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He was freezing until he wasn't. The line between the two worlds was blurred, if there had ever been a line in the first place. It felt good at first. The warm sensation burning under his skin was a welcome change to the cold cut of the winter air. It quickly morphed into an unbearable burning, and he no longer felt glad for the searing heat that was cooking his skin alive.
The pain was sharp and pulled on his skin, stretching him out until all that was left was a husk of sweat and shivers. He didn't remember taking off his clothes; all he knew was that he was too hot, and the snowy ground felt good. His body shook as he turned his face deeper into the snow. Why couldn’t he cool down?
“TK? TK!”
He was vaguely aware of his colleagues approaching him with blankets and concern, and with a sudden surge of energy, he pushed himself away from Nancy and his Captain. Were they trying to kill him? Why were they so insistent on getting him warm- he was burning! He needed to get colder!
When fighting proved no use, TK let them wrap his naked and quivering self and pull him up from the frozen ground. He was there, and then he wasn’t. Why was Nancy asking if he spoke Hebrew? He just wanted to lie back down. White began to cloud his vision, and he knew it was more than just the snow. His knees gave out with no warning, and he was back on the snow, a momentary relief before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
***
Tommy couldn’t breathe. She had been beating herself up for letting TK go on the ice even before he started showing signs of hypothermia, but now it was so much worse. Her charge, her medic, her friend’s son, her friend… lay at her knees with no heartbeat, the portable EKG screaming its monotone flatline.
“Come on, TK.” She whispered, restarting CPR. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she got him killed. He can’t die. Not on her watch.
***
Owen had thought that his awful day was coming to a close. Surely after stopping a trafficking ring and exposing a dirty cop while your life was in danger filled his bullshit quota for the day? When he opened his front door to see Tommy standing broken in front of him, he knew that he wasn’t getting off that easily. Her expression said it all; something had happened, and whatever it was had shaken the unshakable Captain Vega.
Numbly, he listened to the doctors as they told him his son was dying. His organs were failing, and Owen knew it was all his fault. None of this disaster would have happened if he hadn’t given up and run away. If he had been here…maybe his baby boy wouldn’t be tied down to a hospital bed with tubes and machines breathing for him. He had to set it right. The guilt wouldn’t go away, but finding Billy and signing that letter was a start, and he was godamn determined to fix this. He had to show TK that he wasn’t the only Strand putting up a fight.
***
Carlos was surprised when Nancy's radio call came in, asking him to stop by the hospital. TK wanted to see him. It had been months, but now, during a citywide crisis, he wanted to see him? Carlos couldn’t deny he was still mad at TK, and part of him hoped that he was asking him over to apologize.
He hyped himself up on the way over, mentally preparing for the conversation he had been having every night before he fell asleep. He would be professional, maybe (definitely) give TK some shit. He would share how he really felt, and he would try his best to respect himself enough not to cave into TK’s charm immediately.
Something wasn’t right when he found Nancy. Her whole body was shaking, and it looked like she had been crying. Then she confessed that TK did ask her to radio him at all. He didn’t know that he was here. He didn’t know anything that was happening because he was dying.
Carlos felt the floor waver beneath him. Guilt, shame, and anger numbed any other feelings. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was still so upset with him for blowing everything up, for running away, for leaving him to pick up the pieces of his heart on his own. But seeing him completely dependent on these beeping machines just to stay alive, his stomach twisted, because he knew that he could no longer deny that he was still so madly and deeply in love with the man.
But TK had ended it. Would he even want Carlos holding vigil at his side? If he woke up right now- would he ask him to leave? Did he even have a right to stay at his side instead of Owen or Nancy, someone that TK actually wanted around? He looked down at his IV-strung hands that he used to be able to hold in his own, the forehead he used to be able to kiss, the chest that was so perfectly carved to his own that an embrace felt like they melted into each other. Carlos couldn’t stop the tear running down his cheek as he realized that there was a good chance he would never touch him again.
Because they were broken up, Carlos wouldn’t be able to hold him or run in fingers through his hair, not without it feeling like a violation. A coma patient couldn’t give their consent, and it killed him to be so close, but still so far.
The hours dragged on, and his mother encouraged him to say what he needed to say to TK, to be honest and tell him how he really felt- especially if this was his last chance. Carlos didn’t want to. He didn’t feel like he could. People said not to speak ill of the dead, and he wasn’t sure that bringing up all the ways TK had hurt him while he was on his deathbed was any better.
He let his head fall into his hands. His mother was right. TK may not be able to hear it, but he had to say it.
***
Carlos was vaguely aware of how much time was passing by the rate the nurses switched out for their rounds, but he still couldn’t look the nurses in the eye who he overheard saying that TK would have been better off dead than torturing everyone.
Writhing and gurgling erupted from the bed as TK began to flail around. Carlos tried to see what was going on, but was pushed out of the room by the nurses. Was this it? Was he dying? But the nurses didn’t seem like they were worried; in fact, if Carlos was right- it looked as if they were taking the tube out of his throat, replacing it with nasal oxygen.
He couldn’t help himself; he had to see him. Carlos tried to brace himself if TK demanded he leave, but to his surprise, TK reached his hand out to him as he approached the bed.
“Hey, baby. Breathe, just breathe.”
TK had barely finished his sentence when it hit Carlos all at once. He hadn’t been breathing. The world spun as he inhaled, the knot in his stomach loosening. Before he knew it, he was crying, and TK was pulling him into an embrace, both eager to be in each other's arms again. Tears continued to run down Carlos’s face as he gently squeezed his hand and planted a kiss on his face, all the things he was so afraid he would never get to do again.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have run. I ruined everything, I-” TK started but was interrupted as Carlos kissed him again, a desperate, needy, end-of-the-world kiss.
They broke apart to stare into each other's eyes, wordlessly saying everything that they needed to say. TK was given a second chance at life and he wasn’t going to waste it by running away from his true love. He was going to run towards him and never let him go.