Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

TK sneaks into the house, hoping to avoid his father. He cannot handle questioning about his busted lip tonight. Getting into a fight was supposed to help him clear his head, but instead he is even more confused than before.

Carlos was kind to him at the police station. He knows Austin isn’t that small of a town, Carlos definitely pulled some strings to help him get out of this mess so easily. He doesn’t deserve it, especially after the way he treated Carlos the other night. Not to mention his own reckless inconsideration of consequences. He hadn’t really decided until he arrived at that trashy bar if he was there to get drunk or get in a fight. He never even considered the possibility of leaving the bar or what could happen afterwards.

He was fueled by Judd’s harsh words earlier that day. They have been echoing through his mind, like a catchy jingle, reminding him of just how worthless he is. Has he ever earned anything in his life? Or has he just been lucky accepting handouts from his mom and dad, and now Carlos. So many more deserving people than him have been dealt a shit hand in life. But here he is, still standing, still thriving by some standards, even though he has tried to throw it all away more times than he can count.

He has been asked three times recently if he was trying to kill himself. He denied the accusations but in the back of his head he knows there is some truth there. Lately, he lives every day without imagining there will ever be a tomorrow.

TK heads to the freezer without turning on the kitchen light. He is groping blindly in the freezer for something to ice his face with. His lip is stinging and he can feel his right eye swelling. Shit. He was hoping to avoid a black eye. Those are more difficult to explain away than a busted lip.

The light turns on and he hears a slight cough behind him. TK sighs and clenches his jaw painfully to suppress the tears that try to form in his eyes. Shit is about to hit the fan. He whirls around clutching a bag of frozen peas.

“TK, where have you been?” a tired-looking Owen asks, before he can process his son’s appearance.

“I didn’t realize I had a curfew now,” TK snaps back, raising the frozen peas to his face, trying to conceal the worst of the damage.

Owen is not easily fooled. Nobody who has loved an addict as long as he has, is. He moves TK’s hand away from his face, schooling his own face to not show the concern and frustration he feels when he sees his son bruised and swollen. He watches TK closely, observing the physical expression of the war happening inside the boy’s head. Will he seek comfort or lash out? TK’s face settles into a scowl, confirming this will be a fight. “What the hell happened to you?” Owen asks.

A short, clipped response: “I’m fine.”

“That is not what I asked.”

TK stares back at Owen, not saying anything. He is too tired and too upset to do this right now. But the only thing that seems worse than having this conversation with is dad is admitting that he is not mentally well enough to do so.

“I will ask again. Remember, no secrets.” The warning tone in Owen’s voice reminds TK of his childhood.

“I got arrested,” TK mumbles, making space between him and his dad. He meant to say it with his chest. He wants to sound unbothered, but speaking the words out loud makes him feel even more humiliated by his own actions.

Owen feels his anger flare, and doesn’t speak until he has cooled it down with several deep breaths. He needs to tread lightly. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. They didn’t charge me with anything,” TK answers dismissively while staring at the hallway, longing to escape into the cooling solitude of his room.

“What did you do?” Owen watches as the accusing tone of his voice sends TK over the edge. He realizes too late that he should have asked what happened, not what TK did.

“I got in a bar fight. Now leave me alone.” TK tries to walk away but his dad grabs his arm. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Owen’s grip remains firm as his nightmare seems to materialize in front of him. TK is using. TK is refusing his help. “What are you on? You didn’t get into a bar fight sober.”

TK pulls his arm free but turns to his dad instead of running. He is ashamed of his action tonight but he did not relapse. That is the last sliver of pride he has left. It makes him furious that his dad really does not trust him at all. “I ordered mineral water! I didn’t even get the chance to drink it before I got my shit kicked in.”

“Don’t play me for a fool, TK!” Owen shouts. He loses his grip on his emotions as his cloistered concern slips from his mouth. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Yes, I have!” TK blanches, he has been caught out. His sleep has been off, but not for the reason his dad thinks. It is private.

“You have not touched your bunk at the firehouse a single time!” Owen responds, matching TK’s volume, annoyed that he is still lying.

“I sleep at home!”

Owen needs to act before he loses his nerve. He needs to do what is best for his son, even though it is hard right now. “I need to check your room.” The wild panic that crosses TK’s face, apparent even through his swollen features, solidifies Owen’s certainty that TK is hiding substances in his room. Right under his father’s nose.

Owen steps towards the hallway, but TK barrels past him, blocking the closed door to his room with his whole body. TK knows he is making everything worse, but he is frenzied by the need to maintain a single shred of his dignity. “I need privacy, Dad!”
“Tyler Kennedy, you have to earn your privacy.” Owen stands in front of TK, reaching around him to get to the door.

“NO!” TK yells out, blocking him in a final desperate attempt. His voice cracks and gives out as he shouts, “I’m an adult!”

“Yeah, an adult that I can suspend from the fire service and drive to rehab tonight. Don’t think I won’t do it, Tyler,” Owen warns.

“Fine,” TK whispers and steps away from the door. He slumps against the opposite wall and sinks to the ground, burying his head in his hands and sobbing quietly, ashamed that his father can see him falling apart. But the 126 is more important than his pride.

Owen stares at his son, desperate to comfort him, but he lunges into action before he second guesses himself. The moment he opens the door and looks around the nearly empty room, he realized he fucked up. He still goes through the process of turning over every single corner of the room, but he knows now he won’t find anything.

The reason TK was hysterically trying to protect his space is tangled up in the sheets of the unmade bed. TK has never been okay with looking weak or childish, it may be a symptom of his entire career existing in the shadow of his father. But despite his son’s insistence on separating himself from anything that could be perceived as infantile, it is clear that he has been using his childhood comfort item, at the age of 26.

Suddenly, a relapse seems easier to deal with, rehab has been successful for TK before, but Owen doesn’t know what to do about this. Clearly his son is hurting, broken inside, in ways that Owen can’t comprehend. He reaches and picks up the lovey. That is what he and Gwyn always called the teddy bear head with a blankie for a body. The corners of the fabric look wrinkled and worn, where young TK used to suck on it while he slept. TK’s lovey seeing the light of day in 2020 is not something Owen could have predicted.

He walks slowly into the hallway, feeling guilty for a discovering a secret that his son wanted so desperately to keep from him. But he said no secrets, and they will have to talk about this. Not right now, though. Owen squats down next to his crying son, and puts a hand on his shoulder.

TK looks up at him, his eyes are filled with pure hurt, anger, and defeat. He stands and storms into his room. Owen stares after him, holding the bear in his hand. He walks to the door and knocks lightly. “TK, do you need your lovey?”

“No! Go away!” TK is trying to save his dignity but even to his own ears, he sounds like a petulant child.

Chapter Text

TK is so drained he barely has the energy to strip off his pants and t-shirt before falling into bed. He just wants to stop thinking. But his brain keeps replaying the soft, concerned look on his father’s face. He does not need that sympathy. He is even more angry with himself now. His dad didn’t need another reason to worry about him. What the fuck is wrong with him, anyway? Why can’t TK just go back to normal?

He tries to convince himself that he can bring an end to all of his childish nonsense tonight. He is done sleeping with his lovey. It is over. TK repeats that to himself repeatedly as he tries to drift off to sleep, but his tears keep falling. He can’t do this. He has a shift tomorrow, and he needs to sleep. Every time sleep creeps up on him and he starts to nod off, he wakes with a start, scared to slip away into darkness. With nothing to ground him, he is scared to let go.

These sleep issues started after his overdose. He was fine in the hospital; he was exhausted, basically still on death’s door, so all he did was sleep. Then his dad brought him back to his studio, refusing to let TK stay alone in his apartment. They didn’t really talk about it. There was just one bed and TK was still healing and they were both traumatized. So TK slept with his dad at night, like he was a little boy again, scared of the dark and crashing airplanes.

He tried to keep a distance, but during his fitful sleep, he would seek the warmth and reassurance of his father. The trip to Austin was a blur of exhaustion. They stayed in hotel rooms together, but now that he was sleeping on his own again, TK was waking up in a panic state most nights. Stifling his cries in the pillow, to not alert Owen.

By the time they arrived in Texas, TK is more exhausted than he has ever been. Sleeping in his new room isn’t any better than those nights in the hotels. Facing starting work again, he needs to figure this out, but for obvious reasons, sleeping medication was not an option.

He knew he should talk to his new psychologist about this, but he was too embarrassed. Yes, he almost died and yes, that was terrifying, but it was his own fault. He knows he doesn’t deserve sympathy. That should be saved for his mom and dad. His dad, who resuscitated him, then uprooted his whole life just to protect TK’s ungrateful ass.

The night before his first 24-hour shift in Austin, TK couldn’t sleep again. He was afraid to be unconscious, to slip away into nothingness, and never wake up again. He thought back to his first week out of the hospital, sleeping in bed with his dad. He felt grounded, like something was holding him to the earth so he couldn’t float away.

He momentarily thought about walking down the hallway in the dark and climbing into his dad’s bed. He knows Owen would never turn him away, but it was too humiliating to even think about. There is no way he could follow through with it. As he looked around his room in the dim light from the lamp, he couldn’t make himself turn off at night, his eyes caught on the bin of his childhood things. His mom had saved a selection of precious items from when he was a kid and given them to him when he first moved out on his own.

Before he can think too hard about it, he rushes to the bin and digs out his lovey from the baby clothes and favorite toys. He crawls into bed with it and presses his face into the worn fabric, clutching the teddy bear head in his fist. The softness brushes against his cheeks and the familiar scent immediately relaxes him. His breathing slows and his muscles unwind. Before he knows it, TK has drifted off to sleep, feeling tethered to the earth again. He woke up in the morning to discover the corner of the blankie had found its way into his mouth, like it did every night of his childhood. He was disgusted with himself and embarrassed. No one could know about this. He told himself it was a onetime thing, but it kept happening. He wouldn’t sleep on shift, because he couldn’t and then he would be so exhausted at home, he would do anything to get some rest. Even degrade himself by acting like a child.

Tonight he is facing the dilemma again. He is so tired and needs to sleep because he has a shift tomorrow. But unlike the other nights, his lovey isn’t already in his bed, waiting for him to give in. It is somewhere in the house. His dad has it. TK angrily wipes away the tears that brim in his eyes again. He cannot get himself together. He creeps out of his room and does a quick search of the kitchen and living room, hoping his dad had left the lovey in a communal space, but he can’t find it.

He steels himself for the shame and knocks reluctantly on Owen’s door. His father answers it so quickly, it is like he was waiting. He hands TK his lovey and simply says, “good night, son,” before shutting the door again.

The next morning, Owen wakes up early. He needs to speak with TK before their shift. Things got out of hand last night and they both went off the rails. Owen needs to apologize, but he also needs to try to understand what is going on with TK. He prepares two espresso and shoulders the door open to TK’s room. The kid was so exhausted last night he didn’t even shut it all the way.

Setting the coffees down, Owen takes a moment to observe TK in his sleep. He looks more peaceful and relaxed than Owen has seen him since the overdose. But he is still shocked to see his grown son, not only snuggling with his blankie but sleeping with a corner of the fabric in his mouth, like he fell asleep sucking on it. Owen doesn’t care, he doesn’t care at all how his son finds comfort as long as it isn’t something that hurts himself or others. something TK has always struggled with.

Owen gently sits on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through TK’s hair, gently waking him. TK slowly stretches and resumes sucking on the lovey before he fully wakes up and becomes aware of his surrounding. He bolts upright and stares at his dad. “Why are you in here?”

“You left your door open and we need to talk.”

“Did we not talk enough last night?” TK asks, turning red as the memories flood in. He quickly tosses his lovey to the other side of his bed.

“No,” Owen answers simply and hands TK his coffee. “Meet me in the kitchen.” This conversation will go better in a neutral space.

When TK makes his way to the kitchen, it is clear to Owen that he has already shut himself off. This conversation will not be very productive. But he finishes making their smoothies anyway and breaks the silence. “So, you are having trouble sleeping?”

TK stares at him with an annoyed smirk, “obviously.”

“Have you spoken to your psychologist about it?” Owen asks.

“That’s none of your business.” TK hates himself for being a little shit to his dad, but he can’t help it. He is ashamed and he can’t handle his dad’s anger or sympathy right now.

“Well, do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Owen sighs, “well we do need to talk about you not sleeping on shift.”

“No, we don’t,” TK snaps back.

“That is not for you to decide. I am speaking to you as your captain right now, not your father.”

Owen can almost see TK shrink further into himself. “Yes, sir.”

“I need you alert on calls, and you cannot be if you are not sleeping…”

“I sleep at home,” TK interrupts.

“That is not enough, and you know it.” Owen stares at TK until he gives a reluctant nod. “If you continue to refuse to sleep on shift, I will suspend you until you get your sleep situation sorted out.”

TK glares at Owen, choosing to stoke his anger so he doesn’t start crying again. He will fall apart without his job. He will relapse, he might finish what he has started…. No, he can’t let this happen. The air in the room feels thick and he can’t suck enough into his lungs.

Owen softens back into ‘dad mode’ as he sees TK slipping into a panic attack. Damn it, how has he missed so much? He did not know his son was having panic attacks again. As far as he knew, this hadn’t been a problem since he was a teenager. “TK, drink this,” he commands, passing TK his smoothie. “Drink,” he says a little louder, breaking through the haze of TK’s mind. “Good job. Slowly now. Don’t choke,” he instructs. “What does it taste like?” TK doesn’t respond. “TK, what does it taste like?”

TK struggles to reel his mind back in, to come back to the moment. “Peanut butter,” he finally answers.

“And where are we?” Owen asks.

“Kitchen. In Austin.”

“Good,” Owen says, walking around and placing a hand on TK’s back as the boy’s breath evens back out. “What happened?” Owen asks when TK finally turns to him. He wraps his son in a hug and is relieved when TK squeezes him back.

“I don’t want to get suspended and… I don’t know how you expect me to sleep…” TK responds. His tone is desperate, imploring his father to change his mind.

Owen wishes he could, but he needs to do what is best, not just for TK, but for the whole crew. He is responsible for keeping them all safe. “Maybe you could bring your lovey…”

Before Owen can finish, TK is out of his arms and across the room. “Absolutely not. I’ll just sleep without it.”

Owen isn’t sure if he is making the correct decision or not, but before they leave for the fire station, when TK is waiting for him in the car, Owen rushes into his son’s room. He slips the lovey, TK predictably left behind, in his own duffle, just in case.

Chapter Text

“Damn TK! What happened?” Marjan asks, grabbing TK by the shoulders to inspect his black eye and swollen lip up close. 

“That’s a nice one,” Paul confirms with a low whistle. 

“I would say you should see the other guy, but there were two of them, so no doubt they made it out better,” TK responds casually, with a seemingly easy smile. He spots his dad lurking and turns his body in a way that blocks him out of the conversation. As Owen walks off, Judd joins the group in time to hear TK explain the seedy bar he went to and the fight he got in, with embellishments, of course. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t happen without trouble. Were you trying to get arrested?” Judd scolds, unable to hide his disappointment.

TK’s rage that Judd would think it is his place to reprimand him quickly turns to embarrassment. He wasn’t trying to get arrested. He was trying to feel something, or maybe he was trying to stop feeling for good. TK fights to keep his face from blushing as shame makes him want to squirm out of this conversation. He is trying to play this casual and cool. It’s not like he could have hidden his injuries and they work with police officers all the time. The truth would get out, eventually. Hell, it seems like Judd had already heard. He might as well control the narrative. 

“Well, you know, I hadn’t checked out the Austin police station yet. There are some hot cops there,” TK responds with a wink as he turns to walk away. He feels even more disgusting, talking about Carlos that way. What the fuck is wrong with him? He doesn’t even like himself these days. This is exactly why he can’t pursue anything deeper than a quick fuck with the cop. He isn’t worthy of the man’s fancy dinners and caring looks.

“So you got arrested?” Paul shouts after him. 

“Yeah, but they couldn’t pin me with anything,” TK answers over his shoulder as he walks up the stairs. Ruining his cool exit by stumbling. 

The chorus of laughter behind him is interrupted by Marjan commenting, “he is something else, that’s for sure.”

 
TK does not miss Judd mumbling “hot head,” even though he is sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it.

TK takes a moment to clear his head as he deposits his bag in a locker. This is his happy place. He loves work and is starting to really enjoy the new team. This is the one place his bravado isn’t false. He knows how to do his job and he is good at it. That is probably why Judd’s insults yesterday got to him so much. It made him question his confidence in his abilities and everything he has earned. 

There isn’t much time for TK to get lost in his own head because the alarm goes off and continues to go off all day. There isn’t anything major, but they stay busy. Everyone is exhausted by the time they get back to the station from extinguishing an apartment kitchen fire. The crew hits the showers, but TK busies himself preparing a snack for everyone. It is getting late, and he is hoping that if he stalls enough, his dad will go to sleep before he can pester TK about laying down. 

Owen watches his crew discuss their calls from the day while they eat the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches TK prepared for them. He does not miss the fact that TK has not taken a shower yet. He is trying to squirrel his way out of sleeping. Owen is deciding how he will confront him about it without embarrassing him when the alarm goes off again. There is a collective groan as they all jump up from the table. 

The mood was light when they left the station. It is a sharp contrast to the room they are standing in now. The hysterical wails of the mother make the paramedics have to shout to hear each other. His team stands entranced as they watch Michelle, Tim, and Nancy work on the patient. 

They had shown up and  broken down the door to the apartment. What they found almost brought tears to Owen’s eyes. A young man was lying on the floor, pills scattered all around him. Owen has seen this before, more times than he would like, but the last time, it was his son. His boy. Now TK is standing next to him, having what must be an out-of-body experience, watching the paramedics try to revive the man while his mother cries out in horror. 

But this patient doesn’t get lucky. The Narcan doesn’t work; he had been gone too long when they arrived. As he is pronounced dead, Owen puts a firm hand on TK’s shoulder, but after one squeeze, he is shrugged off. He can’t blame him. They have to get through this call. Now is not the time to be emotional. TK trudges out of the apartment and returns with a body bag for the paramedic team. It is silent in the truck all the way back, the laughter from earlier, a distant memory.

TK sneaks away into the weight room as soon as they return. His thoughts are so jumbled he can’t make sense of them. He died. That guy is gone. He will never take another breath. He will never hug his mother again. All of his life is snuffed out, and for what? A quick high? A moment of release? 

He collapses on the weight bench and covers his mouth with his hand, barely stifling the rough sobs escaping him. Why him? TK doesn’t understand why he lived, why he was allowed another chance? Not a second chance. He has had way more than that. The patient’s mom said he had only started using a month ago after having shoulder surgery. One month of bad decisions and now he is dead. TK has had years of fuck ups but he is still standing. 

The worse part is TK can’t even say he wishes it was him instead. He is selfish. He wouldn’t trade places with the dead man. He is too scared. He is a wimp. TK is terrified of dying.

“TK?” Owen’s voice startles him into jumping up. He crosses to the corner of the room and forcefully wipes his eyes, facing away from his dad. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry you had to see that.” 

“I’m fine Dad. It’s my job.” TK turns around and holds his head up high even though his chin is wobbling. 

“We can talk about it,” Owen offers. 

“No.” 

“TK..”

“No Captain. There is nothing to discuss.”

Owen bristles at TK using his title, shifting them into their professional roles. If he wants authority, then he can have it. “Fine, you need to go to bed then.” 

His dad can’t actually expect him to sleep after that. “No, I can’t.” 

“You can go down to the bunk room or you can go home. The choice is yours.”

TK glares at his dad but eventually mumbles, “fine.” 

As TK walks by him, Owen grabs his arm. This is a gamble, but maybe he can still help his son. “I brought your lovey, if you want it.” 

TK violently rips his arm away from Owen and turns on him. Simultaneously furious and humiliated. “No, I told you I wasn’t bringing it.” Owen is tempted to take a step back, but he stays firm as his son hisses in his face, “don’t touch my stuff.” Then he is gone. Owen is frozen until he hears the shower running. TK is staying. Good? He really isn’t sure what would be best. 

Chapter Text

Owen waits until TK is done in the shower before taking another one himself. An ice-cold shower. He needs to cool off because his frustration with TK is building. He knows he shouldn’t be frustrated with his son. The kid is going through a lot, but so is Owen. He almost lost his only child, and he changed everything for him. He would do it over again, but it still frustrates him that all the sacrifices haven’t earned TK’s trust. 

But maybe it is too much too late. Owen walked away when TK was too young to understand what was going on. When he was waking up in the middle of the night screaming, thinking his dad had died when the towers collapsed. He was never there to hold him, to tell him his dad was okay. Because he wasn’t. And he took too long to get the help he needed and almost lost everything that mattered. Maybe it is foolish of him to think that his son will ever trust him to chase his nightmares away when he was never there before. But he is here now.

 
Walking into the bunkroom, Owen checks the bed next to his before laying down. TK is there, staring at him with bloodshot eyes, angry and scared. Communicating clearly without words that his dad can make him lie down, but he can’t make him sleep. 

It is difficult to stay awake in a room full of sleeping people. TK sinks into the obnoxiously comfortable mattress (because of course Owen got nothing but the best for the firehouse) and listens to Judd’s snores. He manages to be annoyed by the sound for five minutes until the even pattern feels soothing, like the white noise of an airplane. So he switches his focus to his dad’s even breathing, occasionally punctuated by wheezes. How could he be so obsessed with TK taking care of himself but not even take himself to the doctor for a cough he has had for months? He went to see a hair doctor, for fuck’s sake. 

Righteous anger only goes so far and soon all he can think about is the one thing he is trying to avoid. 

He tries to keep his eyes open because every time they droop closed, all he sees is the body bag zipping up over the young man’s face, plunging him into eternal darkness. He can hear the definitive sound of the zipper, more haunting than the mother’s screams. It plays over and over again on loop until he is no longer looking at the other guy’s face. He is looking at himself as the zipper closes in, taking his life away. He now looks out from inside the bag, watching each tooth of the zipper knit together, trying to yell out that they are making a mistake. He is alive. But he isn’t alive. He feels so cold, and he can’t move, he can’t scream. All he can do is watch in horror as the zipper is finally shut, plunging him into complete darkness. Darkness that swallows him whole, slowly dimming the ability to feel every part of his body until all that is left is the thoughts in his head. He clings to his mind desperately, but like a candle, the thoughts snuff out and there is nothing. Nothing. 

TK’s eyes fly open and he screams out, jolting straight up in bed. He looks around, but the room is dark, too dark. He doesn’t know where he is, if he is. He can’t breathe, dead people can’t breathe, so he must be dead. 

Owen flies out of his bed before the blood-curdling scream comes to a stop. The sound rattles his bones and reverberates in his soul, the way only his child’s pain could. But he freezes when he reaches TK’s bed side, stunned by the horror he sees in his eyes. He is jolted into action as the light flicks on. He briefly registers that Marjan turned it on as she rushed into the boy’s bunk room. Mateo, Judd, and Paul are out of their beds, but Owen only has eyes for TK as he firmly grabs his shoulders. 

“TK,” he starts quietly, but TK can’t seem to hear him over his own gasps and sobs. “TK!” he shouts this time, giving the boy a shake. But his eyes are glossed over. He isn’t in the room with him. The panic has taken over. All he can do is watch in horror as TK’s mind torments him. The sobs and panting start to make him gag, Owen tries again. “Son, you need to calm down.” But he might as well be speaking to a wall because TK can’t hear anything. And nature must run its course. TK’s stomach can’t handle the wild movements of his diaphragm, and one violent gag brings up his dinner. TK is too far gone to even lean forward, as vomit runs down his chin, landing on his shirt and in his lap. 

After a few more gags, the worst of it seems to pass, but TK still isn’t getting enough oxygen. His lips are turning blue. Owen needs to get him to calm down before he passes out. “Mateo!”

“Yes, Cap?” Mateo sounds terrified. 

“Go to my locker. I need you to get the stuffed bear blankey thing out and bring it to me.” Owen doesn’t know if Mateo is confused because he can’t take his eyes off his son. He can’t stand for TK to sit in his mess, so he eases TK’s dirty shirt off. Surprised and alarmed by how pliant he is, he wipes his son’s face with the shirt, then throws it aside with the dirty blankets. “Judd.”

 
Judd steps forward and helps him lift TK, depositing him in Owen’s empty bed. Owen settles behind his son and pulls him into his lap, leaning him back against his chest. “Just breathe,” he says directly into TK’s ear. “Follow my breaths.” 

Owen breathes deeply and evenly and gives a slight encouraging nod to his crew when he feels TK’s desperate gasps start to adjust, trying to follow the pattern of his breathing. Mateo returns with the lovey and tries to hand it to Owen, but TK reaches out and grabs it directly from Mateo, bringing it up to his face. 

Finally, TK takes a deep breath as he shoves his face into his lovey. TK isn’t thinking about or even aware of the people surrounding him. He is just trying to breathe, to convince himself he is alive. The soft brush of his lovey against his cheek, and the stale scent of the fabric bring him back into his body, finally convincing him he is alive. He slips the corner of the fabric into his mouth and sucks on it, soothing himself and forcing him to breathe evenly through his nose. He sinks back into his father, enjoying the sensation of gentle fingers brushing the sweat soaked hair off of his face. 

The peace is momentary because the lights are bright, forcing TK to open his eyes to discover his whole team and the Paramedic team standing around staring at him. Staring at him with his lovey in his mouth while he sits in his dad’s lap. He scrambles out of the bed and away from his dad, clutching his lovey, dumbly staring at everyone. The hysterical sobs from earlier are quickly replaced with burning tears of humiliation. 

“TK, it’s okay,” Owen says, reaching a hand out to him slowly, like he is a feral animal. 

And like an injured animal, TK lashes out, turning on his father, “Dad! I told you! I told you I couldn’t sleep!” 

“TK, just calm down. It’s okay.” 

 TK practically growls at him, “this is all your fault.” 

After all that, Owen can’t believe that TK immediately jumps to anger and blaming him. He can’t take this anymore. His son is pulling away and refusing his help, again. Owen snaps. “This is not my fault!” 

“Yes it is!”

“Damn it TK! No it isn’t! If you weren’t so fucking stubborn, this would not have happened! If you had just taken your lovey to bed, no one would know about it! But look what you did!” Owen gestures to everyone gathered around them and the pile of blankets covered in vomit. He should stop. He has gone too far. It is apparent by the way TK is shrinking into himself, defiance replaced with self-loathing. 

But Owen can’t stop himself. “You want to walk around here like a big man but you can’t even sleep without your lovey!”

“Dad,” TK gasps. 

“Go home! You are done! I don’t want to see you in this fire house until you can act like an adult!” 

Tears flow freely down TK’s face as he turns to run out of the room, pushing past the crowd of people trying to get out the door, to give them privacy. 

“Cap!” Judd says reproachfully. 

“Not right now,” Owen warns as he makes his own exit.