions are all but confirmed. Part of the curse of being a firefighter is becoming a very light sleeper, so he would have heard the banging even if he were asleep. And there’s no way he stayed over at Alex’s; it’s too far away, plus, according to TK, they haven’t met up there in months. It’s fishy, if you ask him, but TK never does.
Owen doesn’t waste any time calling the crew down—he knows what’s happening now, and if he’s wrong… Well, then he’s wrong and TK will be fine.
But Owen’s pretty sure he’s right.
Even so, despite the familiarity of the scene, despite the fact that he knew it was coming, Owen’s breath is still stolen from him when they break into the apartment and find TK face down on the floor.
He doesn’t think he starts breathing again until TK does.
A team of paramedics is already at the apartment when Owen gets there. One of the firefighters accompanying them blocks the doorway, preventing him from entering, but Owen sees enough for the final pieces in this ugly jigsaw to come together.
Pills scattered across the floor. TK’s roommates with pinprick pupils, their blinks slow as they passively watch the chaos in front of them. And TK, spread-eagled on the ground, an ambu bag over his face and a paramedic performing compressions on his chest.
His son is overdosing.
Owen feels frozen, trapped in a nightmare as memories of the past few months—years, even—flash through his mind. The acting out, the pulling back, the strange moods… They were all signs, all happening right under his nose.
And he missed every single one.
He watches on fearfully as the paramedics administer Narcan, as the room goes quiet save for the hiss of the ambu bag. Each second in which TK remains still, his chest unmoving, feels like an eternity, and Owen’s heart beats frantically in his chest as he waits, and waits.
Owen Strand is not a praying man, but today he sends pleas up to any god who might be listening for TK to be given another chance.
And, somehow, by the grace of god—or, more accurately, a team of paramedics—it works. TK gasps back to life, his eyes flying wide and his chest heaving, and Owen almost collapses in relief.
He takes careful note of the shame in his son’s eyes when he jumps in the back of the ambulance, but he doesn’t remark on it. There will be a time for difficult conversations and remedial actions later; right now, Owen has to be there for his son.
Something, he’s beginning to realise, that he’s failed to do for a long time.
TK is released from hospital by nightfall, on the proviso that he has someone to watch over him for the next couple of days. That’s no problem—Owen has no intentions of letting TK out of his sight for the foreseeable whether he likes it or not. Though, right now, TK seems entirely indifferent on the matter, and on everything else.
He’d answered the doctor’s questions with short, one-word responses, just barely avoiding a psych eval and a stay in the mental ward. Owen is grateful for that, at least, but there is a part of him that wonders.
Wonders what could have caused TK to throw away years of sobriety, to go so far as to— Well. He doesn’t know that TK intended for it to end the way it did, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought it. Given what he does know about the situation—which, admittedly, isn’t much—and about TK’s history, it’s not a stretch to believe that last night might have been something of a final straw.
Whatever the case, it’s abundantly clear that Owen has, once again, failed. Something has to change, and this time, it has to be something big.
Deputy Chief Radford’s card is burning a hole in his pocket, and suddenly Owen knows what he has to do.