Work Text:
Words: 7,321
Disclaimer: I don't own Tarlos unfortunately or it would never be ending. Also I apologise for any medical errors.
Notes: OMG, it's been ages since I've written anything. But with the series coming to an end in February - I'd better get all these ideas on to paper before then.
So, to celebrate 10,000 fics here on AO3 (as of when i post this might change) - here's the first of my new series of (mainly) oneshots.
As I said it’s been a while so if you spot any mistakes please let me know 😊.
TK P.O.V
The heat was unbearable.
Unbearable, but familiar.
“Get back inside. Get back inside.” Old instincts kicking in, TK shoved Carlos back into the bedroom, his chest tight from the acrid smoke burning his eyes and coating his throat. “We gotta close the door.”
His pulse raced as he slammed the door shut behind them with a heavy thud, the sound of it barely reaching his ears over the fire roaring downstairs.
He spun back to Carlos, his urgency holding a firm edge of authority that left no room for hesitation, even as his eyes were already scanning the room, searching for something—anything—that might buy them a few more precious minutes.
“Carlos, call 911, hang a towel outside the window so they know where we are.”
“Okay. Okay.” Still rooted in place, eyes wide and his face a mask of disbelief, Carlos’ response was scarcely audible as though he’d forgotten how to speak. Blinking, as if the instruction had just registered, he finally stumbled toward the chest of drawers, fumbling in search of his phone.
The sight unsettled TK – it was still rare to see Carlos so vulnerable.
The police officer usually exuded confidence in any situation, but it wasn’t fear that flashed in his eyes now - it was the familiar flicker of shock, the kind TK knew all too well.
The kind that paralyzes.
The kind he felt when finding himself facing the wrong end of a gun far too many times since arriving in Austin.
Carlos was at his best in a standoff, handling hostile suspects and tense situations—not this. Not a fire tearing through their home when they should have been preparing to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Fire was his forte.
He could feel his training surging forward, adrenaline pushing through the fog of fear. Grabbing the throw from the bed, he shoved it under the door to block the smoke. “This is gonna buy us a few minutes.”
Leaving the doorway, he gathered up their discarded clothes from the bed. The extra layer of material would offer minimal protection, but it was a step, and it would give him a moment to think. His brain was working overtime. Calculating risks. Remembering protocols.
“Here.” As Carlos caught the shirt he tossed, TK barely spared a second to note he’d abandoned his search for a phone. They’d been in such a rush to make up earlier that, in their distraction, they must have both left their phones downstairs. “Where’s your fire extinguisher?”
This time a response came faster than before, his love hardly stuttering even as he pulled his top over his head with slow, shaky movements. It was a question Carlos could confidently answer, even when panicking.
“Under the kitchen sink.”
“You don’t have one up here?” TK cursed, despite already knowing the answer.
“No,” Carlos shook his head, voice smaller, almost defeated.
TK’s heart twisted at the slight tone of self-recrimination in Carlos’s voice, from the carelessness of his own words. He’d only been mentally running through their options, but there was no time to process it properly. Not now. Later. Survival came first.
“It’s okay.”
The words had barely left his lips when a spark flashed at the edge of the room. Flames erupted from the curtains, the fabric igniting in seconds. The heat surged toward them quickly - too quickly- consuming the edges of the room.
“Oh! Carlos. Get down!” TK lunged for Carlos, pulling him down to the floor with him, both crouching low. The smoke was thick and choking, the flames hungry. “This can’t be happening. Oh, my God. Watch out!”
This wasn’t just a fire—this was personal. His mind returned to the explosions at the firehouse earlier that day. This was revenge. A calculated attack, meant to send a message - not to them but to his father. Both their fathers.
A deep, sickening feeling gnawed at his gut. Raymond hadn’t meant for them to survive this and had planned accordingly. If their bedroom was only minutes from a flashover, then downstairs was a ticking bomb, one whose countdown had begun long before they’d first smelled smoke.
“Hey.” TK patted Carlos’ shoulder for his attention and pointed. “The window. How far down do you think that drop is?”
Carlos, gasping for air, glanced at the window, his brow furrowing. “Uh, 20, 25 feet?” he said, but it came out more like a guess than certainty.
“That’s our only shot.” TK said urgently, though part of him was already screaming that it wasn’t enough. “Come on.”
He felt, rather than saw, Carlos freeze, his eyes locked ahead, as if the gravity of their situation had just begun to sink in, but even as he moved, TK kept a trailing hand reached out for his, a silent nudge.
That seemed to spur him into motion, as he grabbed the nearest chair, swung it at the window with a shout, and the glass exploded into a thousand shards.
In an instant, the fire lunged toward the rush of fresh oxygen, twisting like a serpent striking its prey.
Carlos stumbled forward, looking down at the drop below with wide, terrified eyes.
TK reached for him, grabbing his shoulder tightly, voice hoarse. “You go first, I’ll be right behind you.”
“Look, look, look.” Carlos turned to look at him, shaking, his own voice broken. “If we don’t... If we...”
TK cut in, grounding them both with the feel of firm hands against his face. “Hey,” he said, his voice low but clear, “I love you, too. Okay? Now go. Go. Go, go, go.”
“Okay. Okay.”
Carlos climbed onto the window frame, hands fumbling for a grip, desperately avoiding the scorching flames edging closer. His muscles were taut, every movement deliberate as he scanned the ground below. TK’s gaze followed, taking in the thick, winding shrubbery creeping up the side of the condo, just visible in the firelit garden. Eyes flickered over the scene, calculating the safest spot to land, careful to avoid the sharp branches that could tear at his skin.
“Carlos,” TK broke the silence one last time, his voice soft with love yet edged with the anxiety he could no longer mask. “Protect your head and try not to tense up when you land.”
A small but firm nod came in response, firelight dancing across his face. For one heart-stopping moment, he hesitated.
Then, with a steadying breath, he jumped.
TK’s eyes never left him, praying he’d make it safely to the ground. But within seconds, the figure disappeared—swallowed by a haze of darkness.
Scrambling onto what was left of the window ledge, TK forced himself to ignore the searing pain in his hands. He squinted through the choking smoke and smothering shadows, searching for any glimpse of movement below.
“Carlos!” TK's voice cracked as he called out.
A sharp crack echoed from above, followed by the screech of metal as the curtain rail—its disintegrating curtains too hot and too heavy for the weakened supports—gave way to gravity.
For a split second, time seemed to slow. The rail plunged toward him, a blur of flames and metal, and TK instinctively propelled himself forward. He didn’t think—he just reacted, throwing himself into the open air. There was no preparation, no time to adjust his jump.
He fell.
His body was already in motion before he even realized it, arms raising to shield his head. The falling rail still caught him—the burning sensation exploding across the back of his calf. The pain was sharp, searing, but it was drowned out by the gut-wrenching thought of Carlos directly below him.
~*~TARLOS~*~
Owen P.O.V – 2 minutes before they jump
The car screeched to a halt, its tires skidding across the pavement. The condo was consumed by flames, no longer just a fire, but a raging furnace—a beast with gnashing teeth, tearing through everything in its path. Smoke poured into the night sky, thick and suffocating, choking the air.
The drive from the Ryder home was little more than a blur of streetlights and trees as Owen's foot pressed hard on the accelerator. The rest of the world faded away, drowned by the cold, steady tone of TK's voicemail.
The recorded message had felt like a wall, a silent reminder that they were likely too late. Billy’s scanner crackled, the dispatcher’s voice echoing the grim reality that the nearest fire team was miles away.
The 126 was out of commission. Closed. By design. Raymond's design.
"I'll take the most important thing to you."
Owen had heard those words, had seen the fire in Raymond’s eyes, and thought of his family—his son, who’d be at work with the team. His found family, all together in one place—and he had been right. But only partly.
Yes, the arsonist had targeted their firehouse, and his warning had spared lives, but it was more than that—it was a diversion, a move in his larger scheme. The threat hadn’t been just against him, but against Gabriel too. A threat that could obliterate everything Raymond had promised them, with just one strategically set fire.
TK and Carlos.
It wasn’t supposed to unfold this way. The clues had been there. He should have put them together sooner.
Their home, the place where TK and Carlos had started to build a life together, was gone. But he wasn’t about to lose them.
Owen was out of the car before it had even come to a full stop, Billy right behind him. Tommy and Judd pulled in just after, their tires screeching as they braked. Without a word, Judd grabbed a fire extinguisher from the back of his truck, and Billy quickly followed suit, passing another toward him. Owen wrapped a discarded Austin Fire shirt around his face, using it as a makeshift mask to shield himself from the smoke.
“TK! Carlos!” Owen’s voice cracked, barely heard over the roar of the flames as he rushed toward the front door. The fire was already raging, filling the house with suffocating heat. His hand shot for the door handle, but it was locked. Without hesitation, he kicked the door in, the splintering wood barely registering over the chaos of the blaze behind him. Billy shouted something from behind, but Owen didn’t have time to listen. His focus was singular: get to his son.
He didn’t wait. The heat was unbearable, the smoke choking his lungs, but instinct drove him forward, deeper into the house. The crackling wood and popping glass filled the air as he dashed toward the stairs, knowing exactly where he needed to go.
The stairs were obscured by thick smoke. The first floor was already consumed by the fire, and every second wasted could mean losing them. Owen and Billy immediately began spraying the stairs with foam, fighting back the blaze to clear a path.
“TK! Carlos!” Owen shouted, his voice hoarse from the heat and smoke. But there was no response. Gripping the railing, he pushed upward, the stairs now cleared enough to make the ascent. Billy was close behind, his face set with determination.
The heat on the second floor slammed into him like a wall, suffocating, as if he’d stepped into an oven. The smoke was so thick it burned with every breath. But he kept moving, calling out their names desperately as he moved through the hallway, the flames creeping ever closer.
He kicked down the second door. The bedroom was consumed by a hellish red glow, flames roaring, and the air growing thicker by the second. But there was no sign of TK or Carlos—no movement, no unmoving shadows of figures on the bed or floor.
Downstairs, Judd's urgent voice echoed up from the base of the stairs. “Hey, y’all better shift up there, this whole place is about to flash over!”
Billy gripped Owen’s shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze. “New York, we need to leave. Now.”
It was the last thing Owen wanted to hear. He fought against Billy’s grip, his hands trembling, his chest tight with a mix of guilt and fear. But deep down, he knew Billy was right. The fire was everywhere, the heat unbearable, and the smoke was now thick and black, devouring the last remnants of air. Every instinct screamed for him to stay, to keep searching, but his body was beginning to betray him.
“TK!” Owen cried out again, his voice cracking with panic. But there was no answer—nothing but the crackling of fire and the house groaning under the weight of the blaze.
Billy’s grip tightened. “The window, Strand. Look at the window.”
Owen turned, his heart sinking in disbelief. The window frame was empty, smashed open, the smoke billowing out in thick clouds. No figures, no sign of life—just the glow of fire. “They’re not here.”
His breath hitched, his chest tightening as disbelief crashed over him. They weren’t in the house.
“Out. Now!” Billy’s voice was firm, no room for argument. His hand was steady as he guided Owen toward the stairs, urging him away from the smoke, away from the fire, away from the boys. Owen didn’t fight it anymore. He couldn’t.
As they crossed the threshold, the cool night air hit Owen’s face, but it didn’t offer the relief he had hoped for. The weight of the reality slammed into him—he hadn’t saved them. He hadn’t saved anyone. All that was left was a shattered window, a flicker of hope, and a prayer that the fire hadn’t already taken everything.
Behind them, the house erupted in a violent burst of flames. A deafening explosion echoed through the night as the building was consumed entirely.
~*~TARLOS~*~
Tommy P.O.V
Tommy waited outside the burning condo as the others disappeared into the flames inside, shouldering the limited first aid kit that she knew Judd kept in his truck. She was a paramedic not a firefighter, was used to staying behind to be ready for when her own skills were required. But this time, standing outside off-duty, everything felt different.
TK had only joined her and Nancy on the rig recently, but even in those short months, they had already gone through hell and back together. They’d become family.
The shockwave from the explosion sent her ducking instinctively as fire and debris shot into the sky. A moment later, Judd, Billy, and Owen emerged from the smoke, the latter almost being dragged. They were covered in soot and debris, alive - but alone.
Tommy’s breath caught. It was Judd’s voice, that echoed her thoughts.
“What happened?”
Billy’s voice was sharp, and to the point. The most focused of the four. “They weren’t there. The bedroom window—around back. Where’s the access?”
The urgency in his tone was a slap to her chest, a jolt of realization—not just to her, but to Owen, who regained his composure, quickly motioning to the left of the property. “This way.”
The explosion had left its mark not just on the condo but on everything around it. The flames still reached toward the sky in the distance, and the heat from the building was intense, even as they rounded the back.
The smoke hung thick in the air, a suffocating blanket that made every breath a struggle. As her eyes scanned the debris—twisted metal, shattered glass, the remains of a life reduced to rubble—she spotted them: two bodies, too still, entangled together on the ground. Her heart sank.
“TK! Carlos!” Owen screamed, as though tearing the words from her own throat.
Owen kept his focus on TK as Billy and Judd rushed to Carlos; their expressions grim as they began assessing his condition. Tommy saw the fear in all their eyes as, like her, they took in the sight of the pair lying face down together. She studied them both, eyes straying to the way TK sprawled across Carlos’ back, his body twisted in a way that made implied he’d tried to adjust his fall, but it hadn’t worked.
Hearing their approach, however, TK’s eyes flickered open.
“Hey, Cap. Dad,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper but a lifeline.
“Hey, bud,” Tommy replied, forcing calm into her voice. “Good to hear your voice.”
TK attempted a weak smile, and it broke her heart, but she swallowed her emotion.
“The worst…leg,” he murmured, blinking as he struggled to focus. His words were clipped but surprisingly focused as though he was mentally assessing his injuries, just as he would on a call. “I didn’t hit my head.”
“You didn’t pass out?” Tommy double checked, slipping on some gloves from her kit as she caught her first look at the extent of his leg injury—skin charred and torn There wasn't much she could do to treat with the limited supplies, hesitating to touch the damaged sweatpants, in fear of causing more harm than help should the material be stuck.
“Only for a second. As I landed. Stunned.” His words were short and breathless, the pain obvious, even as his eyes tried to find Carlos, and Tommy could see that, even in his agony, his concern for the other man overshadowed everything else. “’m fine. Help ‘Los.”
“Hey, hey,” Tommy’s chest tightened at the desperation in his voice, gently placing a firm hand on his shoulder to halt any movements. “We’ll get you both out of here, but I need you to stay still, okay?”
“No, I landed on him… I couldn’t…” TK’s voice trembled with persistence. “He won’t respond. Something feels wrong.”
“T.” Judd’s voice was sharp as he drew her attention to where he was assessing Carlos. “The kid’s on to something. He ain’t breathing right.”
“Keep him awake,” she ordered Owen, scanning once more over TK’s currently stable condition before turning her attention away.
She took over from Judd, checking Carlos' vitals, but it was nearly impossible to get a proper assessment with him lying face down. His respirations were shallow, but from her angle, she could only make out a partial view of his face, the rest obscured by his position and the poor light. His head was tilted slightly, and she could barely see the edges of his lips, which were tinted a slightly darker shade. She couldn’t make out the exact colour, but her experience helped her fill in the gaps.
“Is he okay?” TK’s voice cracked through the quiet, his words filled with panic. It wasn’t his own pain tormenting him right then - it was fear.
“He’s cyanotic,” Tommy muttered, the word heavy with dread. “We need to roll him.”
It only took another moment for Tommy to realize the less-than-ideal consequence of that scenario, but there was no other choice. With TK pinning Carlos beneath him, moving Carlos wasn’t possible without first shifting TK. Tommy moved back over, leaning in close to speak urgently into TK’s ear.
“This is gonna hurt, Bud, but we need to move you, so we can get to Carlos, okay? Her hand was already on his shoulder, bracing him. “Just breathe through it.”
TK’s eyes flickered again, his face hardening with grim recognition. His lips parted, and though his voice was weak, there was no hesitation in his words. “Just do it. ‘Los...”
Tommy nodded, the four of them springing into action with practiced coordination. Owen, already positioned at TK’s head, supported his neck without needing to be asked, while Tommy steadied his chest and shoulders. Judd and Billy took hold of his hips and damaged leg. With a collective, synchronised precision, they gently rolled him off Carlos.
At the first movement, TK’s body spasmed, and he let out a guttural shout—raw, agonizing, but somehow controlled, as though he was holding himself together by sheer willpower. Tommy’s heart lurched at the sound. The moment they’d finally settled him down beside Carlos, TK went limp in their hands. His body seemed to lose all strength, and the tension drained from him as though he’d been holding it back for too long. His breathing slowed to shallow, ragged breaths, and his face slackened into unconsciousness.
“He’s out,” Owen muttered, his voice low with concern. Tommy couldn’t shake the heavy silence that followed TK’s scream, but she had two patients now—and both needed her.
Turning Carlos was just as difficult. When they managed to roll him onto his back, Tommy tugged at his blue t-shirt, pulling it up with practiced hands. Even in the poor light, his left shoulder was darkening, bones twisted in unnatural ways.
"Fractured clavicle," Tommy explained cautiously. "The way he was lying, especially with TK’s weight on him, it was compressing his lungs."
Judd crouched closer, his eyes scanning Carlos’s condition with clear concern. "You worried about internal bleeding?" he asked, his voice quiet, laced with uncertainty.
Tommy nodded. Internal bleeding was a real threat. While Carlos’s breathing had improved since they moved him, a fall from a significant height, combined with the mess of his shoulder, meant getting away with no internal injuries would be the ultimate best-case scenario—not the most likely.
"Smoke inhalation won’t be helping either. For either of them," Tommy added, her voice tinged with a touch of wishful thinking. She glanced at TK, still unconscious but stable, Owen at his side, watching for any changes. "Did Grace get through to dispatch?"
Before anyone could answer, Billy, standing nearby, responded, his radio scanner app back out. "The 129’s a minute out," he said. "We should hear them soon."
Sure enough, moments later, the unmistakable sound of sirens cut through the air, followed by the familiar squeal of engines braking as they pulled up in front of the burning condo. Billy stepped away to guide the crews around back, and seconds later, EMTs and firefighters flooded around the side of the building.
A woman with short, dark hair and an unshakable focus hurried over, her eyes locking with Tommy’s. "Captain Vega?" she asked, snapping on her gloves and pulling out her gear.
"Captain Brooks," Tommy returned with a hint of ease. They’d worked together a few times before, though only once, she believed, since TK had joined them. Yet, from the second expression of recognition as Brooks studied her two patients, it was clear the kid had left his usual memorable mark. This one, however, was more subtle, as Brooks shifted her focus back to Tommy for his report, even as her two colleagues immediately dropped to Carlos’ and TK’s sides, respectively.
"Late twenties, jumped from a window to escape the fire," Tommy reported, falling into his usual rhythm. "This is Carlos—suspected fractured clavicle, possible internal bleeding. Breathing is laboured. We’ll need a second ambulance for TK. Severe burns, though he was alert and responsive when we arrived. Lost consciousness once we moved him off Carlos for access."
Brooks nodded and reached for her radio. "Rescue 129, confirmation on the second ambulance. Update on ETA?"
The response crackled not two seconds later. "This is Paragon, pulling up now."
Billy stepped closer to Tommy, offering a small smirk. "Grace sure knows how to wrangle 9-1-1," he said.
Tommy nodded, grateful that dispatch had the most accurate information to send a second ambulance so promptly. "She does."
The 129 EMTs worked efficiently to stabilize Carlos, connecting him to the Lifepak and oxygen as they prepared him for transport. Tommy stepped back as the area grew more crowded, even before the second ambulance crew filed into the garden, their Paragon logo gleaming on their jackets in the firelight. It was a budding new service, only launched the month before, one which they hadn’t had the opportunity to work with yet.
It seemed she wasn’t going to work with them now, either, as the 129 team moved swiftly, transferring Carlos onto a stretcher and securing him carefully. She followed, staying close as they wheeled him around to the front and toward the rig, surrounded by several familiar firefighters, fully engaged in battling the flames of the devastated townhouse—a shell of its former self.
As the EMTs made their final adjustments, ensuring Carlos was stable for the journey, the Paragon crew wasn’t far behind, rolling TK out a few minutes later. One of their paramedics, a tall man with blondish hair, nodded toward Owen, who had yet to leave his son’s side. "You coming with us?"
Owen didn’t hesitate. "Yeah, I’m coming," he said, his voice steady, though Tommy could see the tension in his shoulders as he climbed in next to TK.
Tommy refocused on Carlos, lying still but almost paler—though she hoped that was just the change in lighting. He looked different, vulnerable, and with TK unable to be with him, she wasn’t going to leave him alone. Not until his parents arrived.
"I’m going with him," she told the 129 EMTs, her voice firm.
Brooks gave a quick nod. "Of course."
Judd’s voice broke the moment’s silence. "I’ll stay here, sort out the details, then join you in a bit," he said. Billy had already faded into the background, talking to the fire captain, presumably filling him in on what had occurred and their suspicions regarding the fire’s cause.
She nodded, thankful, and climbed into the back next to Carlos as the doors slammed shut and the vehicle jerked into motion.
~*~TARLOS~*~
Gabriel's P.O.V
Gabriel’s hands gripped the hospital entrance doors tightly, his knuckles pale from the tension. The sterile lights flickered above, as uncertain as he felt, casting long shadows as they stepped into the lobby of West Park Hospital. The air was heavy, thick with unspoken fears. Andrea stood beside him, silent and strong, her hands clutching the rosary around her neck. But Gabriel could sense the fragility in her composure, the way she held herself together by a thread—just as he was.
The phone call that had led them here would weigh on his mind for years to come. Longer, if… if this turned out to be the night their family was torn apart.
~~~
Gabriel stirred from his sleep at the familiar sound of his phone ringing and groaned. He’d just solved a case—a serial one, no less—and now he was being called for another the same night? He snatched the device to silence it before it woke his wife, his heart beginning to beat faster than it should as he saw the caller ID flash Owen’s name. He’d just been telling himself they’d solved the case together, and no one had been hurt in Raymond’s last attack at the firehouse. So why else would Owen be calling this late, except...
He answered the call. “Owen.”
"Gabriel," Owen’s voice was trained but sharp with tension, cutting through the night’s silence and confirming his worst fears. "There’s been another fire. It’s Carlos. And TK. I’m at West Park now."
The words hit Gabriel like a blow to the chest. His breath caught in his throat. His son. In the hospital. And TK. Both of them. His grip on the phone tightened, driven by fear, but also anger.
"Raymond," Gabriel muttered, more to himself than to Owen. His thoughts flared back to the earlier threats. He could still replay the scene—harsh words, a venomous gaze directed at Owen—but in hindsight, maybe Raymond’s eyes had stared just as steely at him.
"I know." Owen’s voice came again, steady but filled with guilt. "The 126 explosion was just a distraction. I should’ve known…”
“Critical?” Fear overtook anger, pushing it aside as it seized the forefront of his mind, his heart pounding in his ears. But he refused to let it slip into his voice. West Park Hospital meant alive, but in his experience, it wasn’t always a saving grace. “Give it to me straight, Owen. My son...TK… are they…?”
"They were stable when we got here," Owen interrupted, knowing what Gabriel was failing to ask. "TK has severe burns to his leg. Carlos wasn’t burned, I don’t believe, but they..."
There was a pause on the other end, long enough for Gabriel to imagine Owen’s expression, carefully calculating his next words.
"They were trapped upstairs and jumped from the bedroom window before we got there. Gabriel… they fell two floors. Carlos has a broken collarbone at least, possible internal bleeding..."
Trapped. Fell. Bleeding. Each word hit like a hammer.
"They’re in good hands," Owen added, but the words did little to quell the worry tearing a hole in Gabriel’s chest.
Movement beside him caught his attention. He hadn’t noticed when Andrea had woken, but from the haunted look in her eyes, he knew she had been awake long enough to sense something was wrong. He pulled her closer, needing the connection, even as he spoke his next words. "We’ll be there in thirty."
~~~
The hallway stretched on endlessly as they neared the waiting area, but his mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of fire and what-ifs, trying to ignore the disturbing image of his son falling from a second-story window that it had conjured.
Carlos was tough, and stubborn. As the youngest of three, he’d often found himself trying to keep up with his older sisters—trying to prove himself. From the start, Gabriel had raised him to be strong and independent, to fight for what he believed in. And he couldn’t have been prouder, yet recently, as he began to notice how much his son had been withdrawing in recent years, he found himself questioning whether, somewhere along the line, he had pushed too hard—made Carlos believe the world expected that of him 24/7.
An enthusiastic paramedic, but also an ex-firefighter with experience in countless house fires, he knew—even without hearing the full story—that TK had been the one to take charge as their house was swallowed by flames. He'd given Carlos a fighting chance. There could only be one reason why Carlos had apparently escaped without being burned, while TK had suffered severe burns of his own.
“Major Reyes.”
Gabriel’s steps slowed as he entered the waiting room, immediately greeted by Captain Vega before they even reached the desk. He wrapped his arm around Andrea's shoulders, drawing her close as he recognized the Captain from when their team had been abducted and held hostage just a couple of months ago. TK had been wounded then, he recalled, and now he was back in the hospital for the second time in such a short span.
“Captain Vega,” Gabriel greeted, his voice strained with worry. “Have you heard anything?”
"Nothing on Carlos yet. He has a severe collarbone fracture, which they suspect has caused internal bleeding and is putting strain on the area around his lungs. I was with him in the ambulance, though, and with supplemental oxygen, his vitals remained steady the entire way. We should hear something soon."
Gabriel’s shoulders sagged slightly at the news, though the tightness in his chest remained. It could have been worse news, but waiting was still unbearable.
“Thank you,” Andrea said softly, her voice thick with quiet gratitude. "For being with him."
"Sorry," Gabriel quickly added, offering an introduction. "This is my wife, Andrea. Carlos’ mother."
Captain Vega’s gaze softened, and she gave Andrea a small, respectful nod. “Of course,” she said gently, offering a reassuring smile. “Él es fuerte, gracias a Dios. Él estará bien.”
“Where’s Owen?” Gabriel asked, glancing around the waiting room, half-empty due to the late hour. “Is TK…?”
A tall figure had been hovering nearby. Gabriel didn’t need to be introduced to recognize him—the stature of a seasoned firefighter, his jaw set firmly.
“Judd Ryder,” the man said, stepping forward to offer Gabriel a firm handshake. “The nurse let Owen back into the ER room with TK while they wait to take him to CT.”
“How’s he doing?” Gabriel asked, concern clear in his voice.
“Second-degree burn on his leg from the window curtain rail,” Judd continued, wincing slightly in sympathy. “They’ve dressed it, but there’s a high risk of infection, so they’re monitoring him closely.”
“He’s on fluids and antibiotics,” Tommy added. “Thankfully, there’s no break in his leg, but there’s deep soft tissue damage. He’ll be off his feet for a while.”
Gabriel’s heart tightened at the news, but he nodded. “What’s the CT for?”
“Mainly to ensure the fall didn’t cause any hidden injuries,” Tommy explained. “They’re also concerned because he hasn’t woken up yet, despite no obvious head injury, so they’re being cautious. Owen says it’s normal for TK, though.”
“Hah, hell yeah it is,” Judd added with a grin. “Kid took nearly a week to wake up last summer after he was shot. Drove us all crazy.”
Gabriel felt a rush of relief that TK wasn’t worse off, but the mention of the previous incident caught him off guard. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, shot? How—”
Judd shrugged, with a grimace but also a knowing smile. “Long story.”
As if on cue, Owen wandered back into the room, a glimmer of both apology and relief in his eyes when he spotted them. "Andrea. Gabriel."
“How’s TK?” Tommy asked before Gabriel could speak, his voice laced with concern.
“They just took him down,” Owen answered. "Still not awake, but like I said, TK operates on his own timeline with these things. Without painkillers, and after four hospital stays in just over a year, his body is probably just taking the rest it's been offered. In a way, sleep is probably for the best." He sank into a nearby chair, clearly drained but still maintaining an air of presence.
Gabriel pushed away the gnawing questions. This was not the time to get backstory on his son’s boyfriend.
They sat in silence side by side for a long while as they waited for news, silently tracking the low hum and bustle of hospital personnel passing in and out. Gabriel's eyes never strayed from the door, as though by sheer will, he could make the next person to enter the one that would deliver the reassurance they all desperately needed.
The door opened, however, another three times, before a nurse stopped near them rather than passing by. “Family of Carlos Reyes?” she asked, glancing at the gathered small group, looking for confirmation of who they were.
Gabriel shot to his feet, Andrea following. "Yes. How is he?"
"Your son is stable and in recovery," she began, her tone calm. "The collarbone fracture has been successfully secured. As anticipated, the break caused damage to several blood vessels in the area, leading to pressure building around his left lung. Fortunately, the lung itself remains undamaged, and the surgeon was able to repair the blood vessels with ease. He will need to keep his shoulder immobilized as much as possible over the next few weeks to ensure proper healing, but he is expected to make a full recovery."
Gabriel breathed out a shaky sigh of relief. He glanced at Andrea, her face flooded with a mix of her own relief.
"Gracias a Dios," she whispered, pressing her hands to her rosary once more as if offering a silent prayer.
“The doctor’s decided to keep him on oxygen for now, but it’s mostly just supportive. It’ll help him recover more comfortably if we give his body a little respite.” The nurse smiled gently. "If you have any other questions, the doctor can answer them in more detail."
Gabriel finally allowed himself a moment to exhale fully. “Thank you.”
“Can we see him?” Andrea asked, her voice still soft but urgent, and he mirrored her concern, his own expression a mix of hope and anxiety.
The nurse nodded, tentatively. “Of course, I don’t see why not. Let me just double-check with his doctor, and I’ll be back shortly to show you to him.” She turned to leave but paused at the door, addressing the other three people in the waiting room who had been listening in, unsubtly, from their chairs. “Although, I must add we only allow one visitor at a time in recovery rooms.”
“Don’t worry. We weren’t expecting a visit just yet,” Tommy said with a small smile.
The nurse nodded with a polite smile before leaving the room. As the door began to close behind her, it swung open again. This time, another nurse stepped in. Owen stood at once, a bit startled, and Gabriel could only presume this was TK’s nurse before she could speak.
“TK’s back from CT,” the nurse began, her voice a little brighter. “In fact, he woke towards the end of the scan. He’s a bit disoriented, but he’s asking for a Carlos? He’s quite persistent.”
Owen sighed, but the exhaustion that had settled over him seemed to recede as his focus shifted entirely to his son. “I’ll go see him,” he said, his voice tight with mixed emotions. “Hopefully, the good news will do something to calm him.”
“Good luck with that,” Judd joked, a smirk playing at his lips. “I’ll give it 30 seconds before he’s demanding a wheelchair.”
The nurse smiled faintly. “I’m afraid he’ll have to wait for the results of the CT before we allow that.”
Gabriel, glancing back briefly at his wife, spoke up. “I’ll come with you, if you're okay with that?”
Owen hesitated, clearly torn between believing it might help and taking him away from his family. “You sure?”
“You heard the nurse. One visitor only, and Andrea should see Carlos first.” He paused. “Besides, I believe there is something I need to say.”
Andrea nodded in agreement, and Gabriel could tell she understood his meaning. "I’ll take care of Carlos. Go on."
Owen led Gabriel down the sterile hallway to TK’s cubicle. Through the glass doors, they spotted TK, his face pale but awake. Panic painted his expression. He was trying to suppress it, but it was clear he was struggling. The moment the door slid open, however, the struggle ceased.
“Dad!” TK’s voice cracked; his eyes frantic. “Carlos? Is he okay? Have you heard anything…?” TK’s gaze shifted to Gabriel, and he froze. His concern morphed into surprise. “Major Reyes…”
Stepping around to the side of TK’s hospital bed, he leaned in slightly, keeping his voice calm. “Relax, Carlitos is fine,” he said swiftly. "He’s going to make a full recovery. Andrea is just going to go see him herself."
TK’s breath hitched; his eyes filled with guilt. "He’s okay? Really?” he asked. “But… I… I fell on him. I tried to avoid him, but the rail… I hurt him… I know I did."
In that moment, Gabriel was relieved he hadn’t been at the scene himself, spared from witnessing what they had endured.
Owen stepped forward to the other side of the bed, his voice firm but gentle. “Son, we don’t know how or when exactly Carlos was injured, but it doesn’t matter now. The what-ifs won’t change anything, don’t go there.” He leaned closer, his voice full of the comfort only a father could give. “What matters is that you’re both alive. That’s all that matters right now.”
"But if I hadn’t… if I’d been more careful, he wouldn’t—"
"He’s right, TK.” Gabriel, his voice confident, spoke up again. " In fact, I’m sorry. If it wasn’t for the investigation, if it wasn’t for us… none of this would have happened. Instead, you saved Carlos tonight. So, thank you.”
TK, still overwhelmed, looked from Gabriel to Owen, his breath slowing as he processed their words. "Thanks, Major Reyes. I just… I need to see him.”
There it was. Maybe not quite 30 seconds like Mr. Ryder had predicted, but not far off. Gabriel shared a knowing look across the bed, and received a small, teasing smirk in return.
“As soon as your scan results are cleared, I’ll take you to see him.” Owen eventually answered, his tone final, leaving no room for debate.
~*~TARLOS~*~
Carlos P.O.V
Carlos’ eyes flickered open to a soft rustling to his left, just out of his line of sight. But it was the strange sensation of lying on his back that fully dragged him from sleep. He rarely ended up on his back—usually waking on his front, arms curled around his head or TK.
Now, the cool hospital sheets brushed against his skin, and his head felt thick, like he’d been asleep for far too long. The air in each breath felt cooler than expected, and he reached up, fingers brushing against the unfamiliar nasal cannula on his face. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt alien. Before he could touch it, a familiar voice stopped him.
"Leave it, baby." TK’s voice was hoarse but calm. Carlos turned to find him sitting beside the bed in a wheelchair, his leg propped up on another, wrapped in bandages. The faintest smile of relief tugged at TK's lips, though his face showed his exhaustion. “You’re still supposed to wear it, but you’re okay. Just take it easy.”
Carlos's brow furrowed, his mind still foggy and disoriented. "What happened?" His voice cracked as he spoke, his heart skipping in fear when he glanced at TK’s bandaged leg. "Your leg..."
"A curtain rail. Got me good." TK’s eyes betrayed his nonchalant tone with a flicker of pain. He gave Carlos a small grin, trying to reassure him. "I’m fine. It’s not a big deal."
Carlos let out a breath of relief, but the panic and worry quickly returned as his mind tried to piece together the fragments of memory—the fire, the heat, the chaos.
“The fire,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as fragments of the chaos flooded his mind. “We jumped... How did we even—get here?” His voice trembled with confusion.
TK’s expression grew serious. "My dad. And Billy. They arrived a little after we fell. Judd and Tommy too… They figured Raymond might not be done."
Carlos still couldn’t fully grasp it. His mind swirled with fragments of the fire, the heat, the urgency. That they were both here, alive, seemed surreal.
“Your parents were here too,” TK added, his voice lighter now, trying to ease the tension. “Our dads just forced Andrea to get some breakfast. I might’ve had to promise not to move.” He gave a small, tired laugh.
He realized he must have been lost in silence for too long when TK shifted in his chair, awkwardly reaching through the bars of the bedrails to gently take Carlos' hand.
“Hey,” he said softly, “how are you doing?”
“I’m good. Really, I…” Carlos took a deep breath, trying to process everything. "I didn’t think we were gonna make it out," he admitted, his voice tinged with guilt. "I should’ve had an extinguisher in the bedroom... I’m... I’m really sorry."
TK’s grip tightened on his hand, offering a reassuring warmth that made the weight of Carlos’ guilt feel a little lighter. “No, I’m sorry, babe. Only a firefighter would think to have a second extinguisher, baby. And it wasn’t going to save us, not by that point. It’s not your fault,” he said firmly.
“I froze. I never freeze... I...” Carlos could feel the start of tears in his eyes, threatening to fall.
“Hey, hey, hey... Come here.” TK released Carlos’ hand but just as he was about to react to its absence, TK instead pushed himself out of the wheelchair. He stood on one leg, trembling with effort to both stay balanced and keep his injured leg still.
“TK, don’t…” Carlos started to protest, his voice laced with concern.
TK ignored him, leaning over with a careful motion and pulled Carlos into a tender kiss. For a moment, their foreheads rested together, a silent connection that spoke louder than any words. Carlos let the tears fall.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re okay.” TK’s voice softened, filled with an unwavering certainty.
“We’re okay.” Carlos repeated, finally pulling back, the simple truth of TK’s words sinking in. "But could you please sit back down? Preferably before you fall - again."
Notes: Hope you enjoyed it. More to come as soon as I can. I actually wrote the plot outline to this one over a year ago and never actually wrote it till now😅. I've started on the rest, but it's slow progress currently - but with the Christmas break off work I should be able to get more down.
Thank you so much for reading!