Posted this at AO3 pre-engagement and forgot to post here!
Written for this non-fandom-specific prompt from Maxs_Musings - There are two people on a park bench speaking in hushed and whispered tones. Sirens can be heard in the distance. A car backfires and they both take off running.
It made me think of Carlos, so I decided to dip my toe into the Lone Star waters.
It's a beautiful, brisk day. The sun is high and bright in the sky, offering just enough warmth to cut some of the chill from the air.
The park is moderately crowded for a weekday – some walkers along the path that circles the perimeter, a few well-dressed businesspeople who've escaped the hustle of the nearby buildings in favor of the food trucks gathered in the small parking lot. There's a playground near the entrance, where mothers and nannies distractedly scroll through their phones while the kids shriek with delight and expend their pent-up energy.
It's not a park Carlos has spent much time in, considering he's lived in Austin his whole life. He decides he should bring TK for a picnic when the weather warms a bit. His boyfriend loves that kind of cheesy, traditional romantic gesture. And okay, Carlos can admit maybe he does too. It would make for a nice afternoon on one of the days when their schedules align.
But for now, his focus is completely on the man sitting on the bench beside him – a man who is definitely not TK. And they're certainly not here for a picnic.
When he woke up this morning, the last thing Carlos expected the afternoon to bring him was a starring role as the primary player in an undercover operation with the APD.
It was supposed to be Detective Flores and had been in the works for a couple weeks, but a last-minute family emergency pulled the seasoned detective away. Since Flores had never connected with their subject in person, it was determined that Carlos shared enough physical characteristics with him that he'd be able to pass. Carlos appreciates that his superiors have that kind of faith in him, but he had his doubts – about the resemblance and his ability to pull it off. He's only a patrol officer, after all.
But his concerns turned out to be unwarranted. The young man he's meeting – Damon – hasn't even looked at him straight on since he arrived, eyes skittering around nervously, directed anywhere but at the man he thinks he's hiring to kill a local gang member who dared to set his sights on Damon's sister.
Carlos actually feels bad for the kid. Because that's what he is, really – a kid. He can't blame him for not wanting his sister to get caught up in the shit she seems to be sliding toward, but the fact is, hiring someone to commit murder for you is illegal, regardless of your motive.
Everything has gone smoothly so far, but even so, Carlos is nervous. He's sweating in spite of the chill – the unwelcome moisture gathering under his arms and around his neck and hairline, making him wish he could shed his light jacket. The butterflies in his stomach feel like they could fully take wing at any moment.
But there's also a thrill in what he's doing. An excitement that comes with being trusted in this way. Even though this isn't what he had expected for the day, and he was read in on the plan a little too quickly to feel completely confident in his ability, he knows this is a chance he doesn't want to let slip away.
Carlos enjoys his job immensely. It allows him to do a lot of good for the city he loves and the community of people who live in it. In the early years of his career, he wondered if being a police officer was what he truly wanted for himself or if he really chose to go into law enforcement to please his father, to prove he wasn't 'soft.' Or to compete with him in some way, perhaps.
But the pleasure and pride he feels after a successful shift – helping people, making them feel safe – tells him he made the right decision for the right reasons. And he can't imagine doing anything else.
Lately, though, he's felt like there could be more. That there's the potential to advance his career, maybe go for detective. So, he knows he can't let an opportunity to prove himself pass him by.
And if he's being honest, there's a monetary incentive as well. If he can fast track a promotion, it could really help with the new mortgage. The look on TK's face when he brought him home from the hospital was worth every bit of stretching it took to make the down payment work, especially after coming so close to losing him. He would do it again in a heartbeat, though maybe not in the way he went about it, considering where it led them. Fortunately, that's in the past, and he and TK are closer than they've ever been.
Carlos loved his house, and he was absolutely gutted after the fire. But the loft – that's something special. It's theirs. And making it a home he and TK can escape to amidst the chaos of their jobs is worth whatever he needs to do.
He's also started to research rings. Not seriously enough that he's actively shopping for one yet – he won't do that until he's sure TK is ready – but enough that he knows some extra cash would go a long way toward choosing something particularly special.
So, he finds himself on a bench in a park in the middle of the day.
"I just need him to be gone," Damon says in a hushed voice, even though there is no one near enough to hear them. "I don't care how, but I can't have it connected to me."
"I can make that happen," Carlos says, anticipating the money exchange that will trigger the men and women strategically scattered around the park to move in for an arrest. But Damon reaches nervously for his jacket pocket a couple times, only to pull his hand right back to his lap. His unease is palpable, pouring off of him in waves.
Even though it would be a boon to his career, Carlos really hopes Damon won't actually go through with finalizing the deal. He's too young and scared to throw his life away like this, and Carlos wishes he could intercede – counsel him instead of passively waiting for him to make the biggest mistake of his life. But Carlos takes a steadying breath and tells himself to be patient. His job is to wait the man out, not influence him either way. If that means sitting here for an hour, he will.
But then there's a sudden wail of sirens from the street behind them and Carlos curses internally. The operation is going to get fucked before he ever has an opportunity to prove himself, and all because the APD can't manage to keep a quiet zone in place long enough for him to do his job.
"Shit," Damon exhales, eyes growing wide as he frantically swivels to look at the entrance to the park. "Shit, shit, shit!"
Carlos knows the sirens have nothing to do with the manufactured deal they're about to make. It's likely a simple, unrelated traffic stop. But Damon doesn't know that, and he's understandably spooked.
"Stay cool," Carlos says, hoping his calm disinterest will transfer to his companion. "Give it a minute, let's see what happens."
But then a car backfires, and Carlos is sure the universe is against him.
Damon is off the bench in a flash, running toward the tree line. Carlos is right on his heels, knowing he can't let him move into the heavy, thick expanse of green that surrounds the park. It will take them beyond the sightline of his back up.
"What are you doing?" he demands, as he catches up to the skittish man, trying to regain his focus and attention. Damon spins around to face him, and that's when he sees the gun.
They didn't expect him to be armed. He has no criminal record, no concerning affiliations and no evidence of purchasing or owning a firearm. Everything in his history shows him being on the straight and narrow until the whole trying to hire a hitman thing.
But it's definitely a handgun that Damon has outstretched in front of his body, pointing a bit too close to Carlos's general direction for comfort.
"Whoa, hey," Carlos takes a step back, placating hands lifted to chest height in front of him. "It was a car backfire. That's all."
"You don't know that!"
In all the years he's been with the department, Carlos has never had a firearm trained on him in the field. It's something he's prepared for though, of course, knowing it was a possible eventuality. But it's also the kind of situation where you never know how you'll really react until it happens.
Carlos doesn't freeze and he doesn't flee. His heart feels like it's going to thump out of his chest, but he's able to center himself, calm his breathing somewhat and zone in on the man in front of him. He doesn't like the fact that Damon's finger is resting on the trigger, but he knows he needs to keep his cool and help defuse the situation before it escalates even more and something bad happens. There are civilians in close proximity to them, and while he doesn't think Damon would harm any of them intentionally, fear doesn't often manifest in rational ways.
"I've been around cars enough, man, that was a backfire," Carlos forces out with as much relaxed confidence as he can muster. "Let's just take a breath. You're gonna get us busted, and I'm not going back to jail today. Not for this."
Damon's eyes are flitting from Carlos to the street, to the trees, and Carlos knows he needs to rein him in.
"Hey, are we doing this or not?" He barks, trying to sound annoyed. "I don't want to waste my time. There's a lot of other shit I'd rather -"
He's interrupted by another backfire from the street, and he watches as Damon's entire body seems to flinch at once as he startles.
Carlos sees the muzzle flash and hears the bang, but he doesn't feel any pain when the bullet slams into his vulnerable, unprotected chest. He can hear it reverberate through his body, though, the echo unlike anything he's ever heard before. And the physical force of it is undeniable.
He instinctively tries to stay on his feet, managing a small stutter step as he works to counter the momentum, but he's ultimately crumbling to the ground before he's able to fully register what happened.
He knows it's bad immediately, his whole body going hot and cold at the same time. He's slumped awkwardly forward, half on his side and half on his front, and he's alarmed by the amount of blood he's starting to see mix with the dirt beneath him. He makes an attempt to reach for his chest – knowing how important it is to apply pressure – but he's already becoming lightheaded and uncoordinated, and he can't manage the strength that would be necessary to move the forearm he's heavily resting on out of the dirt.
He can hear shouts in the distance, but they sound so far away they may as well be nonexistent. He doesn't know where Damon is, and he doesn't care, but he hopes the kid gives himself up. Hell, he doesn't even care if he runs at this point. Whatever it takes for someone to be able to come help.
There should be pain, he thinks, distantly, as a weak cough chokes his throat. It brings the sickening taste of iron with it, and Carlos finds he doesn't even have the energy to spit the blood from his mouth, relaxing his jaw and allowing it to naturally drip out instead.
His fingers scrabble weakly in the dirt, sticky now with blood. He knows he's in trouble – that he's losing too much of it, too quickly – but somehow, he's most unsettled by having to look at the growing puddle beneath him.
If this is the end, he'd prefer to be looking at the sky, he thinks.
His ultimate loss of consciousness isn't like a light switch, suddenly black and unaware. It's more of a gradual dimming, his peripheral vision fading out as the sound around him grows more and more muffled. Through the cotton in his ears, he hears sirens – so many sirens – and voices finally moving closer. But he knows it's too late.
His last clear thought before he's swept into darkness is that he hopes it's not the 126 that responds to the scene.
#####
Waking is nothing like it is on TV.
The first awareness that something may exist beyond the nothingness is warmth. He doesn't know where he is or what it is. It's just warmth.
And then it's gone.
Next is sound. It's distorted and seems far away, and he has no idea what's creating it, but he's able to register that it's coming from outside of himself. It seems like a tether of some kind. To a life that feels just out of reach, but that he knows he wants to get back to.
But then everything is gone again.
After that, it's sensation. A touch that he thinks is physical, grounding him to reality and slowly pulling him to something important – a tug that he can't deny.
This back and forth continues for an indeterminable amount of time. A cycle of nothing followed by brief snips of some form of cognizance. It's like the surge and retreat of the waves as a tide climbs its way up the beach, and he can only manage to snatch the brief moment in each surge where the water reaches its peak on the sand.
In his case, it's a crawl toward true awareness, the progress almost imperceptible, but moving steadily onward as a whole.
It's confusing, the mix of sounds and smells and sensations that he can't piece together into a full picture. As much as he tries, his brain won't make sense of the stimuli he's enveloped in.
Then he hears what he clearly recognizes as a voice. It takes a while for it to become more than a garbled mess, but eventually the edges of the words sharpen and he's able to decipher tone and cadence.
It's Judd.
It's distinctive. And it strikes him as odd. It's not that he doesn't get along with the man, but they aren't exactly close. Not like Carlos has become with the rest of TK's crew from the 126. Judd is just in a different life stage from the rest of them – married, new baby. It's understandable he has other things to be doing most of the time.
Which doesn't explain why he's the one Carlos hears when he's finally lucid enough to string words together into full thoughts.
"…and then…a cat in that tree…wearing this little sweater…and the woman…"
Carlos isn't aware of fading out, but he must have, because when he manages to focus back in, Judd's voice is pitched differently. "…because you know that kid's going to be insufferable to be around if you don't make it back from this, Carlos. And you can't do that to us, it just wouldn't be right to subject us to that."
There's a pause and what Carlos thinks is a small laugh, but it doesn't sound happy. Not like the jovial belly laugh he's used to from the older man.
"Look, we all need you back. We need you to be okay. You're part of this family."
He feels himself dimming again but puts all of his energy and effort into remaining present instead.
"But if you can't," Judd coughs slightly. "If you can't, we'll look out for him, Carlos. Make sure he's okay…eventually. I can promise you that."
Each piece starts to come together to form something real – the artificial smell of plastic and disinfectant, the squeak of rubber on linoleum, a mechanical whoosh, a periodic tightening pressure around his arm. The floaty sense that he isn't really connected to his body.
And the concerned words of a friend.
Something happened. He doesn't know what, but he knows it's bad.
And then he's gone again.
He continues to come close to the surface without fully managing to breach it for some time. He's not sure how long. He's gathered by this point that he's in the hospital, but he doesn't have a clear memory of what happened to him. He continues to hear familiar voices, which is soothing, and to feel touch, which is frustrating. Carlos is used to being in control. It's how he moves through life. These small snapshots he has to work with aren't enough for him to feel like he's in any semblance of control. He needs more.
And then finally, with a huge amount of effort, he manages to pry his eyes open.
They feel extraordinarily heavy, and it takes a long time for them to adjust to his surroundings. The room is dim and quiet. There's a whiteboard on the wall across from him, but he can't read it. His eyes continue to drift open and closed for a few minutes before he's able to shift them around the room.
They ultimately land on two figures sitting in chairs at the side of the bed, and he yearns to reach out for them when he realizes who they are – his mother and TK. TK is slumped into the older woman, his head resting on her shoulder. Her arm is wrapped up around his boyfriend's head, and he can see her fingers sliding gently through his unruly hair. The action and the feeling are both things he's intimately familiar with.
His mom's head is dipped down, her eyes closed, and he can see the rosary peeking out from the hand that's in her lap. He wonders if she's praying. TK's eyes, however, are open and staring down near the foot of the bed.
He looks awful. His face is pale and drawn and his features are a mix of tense and completely worn out. Carlos gets the sense that if he didn't have someone to physically lean on, TK wouldn't be able to hold himself up in the chair. But it's the dried streaks of tears on his face that make Carlos's stomach clench.
TK is generally a clean, quiet crier. It's like the tears just leak neatly out of him, without any effort. Carlos has always found it slightly unsettling, because it's very unlike TK, who in most things is big and bold and demanding of attention. Carlos knows his boyfriend feels deeply, and seeing those gentle tears always rips his heart out a little bit.
The look of fear and desperation in TK's eyes is one he wants to wipe away and never see again. He knows what it feels like to sit next to a hospital bed, worried that the person in it won't wake up. He's been there, too many times, and just thinking about it sets his heart racing.
But TK is right in front of him, alive. He can see the depth of worry on his lover's face, and he wants nothing more than to comfort him. To reach out and make sure he knows everything is okay. That they're fine. This is a small hiccup in their story, and they'll be able to move past it like they have many times before and continue their life together.
But he can't reach out. He doesn't have the energy or focus. Or maybe there's a physiological reason he can't. Maybe he's injured in a way that won't allow it. And that sends his mind down a whole new path. What if he's suffered a permanent injury? What if he's never able to work again? What will his dad think?
He pulls himself away from those thoughts and directs his attention back to TK and his mother, holding each other up in the dim room. They look devastated. Like they're waiting for him to die.
He decides right then that he's going to fight, harder than he has for anything before.
#####
When he wakes next, he's determined to last longer, to connect with someone in some way.
But as his awareness builds, so does a new sensation – pain. It's radiating from his torso out through the rest of his body, and it's enough to take his breath away.
All at once, he remembers everything – the park, Damon, lying on the ground in his own blood. He was sure he was going to die, so it's a little jarring to realize he didn't.
The more awake he becomes, the more pain he feels, and he can't help letting out a gasp, followed by a deep groan.
There's the sudden sound of distressed voices in the room and he feels fingers clench his hand.
He wants desperately to know who it is, to escape the solitary world he's been existing in. Instead, he can barely keep his eyes open, and it's hard to think past the agony he feels.
"Carlos, can you hear me?" It's TK's voice, soaked with concern. "Are you in pain?"
He drags his eyes fully open again and blinks at the ceiling, trying to understand what's happening and wanting to do something to erase that devastating tone from his boyfriend's voice. He feels panic building, and he clenches the sheet in his fist, frustrated by his confusion and inability to properly communicate.
There's a quick shift of movement around him and a new voice, "I'll go get someone." It's familiar, but through the fog of pain, he isn't able to nail down who it is.
"Hey," TK says then, leaning into Carlos's blurred line of sight, eyes wide and alarmed. "Just try to breathe, okay?"
It sounds like a plea, and Carlos tries, but everything hurts so much he finds himself holding his breath instead. He just wants to go back to the dark nothing, even though TK is finally right in front of him, talking to him.
"It's okay," TK soothes, though Carlos can recognize the fear in his voice. "Marj went to get someone. They'll help. Just a couple more minutes."
TK's hand tentatively comes up to his face, like he's afraid Carlos will shatter if he touches him there. But the touch is a tiny, welcome distraction in the unrelenting sea of agony, a soothing bit of hope, and Carlos finds himself leaning into it with an embarrassing whimper.
It's like it's the permission TK needs to engage more fully. The firefighter-turned-paramedic has always been very tactile, and he doesn't have much of a sense of personal bubbles. He expresses so much of himself through touch. It's endearing and one of the many things Carlos loves about him. Now, in pain and desperate for real connection, he craves the familiarity of it.
"I love you," TK breathes, leaning down to rest his forehead against Carlos's, one hand still cradling his head and the other sweeping through his hair, a little more roughly than he probably intended. "You're gonna be okay, babe." It sounds like he's willing it to be true. Like if he hopes for it hard enough and holds on to Carlos tightly enough, it will be.
Carlos can feel moisture on his cheeks, and he isn't sure if it's from his own tears or TK's. Probably both, and he doesn't care.
TK continues to murmur what seem to be reassurances, but as more time goes by, Carlos has a harder time registering the words. That doesn't make hearing his lover's voice any less soothing though, and it gives Carlos something to try to focus on as he fights to climb above the pain.
There's another voice then and a flurry of movement in the room, before Carlos is suddenly flooded with a soothing wave of warmth, the intense pain starting to slip away. But with it comes an unimaginable exhaustion, and he finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open, desperate for just a few pain-free minutes with TK. For the opportunity to tell him things will be okay.
"Better?" TK asks softly, fingers rubbing his arm now. Carlos manages a slight nod, most of his effort focused on trying to stay awake.
"It's okay. Let it happen. Get some rest, and I'll be here when you wake up."
He tries to keep his eyes open, but he loses the battle before he ever has a chance to make any assurances. Before he's able to do anything to lessen the fear on TK's face.
#####
TK isn't there when he wakes up again.
This time, the whole experience is different. Even before he completely becomes aware, he can tell he's heavily drugged. Where last time he felt like every inch of his body was on fire, this time he can barely even register that he has a body.
He spends an inordinate amount of time drifting and trying to fight the weighted lethargy. But eventually the fog clears and he's able to drag himself back to the surface. Yet when he turns to look for TK, he finds Owen instead. He's slouched in the chair – which seems very unlike him – and is concentrating on his phone.
Carlos makes an attempt to call his name. It doesn't exactly work, but the garbled sound he does force out is enough to draw the older man's attention.
"Wow, hi," he says, looking surprised, and Carlos thinks he manages a small smile in return.
Owen gets to his feet and moves closer, eyes traveling Carlos's body like he's just walked into the room for the first time, though that's clearly not the case.
"Your parents went home to take care of some things and grab showers. They'll be back in a couple hours."
He reaches to pour a small cup of water from a plastic pitcher on a nearby table and Carlos languidly tracks his movements. Owen gently positions the straw at his mouth and Carlos didn't realize how thirsty he was until that moment. Swallowing is painful, but the cool liquid helps to soothe his raw throat.
"We didn't expect you to wake up again so soon," Owen continues, as Carlos takes small sips. "Paul dragged TK to the cafeteria to grab some food, but they should be back any time now."
Carlos has a great amount of respect for Owen Strand. He knows he was somewhat of a distant father, and that likely contributed to the difficulties TK has had, but he has no doubt that the fire captain loves his son fiercely and would do anything for him. He uprooted his own life for him, after all, leaving New York behind to move them halfway across the country for a fresh start. And it's that decision – the Strand men moving to Texas – that ultimately gave Carlos a new start of his own.
Owen has never been anything but kind to him. Early in their relationship, while things were still strained with his own parents, Carlos envied what TK had with his father. His son's sexuality didn't matter to him in the slightest. Owen and Gwyn accepted TK without an ounce of hesitation, and Carlos craved the same. Owen being so accepting of their relationship made Carlos feel like he got a little bit of that same parental support.
From the moment Carlos showed up in the doorway to TK's ICU room after his shooting, terrified that this thing he hoped was developing between them was going to end before it had a chance to really begin, the fire captain seemed to recognize their importance to each other. Even in the midst of his fear, Carlos recognized the calm that came over Owen's face when he saw him. He's not sure how much the man knew at that point, about what was going on between Carlos and TK, but he clearly knew enough. And he willingly gave up his spot at his only child's bedside, in what very well could have been among their last moments together, to allow Carlos to have his own time – time to say goodbye if it came to that.
Owen's support only grew once they made things official. Sometimes his trust in Carlos feels like a weight he carries around that he doesn't properly deserve. TK is an adult, of course, and he's clearly capable of making his own decisions. But Owen didn't express a single word of concern when the couple decided to move into Carlos's place together, even though it meant that TK wouldn't be living under Owen's roof for the first time since his overdose, where he'd been moved specifically so his father could keep an eye on him.
TK's addiction can't be blamed on his ex; it started well before that, and it's something they all know he'll battle for the rest of his life. But the overdose that ultimately caused them to leave everything they knew in New York was triggered by that relationship, so Carlos understands why Owen would have every right to be hyper-critical of anyone his son may choose to date. But Carlos has never felt like he's under that kind of scrutiny. He's sure he is to some degree – he knows Captain Strand well enough to know that he's probably dissected every move Carlos has made with TK – but Carlos has never felt it. Hell, he never even gave him an 'if you hurt my son' speech, which, all things considered, he would be well within reason to do.
Owen sets the cup back down on the table and drags his chair closer to the bed. "Are you in pain? Should I find a nurse?"
Carlos does feel some discomfort, but he wouldn't qualify it as pain, and it's nothing like what he experienced the last time he woke up.
"Hopefully they've figured out the right balance of pain meds for you," Owen says, after Carlos shakes his head. "Make sure you say something if that changes, okay? There's no reason to be in pain. It makes healing harder."
Carlos knows he's speaking from experience – not his, but TK's. They've both had to watch helplessly as TK has fought his way back from a variety of injuries without the use of opiates, and Carlos wonders now how he did it. He can't even imagine.
"He's strong," Owen says, as if Carlos asked the question out loud. "Like you. He just has to use that strength in a different way."
Carlos manages a nod. TK is strong, he knows that. Maybe stronger than anyone else Carlos knows.
"You two are going to lead me to an early grave, you know that, right?" Owen lets out on a sad laugh. "It was one thing when it was TK trying to die on me every few months. I can't have both of my boys putting me through that kind of stress."
Carlos's chest tightens at the words, and the affection he hears in the older man's voice gives him a pleasant buzz. When he met TK, he gained more than an incredible partner. He gained an extended family in the 126, and it's something he treasures more than he can say.
"Carlos?"
The voice draws his attention to the doorway, where TK stands with a coffee cup gripped tightly in his hand, moisture in his eyes and overwhelming relief on his face. His eyes also project disbelief, but he shakes himself out of it quickly, dropping the cup on the table as he makes a beeline directly to the bed. He pulls Carlos's hand to his own chest and gently drapes himself across his body, enveloping him in warmth. It feels like home, and Carlos shakily reaches up to return the embrace as he sees Owen slip quietly out of the room.
TK pulls back quickly. "Sorry, I don't want to hurt you." He looks cautious but relieved, not fearful. "Hi," he says with an almost shy smile.
Carlos can't help a small puff of laughter. He manages to push out his own "hi."
"Are you okay?" TK asks. "Should I get someone?"
"…good," Carlos sighs, gripping the hand wrapped around his own even tighter. "Stay."
"I love you," TK says earnestly, like he can't wait another moment to say it. Carlos doesn't doubt it for a second, and he will never tire of hearing it. It took them some time to get there, but what they have is special, and Carlos will do anything for this man. And he knows the feeling is mutual.
Now that Carlos knows about his history, he understands why TK was so resistant to their relationship at the beginning. Carlos knew they had something amazing from the first time they hooked up, but the speed with which TK's walls went up after they made that connection – shutting everything down – threw him. He's proud of TK every day for allowing himself to be vulnerable enough to give them a chance.
Their journey has not been without some significant bumps, exacerbated by TK's tendency to self-sabotage and Carlos's own control issues. But their dedication to overcoming those things has made them stronger, and he knows, now more than ever, that this is the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with.
"You just had to try to even the score, didn't you?" The question feels like it comes out of left field a bit. The tone is joking but forced, and Carlos watches as TK's eyes scan the monitors and machines that surround him.
"Hey," Carlos shifts his grip up to TK's elbow, trying to pull him back from whatever has suddenly put such a dark shadow in his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," TK gasps out on an unexpected sob, like he didn't mean to say it, but can't contain the words.
Carlos can admit his brain is still pretty foggy and slow, and he can't figure out what caused TK to take such a fast emotional turn. What happened to him in that park clearly didn't have anything to do with him.
"Not...your fault," Carlos breathes. "Just happened."
"No, I…well, yes, I'm sorry this happened to you, but…" he trails off and backs away from the bed, and Carlos's stomach drops watching how worked up he's getting.
"TK, what's going on?" he grinds out.
"I'm sorry I did this to you," he blurts. "So many times. I didn't know what it's like. Carlos, I didn't know. And you had to…" his voice drifts into silence and he looks away.
And then it clicks.
Carlos knows all too well what TK's been going through. The times he almost lost TK – and it's crazy that it's plural, times – those are moments that he'll never be able to wipe from his memory, that continue to haunt his dreams. The despair and helplessness he felt when the doctor told them he wasn't likely to make it. Being crowded out of the room so the medical staff could try to keep him from dying. Knowing that the longer he went without waking up, the less likely Carlos was to ever see his soulful eyes again. Watching the artificial rise and fall of his lover's chest as a machine forced air into his lungs, looking nothing like what he knew TK's natural breathing pattern to be, something learned from hours lying in bed together.
Those were life-changing traumas for both of them, in different ways. And now TK is on the other side of that.
"Come here," Carlos implores, and TK sinks into the chair, resting his chin on Carlos's shoulder, one hand grasping his forearm and the other back up in his hair.
"Let's just agree," TK pleads. "Let's promise each other. No more trying to die, okay?"
His boyfriend is almost frantic with it, and Carlos wants nothing more than to make that promise to him. To offer a guarantee that nothing like this will ever happen to either one of them again and they'll live a blissful, boring life full of love and peace. But he can't. He won't lie.
"I promise I will always do everything I possibly can to come home to you," he says instead.
There's a brief moment where TK's face falls in disappointment before he's able to school his expression, and Carlos wishes more than anything that he could take it back and offer the lie. TK has been through so much. The overdose, Owen's cancer, the fire, Gwyn's death, the plane emergency and the kidnapping, the forced relapse, the shooting and the hypothermia. It's more than any one person should live through in a lifetime, let alone a few short years.
"Me too," TK eventually says, with a small, genuine smile. "I promise that too."
A part of Carlos hopes this experience will make TK more careful. There's no denying the paramedic has had a string of really bad luck, but he also has a bit of a reckless streak that gets him into trouble. Carlos can't really fault him for it, though. He's passionate about his job, and he will always put himself on the line to help someone else. While that's scary, it's also deeply ingrained in TK and makes him who he is. Carlos loves him for it.
They eventually settle into the quiet of the room, simply savoring the relief of being together. TK runs a gentle, soothing hand back and forth across Carlos's chest and rests his head on the pillow next to him, close enough that the light puffs of air tickle the curls on his neck as he breathes.
Carlos is just starting to drift off when TK speaks quietly into his ear.
"I just want us to have our happily ever after."
Carlos is happy. Happier than he's ever been. And he knows TK is too. They've made it through so much, and they'll make it through this as well. And anything else that comes their way. As long as they do it together.
We already have it. It's right here. And it's only going to get better, he thinks, as he drifts into a peaceful sleep.
