Archive of Our Own ^beta

Austin, Texas: Present Day

Owen’s grateful for the poor cell reception he gets at his cabin just outside the city. When he takes Buttercup for walks, the iPhone in his pocket becomes about as useful as a brick until he gets back within shouting distance of the cabin and the texts start to receive, ping ping ping, one after the other. It’s peaceful in a way New York never was. No sirens, no responsibilities, just birdsong and the soft pad of Buttercup’s feet.

He hasn’t become a total recluse. He drives back into the city once or twice a week to get supplies and to have dinner with TK or Tommy. He calls to check in on the Ryders, and even grabs lunch with Paul and Mateo a few times. Marjan is another story. She’s relentless in her mission to convince him to get the 126 back together, hounding anyone who will listen (and some who won’t) about the GoFundMe she’s set up to save the firehouse. Owen can’t stand to see the disappointment in her eyes, so he mostly tries to avoid seeing her altogether.

Four and a half months after he lost the 126, Nancy Gillian calls his cell.

Owen frowns at the caller ID display Maybe: Nancy Gillian as he gently sits down his cup, full of freshly brewed twig-spresso. Nancy and TK were close, but Owen could count on one hand the amount of conversations he’d had with the young paramedic.

“Hello?” Owen says, raising the phone to his ear.

“Captain Strand?” Her voice is higher over the phone than in person.

“Yes?”

“Hi, sorry, this is Nancy. How- how are you?”

Her voice is tinny over the poor connection, but the waver in it is all her own.

“I’m fine, Nancy, is there something wrong?”

“I need to talk to you about TK.” She says.

It’s far from the first time Owen has heard some variation of those words, we need to talk about TK, but his heart still freezes in his chest in the split second it takes Nancy to catch up to her own words and clarify.

“It’s not an emergency, I don’t think. I just, I think that he’s not okay and I didn’t know who else to call.”

Owen presses his eyes closed as he takes in her words.

“Not okay how, Nancy?” A part of Owen knows the answer before he even asks it. TK hasn’t been answering his phone much lately, and had skipped their last dinner date. Owen thinks the world of his son, but the possibility is always there in the back of his mind.

Nancy hesitates, before speaking up more clearly than before. “I think he’s using again, maybe even stealing from work. He’s been… off for months but it’s gotten worse recently. His hands are shaky and he’s always exhausted or annoyed. I know it’s a serious allegation and I don’t want him to get in any trouble, but he won’t talk to me and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Deep breath.

“You did the right thing Nancy,” Owen says. “Hopefully you’re wrong, but I’ll drive into the city tonight, just to check in.”

“Okay.” She says, sounding relieved. “Okay, thanks.”

“No, thank you Nancy. For looking out for my son.”

Nancy replies softly, “Of course,” like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It probably is, for her. She’s a good kid, with good instincts. Unfortunately in this case, Owen muses as he begins to gather up his things to drive into town, her instincts are probably right.

________________

Four months ago

TK didn’t like working for Paragon ambulance company. He didn’t like being told to push drugs on patients, or the garish blue uniforms, or the too tight smile on Tommy’s face every time she returned from a meeting with their new too fancy bosses. She tried to protect her team from the worst of the company’s capitalistic machinations, but her status as a newly single mom and grieving widow let plenty fall through the cracks.

TK didn’t mind. Tommy had enough to take care of right now without worrying about him and Nancy as well. They could take care of themselves.

The spectacular collapse of the 126 had left everyone a little scattered. The fragile family his father had built were casual acquaintances at best now. They ran into the firefighters on calls sometimes, but rarely had time to sit around and catch up, too busy with daring rescues or urgent life saving medicine. Owen was trying his hand at becoming a hermit in his cabin outside the city, and TK was surprised to find how much he missed his father after years of working side by side almost daily. The whole situation was stressful and disorienting, and TK wasn’t sure how he would keep it together without Carlos by his side.

And then suddenly Carlos wasn’t by his side anymore, and things got a bit dark.

When asked about the breakup, TK just tells people that he's okay. And if he’s not, so what? There was no one to call him on it, no one to go to for help. Tommy had two grieving kids to take care of, she didn’t need a third. Owen was enjoying some well earned rest, and God knows he’d dealt with TK’s bullshit enough for one lifetime. Judd had a pregnant wife who deserved his whole attention. Mateo was like a little brother to TK, going to him for help would just be weird and embarrassing. Paul and Marjan had their own shit to worry about too, trying to fit into new firehouses far from home. Besides, TK would feel silly going to the two of them with his petty problems knowing the daily discrimination they both face. In his imagination, they laugh, and tell him how good he has it in comparison to them.

Besides all that, TK wasn’t.... not fine. He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t feeling a whole lot of anything. It’s a familiar numbness, if not a comforting one.

They’re cleaning out the ambulance when Nancy asks him for the umpteenth time what happened between him and Carlos.

“You know the more you ask, the less I wanna tell you.” TK quips, annoyed and on edge from an already long day.

Nancy must hear the sharpness in his voice because she shrinks back and speaks tightly, “Fine. Not like I’m worried about you or anything.” She replaces a bedpan a bit too harshly, and the metallic ding echoes in the small space.

TK presses his forehead against the cool walls of the bus, groaning internally. Nancy is one of the few people alive at the moment who seems to genuinely enjoy spending time with him, so of course he’d fuck that up too.

TK is restocking, and looks down at the pill bottles in his hand. Not orange prescription bottles like the ones you get at the pharmacy, but the sleek Paragon branded containers fit for stocking the ambulance. Why did everything have to be branded? The thought comes, unbidden, that if their new bosses are so desperate to get rid of this stuff he could help them out. Sure they do inventories, but usually TK is the one checking the boxes.

TK had been sober by the time he trained as a medic with the NYFD, and besides, stealing from the city had been a hard line he swore he’d never cross. But the drugs in his hands now- Oxy, Vicodin, even Morphine- Paragon has spared no expense in procuring drugs that they can upchange patients in pain for. They wouldn’t miss one or two, would probably even be grateful for his driving the price up. Supply and demand and all that. And it’s not like last time he relapsed after a break up, TK doesn’t want to die. He just….. wants to be able to get through the day without feeling like everyone he loves doesn’t want him. To be able to forget how much he misses Carlos. To forget the lost cause of reuniting the 126.

TK is alone in the ambulance, Nancy having stepped around the side to check on something else, and before he can think better of it he pours a few Oxy into his palm and slips them into his pocket. It can barely be described as a conscious decision, more an automatic act than anything. The very presence of the drugs in his pocket makes TK uneasy, giving him a mixture of comfort and apprehensive disgust that shouldn’t be possible. But he doesn’t put them back.

Three hours later finds TK home alone. When he’d left the apartment he and Carlos were staying in together after their place burned, TK had offers from his dad to move back into the house, and from Mateo to crash on the couch of the tiny one bedroom he had recently leased and was extremely proud of. Even at 27 TK was too old to couch surf, and couldn’t stand the thought of living in his dad’s huge Austin house alone, so he instead opted to sign the first lease he could get. The apartment is a claustrophobic studio with horrible lighting, a malfunctioning stove, and a six month lease.

It’s lonely here. The cupboard is all but bare, Carlos was always better at remembering to buy groceries than he was. TK stares at the pills discarded on the counter and tries to think of a reason why not.

He knows, intellectually, what he’s supposed to do in this situation. Call his dad, call his mom, call the therapist he hasn’t seen in months, call anyone. Leave the pills on the counter and walk outside, get some fresh air, get some help. He knows exactly where this road leads, but a voice inside him too quiet to name, one he seems to have been born with, whispers at him to give in to the temptation anyway.

Fuck it.

TK swallows a pill dry, and for the rest of the night he feels pleasantly fuzzy, just detached enough from reality to keep the worst of the shame at bay. This is familiar too. When he goes to bed, still stoned, he falls asleep without thinking of Carlos for the first time in weeks.

TK rolls out of bed at 6 am the next day to get ready for his shift, and the guilt slams into him like a force field. Over a year and a half of sobriety, gone. He thinks for a moment maybe it’s not too late, that if he confesses the theft to Tommy she’ll help him cover it up, get him the help he needs, and everything will be okay. Yeah, that’s the right thing to do. Tommy has always looked out for him, she’ll understand.

TK spends the fifteen minute drive to Paragon rehearsing what he’ll say in his head, but when he arrives at work his confession dissolves in his throat. Tommy’s sitting on a bench in their gaudy blue and white break room, looking exhausted. Dark circles are visible under her eyes as she stares into the middle distance sipping her morning coffee from a thermos, absently stroking the inside of her wedding ring with her thumb.

TK abruptly feels like an idiot. Here she is with real, life and death problems, and TK wants to burden her with his own poor choices.

She notices him, and her face lights up. TK wonders if this is the part of her life that’s easy. If it’s easier to forget that her husband is dead while she’s at work, to imagine he might just be waiting at home when she gets done with her shift.

It’s not the same, and TK feels guilty for even thinking of the comparison, but sometimes he imagines Carlos is waiting for him at home, too.

Tommy smiles. “Good morning, TK.”

“Good morning. How’s the coffee today?”

They fall into the comfortable and familiar rhythm of workplace banter until Nancy comes in, and the rest of the day is consumed with calls, and waiting for calls, and missing Carlos. So, the usual really. With one notable update, which is that he can’t stop thinking about the pills in the back of the bus.

They end the day early for once, and Tommy rushes home to her girls as fast as she can. Nancy’s clearly too tired to rush anywhere, so TK offers to finish checking the stock for the day.

“Thanks,” she says, stuffing the last of her things into a duffel.

TK’s smile is forced casual when he says, “Anytime.”

Before she leaves, Nancy speaks up, hesitant. “Hey, are you okay? I’m not asking about Carlos here, just… you’ve been a bit quiet today.”

Automatically, TK replies, “I’m fine Nancy. Just tired, it’s been a long month.”

It’s not a lie in the least, Nancy has been side-by-side with TK for most of it and knows this firsthand. She accepts his answer with a nod and a goodnight, and leaves TK alone in the back of the ambulance.

TK’s hands wander to where he knows the opioids are stored, and he mechanically repeats yesterday’s process of slipping a few into his pockets. Then a few more, just so he has a little supply. There are still people in the depot, and the bright fluorescents illuminate every inch of the space. It’s not even dark outside yet, the last of the sun’s rays shining in through the high windows as TK clocks out and leaves. It hardly feels illicit, even if he is technically stealing in broad daylight.

When he sits the small bounty on the counter at home, it’s a lot easier to take two and enjoy the high this time. Easier to throw away a day of sobriety than a year. Easier to fall back into old habits than to remember that all his new healthy habits are so much harder to maintain alone.

Maybe it’s not so bad, working for Paragon after all.

_________________

The truth is, it was a stupid fight. TK was on the couch with Carlos, safe and warm in his arms and they were watching TV. This character proposed to that character who said no, and TK couldn’t help but cringe.

“Ugh, poor guy.” He sympathized out loud. TK tended to keep a running commentary of the shows they watched together. If it annoyed Carlos, he never said so.

Carlos glanced down.

“A little too close to home, babe? I’m sorry.”

TK had told Carlos what happened with Alex in as much detail as he could handle, which admittedly wasn’t much. He leaned up to kiss his boyfriend haphazardly on the chin as the drama kept rolling on the screen.

“Nah, it’s ok.” He says, gesturing loosely at the TV. “He’s smarter than me. He’s not even buying a bottle of Oxy, see?.”

Carlos just hums at that, and they finish the rest of the episode in silence.

TK is brushing his teeth for the night when Carlos appears in the mirror behind him, propped against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“I didn’t realize your overdose was because of your ex.” He says. The words are too carefully spoken to be casual.

TK stops the repetitive brushing and stares at Carlos through the mirror.

“Ah fot ew knew.” He mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste before spitting in the sink. It’s true, although TK can admit he may have been a bit vague about the whole thing. It wasn’t exactly something he was proud of.

Carlos looks down, hand raising to brush through his hair the way it does when he’s nervous. “Yeah I guess I knew, I just didn’t put the pieces together somehow.”

TK wipes his mouth and puts his toothbrush back in its place next to Carlos’ before turning around and placing his hands on his boyfriend’s broad shoulders.

“You don’t have to worry about me, babe. That’s not going to happen again.”

“Not even if we break up?”

The words ‘break up’ smack TK in the chest and he cocks his head to the side, confused. Carlos holds his gaze, serious and steady.

“You planning on breaking up with me?” TK asks, tone light as he tries to hide his concern.

Carlos scoffs and pushes his hands away, turning and pacing away to sit on the edge of their bed.

“No, of course not.” He says. “But don’t you see why that would scare me?”

Now it’s TK’s turn to scoff. He follows Carlos into their room.

“So, you don’t want it to be your fault if I kill myself after our hypothetical break-up?”

Carlos looks shocked and leans away, the bed creaking faintly beneath him. “That’s not what I said. TK, how could you think that?”

The truth is, TK doesn’t think that, not really. He thinks Carlos is the best thing that ever happened to him. But he’s been feeling off, and things are getting hard again, and his first instinct is to lash out.

He shrugs. “It’s kind of what you said.”

Carlos stands. “If you don’t wanna talk about your addiction I understand, but as your boyfriend I have a right to be worried about you.”

“I don’t need to be ‘looked after’ Carlos.”

“That’s not what I- TK what is wrong with you tonight? Can’t we just have a conversation?”

Carlos steps forward and tries to take him by the hand, but TK pulls away.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You’re the one talking about breaking up.”

That was the thing that threw TK. He had relationships fall apart often enough that he thought he knew the signs by now, but maybe there was something he missed. He thought everything was fine between them, but why would Carlos even bring up breaking up unless something was really wrong?

Carlos sighed, and tried to gather his thoughts.

“TK, I don’t want to break up. But after everything we’ve been through, you of all people should know we can’t predict what’s going to happen. To either of us.”

“Is this a cop thing?” TK snaps. “Like, a reminder that you could get shot one day at work and never come home to me? Because I don’t really need to be reminded of that, thanks.”

“For fuck’s sake TK.” Carlos is clearly exasperated by now. That’s fair, TK knows he’s exhausting. “All I wanted to do was make sure that you would be okay if something happened to me, or to us.”

TK holds his arms wide in the universal gesture of ‘what can you do?’. When he drops them they smack too-loudly against his thighs and TK flinches at his own exaggerated movement, crossing his arms and taping himself down. He doesn’t know what to do with hands.

“Obviously I wouldn’t be fine, Carlos. I love you, I don’t want to live without you, obviously if you tragically die in the line of duty or we break up I won’t be fine.” There’s sarcasm in his voice and the words spill out too fast, but he’s being serious, and Carlos can tell. Carlos can always tell.

Carlos’s arm is up again, hand running through his hair. He looks bewildered.

“Okay, I know that, TK, but like-” He cuts himself off, and the seconds of silence stretch into hours.

“I just- I want to make sure you’re not going to hurt yourself. Because I love you too.”

This would be his chance to wind the argument down. They’ve said their ‘I Love You’s’, TK could apologize for overreacting, kiss his perfect boyfriend, and they could go to bed in each other’s arms.

That’s not what happens.

“I just said I wouldn’t do that, and I thought you knew me better than that! I’ve been sober over a year, Carlos, and I hadn’t touched a pill for years before that. Do you really think that little of me?”

Carlos makes a little offended noise. “You were joking about it TK! How am I supposed to know what to think when you don’t talk to me and make jokes like that?”

TK laughs, incredulous. “Really, is that what this is about? A stupid offhand comment I made?

“No!” Carlos shouts, frustrated. “This is about the fact that you never want to talk about anything real with me. How are we supposed to plan a life together when you won’t talk to me?”

That was definitely not what this argument was about when it started.

“Well, forgive me if I don’t want to plan your funeral just yet.” TK snaps.

“Stop twisting my words.”

More silence. Tense and awful, not how his life with Carlos is supposed to be at all.

TK grabs a duffel bag from the closet and starts shoving in clothes, even walking purposefully to the bathroom to toss his still wet toothbrush on top.

“Oh c’mon TK, where are you going?” Carlos reaches out and tries to wrestle the bag out of TK’s grip.

“I’m gonna spend the night at my dad’s, now let go.”

TK tugs at the bag, but Carlos is stronger than him, and doesn’t loosen his grip.

“Carlos, let go.”

Finally, Carlos grimaces and releases the duffel, which TK yanks with him towards the door.

“I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” Carlos’s voice rings out behind him, sarcastic and angry. TK slams the door in his face.

_________________________

Two months later

TK is high when Judd calls. It’s his day off, and even though it’s only about 1 pm, yesterday had been stressful and long, full of difficult and emotionally wrenching calls. TK tells himself he’s indulging, as if being high in the middle of the day is a rarity. Besides, the thought of watching tv alone all day, of absently pacing his shitty, undecorated apartment that he needs to clean, without being high is almost unbearable.

TK has just finished unloading the dishwasher when his phone vibrates, and Judd’s name flickers across the caller ID. He debates not answering, but it’s Judd, and he probably wouldn’t call if it weren’t important.

He picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

Judd’s accent echoes across the receiver, familiar and comforting. “TK! Hey brother, Grace wants to get everyone together for supper tonight, she’s been in a cooking mood. Doctor says she’s nesting or something, getting ready for the baby. You in?”

TK considers. He can be more or less sober in time for dinner. If not, he’s got experience managing being high in social situations. And it would be nice to have some company.

“Sure, Judd, thanks. Need me to bring anything? Drinks?”

TK doesn’t even notice his error until Judd replies. “Oh you know I’d never ask you to bring something you couldn’t drink. Just bring yourself, be there at six.”

Shit, he forgot he was supposed to be sober. His friends think he’s sober. It hits TK like a ton of bricks that there are people other than himself who his insobriety might affect. Living alone and almost constantly zoned out from some combination of depression, distraction, or intoxication, he had somehow managed to forget that he’s lying to his friends. Judd doesn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss, though, so TK stutters out a reply.

“Oh- yeah of course Judd, of course. I’ll be there. Oh- can I ask who else is coming?” He tacks the question on awkwardly, an afterthought phrased a bit too formally. All his words are coming out wrong today.

“Uh… you, Mateo, Nancy, Paul and Marjan I think, why?”

TK is glad Judd didn’t correctly interpret his question to mean ‘is Carlos invited?’. Judd was in love, and he wanted everyone else to be too. On the now-rare occasions they spoke Judd mostly left well-enough alone, only having expressed to TK once that he had liked them together, and he was sorry to hear they had broken up.. TK appreciated that about Judd, his willingness to fill the silence with news about Grace’s latest ultrasound and the decoration scheme for the nursery, instead of questions about TK.

“No reason.” TK replies, a little too fast. “See you then.” He adds before hanging up abruptly.

One dinner, with not-so-old friends. TK finds himself looking forward to 6.

_________________

As it turns out, dinner is good. It’s nice and simple in a way that TK almost forgot life could be. From the moment he walks through the door, he’s almost able to forget the pills, the lies, the breakup.

TK arrives on time, but he’s still the last one there.

Judd welcomes him with a harried look on his face and a clap on the back. “TK! Glad you made it. I gotta help Grace get everything ready, but have a seat.”

He gestures loosely towards the living room before rushing back into the kitchen, where TK glimpses a pregnant Grace leaning down to get something from the oven. Always the gentleman, Judd is already swooping in to help his wife.

In the living room, Marjan stands against the back of the couch, elbows propped on the furniture as she leans forward to show Mateo and Paul something on her phone. Nancy sits to the side, only a little out of place. Things were different since the 126 had dissolved, but the firefighters had made a real effort to include Nancy in gatherings. It didn’t always come naturally, but TK was glad that the others were getting to know Nancy better.

Nevertheless, she looks relieved to see TK.

“Grace has banned us from the kitchen,” she explains. “Apparently Judd is all the help she can stand.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” TK says. “Smells incredible though.”

Marjan winds her way around the back of the couch, long earrings dangling against her hijab.

“Check this out,” She says, shoving her phone in his face, open to Instagram.

It’s surprisingly easy after that to fall back into old rhythms. Marjan talks circles around them in internet lingo they have to painstakingly explain in hilarious detail to Judd, Mateo shares his tattoo Pinterest board, and Grace regales them with some of the latest tales from the dispatch. TK joins Nancy’s bitching about Paragon, and the topic of Carlos is very politely avoided by all.

It’s nearly nine by the time dishes are washed (Grace insisted it wasn’t necessary they help wash up, Judd insisted it was) and folks are beginning to head home. Mateo yawns melodramatically and Marjan slings an arm over his shoulder, proclaiming it was time she got this one home. Mateo smacks her arm away playfully but goes for his coat anyway.

TK says his goodbyes and his “nice to see you too”s and his “yes let’s do this again soon”s and for once means every word.

Paul stops him outside the house.

“Yo, TK, can I talk to you for a second?”

TK freezes, trying to think if he’d slipped up again at dinner like he had earlier on the phone with Judd; said or did anything to suggest things weren’t okay.

“Of course, what’s up?”

Paul steps to the side of Grace and Judd’s sidewalk, placing a hand on TKs shoulder. “You doing alright? I know the breakup has been hard on you, and we haven’t been able to get the gang back together as often as we might like, but you know we’re still here for you right?”

TK hasn’t considered that Paul’s uncanny ability to read people would extend to him as well. The words and sentiment are genuinely touching though, and even caught off guard TK appreciates the reminder.

He ducks his head, ashamed for having thought his friends were too busy for him, or that Paul would laugh at his problems. However-

It’s one thing to know that the other man is there for him, one thing to hear “I’m here for you,” and another thing entirely to absorb it and act on that resource. And as the addiction recovery specialists might say, TK hasn’t hit rock bottom yet.

“I’m doing okay,” TK says. It doesn’t feel like a lie. He’s eating, he’s sleeping, he’s even socializing, right? He’s just also on opioids again.

“It’s been hard, but I’m getting through it. Thank you though, I appreciate it.”

Paul looks skeptical, but nods.

“Alright, if you say so. Just remember I’m here for you. Anything you need, you call me okay?”

“Yeah, for sure. Thanks.”

Paul pulls him into a quick hug before retreating to his car. TK does the same, unsettled. He feels seen, like he’s just looked up and noticed a security camera.

It’s a short drive back to his apartment, but by the time he gets home TK’s happiness seems to have evaporated completely. He closes the door behind him as he drags into the sparse apartment, then stands in the entryway staring at the wall and wonders where the lightness of conversation and company disappeared to so fast. All TK wants is to feel satisfied with a day well lived, and to go to sleep at peace with himself and the world, preferably in Carlos’ arms.

Okay, so maybe that was kind of a tall order. But the numbness that sinks in every time there’s no one around to smile for has begun to wear thin.

He could call Paul, the invitation to do so not even an hour old yet. But what would he even say? TK’s tired brain doesn’t even take the time to properly think through the options, that he could say he needs some company and not explain why, or he could tell the whole ugly truth. Instead, his brain follows the well worn path of habit and leads him to the drawer in his kitchen where he keeps his stolen pills (not a good hiding place, but there’s no one to hide from anymore) and TK thoughtlessly tosses the drugs in his mouth, swallowing them dry.

When TK collapses into bed half an hour later and falls asleep, he doesn’t dream at all.

___________________

Time passes. TK stays… more or less fine. He’s still carefully nursing a hidden addiction to opioids, but it’s not getting any worse per se. He’s even stopped stealing from Paragon, worried that the theft would be noticed and catch up to him if he continued. As country as Texas sometimes felt, especially in comparison to New York City, Austin was still a bustling, growing city with plenty of people looking to party or make a buck, and TK was able to find a dealer within a few days of looking. All you had to do was ask the right people, and TK knew who to ask.

The opioid epidemic was here too, after all.

Work still sucks, but Nancy and Tommy make the days bearable at worst and enjoyable at best. The numbness doesn’t usually hit until he’s home from a shift, absent of any adrenaline from the calls of the day. Taking pills is a comforting habit that shouldn’t be comforting. A ritual of forgetting and floating that doesn’t make the numbness go away, but helps it not hurt so much. He knows it’s wrong, but TK feels he’s got the situation somewhat under control. Most days he can control the need until he gets home. Most days.

TK and Carlos still aren’t talking. They see each other on calls every few weeks, and TK does his best to pretend like he doesn’t notice the love of his life working only feet away from him. Nancy does the exact opposite, and pesters him to talk until well after they’ve left the scene.

In the weeks after their initial fight, Carlos had tried to talk to TK. When TK had only ever answered the phone to fight, he stopped trying. It hurt, even though TK knew it was his fault. When the drugs had started back up again, it became a little easier to ignore the fact that his last text to Carlos was so long ago he now had to scroll to see the text conversation. In darker moments, TK thought the break up was for the best. Clearly Carlos was right, and TK is a mess who shouldn’t be a burden on anyone’s conscience.

TK still sees his dad from time to time, but Owen is in a full blown mountain man phase in his cabin, chopping his own firewood, growing his own beard, the whole shebang. If he’s too busy to notice what’s going on with TK, it’s nothing new.

Things are holding at an uneasy steady until Carlos gets shot.

News travels fast in their little network of first responders. TK finds out later the news traveled from an Austin PD cop to a dispatcher, where it reached Grace who told Tommy who told TK.

“Shot? What happened, how bad is it?”

TK feels like he’s reaching for a foothold that doesn’t exist, dangling in space. Tommy has on the face she uses to talk to scared family members.

“I don’t know yet. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this, but I thought you ought to know.”

TK and Carlos have been broken up for three months now, and haven’t even spoken for the better part of two. Tommy and TK both know TK really has no right to this information, but he thanks God that Tommy decided to tell him anyway.

“Where is he?” TKs voice cracks. He’s already thinking of the worst case scenario. Carlos dead, perfect face slack and pale, chest covered in blood and a heart rate monitor blaring a flatline. Of course he's thought about it before, the idea that Carlos might not come home one day, he even brought it up in that final spectacular fight. But that had been when they were together, when TK at least had something solid to stand on.

Tommy places a hand on TK’s arm and guides him towards her vehicle.

“Come on, I’ll drive you.”

______________________________

TK is practically trembling by the time they get to the hospital, and Tommy looks as worried for him as she must be for Carlos. When they approach the front desk in the ER, TK fumbles his words trying to tell the nurse who they’re here to see, and Tommy has to step in.

“We’re here to see Carlos Reyes, he’s an officer who was shot, we were told he was brought here.”

The nurse’s face lights up with recognition. TK recognizes her vaguely, she must be one of the ER nurses they’ve worked with before. Tommy has always been friendly with the local ER staff, but TK cannot for the life of him remember her name.

“Oh! Our VIP, of course. He’s in bed 8.” The nurse's tone turns conspiratorial. “I’m only telling you that as a friend. If any more people show up we’re going to have to ask you to clear out.”

“Of course,” Tommy says, hand on TK’s shoulder already guiding him in the right direction. TK has been in every ER in town and should know his way around, but right now he probably couldn’t tell right from left. “Thanks, Jo.” Oh right, that was her name.

TK and Tommy approach the bed, and in true dramatic fashion Tommy pulls back the curtain to reveal Carlos sitting up in the narrow hospital bed, shirtless with a young doctor wrapping a bandage around his arm. Another cop in uniform stands beside the bed, in addition to Gabriel Reyes. Whatever conversation they might have been having goes silent, and Carlos’ eyes lock onto TK.

“TK? What are you doing here?”

TK still feels like he’s kicking air. “I- they said you had been shot, and I didn’t know- you’re okay?”

Tommy gently interjects. “Dispatch heard the officer down report. Grace told me, I told TK.”

“It’s okay, Tommy. Yeah, I’m okay, can you-” Carlos looks around at his circle of supporters and the doctor. “Can you give us a minute? Dad?”

Gabriel squeezes his son’s shoulder and nods, and turns to the officer TK doesn’t know. “How about a cup of coffee? Tommy?”

Tommy nods gratefully, but speaks to Carlos before she follows the two out. “Good to see you’re okay, Carlos.” She pauses, says to TK, “I’ll wait outside.”

The young doctor smiles thinly as she fastens the bandage in place. “I’m just finishing up here. Someone will be in to give you care instructions soon.” She pulls the thin curtain closed behind her, which slides harshly with the loud shink of metal on metal.

When they’re alone, TK steps closer. “You’re really okay? What happened?”

“Surprised a domestic” Carlos explains, “The guy fired off a shot to scare his wife, hit me instead. He’ll be locked up a long time after this, she’ll be okay.”

Of course Carlos would be worried about the stranger he got shot trying to protect.

“But what about you? You’ll be okay? What did the doctor say?”

Carlos looks down at his thickly wrapped bicep. “I lost some blood, and they’re going to run some motion tests to check the muscle when it’s more healed, but they say it’s just a flesh wound” He grins, the first time TK has seen his smile in months. “I got lucky, I’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

TK finds some footing at last. Carlos is okay, Carlos is alive, Carlos is smiling. TK’s hands fly up to cover his face, and Carlos blurs before him as tears fill his vision.

“Hey, no, it’s okay, I’m okay.” Carlos is saying. “Come here.” He scoots to the edge of the bed, patting the empty space with his uninjured arm.

TK walks on shaky legs to the hospital bed and curls up in the tiny space against Carlos’ side. Carlos' bare chest is warm against the side of his face, and his arm curls around TK’s back to comb through his hair as he sobs.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

TK gasps and tries to swallow the tears down, tries to just let himself be held. It feels so good to not be alone, but even now he can’t stop thinking how he almost lost Carlos, how he could still lose Carlos, how he was losing him even now, had maybe already lost him.

They stay like that for what feels like a long time, until TK can speak again and is sitting up straight on the bed, trying in vain to right his rumpled clothing.

“Can we finally talk?” Carlos asks.

“Talk about what?” TK places a hand on Carlos’ chest, as if he stops touching him for a moment he might cease to exist. He’s so warm. So alive.

“Talk about anything, TK. I miss you.”

TK feels the pressure build behind his cried-out eyes once again. “I miss you too.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me? You can’t just disappear, I was worried about you.”

TK laughs hollowly, “I’m supposed to be the one worried about you right now.”

Carlos brings his hand up to cover TK’s. “I’m serious, TK. I’ve heard- I’d like to know if you’re doing okay.”

TK recoils, and Carlos drops his hand. “You’ve heard? What have you heard? Are you talking about me behind my back now?”

Carlos shrugs with his uninjured arm. “Considering you aren’t speaking to me, there’s no other way to talk about you right now.”

That was fair, actually.

TK stands, wrapping his arms around himself. He tries to change the topic.

“How long will you be on medical leave? Maybe I should move back in, just to help you out while you’re healing.” TK knows it’s an insane suggestion even as he says it, an overcompensation for his behavior.

Carlos’ eyebrows knit together. “It’s not even my dominant arm, TK, I think I’ll be fine. Besides, you can’t do that. You can’t just disappear and show back up in my life and try to act like nothing happened.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“If you’re sorry then why won’t you talk to me?” Carlos pleads, his whole body leaning forward on the bed. “I think I deserve an explanation, you’re not the only one hurting here.”

“I think you deserve a lot better than what I can give you.” TK mumbles.

It’s the wrong thing to say. Carlos’ pleading expression goes closed off and angry.

“I can’t do this with you TK, I really can’t. I can make my own decisions about what I deserve.”

“Carlos, I-”

“I think you should go, TK.” Carlos speaks slowly, deliberately, like he built the words by hand, one by one.

TK says nothing, stays perfectly still. Carlos elaborates.

“If you ever want to actually talk to me you know where to find me, but I told you TK, I can’t do this. I can’t…” He takes a deep breath. “I can’t fix you, and I can’t fix our relationship if I’m the only one trying.”

TK’s gaze flickers from the impersonal tile floor to the paneled ceiling, anywhere but at Carlos as he processes the words.

“Okay.” He says finally. “You’re right. I’ll- I’ll go.”

Carlos lets him leave without another word.

____________________________________________

Time passes. TK gets worse. He’s been coming to work with a buzz, having to hide the way his hands shake when he inserts an IV. He’s been dodging his dad’s calls, dodging everyone’s calls. TK feels like his brain is eating him alive, in turns making him feel insane; manic and craving, or completely numb.

Nancy doesn’t hide her worry, and asks him if he’s okay until he’s mean enough to her that she leaves it alone. It makes TK’s heart ache to see her turn away, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. She has obviously taken her concerns to Tommy, who gently asks him if he’s okay one too many times. TK figures it’s only a matter of time until he comes home to an intervention, probably would have already if the 126 wasn’t so spectacularly fractured, but he can’t bring himself to care.

On a Wednesday, they get called to the scene of an overdose. It’s methamphetamine, not TK’s drug of choice at all, but it still spooks him. They’re able to resuscitate the man, and he’s alive when they drop him off at the hospital, but TK has seen enough of addiction by now, experienced enough, to suspect that the patient’s story won’t have a happy ending.

Nancy grabs him by the arm on his way out the door after work that day. TK stops in his tracks and turns to face her. He knows he probably looks rough, he’s not sleeping much anymore, hasn’t cut his hair in ages.

Nancy has tears in her eyes when she speaks, and emotion makes her voice thick. “TK, you know you could come to me, even if something was really wrong right? If you were struggling?”

TK blinks, surprised by her intensity. “Yeah, of course Nancy.” He replies automatically. He feels like a robot sometimes, with programmed responses.

Nancy only grips him tighter, her grip on his arm nearly bruising. “I don’t want to lose another partner, TK. I can’t.”

She’s crying, big tears rolling down her face, nose scrunched up trying to fight it. He doesn’t know what to say, so TK pulls her into a hug, and she holds him tight.

“Please.” She gasps in his ear.

“It’s okay, Nancy.” TK lies. “I’m okay,”

When TK goes home, his feet take him where they always do, to a drawer filled with pills. He sits the baggie of drugs on the counter and tries to think, really tries to break through the fog that’s consumed his brain lately. He still didn’t know if he had been trying to die when he overdosed in New York. He didn’t feel like he wanted to die, but at the same time he felt like he had no idea how to keep living. The thought came that he could overdose again, do it properly this time. Or no, that wasn’t fair. It would make Carlos right. Right to be afraid that his unstable addict boyfriend would kill himself after a break up. He might think it was his fault, and TK didn’t want that. He didn’t want Nancy to lose another partner. He wants to meet Grace and Judd’s baby, he wants to babysit Tommy’s daughters. He wants to tease Mateo with Paul and Marjan, he wants to have dinner with his dad.

TK wants to go home.

______________________________________________

It’s a 45 minute drive from Owen’s cabin to TK’s apartment, longer if there’s traffic. Thinking ahead, Owen throws together an overnight bag before he heads out the door. As a first responder and the father of an addict, he’s been carrying Narcan daily since it first became widely available. He double checks his pockets for it regardless.

Owen is in his car and headed down the road as fast as he can, praying he won’t have to call the fire department to break down the door this time. When he’s 15 minutes out, his phone vibrates in the passenger seat, and TK’s name and smiling face flash across the screen. Owen reaches over too fast to answer the phone, and has to correct his steering even as he swipes to answer the phone.

“Hey, son.”

TK doesn’t reply right away, and Owen would swear he could hear his own anxious heartbeat fill the silence.

“Hey, Dad.” He says at last. His voice sounds wrecked, pitched high and wavering. “Dad, I messed up. I’m- I’m at my apartment, can you come pick me up?”

Owen’s heart aches. “I’m already on my way TK, I’ll be there in 15 minutes. You just hang tight okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to stay on the line? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“No,” TK says. A pause, before he corrects himself. “Yes.”

“Okay buddy just hang in there, I’ll be there soon. TK- I have to ask, did you take anything? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

TK mumbles a negative mmhmm over the phone. “Not tonight.”

Owen cringes. That was what he thought.

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

It’s among the worst minutes of Owen’s life. He curses every red light and stop sign; would just run them if the firefighter in him could let him forget how much worse this situation would get if he were to cause a car crash. Finally, he pulls into the parking lot of the small beige apartment complex he never liked.

“Still with me, buddy? I’m coming up now.”

“Okay, Dad. Doors unlocked.” TK hangs up the phone, and the line unceremoniously goes dead.

Owen dashes up the stairs two at a time, trying not to flash back to TK lying passed out on his floor back in New York. This is different, TK hasn’t overdosed, Owen talked to him literally a moment ago. Still, a part of Owen won’t believe his son is okay until he sees it with his own eyes.

He shoves the door open to see TK sitting on the floor of his kitchen, knees to his chest and phone discarded on the tile beside him. TK’s not crying, he just looks lost. Owen rushes to his son and joins him on the floor, pulling him into a hug. TK leans into the embrace, clutching at his dad.

“TK, what’s going on? Talk to me.” Owen pulls away from TK enough to check his pupils.

“I’m not high, Dad.” TK says, wrenching his chin out of Owen’s grasp and angling his gaze down. “But I have been.”

Once the words start to rush out, choked and regretful, TK can’t seem to stop them.

“I’ve been using again, for months now. I’m so sorry, dad, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I don’t- I don’t know what I was thinking. It was just, everything that happened with Carlos and the 126 and I just-”

TK sobs and buries his face in his dad’s chest. Owen holds his son close and strokes the back of his head.

“Let’s move to the couch,” He says, trying to fix what he can. “C’mon. Let's get off the floor.”

TK nods against his chest, and they stand together. This is when Owen notices the transparent bag on the cluttered kitchen counter, filled with a generous handful of what he guesses to be Oxy. TK sees him notice, but offers nothing more than an ashamed glance before letting his father guide him to collapse on the couch.

“How did you get here so fast?” TK asks.

“Nancy called me earlier.” Owen says. “She was worried about you.”

TK props his hands on his knees, buries his face in his hands.

“Dad, what am I gonna do? I stole from work, I lied to everyone, and Carlos-” His voice catches.

Owen rubs TK’s back and tries to think of the right thing to say.

“There’s nothing so bad that it can’t be fixed. We’re gonna get you some help. And hey, I’m unemployed right now, if you need to get out of town for a while just say the word.”

TK laughs brokenly, looking at Owen. “Us coming to Austin was supposed to be getting out of town, Dad. I don’t think the problem is where I am, I think the problem is me.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Owen says, pulling TK back into a hug. He can’t seem to hold him tight enough. “Don’t ever say that. You have a problem, you are not a problem.”

Owen shifts off the couch to crouch on the floor in front of TK. “TK, look at me. Look at me.”

TK does, eyes red-rimmed and miserable.

“You are the greatest gift life ever gave me. We’re gonna get you help, and you’re going to be okay.” Owen thinks maybe if he speaks the words confidently enough, he will believe them. He will make TK believe them, and together they will manifest them into existence.

“Dad, what if I’m never okay?” TK says at a whisper.

Owen sighs. Addiction is a lifelong illness, and TK got started young.

“Then you’ll be like the rest of us.” He says finally. “No one’s ever okay, but we get better, sometimes. And we get through it, together. Okay?”

Owen thought sometimes that the hardest part of being a parent was being human, not having all the answers when he’s supposed to. He wishes he had a better answer for TK, but he feels like a fool trying to explain things he himself barely understands.

After a long silence, TK replies, “Okay.”

They pack a bag for TK and Owen shuffles him out the door and towards the car. He doesn’t miss the last longing look TK gives the bag of drugs left abandoned on the counter. Owen will come back to deal with those later. He takes them to the Austin house, which he hadn’t yet decided what to do with now that he was spending most of his time at the cabin. It’s a bit dusty, but he cleans off the beds well enough for tonight.

TK watches him checking the sparse fringe, and curses. Owen looks at him, questioning.

TK explains. “I can’t go to work tomorrow, I gotta call Tommy.”

Owen had already done that math in his head.

“I know,” He says. “It can wait till morning. Do you want to make the calls or should I?”

TK sighs. “I’m a big boy, I should do it myself.”

Owen knew that might change, once withdrawal really started to set in. But he nods his approval anyway. TK goes to lay down, and Owen makes a round of the house, checking the medicine and liquor cabinets for anything tempting just in case. He sends Nancy a text, (I’m with TK, thanks for calling. He’s okay for now.) just so she doesn’t worry too much. He should have thought to do it sooner, but oh well. Tomorrow, he’ll have to make arrangements so that TK wouldn’t be left alone and someone can make supply runs to restock the house. They were going to need plenty of fluids. For better or worse, this wasn’t Owen’s first rodeo.

Before he goes to sleep, Owen knocks gently on TK’s door and checks on him. TK is dozing uneasily, blankets pulled to his chin. He turns to face his dad.

“Hey bud. Just checking on you before I go to bed. Need anything?” If Owen had been a better dad when TK was young, this was the kind of thing he might have done on late nights. He can’t rewrite the past, but he can be there for TK now.

“No,” TK mumbles, “Thank you, Dad.”

“Of course. Always, son. Goodnight.”

____________________________________

Morning comes, like it always does. The sun wakes TK, shining brighter through the windows of his room in Owen’s house than the apartment.

He has a headache. He wants an Oxy.

TK rolls over, pulling the blankets closer and squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun while he gropes under the pillow for his phone. He pulls it out and cracks his eyes open to check the time: 6:45. Apparently not even an emotional breakdown could stop his internal clock from waking him up more or less in time for his shift.

Dragging the blanket with him, TK rolls out of bed and shuffles barefoot to the kitchen, where Owen is rifling through the cabinets, searching for coffee if the plugged in machine on the counter is any indication. Owen notices his approach, and momentarily abandons his quest.

“Good morning, TK.” He says. He looks like he hasn’t slept. “I’d offer you coffee but I can’t seem to find it.”

TK shrugs, settling onto a bar stool by the kitchen island.

“Yeah, I suppose the place isn’t very lived-in recently.”

“No.” Owen agrees. “How did you sleep?”

His dad never did learn how to jump right into things. Always cautious, always wading in the shallow end first. Sometimes TK wonders if he had always been that way, or if something had changed that day at the towers, making his father a little more vigilant, a little more cautious. TK was too young to really remember.

“I slept fine, Dad. Bit of a headache already though.”

Owen leans on the counter with both elbows, looking serious.

“So we’re doing this, then? You’re ready? You know I won’t judge if you can’t go cold turkey right away.”

TK buries as much of himself as he can into the blanket around his shoulders. He’d love one more pill. To filter the drugs out of his system slowly. It works for some people. But TK’s been down that road before and it hasn’t ended well. More accurately, it hadn’t ended at all.

“I’m ready. If I don’t stop now I don’t think-“ TK cuts himself off, the unsaid words choking him. I’m afraid I’ll never stop. I’m afraid I’ll kill myself on accident. I’m afraid I’ll kill myself on purpose.

Owen reaches across the island, and TK reaches a hand out to grasp his father’s, the blanket tangled in their shared grip.

“Hey, TK. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

TK remains unconvinced, so Owen plows on.

“I’m proud of you. You called me, you asked for help. That tells me everything I already knew about how strong my son is.”

TK grips his dad’s hand tightly, trying to nod in the absence of a better response. He’s not sure if he believes Owen’s words, but he’s trying to. He just doesn’t feel very strong right now.

TK shivers head to toe, releasing Owens hand as he stands. “I’ve gotta call Tommy.” He says.

“You mind asking her to call me when you’re done?” Owen asks. “If we’re gonna do this right I’m gonna need some help, and I’d rather it be someone with medical training.”

TK winces. He’s been through withdrawals before, days filled with puking and diarrhea and cravings like nothing else he’s ever experienced. It’s not life threatening, but the reasonable paramedic in TK still knows it’s a good idea to have someone to sit with the patient at all times. Owen needs to restock the house, run to the store, and can’t stay awake 24/7.

“Yeah, Dad. That’s fine.” TK says, somewhat reluctantly. “It’s not a secret. Or- it won’t be for long anyway.”

He buries his head back underneath the blanket draped around his shoulders, wishing intently for a moment he really was a kid with a blanket cape mimicking his heroic dad, who could take care of anything for him.

“I’m gonna lose my job.” TK says, voice muffled under the fabric.

“Don’t worry about that right now, just worry about getting better.”

TK is about to feel a whole lot worse before he feels better, but he lets his dad’s attempt at comfort stand for now. He retreats back to the bedroom and unlocks his phone, ignoring the missed messages from Nancy and the 126 group chat to scroll to Tommy’s name and hit call before he can wimp out.

Every ring as he waits for the line to connect sounds deafening.

Finally- “Hello?”

TK can hear her girls faintly yelling in the background, already arguing as they get ready for school.

“Hey, Tommy.”

“TK, what’s up? I’m just getting ready to leave, I’m not late already am I?”

TK’s chest feels tight. “No,” he begins “but I will be. Or, I’m not coming in at all actually. For today and maybe the foreseeable future.”

A brief, stunned silence on the other line, then: “What’s going on TK? What’s wrong?”

“I relapsed.” TK says. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. “Months ago actually, but I’m getting clean now. Starting today. Tommy, I’m so, so, sorry.”

TK looks up to Tommy, more than she knows, and he’s going to have a lot of making things up to her, if he gets the chance. He’s terrified of what this will do to their relationship, of how much damage he’s already done. How much may not be able to be undone.

“Oh, TK. I knew something was going on with you but I didn’t-“ she breaks off, exhales, recalibrates. “Thank you for telling me. Don’t worry about work right now. Are you going through withdrawal? Is there someone with you?”

Maybe the medical details are easier, in a way.

“Yeah, my dad is here. He wants to talk to you actually.”

“Okay.” TK can practically hear Tommy gather herself together on the phone. “Okay, I’ll call him as soon as I can. TK, you know we love you right?”

She says it so naturally that TK almost bursts into tears. She doesn’t even know what he’s done, stealing from work, coming to work high, and she just throws that out there.

“I know.” He chokes out. “I gotta go Tommy. I’m sorry. Thank you.” He hangs up the phone before she can say another word.

TK knows he has at least one more phone call to make. This one is worse, but like getting sober, he’s scared if he doesn’t do it now he never will.

Carlos is still one of his pinned contacts, and TK hits call on the little picture quickly, pulling the phone to his ear immediately so he doesn’t have to see the contact photo of him and Carlos together and happy last spring flash large across the screen.

Carlos picks up on the third ring.

“TK?” He answers. “It’s like seven in the morning, what do you need?”

It’s not really a question. Carlos sounds bored, and annoyed. Rightfully so, after months of dealing with TKs absolute neglect and erratic behavior in turn. It’s good to hear his voice.

“I relapsed.” TK says the words quicker than he means to. They roll off his tongue earlier now, slightly eased by his brief conversation with Tommy. In the beat of silence that follows, TKs brain catches up and he scrambles. After months of holding back the truth, it overflows like water out of a burst dam.

“Months ago, not like right now. I’m actually trying to get clean, starting uh, now basically. My dads with me, I’m fine. But- not that you have to care if I’m fine or not. I just wanted you to know, I thought you had a right to know, after how I treated you. I’m so sorry, Carlos. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, I'll probably lose my job but um. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know.”

TK stares hard at the corner of the room. He knew this conversation would be difficult, but once he's stuttered out the truth he just feels empty. The line goes quiet until Carlos mumbles over the receiver.

“TK, I don’t know what to say.”

TK laughs a little, nothing more than a sad gasp. “Yeah, I know it’s a lot. Do you want me to hang up?”

“No.” Carlos says immediately. “No, I wanna talk about this TK. But I have to work right now, can I come by tonight? Where are you?”

“My dad's house. The one in town, not the cabin. But Carlos, you don’t wanna come by while I’m in withdrawal. I’ll be all… sweaty. And mean.”

“Do you not want me there?” Carlos asks. “Because unless you don’t want me there, I’m coming.”

TK is stunned. “No, I- I want you here.”

“Then I’ll see you later.” Carlos is clearly still annoyed at him, but the conversation and the prospect of seeing Carlos, finally void of lies and pretension, gives TK an anxious sense of excitement. He collapses backwards on the bed, the soft thud of his body on the mattress echoes painfully in his aching head. Something like hope turns over delicately in his chest.

_______________________

For lack of anything better to do, TK and Owen make a grocery run together. There’s barely enough in the kitchen to scrape together sandwiches for lunch, Tommy can’t bring anything by until after work, and Owen is unwilling to leave TK alone right now. TK is restless and doesn’t mind the chance to stretch his muscles. The two of them make efficient work of the trip, wordlessly grabbing some necessities as well as the extra items that may come in handy the next few days. Gatorade, a spare set of sheets, the bland and non-offensive foods that are least likely to upset TK’s stomach.

Owen turns to TK when they’re in the bread aisle and says, “You know you’re going to have to call your mother,” as casually as if he’s reminding TK to wish her a happy birthday.

TK groans, gently smooshing the bagels in his arms like a cinnamon raisin stress ball. “Yeah, I know.”

“What if we wait, just until I’m clean again? She’ll want to fly down, but there’s nothing she can do, and she’s got the baby…”

Owen looks thoughtful. He fears Gwyns wrath as much as TK does.

“I’ll give you one week, and then I’m calling her for you.”

They spend the remainder of the day mostly alternating between uneasy silence and off-topic conversation. There’s not an awful lot to say that hasn’t been said before, but TK knows his dad will have more questions once he’s well again. One thing at a time, though.

The one thing TK can’t stop thinking about is Carlos. Carlos, who called him on his bullshit before it even happened. Carlos, who is coming by the house tonight. Carlos, who he hopes to God he hasn’t blown his chance to be with again. TK knows he’s fucked things up pretty spectacularly, let his self destruction get the better of him once again. It felt different this time though; few people had ever been so close to TK as Carlos had, to be so spectacularly caught in the shrapnel. Except maybe Owen, who was his dad and didn’t really count. It gives TK something to think about as he anxiously runs over scripts in his head of what he will say to Carlos when he arrives.

The doorbell rings at 6 pm sharp, and TK flinches from his place on the couch next to Owen. Owen raises an eyebrow at TK’s attentiveness, and leans forward to press mute on the remote, silencing the show they’d been watching, before going to answer the door.

TK stays as still and silent as possible until the sound of Tommy’s voice floats down the hallway, and he relaxes somewhat. He’s got a lot to answer for with Tommy, but seeing her doesn’t hold the same kind of stakes as seeing Carlos does.

She appears in the doorway, hair loose and kinky over her shoulders from whatever braid she’d worn to work that day. She’s got a medical bag slung over one shoulder, and a bag of takeout from a local deli dangling from the other.

TK peers at her over the back of the couch, only wishing a little that he could duck down and hide.

She skips the greeting.

“Nancy’s worried about you.” Tommy circles the couch and plops down across from TK, placing the take out on the coffee table. From the kitchen, they can hear the sounds of dishes clanking together as Owen grabs plates.

“Yeah.” TK glances down, ashamed. “I know. I’ll send her a text later, there’s just been…. Other things on my mind.”

Tommy just nods sympathetically. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear from you. How are you feeling?”

TK smiles ruefully. “Physically, or?”

She returns his small grin, eyes soft. “However.”

With a sigh, TK tells her. “Physically, everything hurts and I’m sweating for no reason. Mentally, I’m anxious, restless, and-“ He pauses, swallows hard. “Regretful? Tommy, I lied to you, I disrespected my role on your team as a paramedic and I’m sorry. You probably have questions, and you deserve answers to those questions but-“

Tommy cuts him off.

“I’m gonna stop you there, TK. You’re right I have questions, and you’re damn right that I deserve answers. But I’m not here right now as your boss. I’m here right now as a friend, to make sure that you’re okay.”

TK’s confused.

“How are you not mad?” He asks.

Tommy takes a deep breath.

“Addiction is a disease, TK. Lord knows we see enough of it out there in the field. It’s something that you, and every one of those people we help on calls deserve compassion and help for. You’ve been up front with me, I've known since you joined my team that you had a history with opioids, I always knew there was a risk. I trusted you to tell me if you were struggling but-“ She purses her lips. “But I think I should have noticed even when you didn’t. And I blame myself for that.”

TK shakes his head, “No, no, I made my own decisions. This isn’t anyone’s fault but mine.”

Tommy lets the matter drop gracefully, and shifts the medical bag dangling from her shoulder onto the couch in front of her.

“Will you let me check you out? It’ll make your dad feel better.”

She directs the last part towards Owen, who has returned to the living room and is rifling through the deli bags, placing food on plates.

“Well, if it’ll make Dad feel better.” TK jokes halfheartedly and submits to a cursory examination by Tommy. She pronounces him in good health for an addict in early withdrawal, and leaves them both with a few warnings about staying hydrated and what danger signs to watch out for.

Tommy stays long enough to finish her meal before heading for the door, explaining that her kids' babysitter needs to get home soon. She gives them both a hug and firm instructions to call her if they need anything at all.

TK and Owen follow her to the door to see her out. When the door swings open, TK startles at the sight of Carlos standing on the doormat.

Tommy is the first to recover, and squeezes out the door past Carlos with a quick step and a knowing “Goodnight.”

“I was just about to knock.” Carlos says blankly. His hands are in his pockets.

“Of course, come in.” Owen holds the door open for Carlos before excusing himself. “I’ll clean up dinner and let you two talk.”

TK stands alone with Carlos in the entryway of his dad’s house, feeling adrift.

“Thanks for coming.” He says.

Carlos shifts his weight back and forth between his feet, making the polyester of his jacket swish as the fabric rubs.

“I almost didn’t.” he admits.

TK would be more surprised if Carlos hadn’t had second thoughts. Everything is tense and quiet, and TK can feel his heart beating in his throat with the importance of this moment. He’s had so many chances to get it right with Carlos, and he keeps getting it wrong. He can’t mess up again.

Owen coughs pointedly from the living room, before putting the plates from dinner into the dishwasher a bit louder than TK suspects is necessary.

He winces, but takes the hint. “Do you wanna go to my room to talk? It’s a little more private.”

Carlos nods, and follows him back. They settle on opposite corners of TKs bed like nervous teenagers alone together for the first time, not adults who slept in the same bed for months.

TK doesn’t know where to start, so he prompts Carlos. “I know I’ve been… pretty shitty to you recently, and you’re probably mad at me. You have every right to be so just, tell me what you’re thinking, please.”

Carlos sighs heavily. “I mean… where do I start TK? You walk out on me because of one fight and barely talk to me for months, except when I got shot, and now you call me to tell me you relapsed? I don’t know where I stand with you anymore. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think.”

“Carlos, I’m so sorry for- for all of that. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well, you did.” Carlos snaps, before softening a little. “When did you start using again? Before you left? Was that why you left?”

This was the part TK didn’t want to answer. But Carlos of all people deserved the truth.

“No. It was… shortly after.”

Carlos stands and runs his hand through his hair, beginning to pace the room.

“It wasn’t your fault.” TK pleads. “I know what I said when we fought and I’m sorry, but even I don’t always understand why I do these things. I do know that the things that are wrong with me have been there for a long time, way before I met you. I never meant to make that your responsibility. I’m so sorry.”

Carlos holds up a hand to halt TK’s rambling.

“Stop, TK, stop saying you’re sorry. You don’t have to keep apologizing, I know you’re sorry. And anyway your sobriety was never the problem, it was more that… I wanted to be there for you. Addiction and all. And you wouldn’t let me.”

TK feels nauseous. Or no- wait- TK really feels nauseous.

“Please talk to me.” Carlos says when the silence stretches just a beat too long. “I’ve told you I can’t do the not talking thing anymore.”

TK holds a hand to his chest. “No it’s not that, I-“ He pushes up from the corner of the mattress and lunges for the small plastic wastebasket Owen had preemptively placed by the bed the night before, holding it tight as he retches up the sandwich he just ate.

“Oh.” Carlos says from the other side of the bed.

TK gags again, closing his eyes against the rolling in his stomach. He hears Carlos’ boots pad around the bed to land next to him, where he settles onto the floor next to TK.

Carlos rubs a hand over his back. TK looks up to meet his eyes, feeling miserable.

“You don’t have to stay.” He says. “I’m not going to be much for conversation for a while.”

Carlos holds his gaze, looking into TKs eyes without a hint of regret when he speaks. “I want to stay. Let me stay.”

After a moment, TK nods.

If his mouth wasn’t dripping vomit right now, he’d be tempted to kiss Carlos. Instead, TK glances down at the trash can of his own puke and retches again. Carlos’ hand continues to rub his back softly. It feels like the only thing that’s real. When TK has recovered enough to speak, he looks over at Carlos.

“As long as you’re staying,” he croaks weakly, throat already stinging from stomach acid. “Can you bring me some water?”

Carlos smiles, and rises to do just that.

_________________________

To say that the next few days suck would be putting it lightly. TK had only been back on opioids for a few months, but between his history and the rate at which his relapsed addiction had escalated, withdrawal was bound to hit pretty hard.

That first night, Carlos stays with him until the sun rises. Owen checks on them here and there while intermittently trying to get some sleep, though TK got the feeling he had given Carlos some very specific instructions before reluctantly retreating to bed. Mostly, Carlos forces TK to drink water or Gatorade between bouts of vomiting and diarrhea, and strokes his hair when TK can’t sleep because his body hurts down to his bones.

TK’s almost too out of it to notice, but he knows the room must reek of sickness, and he must look awful. His brain, suddenly devoid of the chemicals which have been regulating it the past few months, skyrockets him into new heights of anxiety. He would pace the room if moving didn’t hurt so much.

TK is gross, and moody, and at his worst, and Carlos stays.

Somewhere around 5 am, TK finally slips into an uneasy sleep. His stomach is still cramping intensely, and his head is pounding from being awake for so long, but there’s nothing left in his body for it to expel, and he has no more energy to keep going. His head is pillowed in Carlos’ lap, Carlos’ hand running softly through his hair when TK feels exhaustion begin to take over.

When TK wakes, an indeterminate amount of hours later, the warm presence of Carlos underneath him is gone. He pushes himself up, groaning and scanning the room. The curtains are drawn, but the sun shines through, so it must be daytime at least.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Tommy and Owen are sitting at the foot of the bed at a table they must have pulled in from the hallway, playing a card game TK doesn’t recognize.

Owen stands and walks around the side of the bed, placing a hand on TK’s forehead.

“How are you feeling, son?”

TK is too tired to sugarcoat it. “Like shit.”

He lets his head fall back onto the pillow but squirms around so that he can pull the comforter on top of him. He woke up freezing.

“Where’s Carlos?” TK asks.

“He went home to get some rest,” his dad's voice above him says. “He said he’ll be back later though. It seemed like he was really here for you last night.”

TK glares at Owen over the blanket pulled up past his chin, more out of habit reacting to his dad’s opinions on his love life than genuine annoyance.

“Think you can keep anything down yet?” That’s Tommy’s voice, still at the foot of the bed.

TK moans a miserable ‘no,’ closing his eyes against the rolling of his stomach at even the mention of food.

Tommy hmms and her footsteps click, followed by the sound of her digging around in her medical bag.

“Can you try, for me?” She asks. “I brought you something for the nausea, and something for the pain. Nothing opioid based, I promise.”

She didn’t really need to add that last part, TK knew she would never in a million years give him opioids against his will, but it comforts him to hear her say the words anyway.

TK forces his eyes open and sits up enough to take the offered pills and nibble at the piece of toast placed before him. It’s hardly an hour before he’s holed up in the bathroom again, stomach violently rejecting the introduction.

TK spends the rest of the day alternating between trying to minimize the aches and nausea by moving as little as possible and pacing the house trying to outrun his anxiety and force his muscles to relax. He’s soaking through shirts and sheets with sweat, and alternately burning hot or freezing cold. He can’t keep food down one way or the other, and Owen cut him off from Gatorade for the day after he threw up entirely blue, so he mostly just sips water miserably. TK runs his phone battery dead by scrolling through Instagram and flipping through YouTube videos, concentration completely shot but desperate for some sort of distraction.

Just like when Carlos was shot, news travels fast in their little circle, and TK starts to get texts alerting him that the cat is out of the bag towards the end of the day.

From Judd, 6:25 pm: Hey buddy, just wanted to say that Gracie and I are praying for you, call if you need anything.

TK replies with a simple Thanks.

From Marjan, 7:06 pm: TK, heard what happened, here for you. #126strong

She follows her text with a quick series of links to silly joke websites and instagram reels, no context or explanation provided. TK doesn’t reply, but likes the message so she knows he saw it, and clicks on every single link. Some of them are even funny.

The texts are a reminder of conversations he doesn’t want to have with people he never meant to disappoint. TK doesn’t mind that they know, and doesn’t regret his decision to tell them all about his addiction in the first place. Like he told Owen, the relapse was never going to stay a secret for long. Still, the well-wishes haunt TK. It’s easy to disappear into yourself when you convince yourself no one will notice you’re gone. Easy to hurt yourself when you think you’re the only one being hurt.

From Carlos, 8:14 pm: Heading back over now, let me know if you need me to pick anything up on my way.

And then there’s Carlos.

Carlos, who doesn’t ask before coming over. Carlos, who stays.

TK is weak, in pain, and irritable, but they manage to get some talking done.

“I still love you, you know.” TK says, out of the blue. He’s sitting on the floor clutching the wastebasket to his chest again, trying desperately not to throw up the meager dinner he was able to eat, and pretty sure he’s about to fail.

Carlos, above him on the bed, replies right away.

“Yeah, I kind of figured that when you showed up at the hospital to sob over my flesh wound.”

TK punches his leg halfheartedly. “I was worried about you, asshole.”

Carlos smiles. “Yeah, I know.” His face falls, and TK angles his gaze down in his little trash bin so he doesn’t have to see Carlos’ disappointment.

“Obviously I still care about you too, TK.”

TK doesn’t miss the careful phrasing, the lack of ‘I love you.’

“-Otherwise I wouldn’t be here right now. But you kind of broke my heart.”

TK forces himself to look up. Carlos looks as vulnerable as TK feels, eyes wide and mouth twisted into a frown.

“You just left, and I didn’t know if it was my fault. I didn’t know if you were coming back.” Carlos sniffs, looking away from TK and into the lamp. The overhead hurts TK’s eyes, so there’s only a single bulb burning in the corner. The dim light illuminates Carlos’ face, throwing shadows over his tired, bloodshot eyes and slightly greasy hair. TK thinks he’s the most beautiful thing in the world. “So I love you, but I’m pretty mad at you right now too.”

TK tries to nod, and the motion sends a wave of nausea through his body. He gags into the trash can, but nothing comes up. He hears Carlos get up from the bed, springs squeaking, before Carlos settles on the floor next to him, draping a blanket over both of their shoulders. TK lays his head on Carlos’ shoulder and closes his eyes. He doesn’t have any more talking in him tonight.

________________________

Another day and night pass in much the same way before TK begins to feel steady on his feet again. He keeps down half a turkey sandwich for six hours before he calls it safe, and is so excited he texts Carlos to let him know. He replies with the praise hands emoji, and TK genuinely smiles for the first time in days. Owen, Tommy, and Carlos have been his 24/7 rotating companions, but they finally begin to leave him alone for small periods of time. No one strays far, and TK is never home alone, but just having his room and bathroom to himself for a few moments is a relief. He showers until the water runs cold and uses his dad’s fancy skin care serum on his skin, which is broken out from days of sweat and stress. It’s a testament to how worried Owen must have been that he offered them in the first place, TK had never known his dad to willingly share his expensive products. He always insisted no one else appreciated them enough.

TK walks into the kitchen feeling somewhat refreshed. The worst of his withdrawal symptoms may have passed, but the cravings are still just as intense as ever. Tommy and Owen are there speaking in whispers, but break off their conversation as TK enters and begins to pour himself a glass of water. He raises an eyebrow.

“Not talking about me, are you?” He half jokes.

Tommy pushes herself up and walks past TK to close the fridge he left open. “Not everything is about you, TK.”

Owen stifles a laugh as TK acts fake shocked, holding a hand to his chest. To be fair, everything kind of has been about him lately.

“How are you feeling though, seriously?” She adds.

“Okay.” TK says honestly. “Better.”

“Good.” Tommy pauses, and drums her nails against the counter. “When you’re ready, we need to talk.”

TK sips his water so he doesn’t have to reply. He’ll never be ready, but as the saying goes, he made this bed and he’s going to have to lie in it eventually.

“Are you here now as my boss or my friend?”

Tommy’s face twists. “A little bit of both. You’re technically on personal leave from Paragon right now, but you need to submit your resignation paperwork as soon as you’re feeling up to it. I’m sorry, TK. But I can’t let you come back to work with me there anymore. I’m cutting you a lot of slack already but it wouldn’t be good for me as a professional, or you as a recovering addict.”

It’s not as bad as it could have been, by a long shot. He could easily have been fired, or be facing criminal charges. As it was, Tommy was putting her career on the line by covering for him.

“I understand.” TK says. “Thank you.”

“There’s more.” Tommy says.

“More?” TK prompts, a little scared of what ‘more’ could mean. It doesn’t seem like he’s got anywhere to go but up, but he’s been wrong before.

Tommy turns to face Owen, still seated on a bar stool at the island. “You want to tell him or should I?” She’s grinning, which dulls TK’s anxiety that things have somehow gone even more wrong, but she’s playing coy about something.

Owen sits up straight, and brushes imaginary dust off his thighs. “Well,” He says, “to make a long story short, it looks like we’re going to get the 126 back.”

TK nearly chokes on his water. “What? How is that possible? I thought the building had been demolished by now.”

To his own shame and Marjan’s disappointment, TK hadn’t really been keeping up with the save the 126 campaign all that much.

“Not quite.” Owen says. “The demolition was delayed just in time for a donor to fulfill Marjan’s GoFundMe for the firehouse. We have Paul to thank for that, I hear.”

“How-” TK interrupts before thinking better of it. “I’ll ask later, just go ahead.”

Owen resumes his story, “The city is willing to reinstate me as captain if I sign a letter of apology to Billy. I’m going to do it.”

Tommy looks proud. TK just stutters. Owen had done no small amount of complaining about the other fire chief, and TK knew his dad’s stubbornness was legendary.

“But Dad, that’s- I know how much that means to you.”

“I’ve had cause to reassess my priorities lately.” Owen says. “And the 126 means more. You mean more.”

“Dad, you can’t do that just for me. How could you even be talking about giving me a job after this? I’m already the poster child for nepotism.”

Owen holds a hand up to slow TK down. “First of all, why do you assume I’m doing this for you? Maybe I’m just doing it to get Marjan off my back.”

His joking works, and TK feels himself grin wryly.

“Besides,” Owen continues. “It’s been fun, playing homesteader, but I’ve been hiding. I think I forgot that there are people here who need me. People who I need too.”

“And don’t get too ahead of yourself about a job, young man.” Tommy pipes up. “It’ll be months before the building is fit to house the 126 again. We’ll see how you’re doing when that happens but,” She glances back to Owen. “Even then we were talking about having you switch back over to firefighter for awhile.”

Owen nods his agreement, and TK is forced to admit that might be a good idea. In his current state, he can’t imagine resisting the access to drugs granted by being a paramedic, but he wants to believe that since he did it once he can do it again, someday.

“That’s amazing.” TK says. “Really, that’s incredible news.”

Tommy and Owen are smiling, eyes bright with the excitement of regaining something they all thought lost, and TK can tell that they think so too.

“Are you up for visitors yet?” Tommy asks. “Because I know some folks who agree and would love to see you.”

TK thinks about it. He’s gotten texts from every member of the 126 by now except Nancy, who had maintained a stubborn radio silence. TK knew she was mad, but he hadn’t thought she would stop talking to him. He hadn’t replied to most of the texts, strung out and not knowing what to say anyway, but he would like to see his friends again, and to celebrate the reunification of the 126.

“Sure,” He says, not totally convinced he’s making the right choice, but diving in anyway. “I think I could handle some company. Just for a few hours.”

_______________________

Everyone arrives more or less at once. Judd is settling an extremely pregnant Grace on the couch when the doorbell rings again, and Marjan, Paul, and Mateo filter into the house one after the other. They hug TK, tell him it’s good to see him, and ask how he’s doing in a very meaningful tone, to which TK always replies with a fragile “I’m okay.”

Carlos arrives next, just getting off from work, and immediately moves to stand next to TK. There are a few raised eyebrows, but no one comments on his presence there. To TK, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to have Carlos by his side.

Nancy, notably, does not arrive with the others. In contrast to the days when the 126 had accidentally excluded Nancy, today her absence is painfully noticeable. TK had sent her a text, the most recent of four unanswered, inviting her. When he asked Tommy if she was even reading them, she just told TK to give Nancy time.

Once it seems that everyone who is going to come is there, Marjan lifts a glass of the sparkling grape juice she’d come bearing.

“To the 126!” She declares, “And to our friend, TK.”

The room cheerfully repeats after her in an unorganized chorus of voices as they raise their glasses and drink. TK’s hand grasps instinctively at Carlos’, which he’s surprised to find waiting. He squeezes it, needing something to ground him. Carlos sees his disorientation, and shrugs, the shaking of his shoulders jostling their joined hands. He smiles, before raising his glass in TK’s direction and taking a sip.

They don’t stay for long. Owen and Carlos brainstorm interior decorating for the renovated firehouse, Grace and Tommy talk about the kids (present and future), Judd and Mateo argue with Marjan over the best Marvel movie. It’s a bit pointed at first, the silence regarding TK’s relapse, but the conversation eases his nerves quickly. It would be an awfully somber night if they spent the night discussing TK’s disease, and they were meant to be here to celebrate.

It’s not that no one mentions it though. Paul pulls him to the side first:

“I don’t know why you felt like you couldn’t come to me, and I won’t ask. I know that shit is complicated. But I do want you to know I still mean it. If you need a friend, I’m right there, brother.”

Then Grace, who surreptitiously hands him a notecard with names and numbers scribbled down in her neat handwriting:

“I have a friend who runs an addiction support group out of the basement of the Methodist church downtown. I called him and he said he knows some other local groups too, there’s even one that meets beside the synagogue. Here are their numbers if you wanna get in contact.”

Marjan tells him she’s proud of him, and can’t wait to work with him at the 126 again. Mateo admits he’s been watching some YouTube videos about supporting addicts in recovery.

All told, it’s the most graceful thing TK has ever known.

Nancy arrives just as the rest of the 126 are getting ready to leave. She’s uncharacteristically quiet, and won’t meet TK’s eyes.

“Can we talk?” She says.

TK nods, thrilled that she’s here but dreading the conversation those three little words lead to.

“Sure, hold on,” TK thanks the others for coming as Owen sees them out, except for Carlos, who TK just exchanges a meaningful glance with. Wait for me.

TK leads Nancy into the kitchen, and they burst into speech at the same time, words blurring over each other.

“I’m really mad at you.” “I’m sorry, Nancy.”

TK cringes, gestures for her to go first.

“I’m really mad at you.” She repeats.

“Yeah, you said that.”

“TK!” She snaps.

“Sorry, sorry, go on.” TK would never tell her this, but sometimes Nancy reminds him of his mother. They’re both tall, proud, women who take care of him, both people he cares about, who he’s let down.

“I was so worried about you, you know. Not only did you lie to me and tell me you were fine, you were coming to work high, I know you were. You know you probably put my job at risk too? Put complete strangers at risk, patients who trusted us with their life?

Nancy is flushed, arms wrapped tightly around herself as she berates him. TK had known this speech was coming, but he honestly kind of expected it to come from Tommy. He forgot, sometimes, how fierce Nancy could be.

She’s not finished, either.

“And you were mean to me!” She yells. “All I ever did was try to be a good partner to you, a good friend, and you pushed me away. I deserve better than that.”

TK flinches. “You’re right.” He says. “I was a bad partner and an even worse friend, and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

Nancy still looks upset, upper lip quirked like she’s trying not to cry again. TK continues.

“I wasn’t thinking about how my actions might affect you. And I should have known that after what happened to Tim-”

Nancy swallows and looks away. She looks so hurt that TK’s train of thought collapses.

“What I’m trying to say is that it was stupid of me to be careless with my life when I know… when I know that there are people who care about me who would be hurt by it. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”

Nancy sniffs hard and swipes at her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. At least she’ll look at TK again.

“You’re leaving me alone at Paragon, you know. Who am I supposed to complain with?”

TK smirks cautiously, “You know they made this thing called texting..”

She punches him lightly on the shoulder but smiles through her tears.

It’s a start.

________________________________________________________

A week and a half later, TK’s insomnia and cravings have him awake at 2 am when a text notification from Judd in the 126 group chat appears at the top of his phone screen. He opens the message to see a picture of a tiny baby wrapped in hospital blankets with a pink hat on her head. The captions reads: Meet Charlie Ryder, 7 lbs 4 oz, born at 1:24 am and just as beautiful as her mama.

TK’s face breaks into a wide grin of its own accord, his troubles forgotten for a moment. Judd must have been so excited, he couldn’t wait until morning to share the news of his daughter’s birth. Despite the early hour, TK places a heart on the picture and types out a reply: Congratulations! She’s perfect. Give my love to Grace.

He’s able to sleep after that.

The next day, Carlos picks him up and they go to visit the new parents in the hospital. TK brings flowers, and is unsurprised to find that they have to compete for space with other vases on Grace’s windowsill. Judd is bursting with excitement like a little kid, and hugs them both when they come in, so tightly that Grace tells him not to break them. Little Charlie is nestled in her arms, fast asleep. Grace looks tired, but TK has never seen her so happy.

“We won’t stay long.” TK says. “We just wanted to stop by, see the little one.”

“She’s beautiful.” Carlos adds.

“Wanna hold her?” Grace asks TK, who stands closest.

TK hesitates, glancing between the other faces in the room. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna wake her.”

“Tommy tells me at this age when they’re asleep, they’re asleep.” Grace says, shifting so that she can hold the bundled baby out to TK. “So far, that seems to be true.”

“Just don’t drop her.” Judd adds.

TK takes her in his arms, elbow carefully placed to support her head. He studies the sleeping baby as he rocks her gently. The faintest wisp of curly dark hair peeks out from under her cap.

“I think she has your nose, Judd.” TK says.

Judd exhales. “Oh lord, I hope not.”

The others laugh, and everything feels perfect.

“Okay, my turn.” Carlos says, rounding the bed and holding his arms out gently. “Come here, sweetheart.”

“Watch her head.”

“I know how to hold a baby, TK.”

TK delicately passes Charlie over, eyes locked on Carlos’ face as he states with eyes wide at the tiny birthday girl. This could be us, TK thinks. Carlos would make such a good father.

They stay a few minutes more, before handing Charlie back to her glowing mother and leaving the new parents to get some much needed rest. Judd promises to send lots of baby pictures.

As Judd closes the door behind them, he shares one final thought. “It’s nice to see you two together, by the way. Y’all take care!”

TK and Carlos look at each other, and laugh a little uneasily before heading for the elevator. They hadn’t really clarified yet, if they were back together or not. Even so, Carlos was at TK’s house most every night, and TK was trying. He’d asked for a little time, and Carlos had given it to him. Seeing Grace and Judd, drunk on happiness, jarred something in TK. He wanted that kind of life with Carlos, that kind of joy. And every moment that he let it slip by felt like time lost.

The elevator doors close, and TK grabs Carlos’ hand. Carlos looks at their joined hands, then looks at TK.

“TK, do you think-”

“I want to talk.” Tk interrupts. “I want to tell you everything.”

Carlos’ mouth hangs open, surprised for a moment before he gathers himself and readjusts his grip on TK’s hand, holding him tighter. “Okay. Let’s go home.”

They go home, and TK starts from the beginning. He tells Carlos how things started when he was in high school, how he took Adderall to focus on homework and Xanax to impress cute older boys and Oxycontin when it was offered once at a party. How he dropped out of college and had overdosed by the time he was 21. How getting clean cost him his friends, but got him his dad back.

“Carlos, I’m sorry for what I put you through. But the truth is I don’t know if I can promise you I’ll never do it again. I’m trying, I really am, but certain things are never gonna go away for me.”

Carlos takes his hand.

“I know, TK. I’ve been doing some research on addiction.”

“Oh.” TK says. It’s not all that surprising, even Mateo had admitted to it. But from Carlos, it means something different. It means understanding, it means planning for a future.

Carlos clears his throat, an unnecessary habit TK had noticed Gabriel Reyes had too. “I wanted to clarify something too.” He says carefully. “The night we fought-”

TK pulls his hand away, embarrassed and not wanting to relive that fight. Carlos lets him have the space, but keeps talking, insistent.

“No- this is important. The night we fought, I was trying to express that I want you to be okay whether we’re together or not. I never meant for you to think I wanted to break up.”

“I never thought that.” TK says, which is mostly true. He hadn’t, he just got a little mixed up and panicky. “I just- I just didn’t know what to think and sometimes even when things are going good my head just- I just blow things up.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” TK says. “I don’t want to be a burden to you, or anyone, and sometimes it seems like that’s all I do.”

Carlos looks thoughtful, then he asks; “TK, do you like to help people?”

TK furrows his eyebrows, not understanding the non sequitur but willing to follow Carlos’ lead. “Of course, I’m a paramedic. Or- I was. Will be. Maybe”

Carlos shrugs off the semantics. “Why do you like to help people?” He prompts, with all the infinite patience of a kindergarten teacher.

TK begins to guess where this line of questioning leads, and sighs. “Because it’s the right thing to do, and it makes me feel good, I guess.”

Carlos holds his hand back out, palm up for the taking.

“Exactly.” He says. “People like to help people. You can’t always be the helper, sometimes you’re gonna have to get comfortable being the person who needs help. Think of it as doing a good deed, if it helps. You’re making us feel better by letting us help.”

TK huffs, beginning to smile.

“And,” Carlos adds. “You’ll pay us back. So the next time I get shot-”

“You better not-”

“-OR the next time I need help calming down, or someone to cook for me after a long day, you’ll be there. Even though you hate to cook.”

TK lets his words sink in, and thinks that if it made Carlos happy he would switch careers, give Gordon Ramsey a run for his money. He takes Carlos’ offered hand.

“So we’re okay?” He asks.

Carlos nods, but there’s a tightness around his eyes.

“Yes, but you have to promise me you’ll try. Therapy, support groups, whatever you need to do. Not just for me, but for you too.”

TK is beginning to understand something. He is beginning to understand that in a way trying to be better for himself is the same thing as trying to be better for Carlos, or for his dad, or for Nancy, or any of his friends. It’s all connected.

Instead of trying to explain that to Carlos, though, TK just agrees.

“I am trying. I’ll keep trying.”

Some of the tightness in Carlos’ face eases, and he places a hand gently on the side of TK’s face, leaning towards him.

“Can I try this?” Carlos asks, gentle and reverent.

TK doesn’t have to think for even a moment before he’s nodding, smiling so hard he might burst, and pressing his lips to Carlos’. It’s a perfect kiss, even though TK leans in too fast and their teeth clack together, and he can taste salt water where his happy tears have trickled down to his mouth.

It’s okay, they can try again.