"C'mon TK. You can't die. Not today. Not like this." Judd whispered, voice cracking with emotion as he held steady pressure to the rapidly bleeding wound on TK's forearm.

The two men were collapsed on the station's bathroom floor, TK slumped over in Judd's lap, head lolling against the larger man's shoulder. Judd held TK's wrist up above his head, ignoring the aching strain on his own arm muscles. His other arm wrapped around the younger man's middle, and he absentmindedly rubbed soothing circles with his thumb on TK's ribs.

Blood saturated the towel that was pressed to his wrist, and Judd desperately wished he had more material available to help staunch the bleeding. He didn't want to attempt to move TK, fearing he'd make things worse by dragging the poor kid around the firehouse. Judd was still in shock after finding TK in the first place. He knew he'd had a couple of suspected suicide attempts before, but those were all drug related, and could be passed off as accidental. This… this was in no way an accident.

TK was barely conscious, he stared off at nothing, and didn't react at all when Judd had tried to get him talking. So Judd just kept whispering encouragements and prayers, and honestly, a few curses and swears, so at the very least, they weren't suffocating in silence.

In the distance, sirens blared. Judd knew in his gut, that that was Michelle, Tim, and Nancy returning from their medical call, to come assist TK. When Judd had frantically called 9-1-1, he'd specifically asked for the 126 paramedic team. They most likely would've been the responding RA unit, but Judd wanted to be sure. This had to stay in house—in family—for now.

"Ryder? Strand? Call out!" Michelle yelled, as she grabbed her bag from the ambulance, Tim and Nancy hot on her heels.

"We're up here, in the bathroom." Judd bellowed, voice tinged with urgency and fear.

"We're headed on up, just hold in there."

Judd hurriedly wiped his eyes with the back of his right wrist, the skin there thankfully clear of TK's blood. He sniffled, and hardened his expression. He couldn't afford to break now, not when his brother needed him to be strong.

"Dispatch said there was a self-inflicted cut with significant bleeding, possible hypovolemic shock. How's he doing?" Michelle asked, as she knelt down next to the boys.

"He's lost a lotta blood, but it slowed with pressure and elevation. Hasn't lost consciousness, but is unresponsive to verbal stimulation." Judd responded, slipping into his detached professional mask.

Michelle announced the low numbers of TK's blood pressure, and Nancy chimed in with his high heart rate, and the two paramedics shared a concerned look. They all knew that that wasn't a good sign. His heart was trying in vain to make up for the volume of blood he'd lost.

"Skin is cold and clammy to the touch," Tim says, with a gloved hand pressed to TK's forehead, "looks like class two, possibly three hemorrhage."

"Administer IV fluids, we gotta get his volume up. Come on TK, you gotta keep fighting. Nancy, radio ahead, let them know we'll need a blood transfusion upon arrival." Michelle asserts, as she switches out the soaked towel with compression bandages.

The others do as they're told, working together like a well oiled machine. Judd runs his fingers through TK's damp strands of hair, wincing when the hair snags on his hand, his skin tacky with mostly dried blood.

TK shivered slightly, looking dazed. His eyelids drooped, fatigue apparent on his pale visage.

"Judd? You good to carry him to the ambulance? I don't want to waste any more time by getting the backboard."

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, "yeah I can do that."

He slowly stood up, arms looped under TK's armpits, bringing his limp body up with him. TK swayed, his stance weak and on the verge of collapse. Judd then picked him up off the floor, one arm supporting his back, the other the back of his knees. TK's head rested on Judd's shoulder, and Judd pretended not to notice the tears that were slowly wetting his T-shirt.

The group hurries down the stairs, Nancy and Michelle clambering into the front of the bus, and Tim opens the back doors for Judd, who climbed in and deposited TK onto the stretcher. Tim kept his hold on the IV bag while they were moving TK, and he quickly attached it to a pole in the back as the vehicle peeled out of the garage.

The ride seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, yet simultaneously last an eternity. Suddenly they weren't moving and the doors were thrown open with haste. A trauma team decked in gowns and gloves began to pull the stretcher out, and Tim followed, rattling off TK's stats and handing the IV fluids to someone nearby. They hurried off, leaving the 126 members by the ambulance.

"Okay guys, let's park somewhere out of the way, and go to the waiting room. I'll phone Captain Strand and fill him in on what's going on." Michelle directs, keeping a cool head as always, knowing that the other firehouse personale would benefit from direct orders, the shock of finding their brother laying in a puddle of his own blood was making it very difficult for any of them to think clearly.

Not too long after, the entirety of the 126 was sitting in the waiting room, Marjan, Paul, Mateo, and Owen coming as soon as the call they were on was handled. TK hadn't gone on the call, claiming that he was feeling unwell, and Judd had been the man behind, seeing as they hadn't needed all of them there, and they only really needed one rig.

Owen couldn't help but be thankful he'd kept Judd back, seeing as he next to never has him be the man behind. He also couldn't help but kick himself for not noticing that there was something seriously wrong with his son. The entire reason he'd moved them out to Texas was so something like this wouldn't happen; look where they were now.

"How… How did you find him? What happened?" Owen asked, voice coming out thick and strangled.

Judd nervously swiped his hand across his upper lip, as he shifted in his seat. He swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat.

"I figured I'd see if he needed anything. Water, a blanket, some company, yenno, 'cause he said he wasn't feeling too good. But I couldn't find him in the bunk room, and then I heard Buttercup whining near the bathroom door, and I figured that was pretty weird, so I went to check it out." Judd paused, licking his lips, before leaning forward and clasping his hands together, not looking at his teammates. "He was laying on his back, and there was already so much blood. I grabbed the towel and started applying pressure, and called 9-1-1. I don't know what he used, there was nothing sharp in his hands, so whatever it was is probably still in that bathroom."

Owen nodded along silently, tears silently making trails down his cheeks. The other's weren't faring any better.

"It wasn't an accident." Owen said, flatly. He clearly wasn't asking, more like stating the heartbreaking sentence.

"No sir." Judd answered anyways, knowing that Owen needed to hear it from someone else. He needed to face that darkness.

"Why would he do something like this?" Marjan asked.

No one answered her. Because really, that was the million dollar question. Why would TK Strand attempt to take his own life? What had they all missed that led to him feeling so lost and alone that he'd rather be dead then continue on? How could they not notice his worsening depression? Were there signs that they missed that would seem like giant red flags in hindsight? So many questions, and no answers. The only one who could answer, was currently fighting for his life in the ER. At least, they hoped he was fighting.

"Did anyone call Carlos?" Mateo suddenly asked, straightening up in his chair as he addressed the group.

"Shit. No. I'll go do that." Owen said, excusing himself from the room.

Silence enveloped the room like a weighted blanket. Tension ran high, as the team waited anxiously to hear if their brother had survived. Owen returned shortly, his clipped strides temporarily breaking the tense atmosphere. He resumed sitting, and they lapsed back into heavy silence.

Judd abruptly stood from his seat, and strode out of the room, mumbling about getting the blood off his hands. They all gave him a few minutes of privacy to clean up, but when he didn't return, Owen took it upon himself to go find the other firefighter.

He didn't have to go very far, or search very hard, really. He was exactly where he said he'd be. However, Judd was standing at the sink, head bowed, unmoving.

"How you holding up?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Judd snarked, turning his head to briefly meet Owen's eyes.

"It's hard on all of us. It couldn't have been easy seeing him like that. Trust me, I would know." Owen gave a wry laugh. He walked closer, and leaned against the counter. "This wasn't your fault, you know that, right?"

"I should've noticed he was gone sooner than I did, and it wasn't even me who found him, it was that damn dog that found him. Guess he really is his favourite. Man's best friend and all that, right?"

"I'm sensing some deflection here, Judd. But I'm going to let it slide for now, because we're all upset. But you're gonna have to talk to someone about what you went through."

"Did you?"

Owen gaped, raising a finger defensively, before slumping in defeat.

"Touché."

"I'm sorry Cap."

"So am I Judd, so am I."

With that, Owen clasped Judd's shoulder, silently sending support and reassurance through the simple gesture. With a nod, they walked out together, ready to sit vigil with the rest of their family.

The wait after their disappearance was not long. A doctor purposely walked in, calling for the family of a TK Strand. Owen stood up, Judd right by his side. The others remained seated, but were listening intently.

"He pulled through. We got him all stitched up, and gave him a blood transfusion. He's going to be fatigued, and will need plenty of rest these next few days. He may have one visitor once we get him transferred to the mental health unit."

"You mean the psych ward?" Judd spat, frustration finally making itself known.

"Is he being held for the mandatory seventy-two hour suicide watch?" Owen inquired, sadly.

"Yes. After that, we can discuss a treatment plan going forward. He's going to need therapy, lots of rest, and to make sure his diet consists of foods high in iron." The doctor replied.

"Thank you." Owen said, grasping their hand in a polite yet hasty handshake, before the doctor departed. Owen let out a weary breath, running a hand through his hair, mussing up the strands.

"He's alive. He's alive. He's okay." He muttered to himself, relief surging through his veins.

Judd nodded along, crossing his arms.

"You hear that?" Judd addressed the others. "Our boy is a fighter. He's gon' make it through this. And we, his family, are gonna be there for him every step of the way, whether he likes it or not."

They made noises of acknowledgement, nodding in understanding.

A short while found them in TK's room. All of them. Owen had the nurse call Gwyn and… well… let's just say they suddenly found that having the entire team at TK's bedside wasn't a problem. It was a win-win situation, he didn't have to tell his ex-wife that TK almost died (again), and she got the staff to let the entire family in to see the kid. Admittedly, it was only for the rest of today's visiting hours, but it was better than nothing.

Owen sat in a chair by TK's head, opposite of Judd, who leaned back in his seat, absentmindedly massaging his sore upper arm. Marjan and Paul sat in the seats by the window, and Mateo stood by the door, attempting to hold back his tears. Michelle, Nancy, and Tim only stayed long enough to assure themselves that TK was relatively okay, before going back on the clock.

They all were lost in thought, the room blanketed in melancholy. The atmosphere only broken when Carlos had arrived, nervously readjusting his crumpled uniform shirt as he strode across the room. He took up vigil at the end of the bed. He'd sank down in a chair he'd dragged from beside Marjan. He laid a hand on TK's ankle, anchoring himself and hoping he was providing some semblance of comfort to the unconscious man.

Mateo eventually excused himself, knowing the longer it took TK to wake up the worse his own composure would be. Marjan and Paul both made their way out a few moments later, to get some air, and bring some coffee for the others. Judd remained motionless, but Owen and Carlos both stood to stretch their limbs, taking a few steps from the bed, before resituating themselves. They struck up a quiet conversation that Judd didn't bother to attempt to join, or follow. Marjan and Paul returned, handing out mediocre tasting coffee and resuming their previous positions. Mateo returned too, and nobody drew attention to the redness surrounding his eyes, or the slight shake of his hands as he lifted a cup to his lips.

There was a light rustle from the bed, accompanied by a small, pained groan.

"TK?" Judd asked, lifting up from his seat, drawing everyone's attention to the bed.

"Judd? What… what's going on? Dad? Where am I? Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm scared." TK's jumbled words brought tears of relief to their eyes. He tried to shoot up from the bed, but both Judd and Owen laid a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing back to the mattress.

"What do you remember?"

"I…" he cut himself off with a groan. "Fuck."

"I'm—I mean—we are gonna go get the doctor." Marjan piped up, dragging Paul and Mateo out of the room. She figured that TK didn't need them there as he faced what he'd failed to do.

"Dad… I'm so sorry." TK's voice broke, as he sobbed into his hands.

"I just don't understand TK. I thought you were doing better." Owen said, not unkindly.

"Is it the grey?" Carlos asked, when TK didn't bother to reply to his father. Owen frowned at that, not understanding the reference.

"Yeah," he let out a breath, "yeah it's the grey. It's like I'm stuck. Everything is grey and numb. It's like I'm paralyzed. Everything just felt so pointless. It's like I'm empty."

"And this made you feel something?"

"It did… and it didn't? Like at first it was like a rush of… I don't know. It's kinda like when I get high, but not at the same time. I know that probably doesn't make sense."

"No, no, it does." Carlos reassures him.

"So what? Hurtin' yourself was the answer to not being able to feel anything? No offense brother, but most people go across the road not straight for down the street." Judd spits, frustration bleeding into his tactless comment.

"What does that even mean?" Owen asked, incredulously.

"Uh it's a… uh, way to say that most people would engage in self harm by cutting across their wrists, not cutting from wrist to elbow. That's kinda an indicator that they're, erm, suicidal." Carlos explains.

TK buried his face in his knees, refusing to look at the disappointment that was surely on his father's face.

The doctor took that moment to walk in, and briskly checked his vitals, before addressing their patient.

"How are we feeling, Ty-"

"It's TK." He quickly cut them off, before sheepishly apologizing.

"It's okay. How are you feeling, TK?"

"I've been better."

"Now, I need to ask you some questions, just so we know how to proceed with your care. But before I ask you anything, do you want anyone to leave?"

TK looked around the room, noting the absence of three of their members. It's not that he didn't want or appreciate Mateo, Paul, and Marjan's support, but he didn't want them there for this.

"No. They can hear this. They'll hear about it anyways." TK replied, defeated.

"Were you attempting to commit suicide this afternoon, TK?"

There was a tense pause, before quietly, so quiet they almost didn't hear him, TK answered.

"Yes."

"Do you understand that you will be held for your own safety for the next seventy-two hours?"

"Yes."

"Our treatment plan for now is for you to speak with our onsite psychologist, and after that, you'll also speak with a therapist, and possibly a psychiatrist, who'll be in charge of prescribing any medications if it's deemed that you require antidepressants or any other similar drugs."

"I understand." He told them, voice flat and filled with a hopelessness that couldn't be ignored.

"TK, I understand that this can feel like a lot, and you're going through a lot. We're here to help and support you, so that you can get back on your feet. Now, if you need anything, don't be afraid to call for a nurse. The button's just on the bedrail there. Now, do you have any questions for me?"

"No. Thank you."

"We don't either." Owen said, when the doctor directed an inquiring look his way.

"Alright. If you'll excuse me, I've got another patient to consult with." The doctor said, checking their pager with a practiced ease.

"Thanks doc." Judd said, as the doctor walked out of the room.

Three days later, TK was no longer deemed a danger to himself, and was released from the hospital. He was prescribed a low dose of Sertraline, an antidepressant. He clutched the paper bag to his chest as he walked with his dad to their vehicle.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear, but I'm going to be holding on to those, and giving you your pills daily. I'm not doing it to punish you, or baby you. I just don't want anything that could be potentially triggering in your vicinity if I can help it."

"I know. And… thank you. For caring, for not getting upset with me. I know I've put you through a lot this past year." TK said.

"You don't need to thank me for caring. I love you, TK."

"I love you too, dad."

The drive home was comfortable, filled with the latest hits on the radio, and the occasional comment from Owen on 'poor vibes' in the lyrics, which brought a small snort and an eye roll from TK.

"So the whole team is waiting back at our place. They wanted to be here for your release, but we didn't want to overwhelm you. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's actually really sweet of them."

"They care about you." Owen said, nonchalantly.

"I guess they do." TK mused, a small smile beginning to form on his face as he thought of his team, and Carlos.

As they pulled up outside their house, TK readjusted his hoodie sleeve, double checking that the thick gauze wrapped around his wrist wasn't visible. Sure, they'd all seen the bandages while he was in the hospital, but he'd feel better if he kept it out of sight.

They made their way inside, TK receiving hugs all around, whispered words of love and support filling his ears as he embraced his family.

Paul had cooked them a small feast, and Grace brought dessert with her. They all sat down to eat, Owen striking up conversation with Michelle, quietly thanking her for keeping his boy alive. The rest of the 126 plus Carlos and Grace chatted among themselves, and TK sat back for a moment, drinking it all in. He'd never felt so content and loved as he did in that moment.

Something about the whole situation made TK feel like maybe, just maybe, he'd recover from this. A warmth filled him, and for once, his smile, albeit small, was completely real.

That evening, after almost everyone had left, TK pulled Judd aside to talk to him in private.

"Judd, I can't even begin to say how sorry I am that you had to find me like that. It wasn't fair to you, and I hope that someday you can forgive me."

"Brother, you ain't got nothing to be sorry for. You were hurting, and did what you thought you had to. But if it makes you feel better, then I forgive you." Judd drawled, rubbing the back of his neck in slight discomfort.

"I uh… I also wanted to thank you. You saved my life. I probably wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you. And yeah, for a second I resented you for it, yenno? 'Cause I thought I didn't want to be alive anymore, but now that I know a little better, I can't tell you how thankful I am that you were there, that you got me help. That you held me in my darkest moment, kept me awake, and alive. God, your arm must've been aching after holding mine up for so long." TK gave a wry laugh, shaking his head a little. "I know mine was, and I wasn't even doing anything."

"Yeah well, it was worth it. Anything for you, brother."

They hugged tightly, TK clinging on to Judd for a little longer than usual, and the man just squeezed him tighter, pouring love and concern into their embrace. But TK was there, alive and well. On his way to recovery, and hopefully, on his way to happiness. They pulled back, and broke apart. Judd patted TK's shoulder, before joining his wife in the kitchen to help with the cleanup.

TK stood alone, lost in thought.

Maybe everything would be okay after all.