Work Text:
By now, TK really thinks that he should be used to guns. Maybe not the echoing sound of them discharging in rapid succession, but even that shouldn’t send him slamming against the wheel of the ambulance in an attempt to hide from the unknown source. Some may say it’s Texas, after all, but even had it not been, it was far from the first time that he’s seen or heard a gun discharge. He’d grown used to guns, growing up where he did in New York City, but there’s still something bone-shaking about the discharge of a gun.
This time, though, TK will be more than willing to argue that this right here is probably the most terrified he’s ever been. The rig shakes with the pressure of the discharge, the sound of bullets imbedding itself in the metal of the walls has TK slamming forward to hide. Nancy screams so loud that TK’s pretty sure that it’s all he can hear beyond the ringing in his ears. The terror in her voice has him panicking, stomach dropping as he tries desperately to shove at the seatbelt he had already buckled but doesn’t quite remember doing. Everything goes startlingly silent in the next beat, barely a breath before Tommy’s voice echoes around the far too quiet world. It’s filled with a fear that TK’s not sure he’s heard before.
“Nancy!” TK shouts, his voice sounding weird even to his own ears, and he scrambles for the door. His fingers slip on the handle as he tries to push it open and maybe it’s the adrenaline, the narrow-eyed focus on Nancy, is what makes the door feel heavier than normal. It takes both hands to shove it open and TK’s feet feel unsteady under him, one hand slamming into the side of the rig to keep him from tilting to the side. “Nancy! Nancy, are you okay?”
Tommy’s eyes are wide as TK rounds the ambulance and his stomach drops into his feet, twisting to the point where he feels like he might be sick. Then he hears a sob and his heart skips a beat because that’s Nancy, there’s no doubt about it. Nancy is fine. Nancy isn’t shot. Tk’s pretty sure that the relief is going to knock him to his knees and his hand tightens around the door as he pulls himself to the back of the rig in a desperate search for his partner. The way that Nancy breaks is enough to get Tommy moving, Nancy’s name on her lips as she tugs her out of the rig and TK reaches for her desperately in an attempt to help in some sense of the word. Provide comfort, just hold her, he doesn’t really know what he’s going for but his fingers wrap around Nancy’s wrist regardless.
“Nancy.” TK hears his own voice like he’s watching from above and not standing right there beside her, feet hard against the concrete and shoulder cold against the side of the rig. She blinks down at him, looking a little shattered in a way that he remembers from when he woke up from the coma. He remembers that fear, the way that her eyes hovered over him on every case they’d attended after that for a week and a half. He’s pretty sure that he gets that feeling now. He’s pretty sure there’s no way he’s letting her out of his sight for a while. “Nancy, are you hurt?”
She hesitates for a minute, her eyes dropping down to trace over her own body as if she can’t feel any pain but isn’t entirely sure. TK’s eyes follow her own, tracing over her body in an attempt to search for any wound he can find. It allows him to breathe a bit easier knowing that she’s not bleeding out somewhere that’s hidden by their uniforms.
“No….no, I’m—” Nancy cuts off, her body shaking as she sucks in a breath that sounds closer to a panicked gasp and it chokes off in something close to a sob. TK hates that he can’t do anything more than pull her closer, pressing her up against the side of the ambulance in an attempt to steady her and his hands feel slick on the metal. It’s sweat, he assumes, but he doesn’t allow himself a moment to be concerned about it, “I’m—that was a gun.”
“Yeah, yeah. Yeah.” TK repeats that over and over again, unable to stop himself but Nancy is here and safe . That’s all TK can ask for, at the end of the day. At the end of today, the fact that Nancy is safe in front of him, he doesn’t think he can ask for anything better. The relief makes his knees weak and he drops, hand sliding from where it was resting against the side of the ambulance and his vision goes blurry around the edges. It’s the relief, he tells himself, even as a familiar pain starts to explode from his shoulder. It’s the relief, TK promises himself, when Nancy screams his name so loud that it feels like it bounces around his skull. It’s all the relief, TK swears, but his vision goes black before he can tell anyone else.
Carlos figures that he should be accustomed to TK coming home late by now. Knows that the meetings he goes to after shift are important and that he needs them but something about his texts going unanswered for hours makes his stomach twist. There really isn't any reason for it, no explanation as to why he feels like his heart is threatening to tear itself apart in an emotion he can't quite put a finger on, but he can't stop the ache blossoming in his chest. Maybe it's because he knows what the loft is like when it's quiet, gotten used to it sometime before TK came home but this time feels different. Final, in a weird way, even if he doesn’t really understand why. There’s no reason for the anxiety swelling in his stomach, the way that it threatens to knock him off his feet, and his fingers shake as he types out another message to TK.
[From: Carlos | To: TK]:
Hey, babe. I’m sure you’re just in a meeting or something, but I
just wanted to check in. Let me know when you’re going to be
home, okay? I love you.
He sighs as the text wooshes off, collapsing against the couch and tilting his head back in an attempt to breathe through the twisting anxiety in his gut. There’s no reason for him to be panicking this way, TK’s been to plenty of meetings and usually remains silent throughout them. Carlos can’t figure out why he feels like he’s about to be sick. The next breath catches in his throat and it seems like fate that his phone beeps at the same time, an incoming text the one thing he’s been praying for all day.
[From: Mitchell | To: Carlos]:
EMS 126 was shot at on call today. Strand’s been shot.
Carlos’ stomach drops into his feet, the breath knocked out of him so quickly that it makes him feel like he’s about to die. Maybe he is, if the way his heart is tearing into shreds is any indication.
Strand’s been shot .
Carlos hates the way his eyes have to flitter over that same sentence over and over again until they’re red and burning when he blinks. TK was shot. Again. It makes him feel like the world has stopped spinning on its own axis. The line rings out when Carlos calls her, each ring driving the knife into his heart deeper and deeper until there’s nothing left. He feels sick.
[From: Mitchell | To: Carlos]:
Going into debrief. Will update you afterwards. Call
was a few hours ago. Don’t know what happened with
him after. Had to transport the suspect.
Carlos’ hands are shaking as he tries to find Judd’s number in his contacts, fingers unsteady to the point that it takes him twice to actually hit the call button. It rings and rings and rings, echoing around in his skull like a clock ticking to the end. His chest is so tight it feels like he’s drowning, so tight and heavy that he can’t suck in the breath of air he’s so desperate for. It’s almost like being smothered, air so tight with each breath that he’s left gasping for more even when he shouldn’t be. Carlos drops his head and his heart skips a painful beat when the line goes dead. The clock on his home screen reads 5:39pm and some part of Carlos wonders, just briefly, what they called the time of death. It’s the only reason Judd wouldn’t be answering and something painful and aching swells in his chest until his heart feels like it’s breaking.
It doesn’t feel real, taking a simple glance around the loft and finding it so filled TK, that Carlos can’t quite believe that he may be living here alone. He can’t quite comprehend the fact that TK may never be coming home again. There’s a jacket thrown over the back of the dining room chair, something that Carlos remembers telling TK to put away yesterday afternoon when he was rushing out the door for his shift. It remained where it was and Carlos remembers the amused frustration when he sat down for dinner, by himself. Always, now, by himself. His eyes are burning as the phone rings out again and he doesn’t even remember hitting dial, Judd’s name flashing for nothing but a brief second before the line automatically disconnects.
There’s a beat between that moment and the next one, not that Carlos really registers anything but the thunking sound of something hitting the brick wall beside the dining room table. Hysterically, Carlos always thought that a phone breaking would sound more like glass. It doesn’t, and maybe it’s just him, but it sounds more like the world coming to an end. All the breath is knocked out of him when his fingers find purchase on the soft material of the cotton hoodie, the purple one that TK had found at a thrift store a few weeks back. He’s practically worn it nonstop and Carlos’ heart hammers in his chest at the thought that this right here, a stupid hoodie that was a size too small for him, might be the last thing that he has of TK.
Tears press hard against the back of his eyes as he pulls the hoodie close, desperate for a comfort he knows he won’t find with it. There’s no comfort when TK’s not there. When he may never see TK again. He finally can place what the feeling in his chest is. The aching and shredding of his heart so powerful that had he not already been in tears, they would be pressing against his eyelids. As Carlos chokes on the realization that TK’s gone and a sob tears from his throat unbidden, the pain finally makes sense. It’s grief.
Judd honestly thought that watching TK get shot once was bad. Watching him collapse onto the ground, Nancy screaming his name like she’s begging for him to respond, was somehow so much worse. Especially when he watches her pull away with bloody hands, eyes wide as a sob echoes around the scene. She’s pulled away quickly but Judd doesn’t really remember by who. In fact, he doesn’t remember much beyond the feeling of TK’s blood pumping through his own fingers as he desperately shoved against the wound. He knows their job is supposed to end at the hospital doors, he knows they’re not supposed to go past them, and it’s something he’s become accustomed to. Learned to live with the guilt of sending someone barely alive through those doors and hoping for the best only to never know again in most cases. Except this time, this time it’s not just some stranger they’re saving. It’s TK. And Judd’s man enough to admit that there’s no way he’s going home until he knows that his baby brother is safe.
Finding three missed calls from Carlos would normally spark minor anxiety in Judd’s chest, mind immediately going to whatever trouble TK might’ve gotten himself into since the last time that Judd had seen the younger man. This time, though, all Judd feels is fear. He’s known Carlos for longer than anyone else on his team outside of Tommy, had gotten to know the police officer well enough during Michelle’s time at the 126, but never once has he called him that many times when it didn’t have something to do with TK. Which meant only one thing, Carlos knew. And nobody was answering him.
“Damnit.” Judd sucks in a sharp breath, fingers hovering over the missed calls as he glances over to where Tommy and Nancy are sitting with bouncing legs. There’s still blood on Nancy’s cheek, something that he wonders just briefly if anyone has noticed. It offers a slight momentary distraction from the panic swelling in his stomach before he realizes that Carlos’ phone calls were from over an hour prior. “Damnit, okay, T? I-I need to go. Someone needs to uh, um, get Carlos. He’s called me three times, so I’m going to….yeah.”
He can’t quite figure the words out and they all taste foreign on his tongue even as he drops his phone into his pocket with shaky fingers. Tommy’s face goes through a series of emotions so fast that Judd isn’t really sure which one it’s meant to stay on before leveling back out into that numbed captain persona that she’s perfected. He kind of hates it, though he knows that he’s likely wearing the same expression should anyone do more than glance at him. Even though his hands still hurt from how raw he scrubbed them, his heart still skips a beat every time someone that’s not TK’s doctors come out the ER doors, and each breath feels like it never quite reaches his lungs, Judd knows he looks perfectly steady compared to everyone else.
“I’ll call you with any updates. Promise.” Tommy reassures, nodding her head once and it’s all that it takes for Judd to fish his keys from his pocket, the metal of them clicking against each other as he walks with shaky fingers. By the time he’s halfway to Carlos and TK’s loft, Judd realizes that he doesn’t even remember flicking the ignition and he has to slam on his brakes when the light in front of him turns a sudden red. A gasp of air is punched out of him so fast he feels like he’s never inhaled in his life and his fingers turn white around the steering wheel, even as the horns of the cars around him go off as the light turns green. He wonders, easing on the gas and taking the left towards the loft, if he’s ever going to see red on his steering wheel after touching it with blood-stained fingers.
The parking lot for the loft is mostly empty for being so late on a weekday, but he can’t complain much when he’s able to snag the first spot near the door taking him straight up to the loft doors. TK giving him a key less than two weeks ago, barely two days after the whole Sadie fiasco, had been a momentary surprise until he explained further. It felt a little like betrayal to his captain, taking a position in his son’s life that had previously been held by him, but there was never a thought in Judd’s mind of denying the man who was practically his brother such peace of mind. He never would be able to.
“Carlos?” Judd calls softly, voice echoing off the brick walls and for a moment, he thinks that maybe the police officer had managed to fall asleep. It would be the most reasonable explanation for such a silent loft, except the kitchen light is on and if there’s one thing TK complains about, it’s that Carlos never leaves lights on if he’s asleep. Judd thinks it’s partially related to the trauma of the arson attack, the memory of the burnt lamp on the end table being the spark still a fresh sight in his own mind. But that means that Carlos is somewhere.
“Carlos?” Judd calls louder, eyes fluttering around the loft in quick succession in an attempt to find the younger man but there’s no sign of him. There’s nothing, actually, except a light still on and something shattered into pieces on the floor by the kitchen table. Two steps closer and Judd’s stomach twists in guilt as he spots Carlos’ phone broken into a million little fragments just beside where TK always sits for dinner. They always say they don’t have spots, argue that fact even when the entirety of the 126 has watched them time and time again take the same seats across from one another. Something painful and tiny breaks in Judd’s chest.
Moments before Judd can call for the man again, the desperation to find his friend renewed, something catches his attention. At first he can’t place what it was, so barely noticeable that he’s almost able to forget it entirely. Except, then it happens again and the broken pieces of Judd’s heart ache as he hears another muffled sob tear from Carlos’ throat. The bedroom door slides open easy and Judd’s fingers slide from the handle as he spots the man.
“Carlos.”
For a cop, Carlos really should’ve realized or noticed his door opening. At the very least, he should’ve noticed his bedroom door sliding open long before Judd kneels beside him but even his hands that are gripping the hoodie in front of him are blurry. He figures that he has some kind of excuse, considering it doesn’t quite feel like he has anything but a black hole in his chest right now. Had it been any other day, he might’ve found some excuse for the tears spilling over onto his cheeks but he thinks both him and Judd are far too aware of what the real cause is. How could they not be, when TK’s gone.
“Carlos, hey man.” Judd murmurs, fingers feather light as they brush over his clenched fists before coming to rest on his shoulder with what is likely meant to be a reassuring squeeze. If his world wasn’t falling apart, Carlos might agree. Hell, even if everything wasn’t okay, Carlos thinks he might be likely to agree. But right now, every touch but TK’s burns his skin and he’s desperate to shrink away. He’s desperate to find somewhere, anywhere, he can be alone without the feeling of his heart ripping to shreds inside his chest. There’s red on Judd’s fingers but Carlos can’t tell if he’s imagined it or not because in the next blink, his hand is resting on the other side of Carlos’ neck as if it’s attempting to hold him together. Just the thought of TK’s blood on Judd’s hands though, on the hands currently touching him, has another sob tearing out of Carlos’ throat without his permission.
“He’s dead.” Carlos whispers brokenly, voice trembling in a way it hasn’t since he was seven and still thought there were monsters under his bed, “He’s dead and I—I didn’t get to say goodbye. That’s why…that’s what you’re here to tell me, isn’t it?”
Each start and stop is punctuated perfectly by a sob, almost like Carlos’ body is finally letting go and shutting down against the pain that’s become so overwhelming it’s all he can think about. He’s always heard that people can move on after the death of a loved one, he’s even heard about Tommy going on a date, but Carlos isn’t sure he could ever imagine a life without TK. He was never supposed to have to.
“No, God, no Carlos.” Judd manages, the breath pushed out of him sounding filled with guilt and a brief glance up shows his expression, while blurry, is clearly wracking his mind for words to make it easier. For a split second, Carlos almost wonders if Judd is lying before he mentally slaps himself. Judd is a lot of things, a good man and friend, but he is not a liar. Not when it comes to something as important as his family, as important as TK. At least, Carlos doesn’t think he would. “Hey, look at me. Look at me Carlos. He’s alive. He’s currently in surgery but he’s alive.”
For a split second, nothing hurt. It’s weird how such simple words could bring such a relief to people that it’s almost enough to make them stop breathing. Carlos sucks in his breath sharp though, desperately attempting to find the words to express the way he’s feeling but based on the soft smile on Judd’s face, he understands the speechlessness. He wonders, barely more than a fleeting thought, if this was how Judd felt when he heard that Grace had survived the crash. He figures it has to have been.
“I–I want to see him. I need to.”
“Carlos.” Tommy meets them at the doors and Carlos has barely made it two steps inside before arms are wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close. He goes willingly, body still shaking with an inevitable adrenaline crash and he allows himself a moment to compose his emotions. It’s easy pushing them down, hiding them from view when he spent so long as a kid practicing how to do so in the bathroom mirror. The way that Tommy’s eyes seem far too knowing and her shoulders droop just a bit, he’s not fooling her one bit. At least he’s trying.
“TK, how—how is he?” Carlos manages to keep his voice steady the second time around, though he’s sure that Tommy catches the way it breaks around TK’s name. God. Carlos doesn’t think he would be able to survive something like this, if TK didn’t come out of those hospital doors alive. Carlos isn’t sure he would survive. Tommy’s hands are steady as they come to rest on his shoulders, a near perfect mimic of Judd’s back at the apartment, and Carlos fleetingly wonders if that’s where he learned it from.
“He’s okay. Hey, look at me.” Tommy’s voice is steady but when Carlos refuses to look up at her, her fingers are shaking when they come to rest on his chin. She tilts his face up though, no qualms in her eyes as she waits until he forces back the tears that threaten to spill over. The movement is so reminiscent of the gentle way TK redirects him that it’s nearly enough to make his knees give out. As it is, they tremble beneath him so forcefully, he’s surprised he’s not visibly shaking. “TK is okay, he is. They’ve got him in surgery, he lost a lot of blood but— but he’s okay. They’ve got him on a transfusion and they’ve got the bullet out. They’re just patching him up now.”
Carlos’ chest spasms with the news, the breath practically knocked out of him so fast that he kind of feels like he’s suffocating for a brief moment. The shaky inhale feels so loud to his ears that he’s surprised others aren’t looking at him. It’s the first time, since Mitchell texted him, that he feels like maybe the world is starting to spin again. Tears press burning against his eyes and Carlos’ heart beats loudly in his chest, pressing so hard against the cavity that it feels ready to break out of its cage that Carlos has to rub at it. It doesn’t hurt, nothing compared to the shredding feeling that he had been feeling hours before when TK wasn’t still alive, but it’s far from comfortable. To be fair, though, Carlos isn’t sure he’ll ever feel something as painful as he did when he thought TK was gone.
“He’s okay?” Carlos asks, voice cracking into a million tiny pieces and he watches Judd smile, something soft and relieved that mimics the relief Carlos feels. Nancy leans forward, still looking far too shell-shocked to be described as relieved but Carlos likes to think he knows her, knows the way her shoulders relax at the knowledge. His eyes burn and his knees shake but the world finally feels steady again. Carlos lets the tears slip past his eyelids as he collapses into the chair beside Nancy, threading their fingers together in a mimic of the way they did when TK was laying in the ICU for days. Maybe his world wasn’t steady, maybe it was still spinning in a halting pattern, but TK was alive and breathing. That’s all Carlos could ask for.
TK really hates that he’s slowly been getting used to managing bullet wounds without the assistance of pain medications. He hates that he’s started getting used to the way it burns with every breath he takes, that he can barely breathe sometimes when the pain hits him so hot that it makes his vision white out. He had thought the first would had been bad, barely able to move without pain exploding until his vision darkened around the edges. This time, though, somehow it is so much worse. Every breath he takes, every time the machines around him beep, pain flies through him so quickly it punches the air from his lungs.
“Mr. Strand?” One of his nurses, a lady that TK should know the name of but can’t quite place anything beyond a vague recognition, “How are you feeling?”
TK hesitates for a brief moment, taking quick stock of how he is truly feeling, before he gives a shaky thumbs up. It’s not entirely accurate, far from it actually, but there isn’t much more that can be done to help. He’s already refused any offers of pain medications which is all they can really do to minimize the pain he’s feeling.
“You think you’re up for a guest then? Got a Mr.Reyes here, he seems pretty eager to see you.” She smiles softly and it grows when TK shoots himself up into a sitting position, even if the pain shooting through him nearly knocks him down. The simple thought of Carlos is enough to dull any of the pain, the relief at the simple thought of his partner being close is enough to push any thoughts out of his mind. “I’m taking that as a yes. He’ll be in soon.”
TK tries his best to rearrange himself as best he can, ignoring the way that pain explodes through his side in a perfect unison with each shaky inhale. The door creaks open halfway through and TK flops back with a sigh, pain blurring his vision just barely. He can still make out Carlos though, but then again, TK’s sure that even if he was blind, he would still be able to find his partner without any trouble. They’re so intertwined that it seems near impossible to ever imagine losing each other.
“TK.” Carlos exhales shakily, a soft grin tugging at his lips and even with red-rimmed eyes, TK’s pretty sure that he’s never seen him look so handsome. All it takes is reaching a single hand outwards, eager fingers dancing in the air until Carlos takes them. They lace through perfectly and Carlos’ other hand comes to rest on his cheek. It’s not perfect but TK’s pretty sure this is as close as they’ll ever get, though he wouldn’t be opposed to trying. Outside of the hospital, of course.