Chapter Text
Today was supposed to be his last day on the job.
The paperwork was signed. Goodbyes were said, hugs were exchanged, and by the end of the day TK would officially be a full time father to Jonah.
The decision was one that came easier than TK could have ever imagined. Before his mother’s death, before the circumstances that landed his stepfather in prison and left his little brother with no family left to care for him, his job had been at the center of his identity. Saving people will always be who he is.
Now, he has someone else to save. Jonah is the most important thing in TK’s life, and being a parent to him isn't just what he has to do, it's who he is. Who he's becoming.
He grew up admiring those who sacrificed everything. He’d always imagined himself following in his father’s footsteps, running into the throes of danger and pulling people back from tragedy’s deadly grasp. For years, this has always been his purpose. To Help. To save, but he can't afford to be a hero anymore.
He can't afford to be selfless when his little brother is depending on him to stay alive.
This was a cost of fatherhood he never anticipated, but one that is more clear than any decision he's ever made before. His and Carlos’ perspectives shifted after the asteroid. They had nearly lost each other again, and they were once again facing the reality that they could lose each other at any moment, and that Jonah could lose them both. It became clear in that moment what needed to be done.
By the next morning, TK had already begun the process of starting a new chapter of his life, the weight slowly lifting from his chest as he signed his resignation papers, Carlos’ hands a steady presence on his shoulders – a reminder that he would not be embarking on this journey alone.
The fear of having to lose his husband in order to do right by his brother hadn't truly left him yet, but it lessened with every gentle touch, every reassuring kiss, every whispered reminder that everything was going to be okay. Carlos stayed by his side through all of it, all the way through to his final day on the job.
TK never counts on any shift going smoothly, and he was certain today would be no different, but up until the last hour it was almost eerily easygoing. There were no disasters, no grueling emergencies followed by agonizing deaths – just minor injuries and a delicious lunch that Carlos had packed for him this morning.
Everything was perfect.
Then, only twenty minutes before he would be stepping out of this firehouse for the last time as a firefighter, as a paramedic, the bells went off for one final time.
His last call.
As far as emergencies go, this one turns out to be fairly routine. They arrive in just under ten minutes after running into minimal traffic, as luck would have it, making good time as they descend upon the scene.
Sunset scatters across the streets as they begin unloading their gear from the rig, the beginnings of a mellow winter evening settling into the sky, its vast expanse inked with shades of orange and grey. Clouds decorate the space above while TK follows behind his team below. His bag is light on his back, and his feet carry him with a balance of urgency and professionalism.
Information cycles through his mind on a loop. A teenage boy who broke his leg exploring an abandoned house when it partially collapsed. Not their first case like this, and certainly not Tommy and Nancy’s last.
TK hears Paul’s voice crackling over the radio, informing them that the structure isn’t going to remain stable for long. They have to work fast.
Paul has been captain for a very short period of time, filling in for Owen while he apartment hunts in New York. The position will eventually be filled by Judd when all is said and done, but Paul has been the rock they all needed in the interim.
And TK has known him long enough to know not to question any urgency he hears in his voice.
Thankfully, everything about the scene is as normal as they could hope for once they finally have eyes on the kid. Tommy asks him questions about what happened, about his pain level, while TK works with Nancy to bandage his leg and stabilize it a splint.
As he focuses on keeping the boy calm, TK learns that his name is Nick and he's an aspiring filmmaker who was exploring the abandoned neighborhood looking for a place to shoot a short film for his class. TK asks him about school, about life, not only to distract him from the pain but also because he's genuinely curious. He always is, and he never fails to become a little too attached to the people he meets on the job. He can't help it, that's just always been his nature.
Carlos always says it's because he loves people more than anyone else he's ever met, and it's one of the things he loves most about him.
TK knows it's a gamble letting himself get too close when they could potentially lose every single person they treat, but it's worth the risk. It's worth hurting a little more every time they lose a patient, even if it's just to have known them a little better.
As they finally get Nick onto the gurney and begin to head for the exit, the dim light casting through the broken window highlights his dark, matted hair. TK makes a mental note to double check for head wounds once they're in the ambulance. If the smile on his face in response to one of Nancy's jokes is any indication, he's going to be fine, but there's no such thing as being too careful. TK keeps his eyes focused on him, hoping that his last call won't be a devastating one.
Then, he gasps – a sound so sharp that it sets off alarms in TK’s head. He briefly thinks that he must be feeling more pain than he was before until he attempts to turn his head back against the gurney, trying to look back towards the pile of rubble he’d been laying in.
“Wait, my necklace.”
Tommy and Nancy exchange confused glances, and TK is about to ask for clarification when he sees Nick feeling around his neck for something that must have been there prior to his fall.
“The clasp must have broken,” he explains. “Can we go look for it? My mom gave it to me when I was little.”
Tommy explains that it isn’t safe to search for it, that the building could still collapse again at any given moment.
‘No, I still had it on when I called 911. It’s probably still right there.”
TK immediately understands the sentiment. He can imagine Nick having held it tightly in his fingers, fiddling with it like a lifeline, hyper-aware of the presence of something he wears every day because of the comfort it brings in moments such as these.
Still, Tommy shakes her head. She apologizes and suggests that they look for it after the structure is safe enough, and usually TK would agree with her. She’s not wrong, but he also knows the likelihood of such a small object turning up after secondary collapse, and the chances aren’t great.
The metal of his own necklace rests heavy against his chest, his medallion and his wedding ring tucked underneath the safety of his uniform. He knows the weight of their absence would be far greater if he ever lost either of them.
Suddenly, he’s offering to go grab the kids necklace without giving it a second thought.
“TK,” Tommy warns, pausing to meet his eyes, and then slowly nodding instead.
“Get him to the ambulance,” he says. “It’ll take two seconds and I’ll be right behind you.”
He knows he has to be quick, partially because they can't delay care and need to get Nick to the hospital right away, but also because Tommy was right. The building is still dangerously unstable, and every instinct he picked up during his time as a firefighter is screaming at him to get out.
He immediately spots the missing necklace as he approaches the pile of rubble, glistening amongst the ruin. He grabs it, feeling the weight of another person's life and love as it dangles from his grasp.
The sight of the tiny locket on the necklace pushes away any urge of rushing off he felt before. He's too overpowered by the familiarity, too distracted by emotion to have the sense to run.
Maybe that’s why he doesn't hear the rumble of the foundation as it starts to give way, why he doesn’t notice the subtle vibrations until the cracks burst open beneath his feet.
It happens in a single breath.
An inhale, a sharp cracking sound as the floor gives beneath his feet. A burning sensation as adrenaline surges inside of him.
He falls faster than the air can escape his lungs.
There isn't much pain at first. Gravity is merely a concept for one shockingly slow moment before everything – TK included – suddenly crashes down.
The first thing he registers is the searing heat against his back as he makes impact with the floor below, shooting up his spine and rendering him numb as all sensation is ripped away from one merciful second before reigniting tenfold.
He thinks he screams, but he can't be sure. The world is spinning too quickly and his ears are still ringing as he's shoved over an oblivious cliff, unaware of the danger until he's being sucked inside.
The next thing he feels is the only thing he can understand amidst the pain and the chaos – a weight, pressing down harshly against his legs and lower stomach, pinning him to the dusty basement floor.
The shock sets in almost instantly, stealing the breath from TK's lungs and dulling his senses, the only discernible source of pain being a general throbbing with every beat of his heart. His blood rushes through his veins so fast that it screams from deep within in, crying something is wrong before TK can even get his bearings.
The numbness wears off fast, and the first thing he understands is that he's pinned by what remains of the floor, giant slabs of concrete cocooning him into the ground. He can't see his legs. He can barely lift his head, too dizzy to even comprehend anything other than the sight of dirt and something else he can't quite make out yet. Something dark, and wet.
His radio is dead. That much is obvious when he unclips the smashed pieces that remain of it from his chest. He'll have to check to see if his phone is still working, but before he even thinks to see if he's even able to reach his pocket from his newly confined position, he has more pressing matters to attend to.
There's a burning sensation in his stomach, raging as it begs for his attention. TK, having worked with almost every type of injury, can already tell it's not good simply based on the pain he feels and the sharp edges of old, rusty pipes that are currently burrowed in places they shouldn't be.
He has to be certain, has to know exactly what he's dealing with, so he presses his hand gently against the source of pain, against where cold metal cuts through tattered fabric and sinks into hot, sickly flesh.
In the darkness, through a haze of tears and dust, TK can see his shaking hand as he pulls it away from his abdomen, coated in a dark red.
He explodes in agony.
It comes in waves, white hot knives heated by the fire of the building he's trapped underneath.
He must have been impaled when the ceiling came down on top of him. He can’t lift his head far enough to properly inspect the wound, and the adrenaline rushing through his veins is making it impossible for him to feel just how deep the wound is.
He attempts to look again, and a sharp pain pierces through his skull like a sleek blade, barely noticeable until it hits him all at once and he has to let his head fall back against the concrete again, wincing at the sudden movement.
It’s no use. He isn’t going to be able to treat himself down here. He runs through the checklist in his head, skipping over what he can’t do and focusing on what he can.
Keep pressure on the wound. Check. Slow down your breathing. Check. Check your heart rate. TK lifts two trembling fingers to the pulse point on his neck, undoubtedly smearing some of his own blood against his skin as he presses down.
Fast, but steady. Check.
He’s methodical in the way he works on himself, treating his own body like he would any other patient because he knows not to panic. He knows everything he has to do in order to buy his team as much time as possible to come dig him out.
Even if he knows he might not make it, he can’t let that interfere with doing the job he was put on this earth to do one last time.
His heart paces in his chest a little faster as the reality of his situation starts to sink in, and any thoughts of what his nexts steps might be are suddenly replaced with only one.
He wants Carlos.
God, does he even know? Is he at work – at his desk or on a case – counting down the time until both of their shifts are over and they can fall into each other's arms like they always do?
Will the next time he sees him be in a hospital? Will Carlos finally receive the devastating call that every spouse of a first responder dreads?
TK can't bear to think of him getting that call. He won't let it happen. Not today.
And if it has to happen, he isn't going to let anyone other than him tell Carlos that he's never going to see him again.
Taking in a deep breath, TK calms himself and refocuses on what's in front of him. He does another inventory, looking and feeling around as much as he can in hopes of finding something more useful than concrete and shallow air.
His eyes settle on something as he looks downward. A soft loop of chain rests on top of his chest, the gold of the necklace standing out so starkly against his black uniform that TK isn't sure how he didn't notice it right away.
He threads the necklace between his fingers, shivering as he holds it up and uses his thumb to push the locket open.
There, in dusty, muted color – a picture of a small boy and a woman. Assumably, his mother.
An exhausted sob spills from TK's lips as he stares at the tiny photo, holding a stranger's most treasured memory in his bloodstained hands, protecting it, even if he can't protect himself. He won't let this be lost to the rubble.
The picture reminds him of his photo albums, the ones he keeps tucked away. He thinks about the memories of his mom, how he'd do anything to keep them safe. To keep those moments alive.
Love rushes through a picture the way blood rushes through a body, filling it with life and passion.
All notions of remaining calm and professional are forgotten. He can't save himself, nor can he wait to be saved while doing nothing, but he can call his husband.
He can call Carlos and hear his voice, just in case this is his last chance to do so.
He uses a sparing amount of strength to feel around for his pocket, finding that it isn't obstructed by the concrete and he can just barely manage to slip his phone out. He can't see it from this angle, but he can feel the familiar object against his shaking fingertips. His radio might have been lost, but his phone only seems to have a few cracks. Still usable.
Finally, he manages to lift his head long enough to unlock his phone and drag his thumb wearily across the screen until he finds Carlos’ contact.
Realistically, he should be calling Paul. The captain – even if just for now while his dad is in New York – and more importantly, the incident commander. He should be relaying information to his team about his whereabouts, but that isn't what's going to get him through this ordeal.
He wants to hear Carlos’ voice if he’s going to fight for his life.
The red color of his battery looms in the corner of the screen, indicating that TK doesn't have much time. He silently curses himself for forgetting to charge his phone today of all days and lets it rest on his chest, not wanting to watch it slowly die the same way he is.
A soft ringing sound whistles through the speaker, looping a handful of times until a silence cuts it off with the same force of the breath currently caught in TK’s throat.
The silence holds for a second too long, and TK can feel himself sinking into despair under the assumption that that call must have dropped again, that he wouldn’t get to hear Carlos’ voice again until–
“Hello?”
TK nearly sobs on the spot.
Hold it together. He tells himself. Conserve your energy.
“Carlos–” an intense wave of guilt washes over him when he takes a shuddering breath, fully aware of how that alone has alerted his husband of the gravity of this situation “I need you to call Paul.”
“TK? What's going on?”
“I'm stuck. They're trying to get to me,” TK explains. “I know I should have called him myself but I wanted to talk to you. Just tell him I'm on the basement level, east wall. I don’t know how bad the second collapse was, but if he–”
“Collapse? TK, where are you? Are you hurt?”
“I'm fine,” he assures, hoping the break in his voice isn't as noticeable on the other side of the call. “Just tell Paul where I am. He'll know where to look.”
“I'm on my way.”
“Carlos, no–”
“If you were fine you wouldn't have called,” he says, his voice both harsh and soft, his tone telling TK that he isn't going to take no for an answer in a million years.
“I'm coming. I'm only a few minutes away.”
Everything goes quiet for a few moments. Each breath TK takes is more labored than the last, mingling with the silence in the air and filling the absence of his husband's voice with unease.
He can't see how much blood he's lost. He could estimate if he looks at his phone to check the time, but he doesn't know if he has the strength to acknowledge that right now. He's much more content to exist in this timeless enclosure and pretend that when this is all over, it will just be another wild story to add to his “near death experience” collection, and that this isn't going to be the one that finally catches up to him.
It won't be the end. It can't be, not when he has so much to live for. Not when he has a family that loves him, a kid who needs him, and a husband who is probably holding back his pleas for him to hang on out of fear of acknowledging that same reality that they're both avoiding.
If he wasn't actively dying, Carlos wouldn't be so quiet.
Small pinpricks of light seep through the cracks in the concrete, cracks that TK could have sworn weren't there before. It could just be his vision fading out, his mind playing tricks on him. He knows this means he's losing too much blood, that he's close to death, but he allows the sight to comfort him anyway.
The faint noises in the distance are hazier than before too. He feels as if he's underwater, floating more than drowning, staring down into the dark abyss and hovering over his impending death. He can't escape it when the surface is too far to reach.
He's trapped in the purgatory of a slow death.
He thinks he hears Carlos saying something about how he's arrived on scene. He doesn't catch most of the words, but he's certain Paul would let him through. Let him be here for his family.
Before he loses it.
The thought of it makes TK sick. Carlos deserves to be happy, they both deserve to be happy. They were so close too. One more day, one more shift, and their future, their forever, would have been theirs.
The pain is fading. It's the final sign. The nail in the coffin. TK has felt the numbness spreading for a while now, but he couldn't acknowledge it. For the first time since he put on turnouts for the first time, he's ignoring his professional objectivity and whispering words of empty consolation to himself.
I'm going to make it.
I have to make it.
He considers if he should call his dad. He wants him to say everything will be okay, but TK has always been able to tell when he was lying for his sake. He may not be here, but if TK called him, he would know.
He's probably not making it out of this.
The reminder wrings a choked gasp from his lips, one he knows his husband heard.
“Hey, Carlos? Can you tell my dad goodbye for me?” he asks, before Carlos can express any concern about his condition. “Tell him I love him.”
“You can tell him yourself, TK,” he says, his own broken voice betraying his insistence. “You're going to be okay.”
TK can tell Carlos is struggling to believe himself when he says so, but he doesn't argue. Maybe they can pretend for a little longer.
He wouldn’t mind dying with a smile on his face.
“Okay. I'm going to be okay.”
There's a sincerity in his voice, one he's gotten quite good at faking with patients. Yet – he's still never mastered faking it with Carlos.
He knows his husband can hear the fear that permeates through the small space, that paints his every breath with crushing despair.
TK just manages to change the subject, his voice giving way to a fluttering wheeze as he begs Carlos in between words to focus not on what he's hearing, but what TK is saying.
“I was going to call Jonah again tonight.”
The thought twists like a knife inside of his increasingly-weak body. Jonah. His brother, so full of life despite everything he's been through. He carries an infectious joy around with him that TK will never again get to experience.
His laughter is a memory that echoes cruelly in TK's mind. As if the anger he felt over what he was losing wasn't enough, it's nowhere near the agony he feels knowing that Jonah is losing his last living family member. His last source of familiarity and safety.
His home, one he never even got the chance to live in. It's already gone. Buried, right here next to what will soon be TK's lifeless body.
“I really wanted us to be a family,” TK whispers amidst a choked cry.
Carlos lets out his first sob. TK can hear it happen even over the phone, his breathless resolve betraying his next, bitterly hopeful words.
“We still will.”
And maybe that's true. Maybe in a dream, their family can still be. Maybe it will only exist as a thought that keeps the sorrow at bay for whatever time TK has left on this earth.
“TK tell me about Jonah,” Carlos urges. “Keep talking, baby.”
“Yesterday, he showed me another one of his drawings,” TK says, recalling their last interaction fondly. “I think he's gone through about three coloring books at this point – this one was a porcupine. He drew a sun behind it, and a bunch of little porcupines next to it…it was so adorable.”
“I told him when he got here that I would take him to the zoo to see the porcupines,” he remembers suddenly. “Can you take him, Carlos? Please?”
“ We're going to take him.”
Just as TK could never fake sincerity, Carlos cannot fake a promise. He speaks with a broken insistence, one that holds TK down and keeps him smiling, one that says without words I will do this for you.
Carlos can't say it out loud yet, but TK knows he's going to do everything he can to continue to love in his husband's wake. He won't die worried about the people he's leaving behind. Carlos will care for them, because TK married a man whose nature is to love in absolutes. The pain will make him love even harder. TK knows this, and his heart breaks for what Carlos will have to face after he takes his final breath.
Soon, the pain will be gone for TK. All of it will fade into the night, and Carlos will be left to pick up the pieces and face an even greater pain after he closes his eyes.
“I love you so much, Carlos. “I'm so sorry,”
TK knows he shouldn't apologize for dying, but he does anyway. He hopes Carlos can forgive him for breaking his heart, for leaving for good this time. He hopes Jonah will forgive him too.
He can hear Carlos pleading. Stay with me, TK. His voice echoes around him, bounding off of the walls of his makeshift tomb – as temporary as it may be. This is where he's going to die. So close, yet so far from the voice in his phone, from the face he aches to hold one last time before he closes his eyes for good.
Stay with me, baby, he hears again. Stay with me. He sounds so far away, like he's calling to him from the opposite end of a crowded room. The floor is splitting beneath their feet and he's reaching out, desperate to clear that chasm and grasp onto TK before it's too late, but TK can't hold on anymore. He can feel his consciousness slipping away, no longer suspended by the strength his husband's voice gave him.
He sucks in another breath, strangled and fear-stricken, and he exhales shakily.
“I love you…Carlos.”
The last of his energy siphons into his final words. He breathes through them slowly, his voice dripping with determination. Carlos is going to understand that the last thing he ever feels, the last thing he ever knows, is the love he has for him. He wants him to feel it exploding through the phone, forever woven into eternal existence, into the air his husband breathes, freed from the confines of his dying body.
The world is narrowing down around him now, everything from his vision to his heartbeat slowly withering away. The sticky sensation of his blood-soaked fingers is fading, replaced by pins and needles, and then nothing.
The pressure against his abdomen is gone, his hand now only a soft weight that lies motionless, cupped over the middle of his body like he’s been laid to rest in a casket. His other hand has found its final resting place over his heart, now that he can’t seem to find the strength to reach up to his neck and check his pulse anymore.
The air is colder, strangely so. TK knows it’s not supposed to get this cold tonight. He checked the forecast this morning. And yet, he’s freezing. A sharp static washes over his skin, erupting what little feeling he still has left in shock in dread.
Given the rate he’s been losing blood at, he knows he wouldn’t survive more than an hour down here. His time is almost up.
In the distance – he can see Carlos.
He can hear his mother's voice as she hums a sweet lullaby, the same way she did when he was a baby.
Everything is a muted buzz now. If there was anything happening on the outside, anyone that was coming for him, TK can't hear it.
Then, calm.
Sweet notes he forces past his chapped lips, sandpaper tongue tracing the roof of his mouth. He thinks it's in his head, that song he sings. He couldn't possibly have the energy, but he can pretend. For a moment, he can convince himself that he's wrapped in the warmth of his husband’s arms, safe, instead of trapped in the cold, dark nothingness.
The sound of his voice begins to warp, and he can hear Carlos singing to him.
The tears have come and gone. He can feel the familiar ache of worry and dread just beneath his eyes. It's the only pain he could never build a tolerance to. The only feeling he could never compartmentalize.
His family is out there. His future.
And he's losing it all.
There's nothing left for him to do except succumb to the inevitable, so he does, but not without his last remaining semblance of hope.
Daringly, angrily – he looks up.
Fear is drowned out by the memory of his husband's voice, of his brother's joyful laughter, and suddenly the surrender feels incomparable. He faces the universe, and in one final act of rebellion, he refuses to close his eyes. He refuses to stop fighting for every breath before he accepts this fate.
Under a dreary Texas sky – gone is the color that illuminated their world before. Under an unforgiving pile of concrete and steel and phantoms of his family wrapping him in their arms – static thrums through the air and renders him motionless until there's nothing left.
Only a quiet that follows that feels too empty to be heaven.
He's breathed his last breaths and spoken his final goodbyes, his existence forever woven into the fabric of the universe. Even as his body begins to fall still, destined to become one with the dirt sooner than he wanted, his memory will remain.
This life he's lived, this life he's thrived in, is one that fills him with pride. He's leaving behind enough love to make up for what is being lost, and that's what matters more than anything.
As he descends further into a weightless haze, he thinks he can hear Carlos. He can see him. Dark hair, a welcoming light that floods in between the brick crevices of their walls.
It feels warm, like the sun.
He must be dreaming.
It's strange to feel so at peace when he knows his heart has stopped beating.
There's a notable absence of everything he could hear and feel before, all of it now a fading memory that silences every voice, every rumble and crash of his loved ones clawing their way towards what they will soon discover to be a place where TK is no longer reaching back for them, no longer existing at all.
He can vividly imagine the way shock and resolve will clash on Carlos’ face when he sees him lying there.
Grief is a pain that will churn suddenly and violently and tear his insides to shreds. It's a pain that TK felt very briefly once – even if it felt like an eternity – when their positions were reversed. But now this feeling is one Carlos will have to carry for the rest of his life.
TK wishes he could take it away, but he can't. He remembers the distant cry of beeping he heard while he was in his coma, an indication that he was still alive. There's nothing like that here.
Here, he is truly, completely gone.
Everything he loves is out of his grasp for good, but it is not entirely lost. He can still hear his dream calling out to him from afar, inching closer and giving him a place to land once he's fallen for good.
Slowly, TK can feel his mind going quiet. He can feel the way his body falls still and accepts the fate he can no longer fight. There's a soft echo of his husband's voice that fills him with solace, a slow breath that saturates him in love and blankets him in relief. He doesn't know if he's dead or still barely alive, but either way the outcome is the same.
And either way – he's home.
So he closes his eyes and sinks into a dream.