Archive of Our Own

"I'm not talking to you about this right now."

From the passenger seat, Nancy sighed and adjusted the strap of her helmet. "We're two minutes out. That's two minutes of conversation we could be having about a very important topic."

TK rolled his eyes as he maneuvered around a car who couldn't be bothered to get out of their way. "Carlos and I breaking up is not a very important topic of conversation."

"It is if you won't even tell me why!"

"Why, so you and Marjan can keep scheming to get us back together?"

"Okay, that was one time, and if you would tell me what happened we might be better at it–"

"It was actually twice, and I don't need–"

"Can we focus, please?" Tommy called out from the back, and Nancy and TK replied "yes, Cap" in unison.

"Dispatch said there are multiple victims. They've got a vehicle en route transporting whole blood to the scene. As of the last update, the scene has not been cleared, so we wait for word from the police before we go in."

"But it was just the one shooter, right?" Nancy asked. "A sniper?"

"Not sure yet, we'll find out in a minute. Look alive," Tommy said as TK pulled up alongside the 126 fire truck and the bus from the 122.

The area was blocked off by police barricades a safe distance from the scene of the shooting, an older three-story office building with a large front lawn and a water fountain surrounded by benches. As soon as they were out of the ambulance, they were greeted by Police Captain Jimenez, the incident commander on scene.

"In the open, we have four injured, possibly dead: three civilians and one on-duty police officer. Please be advised that this is a hot zone and that our primary shooter has not been neutralized. We have a second team searching buildings across the street. The inside of the building is also a hot zone. We're clearing it for explosives or a second shooter. You'll be advised when the scenes are clear so we can begin triage. Captain Vega, I want you and Captain Edwards to coordinate medical triage and be in contact with local hospitals so they'll be ready for us."

Tommy nodded and went to confer with Captain Edwards while Captain Jimenez took Owen aside. The rest of the 126 was talking quietly several yards away.

"Have you ever responded to an active shooting before?" Nancy asked as TK tightened his bullet resistant vest. She was scanning the area with binoculars.

"A couple times, but not like this."

Nancy lowered the binoculars. "I think we've got some black tags," she said quietly.

TK accepted the binoculars from Nancy and took in the scene. There was a woman curled up on her side, arm splayed out in front of her, but she was facing away from him and he couldn't tell if she was breathing. He swung over to look at one of the police officers, who was lying on his stomach in a puddle of blood, eyes closed. His face was–

TK nearly dropped the binoculars.

"Dude," Nancy said, taking them out of his hand. "These are expensive."

"It's Carlos."

Nancy looked over at him. "Oh my god, are you finally going to tell me? Now?"

"No, it's Carlos! He's–I've gotta–" TK looked around frantically but wasn't sure what he was looking for. He had everything he needed in his backpack, except for the blood that hadn't arrived yet. He jumped into the back of the bus and took two bags of IV fluids, which he shoved into his bag.

Nancy looked out over the scene with the binoculars again and said, "Oh my god!"

"What the hell is going on over here?" Paul asked, walking over, with Judd, Mateo, and Marjan on his heels.

TK grabbed the binoculars out of Nancy's hands and used them to locate Carlos again. He was on the sidewalk, half shielded from view by a raised stone planter full of flowers. TK thrust the binoculars back into Nancy's hands.

"The scene hasn't been cleared yet, TK," Nancy said, standing in front of him. "You can't–"

"It's Carlos!" TK said.

"You can't help him if you're dead!" she told him.

"Carlos?" Marjan echoed. "Out there?"

TK tried to go around Nancy but she put both hands on his shoulders and pushed back just hard enough to keep him in place. Her eyes were wet. "TK, don't."

He looked at her for a moment before he stepped out of her grasp, slipped past the police barriers, and started racing across the street.

“TK!” he heard Judd yell behind him.

TK ran as hard as he could ever remember running in his life, eyes stinging against the wind. Past benches and hedges, over a gravel walkway. He kept waiting for the bullet that would stop him before he could get to Carlos, but it never came. As soon as he got to the stone planter, he dropped to his knees and crawled over to Carlos's body.

The first thing he saw was the blood. So much blood. He's dead, TK thought as he felt it soaking into his pants. He's dead and I'm too late. But Carlos's lips were barely parted, his torso rising almost imperceptibly with each shallow breath he took.

"Carlos?" TK pushed a lock of hair away from his forehead and was alarmed at how cool his skin was. "It's okay, it's okay," he whispered.

Gently, TK rolled him over onto his back. The entire front of his shirt was soaked in blood. He tugged open Carlos's utility belt to get it out of the way, then used scissors to cut open his shirt. When he pulled the soaked material of his undershirt away from his stomach, TK nearly stopped breathing. The bullet hadn’t just ripped a hole in Carlos’s body; it had torn through his stomach, doing the kind of damage TK had never seen before.

“TK, status,” Tommy said over the radio.

TK clicked on the radio and tried to speak, but all he could do was take a ragged breath that felt like a sob.

"TK, status," Tommy said, the authority in her voice clear.

TK closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and tried to focus. “He’s unconscious,” he told her.

“How much blood loss?”

He looked at the ground around him, at the blood on his own clothes. Too much. “Two—two, maybe…maybe three quarts.”

Tommy didn’t respond for a moment, but when she did her voice was low and firm. "ABC's, TK."

TK nodded, even though she couldn't see him, and went to work. Carlos's airways were clear, but his breathing was rapid and shallow and his pulse was weak. Aside from the obvious wound to his abdomen, he also had a smaller hole, likely the entrance wound, in his back. With shaking hands, TK slipped an oxygen mask over Carlos’s mouth, then took out bandages and the tactical tourniquet. The bags of fluids he set on the warm concrete in the sun.

You do this everyday, he told himself while bandaging the mass of blood and intestines that used to be Carlos’s stomach. You can do this. You will do this. You will not fail him ag—

“You forget something?”

TK looked up to see Paul crouching next to him, breathing heavily. His expression flickered with worry as he took in the scene, then shuttered. He removed two bags of blood from his bag and set them beside TK.

“Blood mobile got here,” Paul said. TK nodded mutely and cinched the tourniquet over the wound.

TK’s radio crackled. “Update,” said Tommy.

TK’s hands were covered in blood, which he wiped on his uniform so he could unwrap the IV lock. Paul took the radio and said, “Gunshot wound to the abdomen, upper right quadrant.” He did a quick assessment of Carlos's body and took his pulse. "He's in hypovolemic shock. We're prepping blood and saline."

"Make sure they're warm."

Paul checked the bags of saline on the hot concrete. "Thank God for Texas winters, huh?" he muttered, handing one of them to TK.

TK was moving by instinct at this point, barely aware of anything else around him. Spike the bag. Flush the line. Find the vein. Tommy was giving Paul instructions over the radio, cautioning him about pushing fluids too rapidly, and TK processed the words in another part of his brain while focusing entirely on the task in front of him.

Paul took Carlos's pulse again, lingering longer than the time before. "Pulse is getting weaker."

TK thrust both bags into Paul's hands and unkinked the line. They both watched as blood and saline started flowing into the line attached to Carlos's arm.

"C'mon, man," Paul whispered.

TK pressed his fingers to Carlos's throat. Waiting, waiting. “No pulse,” he whispered, to himself more than anyone else.

"He's not breathing," said Paul.

TK folded his bloody hands over Carlos's chest and started compressions.

He remembered the first time he did this in the field, on a 42-year-old father who had nearly choked to death on a chicken wing. TK had been 21-years-old, newly certified, and terrified that any mistake on his part would end with someone dying before their time. That terror was a living, breathing beast inside of him. The father with the chicken wing had survived; so had the terror. But TK had learned how to lock it down and keep it in check so he could do the job in front of him.

“No pulse,” he heard Paul say into the radio.

Everything was in slow motion: Paul’s voice, followed by Tommy’s over the radio; the press of his hands to Carlos’s chest - 1, 2, 3, 4 - his own breathing drowning out the sound of voices until all he could hear was the pumping of blood in his ears – 28, 29, 30. Breathe. Breathe. He imagined he could feel Carlos’s blood pumping weakly under his hands, and he focused on that, on pushing every bit his life force into Carlos’s body. 1, 2, 3, 4–

"Still no pulse," said Paul.

No pulse.

The terror, uglier and wilder than it had ever been, rising up inside of him.

Don’t leave me!

Carlos's lips parted, as if to reply, and took a shallow breath.

"I've got a pulse!" Paul exclaimed.

TK froze, his palms still pressed to Carlos's chest, as Carlos took another breath. Another. With shaking, bloody hands, he cupped Carlos's throat just to feel the artery pulse weakly under his fingertips.

"Get him on a gurney and into the bus," Tommy said from behind him. "Nancy, call St. David's and tell them to have a trauma surgeon and an OR on standby."

The voices of firefighters, police, and EMS grew louder around him. Marjan and Paul lifted Carlos onto a gurney while Tommy placed an oxygen mask over his face. TK stood mesmerized by the sight of Carlos's blood-stained chest rising and falling.

"TK!" He turned just in time for his father to crush him against his chest, one gloved hand on the back of his head. "TK."

TK breathed heavily against his dad's shoulder as he watched his team wheel Carlos across the lawn and load him into the ambulance.

—

Three hours later, TK was sitting in a hospital waiting room wearing a clean sweatshirt and sweatpants. Nancy was holding his hand, as she had been for the last two hours, even when he had complained that her palms were sweaty.

The other members of the 126 were still at the scene of the shooting, but Nancy had been sending them as much information as she could, which was not much.

"Emergency rooms aren't nearly as fun when you're the one waiting," Nancy said, breaking an hour-long silence. TK looked over at her, and she sighed. "That sounded bad."

"Yeah, kinda."

"I had to bring my mom in last year when she got out of breath one day and started blacking out. She didn't even tell us all afternoon. It was a deep vein thrombosis that traveled to her lungs. That was fun."

TK thought back. "You didn't tell me about that."

She shook her head. "It was before we started working together."

As partners, she meant, but TK felt guilty anyway. He should have tried harder back then, but he hadn't seen it.

The cool kids rarely do, he heard Carlos tell him, with an affectionate kiss to his cheek. TK closed his eyes.

Suddenly, the door to the ER opened and Andrea Reyes barreled in.

She was almost to the front desk before she saw TK and Nancy. "TK!" she exclaimed, and rushed over to him. "Mijo, have they told you anything? They tried to explain over the phone but I was so upset. Is he still in surgery? Has the doctor told you anything?"

"Um…" He tried to sort through the jumble of thoughts to explain the situation, but the sight of her after all of these months had him speechless. "Yeah, the…"

"They updated us about an hour ago, but it wasn't much," Nancy told her. "He's still in surgery. The bullet perforated his intestines and one of his kidneys. He was in hypovolemic shock…" Nancy trailed off awkwardly as if worried that she wasn't explaining it correctly, but Mrs. Reyes nodded encouragingly.

"But he'll be okay?" she asked, looking from Nancy to TK.

"They said they'll have more information for us soon," said Nancy.

"Thank you," Mrs. Reyes told her, and Nancy nodded.

Mrs. Reyes shifted her purse. "I was visiting my sister in La Grange when they called me."

TK had no idea where La Grange was, but he nodded.

"And his father is in Dallas. Of all days, dios mio." She looked up at TK, her expression softening. "I'm so glad you were here with him."

Again, TK opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. What could he even say to her? Sorry your only son is fighting for his life? Sorry I almost didn't save him? Sorry I ruined our relationship when we both know he deserves better?

As if she could hear all of his thoughts, Mrs. Reyes laid her hand on his arm. "Carlos will be glad too, when he wakes up."

When, not if. But she didn't know, she hadn't seen him. She hadn't seen him bleeding out in the hot Texas sun, just as she hadn't seen the look on his face when TK had told him that he was moving out.

"Oh, mijo," Mrs. Reyes murmured, and gathered him into a soft hug. He realized that his face was wet as he rested his cheek against her shoulder. "Esta bien," she told him. "Esta bien."

TK didn't deserve this kind woman's words of comfort, or her hand rubbing his back. Not while her son was dying down the hall. Not ever. Slowly, he pulled away from her and wiped his eyes.

Nancy cleared her throat. "Um, that's his doctor."

TK and Mrs. Reyes looked up as a woman in hospital scrubs walked over to them.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Nguyen. I wanted to give you an update on Carlos."

"Oh, please," said Mrs. Reyes. "I'm his mother."

Dr. Nguyen nodded, smiling kindly. "Well, he's stable. He lost a lot of blood. We performed exploratory surgery to see what kind of damage had been done to his organs. The bullet perforated his stomach and intestines and shattered his right kidney. Unfortunately we were not able to preserve the kidney and had to remove it."

Mrs. Reyes's mouth quivered. "But he's stable," she insisted.

"Yes, for now," said Dr. Nguyen. "During the surgery, his ability to coagulate was deteriorating, meaning his blood wasn't clotting to stop the hemorrhage. We did what we could to control the bleeding and then moved him to the ICU to stabilize him. It's important right now that we keep him warm and make sure that he's getting the fluids he needs. Then we'll get him back into the operating room and reassess."

Mrs. Reyes nodded. "You'll tell us when you know more? Please? And when we can see him?"

"We will keep you updated as often as we can," said Dr. Nguyen. She nodded at Nancy and TK and headed back towards the operating suites.

Mrs. Reyes sank into the beige plastic chair TK had been occupying. "The kidney…he can survive with only one kidney," she said, and TK wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

"Yes," Nancy said, sitting down next to her.

"And the–the intestines. Is that where he has to wear one of those–" She motioned distractedly. "Bags."

"A colostomy bag," said Nancy. "But that's for the lower intestines and the bowels."

"Oh." Mrs. Reyes twisted her hands together the way TK had seen Carlos do so many times when he was nervous. Nancy looked up at TK sadly.

"Excuse me, I'm going to go call Gabriel," Mrs. Reyes said, patting Nancy's arm distractedly before she stood up and quickly went outside.

TK stood there for a moment, arms crossed awkwardly over his chest, before he sank back down in the chair next to Nancy.

When she took his hand again, he was grateful.

—

The rest of the 126 arrived a couple of hours later, followed by Grace, who brought food that TK ate out of politeness even though it settled like lead in his stomach. Carlos's father arrived late in the evening. TK's dad sat with Carlos's parents, occasionally talking quietly about things he couldn't hear, and TK felt both grateful and guilty for the buffer.

The television in the waiting room was set to a news station that covered the shooting nonstop, reporting that three people were dead, including the shooter, and two were in critical condition. A photo of the shooter's face popped up on the screen occasionally, but the volume was turned down too low for him to hear anything. TK felt strangely disconnected from it, like the face on the screen had nothing to do with him or why he was sitting in this hard plastic chair in a hospital waiting room.

Carlos had another surgery that evening, then was moved back to the ICU. Even though his doctor brought them mostly positive news about his status, TK knew that any number of things could turn that around on a dime. Infection, missed diagnoses…it was a long list.

When Carlos was finally able to have visitors, Mr. Reyes wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulder and led her to the elevator bank to get up to the ICU.

TK's dad moved over to the empty seat next to TK. "How you doin', kid?"

"Fine," TK said automatically.

"You know, it's okay not to be fine."

TK was staring at the empty seat across from him, chewing on the drawstring of the AFD hoodie Owen had brought him. "I know."

It seemed like Owen wanted to say something else, but finally he sighed and patted TK's knee.

When Mr. and Mrs. Reyes came back into the waiting room, it was clear that she had been crying, but she sat across from TK and offered him a smile.

"He is still asleep, but you can go see him," she said.

"Oh…" Everyone was looking at him expectantly. He shook his head. "No, I'm…You should go," he told Nancy, and she looked at him like he was crazy.

"Are you sure?" his dad asked, concerned. "I'm sure he would appreciate you being there."

"He's probably not even awake," TK pointed out.

"Come on," Judd said, standing up and touching TK's shoulder. "I'll go with you."

TK didn't move for a long time, but Judd was patient. Finally, TK pushed himself to his feet, his dad patting him between his shoulder blades, and started walking toward the elevator.

The ICU was eerily quiet. Judd signed them in, and a nurse pointed them towards a bed near the back of the unit.

Carlos was covered in blankets and had several lines coming out of his body, including oxygen and an IV. His heart monitor beeped steadily. He was asleep, to TK's relief. He didn't think he could bear to have Carlos lay eyes on him right now.

One of Carlos's hands was peeking out from the blankets, and TK could see a tiny sliver of blood under one of his nails. He remembered Carlos's hand lying limply by his side in a pool of blood, and suddenly he felt like he was going to throw up.

"You all right there?" Judd asked.

TK pushed away from the bed and rushed out of the room. He didn't stop until he was in the hallway outside of the ICU, where he collapsed heavily against the wall, sucking in breaths like they were going to be his last.

His chest hurt so bad that he wondered if this was it. Is this what a heart attack felt like? He was too young for that, wasn't he? He pressed a hand to his chest and looked up with blurry vision as Judd came up to him.

"Breathe," Judd told him.

TK took another gulping breath, but it didn't feel like the air was getting to his lungs. He leaned forward, head near his knees. Another sharp pain in his chest, so painful he thought he might black out. He pressed a hand to his chest as hard as he could. 1-2-3-4…

"Don't," he heard himself saying as he watched Carlos's lips go still. "Please don't."

"TK," Judd said firmly from somewhere next to him. "Can you hear me?"

TK shook his head violently.

"You're in the hospital. I'm standing right next to you, bud."

The hospital. Carlos hooked up to an IV. Blood and saline racing each other to Carlos's vein, but it was too late. His heart wasn't beating anymore.

He's dead, he's dead! Distantly, the sound of a wounded animal struggling in a trap.

Footsteps approaching. "Is he okay?"

He's dead!

Judd said something, and then Tommy was on the radio, asking for an update, but he couldn't respond.

"--just needs a minute. Slowly, TK. Breathe slowly. That's right."

He breathed slowly, one breath for every four compressions to Carlos's chest. 27, 28, 29, 30. Breathe. Breathe. No heartbeat under his palms, but TK was numb now, watching himself perform useless CPR from above.

"You listening to my voice, TK? What you're feeling right now, that's not the truth. You're safe. You and Carlos are both safe."

Safe. TK said the word over and over in his mind until it lost all meaning. He stared down at the floor, at a tiny drop of blood next to his shoe. As we watched it, he realized it was a dark gray swirl in the linoleum.

Finally, his lungs accepted a breath.

He didn't know how long he stood there like that, staring at that tiny spot on the floor, before he didn't feel like he was actively dying; it could have been thirty minutes as easily as it could have been ten.

Eventually he glanced up at Judd, embarrassed. "I'm fine."

"Oh yeah, no, you look fine," Judd drawled. "Having a damn panic attack in the ICU."

"I'm not…" TK took another ragged breath and closed his eyes. "I'm not in the ICU."

Judd laughed, and TK felt the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile despite himself. He leaned his head back against the wall.

"Yeah, well, rough day," Judd said, leaning against the wall next to him. "I think you're owed a nervous breakdown or two."

They stood together for several minutes, TK staring through the window of the ICU. The curtain to Carlos's bed was open just enough for him to see the pile of blankets over his knee.

"Don't want to go back in there," he told Judd.

"Yeah, I'll be honest, I kinda don't want you to go back in there either."

TK pressed his fingertips against the cool wall behind his back.

"But maybe tomorrow he'll be awake and you can see him then. Might help."

A nurse went back to Carlos's bed and opened the curtain enough that TK got a quick glimpse of one of his hands, with the IV taped to the top. "Probably not a good idea."

"Why, cause you think you'll flip your lid again?"

Yes. TK clenched his jaw. "Not like he'll want to see me anyway."

Judd scoffed. "Man, you're dumber'n a barrel o' hair, ain't you?"

"I…what," said TK.

"But that's all right, you're in good company," Judd said, clapping him on the back so hard TK nearly fell over. “Come on, let’s go let the others have their turn.”

—

"Hey, TK. Is this a bad time?"

TK settled back in his seat and pressed the button on his exercise bike to end the session he'd just started. "No, I'm good, Cap."

He could hear her shuffling papers, which meant she was probably at the station. "How is Carlos doing?"

He hadn't been back to the hospital since the first day. Nancy had been sending him regular updates, including one about an infection that almost had TK in the car despite everything in his body telling him no. Every time he got a text, his pulse picked up, both with guilt and fear of terrible news. And if he went back to that hospital and it happened again? He would do anything not to be back in that moment.

"Uh, Nancy said that his fever was down, so…"

"Good," Tommy said, tactfully avoiding asking him why Nancy had to tell him that.

"Yeah…"

"Listen, TK, I didn't want to do this over the phone, but…"

TK chewed on his bottom lip. In all honesty, he'd been expecting this call sooner, but he assumed Tommy had put it off as long as possible while Carlos's status was so uncertain. "My suspension," he said.

Tommy sighed. "Have you requested an appeal hearing?"

He'd received the notice three days ago but hadn't told anyone yet, although of course Tommy would have received the same notice. He'd known it was coming, but reading the words still knocked him sideways.

"...engaging in any conduct that jeopardizes or has the potential to jeopardize the health or safety of any person…"

"Not yet," he said.

"You should talk to your union rep," she told him. "You only have fifteen days to request the appeal hearing."

"I know," he said quietly. "I will. Thanks, Cap."

Tommy didn't say anything for a moment, but finally she said, "I'm glad he's doing better."

TK swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked back the tears that were suddenly threatening to come out. "Me too."

"Let me know if you need anything."

"I will."

He disconnected the call and set his phone in the cup meant to hold a bottle of water. He thought about resuming his workout, but he'd been doing very little aside from working out and catching up on TV for the last few days. His dad had been hovering, alternating from cheerful suggestions for new restaurants they could try to serious attempts to get him to talk about the shooting, and when that failed he'd tried to get TK to call his therapist, which was the absolute last thing he wanted right now.

He went into the kitchen, where Buttercup was taking a nap in the sun. He watched with interest as TK opened the cabinet where they kept the protein powders.

"What do you think, vanilla bean or chocolate coconut?" TK asked him, and Buttercup lugged himself up to come over to stand next to him.

"I think chocolate coconut," TK told him, and Buttercup licked his hand.

He had all of the ingredients out on the counter when the doorbell rang. Tugging a hoodie over his tank top, he looked through the peephole, sighed, and opened the door.

"I just thought I would swing by and make sure you were still alive," Nancy said with a fake smile.

"Yeah, well…here I am," he said, opening the door to let her in.

"Apparently," she said, taking in his disheveled appearance. She held up a couple of sandwich bags of food. "Marj and I made trail mix and brownies last night, and I thought you might like some. She said you liked the chocolate peanut butter ones she made last time."

"Thanks," he said, inspecting the bag of trail mix. "You want something to drink?"

"Water, I guess."

TK made two glasses of water and sat down next to her at the dining room table. Buttercup accepted a head rub from Nancy and then laid down by TK's feet.

"So," Nancy said, helping herself to a brownie, "Marj and I went to visit him this morning."

TK opened the bag of trail mix.

"He doesn't look great, but the antibiotics are helping. He was too tired to talk much, but he was in pretty good spirits, considering."

TK paused with a peanut at his mouth. "He was awake?"

"Mmmhmm." Nancy put another piece of brownie in her mouth and looked up at him, eyebrow cocked as if to say, if you want more information, you'll have to ask.

He did, desperately. "I bet he's had a lot of visitors."

"Yep."

TK wasn't even sure what all he wanted to know. Is he in a lot of pain? Are his parents okay? Did he ask about me?

Instead he asked, "You have a shift tonight?"

Nancy let out a deeply disappointed sigh. "Yeah, and we have to work with that new guy, the one who smacks his lips when he eats? I hate it." She looked around the room. "So you're taking some time off? Or did Cap put you on mandatory leave? Not a terrible idea after this week."

TK pursed his lips together, and she frowned. "What?" she said.

TK sighed and went over to the coffee table. He pulled a piece of paper from under a magazine and handed it to her.

She read it quickly and gave it back to him with a sigh. "Well, that sucks."

He nodded in agreement.

"Have you appealed it yet? You need to make sure they understand that Carlos would have died if you hadn't done that."

"Honestly, Nancy? I'm not even sure they're going to care about that."

"Well, they should."

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes. TK ate one of the brownies. They were peanut butter too.

"I'm still mad at you, by the way," Nancy told him. "But I'm also glad that Carlos isn't dead, so, you know."

TK looked down at the table. "Yeah."

"And it's like, really romantic."

TK sighed.

"Except for the part where you haven't even visited him in the hospital?" she said, giving him the side-eye. "Not romantic, dude."

"We're not together anymore, Nancy."

"You risked your life and your job to save him." When he didn't reply, she said, "So you obviously still love him, right? But you can't even visit him? You're so dumb."

He couldn't even disagree with that.

About twenty minutes after she left, TK's phone beeped with a new text.

He did ask about you, just so you know. He wanted to know if you were okay.

TK stared at the screen for a few minutes, trying to imagine Carlos's face and his voice when he'd asked. If he was asking to be polite or because he needed to know the way TK still needed to know about him.

Thanks, he replied.

—

It was six days after the shooting when the letter came.

TK picked up the mail as he greeted the DoorDash delivery guy at the front door. He usually just dumped the mail on the counter, but ever since he'd gotten the notice about his suspension he'd been checking more closely. He sorted through the bills and advertisements as he shoveled pad thai into his mouth, until he saw a purple envelope the size of a greeting card at the bottom of the stack. It was addressed to him.

TK tore it open and read it, food forgotten.

Dear TK,

I know I could have texted you, but I guess I am old-fashioned because I think some things should be said in writing if they can't be said in person.

Carlitos is my only son, mi niño. He has been my joy since the moment he was born. I know you have seen pictures, but he was such a sweet boy who grew into a sweet man. All he has ever wanted to do was help people.

He was almost taken away from us too soon, but he is still with us because you loved him enough to save him.

I do not have the words to tell you what this means to me and Gabriel, but please know that no matter what happens between you and Carlos, you will always be welcome in our home.

Love,
Andrea Reyes

TK stared at the letter for a long time, reading it over and over until his breath started coming out ragged and he had to shove the letter back into the envelope. Carefully, he put it in his sock drawer with his 1 year sobriety token.

That afternoon, TK booked a last-minute flight. It was just after midnight when he boarded the subway at Howard Beach and almost 1am when it dropped him in Tribeca, a five minute walk from the high-rise apartment building. He was still on the list of approved visitors and was allowed to take the elevator to the tenth floor.

It took her a moment to answer, as he'd clearly roused her from sleep. She was wearing a robe and her hair was in curlers.

"TK?" Gwyn said, blinking up at him. "Honey?"

Everything TK had been holding in so carefully for six days came pouring out. "Mom," he choked out.

—

He stayed for two weeks.

They spent most of those days on the couch, watching old movies and ordering takeout from all of the restaurants he'd missed, and TK kept Jonah entertained while his mom took business calls. Gwyn went into lawyer mode about his suspension and practically dictated his entire appeal letter word for word. She also made calls to some of her contacts in Texas, despite TK's objections that it wasn't necessary.

The night after TK arrived, Enzo came over for dinner and listened with interest as TK told him about his move from fire to EMS.

"I think Texas suits you," Enzo said as he pulled on his coat on the way out the door. "I mean, you kinda look like shit right now, but you also look good, you know?"

"Thanks?"

"Hey, do me a favor?" Enzo asked, lowering his voice. "Try to talk your mom out of that fancy pre-preschool or whatever the hell it is. It's way too early to be preparing him for law school."

TK laughed. "I don't know, man. I'll see what I can do."

"Hey, kid, it was good to see you," Enzo said, grabbing him by the shoulders so he could press a messy kiss to the side of his head. "Don't be a stranger, okay? If you need anything."

"Thanks."

A week after he'd arrived at her front door, TK sat at the island in the kitchen eating breakfast while his mom attempted to feed Jonah.

"I think your father is going to jump on a plane and come up here if you don't reply to his texts with something more than 'ok' or 'I'm fine'."

TK sighed and leaned his elbows against the counter. "I'll call him later."

Gwyn wiped a glob of pureed peas from Jonah's mouth as he turned away from her. "You liked these last week," she told him, and he thumped his fat little arm against the tray in reply.

"Mom…"

"Yes, honey."

TK stared at his fork for a moment. "Why did you and Dad get divorced?"

Gwyn looked over at him. TK had asked her this question a hundred times over the years. As a seven-year-old watching his friends' parents hold hands at their kids' birthday parties. As a nine-year-old who missed his dad, and a ten-year-old wondering why his dad's firehouse was more important than him. As a fourteen-year-old who blamed everything on his mother because he idealized a father who wasn't around enough to show him otherwise. As a seventeen-year-old going through his first real breakup.

And now.

"I'm guessing you don't want the usual spiel about growing apart and doing the right thing?"

TK pushed a piece of egg with his fork. "You loved him a lot. When you first met."

Gwyn laughed as she scraped green puree onto the spoon. "Oh god, did I ever. You should have seen your dad back then. A lot like he is now, actually, but even cockier. I hate to say it, but it was very attractive. Don't ever tell him I said that."

TK continued playing with his breakfast, trying to find the words, as Gwyn tried to keep the spoon away from Jonah's hands.

"You got married because you thought it would last forever," TK said finally.

"Yes."

"But it didn't."

"No," she said sadly. "It didn't."

"So it's just–" He jabbed at a piece of strawberry. "You just don't know. You're just rolling the dice. Maybe it'll work and maybe it won't."

"I don't think it's quite that simple," Gwyn said, wiping Jonah's face with a soft cloth.

"It doesn't seem simple at all," TK muttered, aware that he sounded petulant.

Gwyn sighed as Jonah turned away from the spoon again. "Okay, I think we're done here."

"Here." TK stood and took the spoon from her hands. "Hey, buddy, you want some mushy peas?" he asked as Jonah looked up at him with wide eyes. "They're so yummy."

"They were last week," Gwyn muttered, rinsing her hands in the sink.

TK made airplane noises as he guided the spoon to Jonah's mouth and let out a triumphant 'a-ha!' when almost half of the spoonful ended up where it was supposed to.

Gwyn watched them for a few minutes before she said, "It wasn't until your dad and I split up that I realized that love was not the foundation of a marriage."

TK looked up at her, frowning. "What?"

Gwyn sighed. "Okay, let me rephrase. The feeling of being in love is not the foundation of a marriage."

"Yeah, I know," TK said, waving his hand, which Jonah's eyes followed with interest. "All that stuff fades away eventually or whatever."

"It doesn't fade away. It just…feels different after a while." She picked up her mug of tea and took a sip. "I didn't really get to that stage with your dad, at least not the way I did with Enzo. Those feelings…that's the good stuff," she said, smiling. "I mean, no one wants a boring marriage where you're just tolerating each other out of some twisted sense of commitment."

"Okay…"

"I'm not saying any of this correctly," she said, putting a hand to her forehead.

TK bit back a smile. "Yeah, not really."

Gwyn leaned forward, settling her elbows on the counter. "Tell me about you and Carlos."

The smile fell away from TK's face and he looked down at the tiny bowl in his hand. "I don't know."

"You ran all the way up to New York to avoid him and you 'don't know'?" Gwyn said, using air quotes.

"I didn't run up here to avoid him. God, mom."

The look she gave him was very unimpressed, and one he was very familiar with.

TK sighed. "Okay, maybe I…did sort of come up here to…avoid things."

"With Carlos."

"Yes, mom, with Carlos. God." Jonah shrieked, and TK dipped the spoon back into the bowl. "Sorry, buddy."

"So what happened? Why did you break up?"

TK fed Jonah a few more bites of food as he considered his words. He hadn't talked to anyone about what had happened, not even his dad. He wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or ashamed, or maybe, as he suspected deep down, that it would hurt less if he didn't have to look at it.

"After the house burned down and we found our new place…things were good for a while," he said finally. "Really good, you know? Like, I worried that all this bad stuff would come up when we started living together, that I would leave a wet towel on the floor and suddenly we would be fighting all the time or something? But we worked really hard to respect each other's space and it was…really nice," he said, allowing himself a tiny smile, and Gwyn smiled encouragingly.

"That's good, honey."

TK nodded. "But then something changed and I don't even know what it was. I think some stuff at his work? He told me about some of it but he said he didn't want to bring all of that negativity home. But it was like he was holding back, and not just about work. And it made me feel like I did with Alex, like…"

"Like you needed to use again?" she said.

"No," he said firmly, looking up at her. "I mean, maybe. Sometimes. But that's not what I meant. I just felt worried all the time, that he was about to break it off." He clenched his jaw and looked down at the spoon in his hand. "That he'd finally had enough."

"Enough of what?"

"Of me."

"Oh, honey."

TK shook his head, frustrated by her pity. She didn't understand. She had caught him stealing money from her purse to buy pills, had found him passed out in his own vomit more times than he cared to remember. She had taken him to rehab, to meetings, bought him self-help books that he shoved into the back of his bookcase, already forgotten. She got sad, she got angry, she cried and yelled, but every time she forgave him.

No one else could be expected to put up with all of that. No one would choose someone like that.

"We started fighting a lot," he told her. "Or I guess I did." It had felt sometimes like he was watching himself from the outside as he ruined the most important romantic relationship of his life, and Carlos was so reasonable about everything that TK wanted to set fire to the whole thing just to see what he would do.

Gwyn took the bowl of peas out of his hand and started wiping Jonah's face and hands with a damp cloth. "You're so much like your dad," she said.

TK sighed and sat back down at the counter. "I know, you've told me. Everyone's told me." It used to feel like a badge of honor, but as he got older it felt more and more like a noose.

"But you're also so much like me," she said with a humorless laugh as she lifted Jonah from his high chair.

"What does that mean?" he asked as he watched her set Jonah in his play seat. It took her three tries. "Like, the bad stuff?"

Gwyn spread her hands, eyes comically wide, as if to say, who knows? "I did that a lot, when things got tough with your dad. Pushed him just to see if he cared enough to push back."

TK clenched his jaw. "Did he?"

"Sometimes. Not as much towards the end."

TK nodded. "Great pep talk, mom."

Gwyn leaned over the counter and took one of his hands in hers. It took everything in him to look her in the eyes. "Can I tell you a secret and you're not going to like it?"

TK rolled his eyes. "What."

"Therapy."

TK pulled his hand away and she let him like she was expecting it. "Yeah, I think I've had enough therapy for a whole lifetime. Ask Dad."

"Maybe, but have you ever talked to a therapist about how to feel safe in a romantic relationship? About what it means to function as half of a married couple?"

"Carlos and I weren't married."

Gwyn looked at him like she wanted to strangle him. "You know what I mean. Living with your own issues is one thing. Living with someone else's issues? Letting them see yours? Learning how to support each other and take care of yourself while you're in a relationship? That is something completely different."

TK sat silent for a moment, thinking. "I didn't really get much out of therapy," he admitted.

"Maybe you've just been seeing the wrong therapist. It took forever for me to find a good one after your dad and I split up."

"I mean, there was nothing wrong with him," he said, thinking about the guy his dad had set him up with in Austin. He was an expert in addiction and REBT and had come highly recommended. His suggestions about coping mechanisms had been helpful.

"Well, maybe just try someone else for a while. You might get more out of it if you find someone you're really comfortable with."

TK rubbed a fingertip against the countertop. "Yeah, maybe."

Gwyn reached out to take his hand again and he let her. "What I was trying to say earlier, about how a marriage isn't based on the feeling of being in love?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't understand any of that when I married your dad, and I'm not sure that he did either. We tried, we really did, because we loved each other and we loved you. But we did it all wrong. We kept trying to get back those feelings we had when we first got married, but we weren't taking care of the really important stuff. The foundation. Those feelings of love are like…the house, you know? You live in the house. The house is warm and beautiful and it feels good. But the foundation is what keeps the house from washing away. Things like learning how to listen to each other, and how to keep walking in the same direction when it feels like the universe is pulling you apart."

"Like dad and the firehouse?" he said quietly. "After 9/11?"

She sighed and nodded. "That was the anvil that broke the camel's back, but yeah."

TK looked at his hand sandwiched between hers. "So how do you make sure this…house has a foundation?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, you have to be able to talk about things you don't want to talk about. The things you try to keep hidden when you're madly in love and things are good. Marriage has a way of bringing everything out sooner or later."

TK nodded.

"He has stuff too, you know," she said, rubbing his hand. "It's not just you. There's stuff he doesn't want you to see either."

For some reason, this was what brought tears to TK's eyes. "But I like all of his stuff," he said with a wet laugh.

Gwyn smiled, her own eyes glassy. "I think you guys are going to be okay. You've just gotta talk to him."

Which was going to be difficult if TK couldn't be in the same room as him without having a nervous breakdown. "Yeah, I will."

Jonah screeched tearfully, reminding them that he was there too, and Gwyn sighed. "Okay, time for a nap. For everyone, I think."

—

"I hate to leave you guys."

They were standing in the foyer, TK holding Jonah, duffel bag at his feet. Jonah was trying to eat the drawstring on TK's hoodie, and TK was trying to stop him.

"We'll be fine," Gwyn said, watching them. "Besides, you have your hearing next week. You need to get back to Texas."

"Tell mom I don't want to go back to Texas," he told Jonah. "Tell mom I want to stay here with you guys."

"Tell your big brother that he's an adult and he can't avoid everything forever," said Gwyn.

TK shook his head at Jonah. "Say, yes I can, mommy. Yes, I can."

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "You can come back and visit when you get some time off."

"Well, I may have time off forever if the department decides to fire me," he said, smiling ironically.

Gwyn stepped forward and held his face in her hands. Jonah tried to grab her earring. "They are not going to fire you. But if they do, it's not the end of the world, okay?"

"Uh, it kinda would be," said TK. He couldn't imagine doing anything else. Working with anyone else. Nancy. Tommy. His dad.

"It will work out. Somehow, things will work out, even if it's not the way you thought they would." She gave him a look. "And not just with the job."

"Thanks." He smothered Jonah's pudgy cheeks with kisses as Jonah tried to pull away. "Bye, buddy. I love you. I'll see you soon."

Gwyn smiled as she took Jonah out of his arms. "Text me when you land."

"I will." He kissed her on the cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too. And honey?"

TK looked back at her. "Yeah?"

Gwyn smiled. "Bring Carlos with you next time. Central Park is so romantic in the springtime."

TK rolled his eyes. "Bye, mom."

—

The day after he got back from New York, he went to the station to talk to Tommy but was ambushed before he could get to the stairs.

"TK!" Nancy exclaimed, coming out of the kitchen area to hug him. "You didn't tell me you were back, you jerk."

"Sorry. I got in late last night."

"Come on, we just had cookies delivered."

"Ugh, fine. Twist my arm," he said, dodging out of her way when she reached out to do it.

Marjan, Paul, and Judd greeted him in the doorway with hugs and slaps on the back. "How was New York?" Marjan asked.

"Cold," said TK. "What have–" He stopped dead in his tracks.

Carlos was standing on the other side of the table, smiling at him.

"Hey," said Carlos.

TK paused for just long enough to make it weird. "Hey."

"I just came by to see everyone," Carlos explained. "My mom has been hovering a bit since I got released, and I needed to get out of the house."

"He brought cookies!" said Mateo.

TK nodded. "I'm glad you're doing well. You seem…good." He did, too. A bit thinner, but there was color to his face and he seemed relaxed, which hopefully meant good painkillers. His hair was curly and free of styling products, which always twisted TK's stomach in knots.

"I can't do too much yet, I'm still healing, but yeah, I'm good." Carlos looked him in the eye, almost like a challenge. “Ironically, the most painful part of getting shot and nearly dying is the cracked rib from the CPR. Who knew.”

TK pressed his lips together. So they were doing this here, in front of everyone. Okay.

He was saved by the bell, literally. Fire and EMS needed at the scene of a car accident off of MoPac. Marjan ran over to give Carlos a gentle hug, snatching another cookie on the way out, and Judd ruffled TK's hair. "Welcome back, pretty boy."

"Thanks…I think," said TK.

After a moment, it was just them. TK took a cookie out of the tin, not looking at him.

"At first I was upset that you weren't there when I woke up. Upset but not…surprised." Carlos looked at him. "But then they told me everything."

TK swallowed, remembering the sight of Carlos lying there, not breathing. No pulse.

"It was kind of hard to be mad after that," Carlos said with a self-conscious smile. "Although I do wish you'd stuck around to say hello."

He could hear one of the other crews laughing in the ambulance bay. "I don't really want to do this here."

Carlos nodded, clearly hurt. "Okay."

"But we should talk," TK said, looking up at him.

Carlos nodded slowly. "Okay. Tonight maybe?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve been staying at the ranch since I got discharged, but we could meet at the apartment. It's closer.”

The apartment they’d picked out together after the fire. The one TK had walked out of nearly three months ago and hadn’t seen since.

“Sure,” he said, less certainly.

"Maybe about seven?" Carlos asked, and TK nodded. "Okay, well…see you then."

TK watched him leave. That was more words that they'd spoken to one another in three months.

—

Carlos greeted him at the door just before seven, wearing a short-sleeved button-down shirt that TK had helped him pick out right after the fire.

“Sorry, I got kinda hungry,” Carlos said, putting away a pint of ice cream that was sitting on the counter. "Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm good, thanks." He was looking around the apartment, trying to see what was different. TK had taken most of his stuff when he left, and picked up the rest of it when he knew Carlos was at work. Carlos had put up some new pictures of his nephews, but that was about it.

“I’m still on a soft food diet, so I’ve been drinking a lot of protein shakes and smoothies," Carlos told him, pouring him a glass of iced tea. "Mami’s been making soup almost every day. I think my dad is sick of it,” he said, laughing.

TK smiled. “You look good.” Maybe it was just that he'd missed the sight of him.

Carlos held his gaze for a minute. “You do too.”

That was a lie, he had bags under his eyes and he needed a haircut, but TK hoped against hope that Carlos had missed the sight of him too and wasn’t just trying to be nice.

“How have you been?” Carlos asked as TK sipped his tea.

TK didn’t see any point in dodging the question. That’s what he was here for, after all. "I've been, um, talking to a new therapist. Just two sessions on Zoom so far, but I have another appointment in-person this week."

Carlos nodded like it made total sense that TK needed even more therapy than one person should need in a single lifetime.

"We talked about some of my…self-destructive tendencies. Especially when it comes to relationships." He tried very hard to keep eye contact as he said this, which was difficult when Carlos was focusing on him like he was the only person on earth.

"I, uh…" TK was getting emotional now, trying to keep his voice steady. He'd practiced parts of this speech over and over, but what came out was, "Sorry I was an asshole."

Carlos opened his mouth before closing it again, like he was trying not to smile.

TK sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What I meant was, I'm sorry I got upset when you needed space. I'm sorry I didn't try harder to talk to you about it. I'm sorry I left when things got hard."

Carlos's expression softened. "That's not your fault."

"Yes, it was."

"No, I…" Carlos looked away, sighing. "I know I shut you out sometimes."

"Why?"

Carlos looked down at his hands. "I was having problems at work."

"I know, you told me."

"Not everything." Carlos was wringing his hands, and TK wanted so badly to reach out and touch him. "I got in trouble."

TK frowned. He couldn't imagine Carlos doing anything worth getting in trouble over. "About what?"

"I misfiled some evidence," Carlos said in a rush. "I was distracted. It shouldn't have happened."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Carlos."

"It wasn't just a tiny mistake. It was a big case. Some of the evidence will probably be inadmissible in court because I mishandled it."

"That could happen to anyone," TK said quietly.

"Well, my captain didn't agree," Carlos said, swallowing. "Ever since my suspension over the robbery and now this…he's been on me ever since. For a while I thought he was going to transfer me."

TK was quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You already had enough on your plate with the 126 closing, and…"

TK looked away, trying not to feel stung. "And you thought I wouldn't be able to handle it."

"What? No. I just didn't want you to know."

"About the mistake at work?" TK asked, confused.

Carlos huffed with frustration. "Yes!"

"Why?"

"Because I was angry! It shouldn't have happened."

TK was having trouble processing this. "So you didn't tell me because…" He watched Carlos for a moment, trying to read his body language. "...you were ashamed."

"Of course I was," Carlos said, like it was obvious.

TK watched Carlos rub his thumb against his palm over and over. "I wish you'd told me."

"I know," Carlos said stiffly. "I'm sorry."

"But mostly I wish I'd asked."

Carlos shook his head. "You couldn't have known."

"Maybe not. Or maybe I should have been paying more attention. I was kinda…self-absorbed." His mouth twisted with embarrassment. "I just assumed you were pulling away…from me."

Carlos looked at him for a moment, his embarrassment fading.

"I guess that was kind of dumb," TK muttered.

"TK," Carlos said quietly. He started to move towards him, but must have done it too quickly because suddenly he stopped, mouth tight. He took in a ragged breath. "Sorry."

TK looked at Carlos's hand pressed to his side. "Your rib?"

Carlos nodded. "I just forget sometimes and move too fast." He took a shallow breath. "It's better than it was."

"Can I see?"

They shared another long look before Carlos came around the counter to stand next to him. He reached up very slowly to unbutton his shirt. His ribs were violent shades of yellow and purple, and his stomach wound was covered with a large bandage. TK took a ragged breath.

"Probably won't be going shirtless at the gym for a while," Carlos said with a wry smile. TK didn't laugh. His hand flexed with the need to touch him, to inspect him and make sure he was okay.

Carlos noticed, as always. Very gently, he took TK's hand and laid it against his chest.

TK stared at his hand splayed over Carlos's heart, but all he could see were blood-stained hands in the hot Texas sun. No pulse.

A sob rose from deep in his chest and he stepped back, away from Carlos.

"TK," Carlos said, gripping his hand tighter so TK couldn't let go. "It's okay."

No pulse!

TK slammed his eyes shut. Not now. Please, not now.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Update, TK," said Tommy. "How much blood loss?"

Another sob, choking him. He felt the blood seeping into his pants. Two, maybe three quarts. Too much. He tried to suck in a deep breath but couldn't do it.

"Please talk to me," Carlos pleaded.

The pain in his chest was unbearable, like shards of glass ripping up his heart every time he tried to breathe. He pushed the heel of his hand to his chest.

No pulse. Starting compressions, Cap.

TK listed sideways, gripping the top of one of the dining room chairs to keep himself upright, but he ended up taking it with him on the way down.

"TK!" Carlos said urgently.

He lay on his back, staring up at the sky, hot concrete against his back. Something wet and sticky on his hands. He was dying. He knew this. A tear slipped down his temple and into his hair.

"I'm calling 911," Carlos said, fumbling with his phone.

No pulse, Paul said. Call it. You've gotta call it, TK.

"No!" TK shook his head, tears pouring freely now. "No!"

"Okay, okay, but…" Carlos trailed off. "I'll call…"

TK squeezed his eyes shut against the sun, trying to make sense of the jumble of voices around him. Hypovolemic shock. Blood and saline. Starting a line.

No pulse.

"TK, listen to me," Carlos said from somewhere above him. "Can you hear my voice?"

TK tried to shake his head but was frozen.

"You're safe, okay? We're both safe."

I'm dead. We're both dead.

"You just need to breathe, okay? Slowly. I–" He cut off, and TK could hear another voice in the background. Tommy over the radio? ABCs, TK.

He tried to take a breath and choked on it. Airway, closed. Breathing, shallow. Circulation, rapid.

"We're in our apartment," Carlos told him. "You're lying on the floor. Can you feel the carpet?"

TK flexed his hand, fingertips brushing itchy polyester. Another voice in the background, but it didn't sound like Tommy's.

"Can you open your eyes? Tell me what you see."

TK forced his eyes open. Instead of sun in his eyes, he saw a half-lit dining room with framed pictures on the wall.

"What do you see, TK?"

He swallowed, trying to focus. "Family."

"Try to breathe really slowly, okay?"

TK's chest still hurt, but he was able to take a breath this time. He heard the voice in the background again, but it didn't sound like Tommy.

"Good, good. I'm going to hold your hand, okay?" he said, and TK nodded. Carlos's hand was warm and large and familiar. He rubbed his thumb over TK's wrist the way he'd done so many nights.

TK closed his eyes and took another breath.

Carlos said, "I think he's okay now. Thanks. Sorry for interrupting your dinner. Okay…okay, thanks. You too. Bye."

After a few minutes, TK opened his eyes again and saw Carlos hovering over him. He looked pale and sweaty, eyes pinched with worry and pain.

"Your ribs," TK croaked.

"It's okay," said Carlos. "I'm just glad you're okay."

TK used a dining room chair to pull himself into a sitting position, gently brushing Carlos's hand away when he tried to help. He leaned heavily against a leg of the dining room table as the room swayed around him, slowly coming into focus.

"So you've been having panic attacks?" Carlos asked, and TK shrugged. "Have you talked to your therapist about it?"

"No." At Carlos's furrowed brow he said, "I will."

Carlos nodded. "Since…"

"Yeah."

They sat there side by side against their dining room table, knees pressed together.

"How did you know to call Judd?" TK asked finally.

"I didn't. I called Grace." When TK looked over at him, Carlos said, "You told me not to call 911, so…"

TK picked at a loose thread at his knee. He didn't remember that.

"So are you…having flashbacks, or…?" Carlos rested his hand on TK's knee, then moved it like he wasn't sure he was allowed to do that anymore.

TK scratched the back of his neck. "Kind of. Mostly of how scared I was."

Carlos nodded, solemn. "I still can't believe you did that. You could have been killed."

TK looked over at him. "Carlos…that's not…"

"What?"

TK huffed with frustration. How could he possibly explain this? "You weren't there," he said, with something that sounded like anger. "I mean, obviously you were, but…you didn't see it."

Carlos was watching him apprehensively. "See what?"

"You," TK said. Gray skin, blood on the pavement, a hole in his stomach. TK's entire body was vibrating so hard he expected his teeth to start chattering. "You were dead."

"You thought I was," Carlos said softly.

"No. I mean, yes. When I first got to you, I thought you were dead. But then you were dead. You weren't breathing. Your heart stopped right under my hands."

Carlos rubbed a hand along his bruised rib.

"I thought I'd lost you," TK said very quietly. "Sometimes I still do."

Carlos grabbed his hand, squeezing a little too hard. "You didn't."

"Didn't I?" TK asked with an edge of hysteria in his voice.

"No," Carlos said firmly. "No. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"But why?" TK blurted out.

Carlos leaned his head against the edge of the table and looked at him for a long time, his eyes soft with tenderness and exhaustion. He picked up TK's hand and kissed his palm, then held it against his cheek.

TK would never, ever deserve this, but he would try to.

Carlos closed his eyes, looking like he was about to fall asleep right there against the dining room table. TK cupped the side of his head with the hand Carlos was still holding. "Hey."

Carlos's eyes flickered up to meet his.

"I'm sorry," TK whispered, stroking his cheek with his thumb. "I can drive you back to your parents' so you can rest."

Carlos shook his head. "I don't want to leave my car." He sighed deeply, like the exhaustion was all the way in his bones.

"When's the last time you took your meds?" TK asked him.

"Few hours ago."

TK staggered to his feet and helped Carlos up from the floor. He rummaged through the junk drawer for a bottle of Tylenol, filled a glass of water, and brought them over to Carlos.

"You're too tired to drive," TK told him. "Let me drive you. Or stay here tonight."

Carlos swallowed down the pills and nodded. "Maybe I'll just lay down for a while."

TK led him to their old bedroom with the borrowed bed frame and the bedspread they'd picked out at Target. Carlos lay down on his back, shirt still unbuttoned, while TK hovered uncertainly.

"You can stay," Carlos told him quietly, eyes closed.

TK didn't move for a moment, just watching him breathe, but finally kicked off his shoes and crawled in on his side of the bed. He stretched out next to him, not touching. The only sound was of their breathing in the dark.

"Do you need to text your mom to tell her you'll be late? So she won't worry."

"No, it's okay," Carlos said drowsily, reaching out to hold TK's hand. "She knows I'm with you."

TK watched him in a sliver of light from the hallway until Carlos fell asleep. He looked down at their fingers intertwined and closed his eyes.

—

On the day of his hearing, TK sat in the parking lot and drummed his hands against the steering wheel.

He'd been rehearsing what he was going to say for two days. Sometimes he thought it sounded convincing and sometimes he thought it sounded absurd. His dad had offered to go with him to speak on his behalf, but TK had told him no. He needed to do this on his own.

When he pushed through the front door to the building, the first people he saw were Tommy and Nancy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Nancy as she came up to give him a hug. Tommy smiled.

"We thought you might need some moral support," she said.

"Especially if they decide to can your stupid ass," said Judd.

TK looked behind Tommy. Everyone from the 126 was there, including his dad. TK sighed with annoyance.

"Didn't I tell you guys you didn't need to be here?"

"You sure did," Judd said cheerfully as Marjan gave TK a hug. "We decided to ignore you, as usual."

"Thanks, guys. Ugh," he said as Mateo squeezed him a little too tight. "New cologne, buddy?"

"Yeah, you like it? It's called Ice Chill."

"Good to see you, man," Paul said, clapping him on the back in a one-armed hug.

"Yeah, you too," said TK. "I'm sorry I haven't…" He looked up at him. "Sorry I haven't talked to you in a while. I was–"

"Hey, it's okay, I get it."

"No, but…thank you," TK said earnestly. "For everything."

Paul smiled and gave him a real hug this time. "You know I always got your back, man," he said quietly, and TK nodded against his shoulder.

"I know you told me not to come," Owen said, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I did tell you that, yes."

"I'm not here to talk to the board. I'm just here as a supportive father."

TK nodded and hugged him. "Thanks, dad."

From behind Owen, Carlos stood up from the lobby sofa, hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets. "He was already here when I got here," Owen whispered to TK, patting him on the back as he moved away to give them space.

"What are you doing here?" TK asked Carlos. "I mean…sorry. I appreciate it."

Carlos smiled. "I’m here for you of course, but I'm also here to deliver this," he said, pulling an envelope out of the inner pocket of his jacket.

"What is this?" TK asked. The Austin Police Department logo was stamped on the corner, and the envelope was sealed with a scribbled signature that he couldn't read.

"It's from Captain Jimenez."

TK thought for a moment. "The incident commander at the shooting."

"It's a letter to the board, about your actions on the day of the shooting."

"Uh…"

Carlos smiled. "It's in your favor. Or so he says."

"But why?"

"He thinks that your actions showed how much the APD needs to allot more funding to train tactical EMS for these exact situations. He's been advocating for it for years, apparently."

TK looked down at the envelope. "Wow. That's really nice of him to write this."

"Oh," said Carlos. "He also made me promise to tell you that if you ever do something like that again at one of his crime scenes, he'd string you up by your…" He paused awkwardly. "Well."

"Ah." TK nodded. "Noted."

Carlos looked at him for a moment, lips parted like he wanted to say something but didn't know how.

"Thank you," TK said. "For bringing this. And for being here."

"Of course," Carlos told him. "You know I would…" He swallowed nervously and lowered his voice. "You know I would do anything for you."

Something on TK's face must have encouraged him, because he reached out and took one of TK's hands in his. TK leaned in close enough to feel Carlos's breath on his cheek.

"I was thinking about what you were telling me, about your therapist and the relationship stuff," Carlos said, and TK frowned at the change of subject.

"Yeah?"

"I'll go with you," Carlos told him. "If you want, I mean. If it would help. I don't–"

TK leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to Carlos's mouth. Carlos made a tiny startle of surprise but recovered quickly, holding the side of TK's head as he kissed him back. It wasn't much more than a quick press of lips and tongue, but something in TK's chest finally unclenched.

TK pulled back just enough to keep his forehead pressed against Carlos's. "Thank you," he breathed.

Behind them, Marjan cleared her throat. "Uh, I think they're ready for you."

TK stepped back, and Carlos squeezed his hand. “It’ll be okay,” he told him.

TK looked at him, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Yeah…it will.”