#usermaximus

He’s pushed even further back when Judd and Paul descend with the backboard, and Carlos is stuck on his knees as TK is loaded into the ambulance. His eyes fix on the blood staining the newly-laid flooring, watching as it starts to creep towards the fabric of his dress pants, and he almost jumps out of his skin when a gentle hand lands on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Gwyn says, helping him to his feet. “We need to be there.”

Carlos nods and takes a step forward, before his eyes find Owen’s and he stops abruptly. “Owen—”

“Owen’s going to follow us in the car,” she replies, her tone suggesting that it was less of a choice on Owen’s part than an order on hers. Any other time, Carlos might question it, or at least offer to stay back himself, but Tommy is shouting at them to hurry up if they want to ride along, and the thought of being away from TK now has him almost tripping over his feet in his rush to get to the ambulance.

Tommy smiles gently at him when he gets in. “His stats are returning to normal,” she says. “They’ll run some tests at the hospital and we’ll get this figured out, I promise.”

Carlos wants to believe her. But TK is still unconscious and this isn’t supposed to be happening at all, he’s supposed to be better—

“I… We just got him back,” he whispers.

Tommy nods, leaning over from her position by TK’s head to squeeze his knee. “He’s not going anywhere,” she says, but the look on her face tells Carlos that she knows it’s another promise she can’t be guaranteed to keep.

Still, Carlos nods; he needs this one thing to hold on to.

Gwyn slides in next to him, the space really too tight for the both of them, but none of them seem to care. Her eyes are shiny and her lips tremble as she tries to smile, even when it’s clear that, like him, she’s barely holding it together. And when she offers her hand, Carlos doesn’t hesitate to take it, gripping on tight as the doors slam shut and the ambulance starts up.

*

TK is awake by the time they’re let back to see him, thoroughly disoriented and clearly in extreme levels of pain. The doctors have put him on some non-opioid based medication, but it evidently doesn’t hold a candle to the stronger stuff, if the creases on TK’s face are anything to go by.

They’ve also given him a nasal cannula; yet another reminder of those long days when TK’s recovery had been anything but certain.

Carlos had been so relieved when TK had started to fight that day — he’d thought, naively, that they could only go up from there. And then the doctor had arrived, and she’d pulled him straight back down to Earth.

“This is a positive sign,” she’d said, in a tone that Carlos just knew meant a ‘but’ was to follow. “But the next few days are crucial. He is beginning to fight back, but the effort of waking up would have been immense, and it would have put significant strain on his heart. We’ll need to keep a careful eye on his vitals just in case he begins to backslide.”

Carlos can’t forget the terror those words had sent through him. The idea they could get this miracle, only for it to be snatched away just as quickly… It didn’t bear thinking about.

“How likely is that to happen?”

“It’s not impossible. His chances are significantly better than they were a couple of hours ago, but we need to wait and run a few more tests before getting too comfortable.”

But TK had proved them all wrong, and he had made it back to his old self.

Only, now… Well, TK may not have died, but it still feels like the miracle is fading in Carlos’s grasp.

It’s crueller this way, he thinks.

“How are you feeling, babe?” he asks, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and rubs TK’s hand — the one not immobilised — with his thumb, then gently brings it to his lips.

TK sighs and his eyes flutter shut, though the pained lines remain. “Tired.” A breath, and he moves the hand Carlos was holding to his chest, fingers brushing the edge of the bandage on his shoulder. “Hurts.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, baby.” Carlos retakes TK’s hand but he’s forced to look away as tears fill his vision. It’s not going to be long before the doctor walks through the doors to tell them TK’s prognosis, and he has no idea what he’s going to do if it’s bad news.

If TK isn’t going to get better this time…

Carlos won’t be able to handle it.

“Babe?”

Carlos immediately looks over at the sound of TK’s weak voice, brushing away his tears with his free hand. He knows neither that nor the wobbly smile he tries will do much to disguise his pain, but he’s just hoping that TK won’t be able to see it in his current condition.

But of course — of course — he’s wrong.

“Are… Are you okay?”

He strokes a hand over TK’s head and gently kisses his temple. “I’m fine,” he lies.

Carlos knows TK sees through him, but he’s spared the effort of arguing when Gwyn and Owen walk back into the room, followed by Doctor Patel. They both look drained, faces drawn as they come to flank TK, Owen giving Carlos a solitary pat on the shoulder.

Doctor Patel looks around at all four of them and sighs softly. “I have good news and bad news,” she says. “The bad news is that it seems TK’s heart suffered more damage than we originally thought. The results we’re seeing so far indicate that his EF number is significantly below normal, which means he’s at higher risk for heart failure, arrhythmias, future coronary problems… What happened today was a mild demonstration of this.”

“Mild?” Gwyn interjects, a sharp edge to her tone. “He collapsed, he—”

“Mom.” TK’s breath of a voice cuts her off and he squints up at her in something resembling reproach. “Let her talk.”

Doctor Patel smiles sympathetically at Gwyn. “I understand, Ms. Morgan. I imagine it will not be much comfort, but TK’s current state has more to do with his shoulder injury and the blood loss stemming from that. His collapsing is a concern, but it is in line with what we can expect to see with conditions such as his, though, of course, we will need to do more tests to determine the extent of the damage. In layman’s terms, what happened today was akin to a minor heart attack, but it could have been much worse.

“I advise you to proceed with great caution, Mr. Strand. Fortunately, the good news is there are treatment options we can pursue, but they’re not foolproof. Depending on what your results say, we may need to consider changes to your lifestyle.”

With that bombshell dropped, Doctor Patel nods at them and leaves the room. Carlos sighs and slumps in his chair as she goes, partly in relief that it wasn’t worse, and partly in despair that it could have been.

And, worse, still could be.

He holds TK’s hand between both of his and squeezes as tight as he can, as if, somehow, it will keep TK alive.

*

“I’m taking him to New York,” Gwyn announces on the day of TK’s discharge. They’ve all been sent out to the waiting room as the nurses run some final tests, and both Owen and Carlos turn to stare at her. Owen looks tired and there’s a tick in his jaw that speaks for the argument that’s soon to follow, while Carlos can’t summon up much more emotion than confusion and a surge of the worry that’s been lingering ever since TK first fell through the ice, if he’s being honest with himself.

Jonah, for his part, quietly continues trying to chew on Gwyn’s hair.

“I think it would be good for him,” she continues, expertly sweeping her hair away from Jonah and replacing it with a toy. “Besides, I have a contact in Manhattan, she’s the best cardiologist in the state and I think she should take a look at TK. I don’t trust the doctors here.”

Owen lifts his gaze to the ceiling in a gesture Carlos can only partially sympathise with. Owen hadn’t been here when the doctors had said there was nothing they could do, and a bitter, undoubtedly unfair, part of Carlos has to wonder if another doctor might have been able to. Plus, after all this, he really wouldn’t mind a second opinion on how TK really is. A third and a fourth, too; anything so long as he gets the reassurance he craves.

It’s the New York part Carlos is getting stuck on.

“Could we not just take him to another doctor here?” he puts in quietly, though he almost regrets it when Gwyn turns her gaze on him — he should really have learned by now that arguing with Gwyneth Morgan is not a good idea.

“It took the doctors here months to find out about this,” she says. There’s a sharpness in her look and tone that Carlos knows isn’t directed fully at him, but it’s still intimidating to be on the other end of. “TK could have died. I want to be certain that my son is going to get better this time, and I’d rather trust somebody I know than a stranger.”

“Gwyn,” Owen starts, “he’s… TK needs to rest. Is it really a smart idea to drag him across the country so soon after — everything?”

“It is if it means he lives,” she snaps, and, just like that, the argument is over. Carlos can read the defeat on Owen’s face as he sighs and slumps back in his chair, teeth worrying at his lip as he stares at the closed door to TK’s room.

“As long as he’s safe,” he agrees eventually, and Carlos can only nod.

As long as TK’s safe, he thinks he’d do anything.

*

TK is suspiciously quiet when they’re allowed back in to see him. He seems apprehensive at the thought of leaving the hospital, and he surprises everyone when he agrees to Gwyn’s plan without any protest. Carlos frowns at him, reaching out to rub his tight shoulders, though Owen beats him to the question.

“Son, are you okay? Did the doctors say something to you?”

TK’s eyes flick to his father, and his weary smile is less-than convincing. “No, I’m good, Dad. It’s… It’s nothing. I guess I just thought all this was over.”

Owen nods and runs his hand over TK’s head. “I know. I know, but you’ll be okay. Things will turn out, you’ll see.”

TK hums noncommittally, and even Carlos wishes he could borrow some of Owen’s apparently unfailing optimism. But he’s not going to make the mistake of being too positive again; they’d all done that once before, and look how it had turned out. 

He desperately needs to believe that TK is going to be okay, but he can’t think yet that there won’t be more surprises down the road. Really, Carlos is certain there will be.

so obviously, this is the most screen time mateo has had in an episode! his previous record was around 6:15 for 2x10 "a little help from my friends"

additionally, i understand if you're upset that carlos doesn't have a lot, and i'm not saying you shouldn't continue to advocate for him to have more... however, please also keep in mind that mateo also barely has enough screen time this season and last so for him to have the most this episode, the season finale, is a very big deal. also the distribution for this episode is very similar to the 2x08 mid-season finale where carlos did have the most, and mateo had the least.... just please remember that before you use this data to try and back your points because in my opinion, this episode was a win (and as someone whose favorite character is carlos, i'm not even bothered by this because i'm so happy for mateo.)

if you follow my main, you might have heard me talk about my new method... this data was collected using the old method, just because it's what i used for the other episodes this season and it didn't really make sense to just use the new one on one episode. over the hiatus, i do plan to revisit all the episode using the new method (i already completed 2x01) and i will probably hold off on posting the results until i have completed the season. this new method is more accurate, and there is less room for human error (though there still could be some, and some shots are up for interpretation if that character is on screen enough to be considered on screen (aka blurred in the background, from behind, half face, ect)) anyway, i do plan to use that method for season 3 as well, but we'll see because it does take longer....

finally, it's hard to believe this is the last episode! i remember when i was still figuring out the formatting for this season and choosing a color and stuff 🥺it was a lot of fun to work on this week to week and i do hope to continue with season three in january 2022...

but until then! i do plan to do a series of meta posts about the entire season, and comparing it to season 1 - starting with breakdowns character by character (which i think i'm going to go in reverse billing order? unless you guys wanna vote idk, i do like making polls...) and at least one post about the recurring characters, maybe give nancy one of her own since she has been promoted to main for the third season (!!) and then group gwyn and charles... and i'm thinking about maybe doing gabriel and billy since they played a larger role in 2b? lmk your thoughts on that, or any other characters you can think of (i mean i can include andrea too but she wasn't as prominent as gabriel so i don't think her stats will be that interesting...) and then at the end i guess i will pull together some kind of general overview (assuming people still care at that point... idk how long the other posts will take lol)

Season 2 averages:

Owen 8:30 minutes Tommy 5:15 minutes Judd 4:45 minutes TK 3:45 minutes (-15 seconds) Grace 3:00 minutes (+15 seconds) Marjan 2:45 minutes Paul 2:30 minutes Mateo 2:30 minutes (+30 seconds) Carlos 2:00 minutes

Series averages:

The man approached, studying TK as he grew closer. “You’re going to tell me what you know about the Goethe homicide.” 

TK wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. “The what?” 

“The Goethe homicide!” The man repeated, voice growing louder with his frustration “I need to know who did it!” 

“Why?” TK asked, hoping to deflect because he had no idea what the fuck the man was talking about, “Why do you need to know?” 

“Because it’s my wife they killed, and I need to kill them.” 

He said it so matter of factly, as if it were simply an item on his to-do list. TK swallowed, his mind racing as he tried to think of the best way to respond to that. He couldn’t tell the other man anything about the case because he didn’t know about the case. Honesty, he decided, was sometimes the best policy. 

“I can’t tell you anything,” he told the man carefully, “because I don’t know anything.” 

That just caused him to scoff, “Please. Even if you’re not working it you have to know something. A police station is just like any other office — people talk. You have to have heard something around the water cooler.” 

And suddenly it clicked in TK’s mind: this man thought he was a cop. 

“I don’t work for the police department,” he said carefully, making sure to keep his words clear and his tone even. “I’m a paramedic, I work at AFD Station 126. I am not a cop and I don’t know anything about the case you’re talking about.” 

“Then what were you doing at the precinct so early,” the other man scoffed, “don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not lying,” TK repeated earnestly. “I just stopped to visit my fiancé before my shift. Our schedules haven’t lined up much over the past week and I wanted a chance to see him so I brought him coffee.” 

“You’re lying,” the man said again, voice full with just as much certainty as before. 

“I’m not,” TK repeated softly, but he was becoming increasingly aware it was fruitless. 

“You are!” his captor shouted and TK flinched as he stepped closer. The man came to a stop, now only a few inches from TK as he spoke again, “You’re lying and I need to know. I need to know who killed my wife. The fact that they are out there, still free and still living and she’s dead is…” he trailed off and when he spoke again his voice was heavy with grief: “It’s wrong.” 

TK studied the man more closely. What he saw before him was grief; a loss felt so deeply it had changed a man’s entire existence. Whoever he may have been before it was clear that all he lived for now was revenge and though TK didn’t agree on a moral level, he could understand. Maybe he and Carlos weren’t married yet but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he lost Carlos he would lose everything. It was a fear that lurked in the back of his mind; it had been there for years now. Carlos was one half of his soul; he was intertwined with his very being. Life without him was unthinkable and his heart went out to the man before him who had so clearly lost the person he loved and was feeling the very thing TK feared. 

“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now,” TK finally said. “I can’t imagine how much losing the person you love must hurt. I understand why you want to do this, but you have to know it’s not going to change anything. It’s not going to bring her back.” 

“No,” he agreed, “but it will make me feel better.” 

“Will it though?” TK asked. “Will taking someone else’s life really make you feel better?” 

“I can’t imagine I can feel any worse,” the man replied drily, “so I figure it’s worth a shot.” 

“What about your wife?” TK said instead. He knew he was taking a gamble but maybe, just maybe, he could help him see sense. “Would she want you to do this? Is this how she would want you honoring her memory? Would she want you to throw your life away?” 

There was quiet for a moment and TK thought that maybe he had broken through. But then the man shook his head and took another step forward, shaking his head. 

“I don’t have a life without her,” he said dully. “And thanks to whoever that manic was, I have no way of knowing what she would have wanted, do I?” TK and the man studied each other for a few moments and TK was sure that all the fear he was now feeling was showing clearly through his eyes. This was a desperate man before him and it was becoming increasingly clear that not only would he not listen to reason, he wasn’t about to let anything stand in his way either.

“That’s okay though,” he said after a drawn-out moment, leaning over to pick up something from the ground besides TK, “because you’re going to tell me who he is and where to find him.” 

TK’s eyes grew wider as he took in the bat now clutched in the man’s hands. “Wait,” he tried again, “I don’t—” 

But any further protestations were cut off by a gasp of pain and then another as the blows began to land and TK’s entire being was wrapped in nothing but pain. 

-------

This had seemed like the never-ending shift from hell, but it was finally coming to an end. Carlos breathed a sigh of relief as he glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that there were only 30 minutes left in their shift. Maybe if everything stayed calm…

But the sound of their radios crackling to life caused him to audibly groan. Of course they had one more call that would inevitably run over and keep them there late. He didn’t know why he was surprised; that was kind of how the night had been. He drained the last of the coffee TK had dropped off — the only good thing to happen in the past 12 hours — and stood, meeting Mitchell’s gaze to see a similar expression. 

“Cheer up,” his partner offered, “it’s an accident, you might get to see that fiancé of yours.” 

Despite everything that thought brought a smile to Carlos’s face, and caused his partner to roll her eyes. 

“I work with a lovesick teenager,” she muttered, but Carlos just grinned wider. 

“You’re just jealous Mitchell,” he teased, lightly jabbing her with his elbow as he passed her on the way to their squad car. 

“You keep telling yourself that, Reyes,” she called after him, but she was grinning. 

They kept up their stream of banter as they climbed into their squad car and headed towards the scene. When they arrived and climbed out of the car, Carlos couldn’t help from looking first towards the fire vehicles, trying to get a glimpse at the number on the side. 

He was saved the trouble when he heard a familiar voice and he looked over his shoulder to see Mateo doing his best to wave as he jogged by, arms laden with equipment. Mitchell rolled her eyes again beside him and he grinned at her. 

“Just don’t keep us here too long after we are done making heart eyes at your boy,” she requested with an air of exhaustion. “I want to go home.” 

Carlos shook his head at her before they parted, approaching different halves of the scene and taking statements. As predicted it took longer than the last 30 minutes of their shift and it was nearly an hour later that they finally returned to their squad car. He glanced over at where the ambulance was parked — there had been no injuries that required transportation to the hospital, thankfully — and his partner sighed. 

“Go,” she said wearily, “I can last a few more minutes I suppose. I’ll just be daydreaming about my bed while you’re gone.” 

Carlos gave her a grateful smile. He hadn’t seen TK at all while he was dealing with the witnesses and it just wouldn’t feel right to leave without at least saying hello. Especially because with their shifts being back to back it would be at least another 12 hours before he got another chance to see him. 

He made his way over to the ambulance, peeking around the open doors to find Nancy in the back, putting away their supplies. 

“Hey Nance,” he said in greeting, “where’s TK?” 

“Late,” Nancy said, snapping the drawer she had been filling shut. “He didn’t make it to the station on time; we had to leave before he got there.” 

Carlos frowned at her, “Did he call you at all?” 

“Nope,” Nancy declared with a shake of her head. “And he didn’t answer when I called, so I figured he just overslept. Which wouldn’t be that bad but the call for this accident came in just a few minutes after shift started. Chances are he’s waiting at the station now, dreading the amount of schlep work he’s going to have to do to make up for being late and missing a call.” 

Nancy was grinning mischievously but Carlos was experiencing the sensation of the world falling down around him. Something was wrong. 

“He didn’t oversleep,” he finally managed and his tone had Nancy straightening up and looking at him with a furrowed brow. “He stopped by the precinct this morning with coffee. He left with plenty of time to make it to the station, he should have been there on time. It’s only two miles.” 

Nancy’s expression shifted as he spoke and by the time he was done she was wearing a matching expression of concern. Tommy and Owen chose that moment to walk by, Tommy pausing as she registered the looks on each of their faces. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, causing Owen to stop beside her. The two captains looked at them expectantly, and Carlos swallowed. 

“I think something happened to TK.” 

-------

Another blow landed and TK gasped as the impact jarred his solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him. He tried to gasp for air but none came and all he succeeded in doing was aggravating the pain in his damaged ribs — a few of which were cracked, at the very least. He reminded himself not to panic, that his breath would come back. 

The man lowered the bat and casually leaned on it, studying TK as he tried to steady his breathing. The desperate breaths sent pain ripping through his chest so he did his best to calm himself, to even out his breathing. All the while he leveled his gaze at the other man, who looked back at him. 

“You know,” he said as he stepped back, “if you just told me the truth this would be over.” 

“I have been telling you the truth,” TK gasped, still struggling to pull enough air into his lungs to speak. “I’m not who you think I am, just like I’ve been saying.” 

“No,” the man said again, voice more desperate, “you’re lying!” 

“I’m not,” TK said evenly, watching the man closely. He was teetering on the edge, all it would take was one wrong move or word to send him into complete hysteria and TK didn’t know what that move or word might be. Every single time he opened his mouth it felt like stepping off a landmine, waiting to see if it would explode. 

“You have to be!” his captor argued. “That was the plan, and my plan didn’t fail! It can’t fail, I need to know.” 

“Maybe if you let me call someone,” TK offered hesitantly, “we can get you the information you’re looking for. Because I don’t have it, and no amount of hurting me is going to change that.” 

The man was quiet for a few moments and TK allowed himself to grasp onto a little hope — maybe he had gotten through to him. Maybe it would be okay. 

But the next moment proved him wrong as his captor’s face contorted in rage and he lashed out. TK flinched away, closing his eyes as the man moved towards him. He was unsurprised when pain exploded, though it wasn’t the type of pain he had been expecting. He had grown accustomed to the pain of the blows from the bat, but the blinding white-hot pain now exploding from his leg was new. He opened a tentative eye to see the hilt of a knife sticking out of his leg and it took every ounce of his self-control to not react. The last thing he needed was to feed into this and get him more riled up. 

Especially because the knife seemed to be embedded alarmingly close to where his femoral artery should be located, the last thing he needed was it being ripped out by an angry kidnapper. If he was right once it was removed he would be dead in a matter of minutes. His best chance — his only chance — was the knife staying put until help arrived. 

Because help would arrive, he was sure of it. 

The man seemed to get his last burst of anger out with the knife because he stepped away after that, turning around and muttering to himself. TK watched him warily, doing his best to read his body language and gauge his mental state. He knew he wasn’t stable, but if he could just find an opening; a way to get him to listen to reason he might just live to see the end of this. 

But the frantic pacing and muttering he was doing didn’t instill a lot of hope. TK pulled his eyes away from him and looked longingly towards the door. Help was coming, he didn’t doubt that. He just hoped they made it before it was too late. 

--------

It was as if TK had just vanished. 

They knew he had left the precinct at 5:40 — Carlos, three of his coworkers, and the desk sergeant on duty could confirm that. None of them had noticed anything amiss. The last anyone knew he had waved at Sergeant Grover and stepped through the front doors into the early morning chill. 

Then, nothing. 

A quick (unofficial) search found his car still parked on the street in front of the precinct. It was maybe 50 feet of distance — so short in the grand scheme of things — and somehow TK Strand had disappeared within its space. 

Carlos had brought it to his superiors and while they were sympathetic they reminded him that it was too soon to list him as a missing person. He was an adult of sound mind and body: until foul play could be reasonably proven there would be no official investigation. 

So Carlos played his trump card; it’s the only thing he could do. 

He waited anxiously as the phone rang, pacing as he waited. 

Finally, the ringing stopped. 

“Carlitos,” his dad’s voice said, warm and cheerful, “we were just talking about you! Anderson was just saying that he thinks you and TK should skip the--” 

“Dad,” he interrupted, skipping past the pleasantries and whatever opinion Anderson had about their wedding plans and right into what mattered, “I think something happened to TK.” 

“What?” The change in his Dad’s voice was stark. “What do you mean?” 

“I know it’s too soon to label him as a missing person, but he didn’t show up at work and I saw him right before that and he was on his way and we can’t get a hold of him and....” 

“Tranquilo, Carlitos,” his dad urged softly over the phone, “take a breath and then tell me what happened, from the beginning. 

So he did. He took a breath and then told his dad how TK had stopped by the precinct with coffee this morning, how he had left 20 minutes before his shift started, how he had never made it to the station. How his car was still parked on the street by the precinct. 

He told him everything, and then waited. 

Though it felt like an eternity it was only a few moments later when Gabriel responded. “I’m coming to you,” he said, and Carlos could hear the rustlings of movements on the other end of the call. “We’ll figure this out mijo, whatever it is.” 

Carlos leaned against his car, almost sagging with relief. It wasn’t that he had expected his dad to not believe him, to not immediately offer to help; but knowing that he was on his way here and that he would have help gave him a little bit of hope. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, feeling just a bit of the panic that had been crushing him since Nancy had told him TK never showed up to work melt away. 

“Of course. Try not to worry, we’ll figure out what happened. Nothing can stop the combined powers of the Reyes men, after all.” 

He knew his dad was going for a joke, was trying to lighten the mood and Carlos appreciated it. 

“Right,” he agreed with a small, hollow laugh. With a last thanks, he ended the call. 

Left with nothing to do but wait, Carlos thought back to the talk he had had with his Captain and one of the detectives. He could read between the lines of the official answer — no one on the force was going to stop him from investigating, they just couldn’t do anything to help him, officially. Never before had he been so glad his dad worked in a different capacity. Though if he were being honest, Carlos knew that even if he had been ordered to stand down it wouldn’t have stopped him. Nothing would have stopped him from doing everything he could to find TK. 

He was running through all the awful possibilities for the third time when his dad arrived. Before he could say anything his dad pulled him into a hug. 

“We’ll find him, mijo,” he assured Carlos softly, “no te preocupes.” 

“Pretty sure that’s impossible,” he retorted wryly, and his dad shrugged. 

“Let’s just take it one step at a time, yeah?” Gabriel said instead. “Do we have any clues or signs of him after leaving the precinct?” 

Carlos shook his head, “No. The precinct cameras only cover the entrance so he’s on camera leaving, but that’s it. And there are no signs of a struggle or anything by his car. It’s as if he just up and vanished.” 

“You know as well as I that no one ever vanishes,” Gabriel replied, giving the area a critical glance. “They always go somewhere and they always leave a trace. Maybe we can try to see if any other place got him on camera? So we can reconstruct the time after he left the precinct?” 

Carlos nodded, having considered that in the time he spent waiting for his dad, “I think the deli across the street has cameras. I don’t know how much they see but…”

“But it’s worth a try,” his dad agreed. “Then let’s go ask nicely — it’s not an official investigation, after all.” 

“Why should I help you?” the owner asked with a shrug when they explained their request, “a man’s business is a man’s business and I’m not about to get involved in that.” 

“Please,” Carlos interjected, cutting off his dad’s likely professional reply, “he’s my fiancé, and disappearing on his way to work is definitely not like him. I just want to make sure he’s okay.” 

The owner studied him for a moment before shrugging, “Makes no difference to me, have at it. Monitor’s in the backroom — down that hall, first door on the left.” 

Carlos nodded his thanks and led the way to the indicated room, his dad on his heels. They found the room and got the footage running with no problem but the process of finding the right footage was tedious, to say the least. 

Despite his best efforts, Carlos was barely watching — his head too full of anxiety and fear to truly focus on something as mundane as the passage of day-to-day life that crossed across the camera’s view. It was a busy street in Downtown Austin; there was so much activity it was hard to follow. But Carlos has grown good at spotting TK in any crowd, and apparently on camera was no different. 

“Wait!” he exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in the chair to the right of the monitor. “Go back a few frames and let it run at regular speed.” 

His dad did as he asked and a few moments later they were rewarded by a familiar car pulling up to the curb and a face he would recognize anywhere climbing out. They watched as he reached back into the car for the tray of coffees and box of donuts he had brought into the precinct before he shut the car door behind him and stepped out of the frame. They both watched intently, watching for any chance he might step back into the camera's view. 

Carlos could play through what had happened when TK had entered the precinct verbatim in his head, and he did as they waited, trying to anticipate the moment his fiancé would step back outside into the early morning sun. 

Carlos was finishing up an incident report from an earlier call when Sergeant Grover called over to him, “Reyes!” he had shouted, “your man’s here — and he brought donuts!” 

The enthusiasm in the older man’s voice made Carlos chuckle, but the sight of one Tyler Kennedy Strand leaning against the front desk waiting for him made him feel something entirely else. 

“Hey,” he said fondly as he approached, reaching out to press a chaste kiss to the other man’s lips. 

“Hey yourself,” TK replied warmly before reaching behind him and producing a cup, “I brought you some coffee — figured you could use some.”

Carlos took it gratefully, inhaling the enticing scent of hazelnut as the cup came closer, “Have I mentioned lately that I love you?” 

“It may have come up,” TK quipped, “but I never get tired of hearing it.” 

“Well in that case,” Carlos said, stepping as close as he dared considering that he was still in uniform and they were still very much in his place of work, “I love you, mostly because you keep me caffeinated.” 

“Oh is that why?” TK asked with a raised eyebrow, “Because I thought it was the way I…” 

Sergeant Grover cleared his throat pointedly, reminding them both that he was still only a few feet away and Carlos felt his cheeks heat up, but TK only laughed brightly. 

“That’s why I brought you the apple turnovers you like Sergeant, to make up for this.” 

“Are you bribing an officer of the law, Strand?” The desk sergeant asked and TK shrugged. 

“I don’t know, is it working?” 

“You know it is, son,” the older man chuckled and pulled one of the promised turnovers out of the box with a grin. 

Carlos shook his head fondly and TK grinned at him unabashedly before Carlos nodded to the rest of the coffees in the carrier, “Are these more blatant efforts to butter up my coworkers?” 

“We are well past that babe, they already like me. These are just to make sure they keep liking me.” 

Carlos snorted because he knew all too well the chances of them not liking TK for any reason were extremely slim. He had been coming around the station fairly regularly over the entire course of their relationship — not to mention all the times they worked together in the field —  and had developed his own relationships with most of Carlos’s coworkers. So he just gestured for TK to lead the way and followed his fiancé back into the bullpen. 

Twenty minutes of coffee and chatting later TK glanced down at his watch and grimaced. “My shift starts at 6,” he explained, “so I better get going.” He slid off the desk he had been sitting on, chatting with Mitchell, before stepping into Carlos’s space. Carlos leaned forward to place a warm kiss on his cheek and TK squeezed his hand affectionately before he stepped away. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he had said with a soft, warm smile. 

And then he had left, disappeared into thin air. 

The video before him ran, each of those twenty glorious minutes he had gotten to spend with TK passing by at a snail’s pace, but he was too afraid to speed it up. He didn’t want to miss anything that might help. 

He could feel his father’s eyes on him and briefly pulled his own from the video feed to meet them. His gaze was worried and Carlos tried to give him a smile. His father simply shook his head and patted his knee gently, “We’ll find him, mijo. No one messes with our family on my watch.” 

Carlos swallowed and nodded, feeling a little bolstered by his father’s reassurance, despite everything. 

It’s a few minutes later when Carlos sat bolt upright, the sight of TK stepping back into the frame putting him on alert. He watched intently as TK pulled his keys from his pocket and stepped towards his car, eyes cast down as he sorted through the ring for the correct key. It was only because he was watching so closely that he noticed a dark sedan slow to a halt beside him, its driver climbing out and addressing TK. Whatever he said got TK to look up and pause, waiting as the man stepped closer. He was gesturing vaguely, his face plastered with a polite smile that TK matched. As they spoke he moved closer and though Carlos knew what was going to happen before it did, watching the moment the man struck out a TK wasn’t any easier with warning.

TK — caught completely off guard — crumbled at the blow, only for the other man to catch him before he fell and drag him towards the car. He opened the trunk and shoved TK in unceremoniously; taking furtive glances around the area as he did. Once the trunk was closed with TK inside the man dashed around to the driver’s seat and climbed into; speeding away down the deserted street. 

Carlos’s heart was racing when he pulled his eyes from the monitor to face his dad. 

“He was taken,” he said, voice low and horrified. 

Gabriel nodded, his expression dark and serious but when he spoke his tone was hopeful: “But he wasn’t very careful, we have a license plate. We’ll be able to track him down.” 

“Unless the car is stolen,” Carlos muttered, too deep in the fear and horror of what he had just seen to acknowledge a bright side. The man hadn’t even tried to cover his face, and Carlos didn’t want to think about what that could mean for TK. 

“We’ve done more with less,” his dad reminded him bracingly, “don’t lose hope.” 

Carlos nodded. While he appreciated his dad’s help and optimism, he couldn’t find it in himself to replicate it; not yet. Right now every possibility of what could be happening to TK, of what could go wrong was flying through his head. All he knew for sure is that they had to find TK, no matter what. 

He told his dad as much, and Gabriel nodded. “We will,” he assured Carlos, “and this helps. I’m going to call it in, see what they can find on that plate. Hopefully, we’ll have an answer soon and we can get TK back.” 

Carlos watched as his dad made his phone call, his eyes traveling back to the monitor in front of him before long. He stared at the frozen image of the car holding TK speeding away and hoped that wherever TK was, he knew that Carlos was coming for him. 

--------

Help was coming, TK knew that. 

He knew Carlos would find him and he knew that it was only a matter of time. He just hoped it was soon, because he wasn’t sure how much time he had left. He was doing his best to hold on but his body was about at its limit; ready to give in to the darkness coming ever closer as all of the pain and stress and the blood loss piled on. It’s all too much and he doesn’t need to be a paramedic to know he won’t survive much more. 

He blinked his heavy eyes as he tried to keep track of his kidnapper. He had told him time and time again that he is not a cop, that he can’t give him the information he wants because he doesn’t know what the hell he is talking about but it’s been no use. He doesn’t believe him and TK was starting to think that he is too far gone to listen to reason. The man is past the point of breaking, and TK never stood a chance. 

As time passed the blows became more and more erratic and TK had watched his captor become more and more unhinged with each passing moment. He had been doing his best to be hopeful, to stay optimistic; but now he was pretty sure he was going to die here. The thought  filled him with a cold certainty that is growing with each passing moment and drip of his blood onto the floor. 

He has had time to dwell on it now — it’s served as a distraction between moments of pain. The first thought that comes to mind is that he doesn’t have any regrets. If he had been faced with the same question not all that long ago he would have had many but he has made his peace with his mistakes and he is happy with where he is. The second thought is for his loved ones, for his parents and the family he had found here in Austin. He hates the idea of them enduring yet another loss in so little time and he is sorry that he will be the cause of their pain. 

But mostly he thinks about Carlos. He loved him so much. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with him and, while he was grateful to have had any time at all with him, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to marry Carlos and grow old with him. He didn’t want to leave him 6 months before their wedding with nothing more than fond memories and wishful thinking about what they could have had. He didn’t want to be the cause of his pain. 

He also knew that just because he didn’t have any regrets didn’t mean he’s ready to go. He had spent so long fighting for this life he had now — he wasn’t ready to give it up.

“I don’t know anything,” he tried again. “I’m not a cop, I’m a paramedic. I can’t give you the information you want.” 

Maybe, he thought, the 23rd time's the charm. 

“Stop lying to me!” the other man yells, fisting his hands into his hair as he turned away from TK. 

“I’m not,” TK told him again, softly this time. “I haven’t lied to you at all. Please,” he tried because what could it hurt, “I just want to go home. To see my family and my fiancé. I just want to survive this.” 

In all the time they had been in this situation (hours? Days? He had no idea anymore) TK had never voiced this desire but now he found he can’t keep it inside. The desperate need to survive overrode everything else and if begging was what it took he was willing to go there.

His captor faltered, turning back to him with something like a curious expression. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” he says, his tone laced with surprise and confusion. “If I kill you, you can't tell me what you know.”  

“Then I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” TK said once he recovered from the shock, “but unless you drive me to a hospital within the next hour, I don’t think you’ll have a choice. I’ve lost too much blood as it is; much more and I won’t survive it.” 

The man furrowed his brow as he considered TK’s words and TK let himself hope for a wild moment that maybe he had gotten through to him. But in the next the confusion was gone and he was shaking his head and striding forward again. 

“No,” he said matter of factly, “you’re going to tell me what I need to know.” 

He reached for the bat again and TK wanted to scream in frustration. He didn’t know anything, he never had. He was going to die here, for what?

He watched in grim acceptance as the man stepped forward, raising his bat to strike again but before he could complete the action there was an almighty crash from behind and TK got a glimpse of a swarm of police officers before his captor moved and blocked his field of vision. He dropped the bat and TK watched in horror as he reached forward and yanked the knife out of TK’s thigh. He was powerless to do anything but watch with dread as the heavy bleeding he knew would come erupted from the wound, gushing out at an alarming rate. He struggled against his bindings, pulling against the ropes in the hope that maybe he could break free and staunch the bleeding. But no matter how hard he tugged there was no give. He couldn’t believe that help was here but he was going to die anyway. 

There was commotion around him but his vision was starting to blur at the edges. The feeling of hands on his body and fresh pain exploding from his leg pulled him back to the present long enough to take note of a familiar figure crouched beside him applying pressure to the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding, yelling orders over his shoulder before turning back to TK with fear in his eyes and TK was suddenly not sure of what he was seeing at all. He had never seen fear like this in the eyes of his future father-in-law. 

“Stay with me son,” Gabriel said urgently, tone soft but somehow still commanding as he tightened his grip on the wound. “I do not intend to lose any family members today.” 

TK wanted to say something to that, wanted to make a quip to put the older man’s mind at ease. But it was taking all his energy to keep his eyes open, which probably had something to do with the blood seeping out from between the Ranger’s fingers. He somehow found it in him to ask the one question he had in his mind —  the one thing he wanted more than anything right now — and was beyond grateful it could be summed up in one word. 

“Carlos?” he asked, noting with a grimace how weak his voice was. 

“He’s just outside,” Gabriel informed him, “but if I know my son he’ll be here in a matter of seconds.” 

And suddenly he was — his familiar figure sinking to his knees besides TK, his beautiful brown eyes seeking TK’s own. He didn’t speak, instead choosing to reach a hand out to cup TK’s cheek, but his eyes said it all. They were filled with fear and unshed tears and so much love it almost hurt. TK leaned into the familiar touch, allowing it to ground him and using it as an anchor tying him to consciousness. 

“Hey you,” he managed after a few moments, needing the time even to muster those two syllables. 

“Hey yourself,” Carlos responded, never missing a beat as he placed his other hand on TK’s good knee. “Just hang in there Ty, paramedics are on their way in right now.”

“It’s not my team, is it?” TK tried to ask but he was sure the words were more slur than syllable. “They shouldn’t…” he wanted to say they shouldn’t have to see him like this, that they shouldn’t have to treat their team member but Carlos shook his head. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he told him. “All that matters is that you hang on. I know it hurts but you need to stay with us, TK. You need to stay with me.” 

TK nodded because he knew what Carlos was saying was true and he wanted to do that. He wanted that more than anything. He had been so afraid he was never going to see Carlos again and now he was here. TK wanted nothing more than to stay here with him. 

But his will was no match for the massive blood loss and he could feel himself slipping away. There was commotion everywhere: police taking the man into custody as he struggled, screaming about needing answers. Gabriel talking to him, urging him to stay awake and shouting for paramedics to help. It was all hectic and loud but it blurred into the background because the only thing that mattered to TK was Carlos and his calm, steady presence and tear-filled eyes. TK held those eyes with his own, latching into them like a lifeline. There was so much he wanted to say but he had no strength to say any of it. He hoped Carlos knew (he was pretty sure he did). 

Carlos’s eyes were the last thing he saw before his strength left him and everything faded to black, his voice shouting TK’s name following him into the darkness.

--------

Carlos spent the next few hours wearing a hole in the waiting room floor. 

If TK were here he would tease him, tell him that pacing enough to cause structural damage was his deal; not Carlos’s. 

But TK wasn’t here and the terror of watching his eyes close as he slipped somewhere Carlos couldn’t follow was still as fresh now as it had been in that moment. So he paced, for lack of anything better to do. He paced because if he sat he might think, and he couldn’t handle that right now. He couldn’t dwell on everything he stands to lose. He thought that maybe, if he kept moving, he could outrun his thoughts. 

The fact that he knew it was impossible wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

Others filter in and it’s all Carlos can do to even acknowledge their presence. He stops pacing when Owen arrives, pale and trembling because while Carlos knew his dad did his best to sound optimistic on the phone when he called the fire captain there is only so much of a positive spin you could put on this. He froze at the sight of the older man and opened his mouth, a hundred different apologies on the tip of his tongue; a thousand ways in which he should have been better, that he should have protected TK. 

But all of that is cut off when Owen pulls him into a hug, clutching him tightly and showing no sign of letting go. When they pull apart no words are spoken but Carlos could see the message clear in Owen’s eyes: this isn’t his fault. 

Carlos wished he could believe him, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. 

When his mother arrived there was fear and anguish in her eyes. She beelined straight for him and wrapped him in the hug only a mother can give. There was safety in it and for a moment Carlos allowed himself to sag against her smaller frame, to take the comfort he so desperately needed. Then, he pulled himself up. If he fell apart now he wouldn’t be able to keep going. He needed to keep himself together for a little longer, just until he knew that TK was okay. 

Because he had to be okay; no other answer was bearable.  

Carlos knew he was not the only one who felt that way because when the doctor entered the waiting room there was a room full of eyes on him and the crushing silence of an entire family holding their collective breath. But then the doctor smiled and suddenly Carlos could breathe again. 

There were a whole lot of words and medical terms but Carlos cuts it down to the crux of it: TK didn’t die, but he gave it his best shot. There was talk of massive blood loss and transfusions and trauma to the chest and soft tissue damage and it’s all so much but TK is alive and for now, that’s what Carlos was going to focus on. 

He followed the nurse to the recovery room a few minutes later and when he got his first glimpse at TK, the optimism fled from his mind. TK looked so wrong in that bed: so still, so hurt. The heart monitor next to him traced each beat of that heart he loved so well but even still Carlos had a hard time believing it. It all looked so wrong. 

He took a hesitant step closer, and then another. Eventually, his feet carried him to TK’s bedside and he sank into the chair next to the bed; reaching out to take TK’s hand in his but hesitating. He didn’t want to do anything without TK’s consent, given everything. 

He hadn’t been able to focus on much during the waiting but he hadn’t been able to help but notice the grim look on his father’s face when he had gotten off the phone. It had taken some doing but he had managed to get his father to tell him what the officer questioning TK’s captor had found out: TK had been tortured. 

It had been a revelation that had brought his pacing to a halt and he would have likely collapsed if his father hadn’t gently pushed him into a seat as every inch of his body trembled. Even now the thought filled him with both a cold fury and raging fear: TK had been tortured; hurt repeatedly for information he didn’t even have. Now he was here before Carlos and he could only hope that he was strong enough to see them both through this; that he would be strong enough to support TK. Because while the doctor had assured them that the physical wounds would heal with time, Carlos had a sinking feeling that the mental ones would take a lot longer. 

So he sits quietly, close but never touching as TK sleeps on. And when TK wakes an hour later and reaches for his hand he clutches at it like a lifeline, smiling through the tears as he gently leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead. They didn’t speak but they didn’t need to. Carlos knew that everything he was feeling was shared — the fear, the worry, the relief, the love. When he squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes Carlos knew that TK understood the promise left unsaid: whatever came next he wouldn’t face alone.

-------

TK’s not fine. 

He’s well aware of this fact, and he’s pretty sure Carlos is too. It’s hard to hide things from the person who knows you better than anyone and who also happens to sleep in the same bed as you, after all. 

Physically, he’s solid. The bruises have faded, his ribs have healed. His body has replenished all the blood that was left on the floor of that abandoned warehouse. He passed all his physical exams with flying colors and has been back at work for about a week now. 

But though the bruises have faded and the pain is gone, the memories are not. Some days are better than others and today...is not a good day. 

He wakes in a cold sweat and sits bolt upright, chest heaving as the remanents of the dream that had woken him cling to his mind. He knows it’s a dream. He knows it’s not real but his mind has so helpfully filled in all the blanks; bringing back the sounds and smells and sensations,  slotting them perfectly into place, and fuck if it doesn’t feel every bit as real each and every time. 

He reminds himself to breathe and looks around the room falling into the familiar pattern. 5 things he can see: the door, the clock on his nightstand, the throw blanket at the end of their bed, the glare of a streetlight through the window, Carlos laying beside him. 4 things he can touch: the soft gray duvet covering their bed, the soft material of the faded APD shirt he had fallen asleep in, the coolness of the sheets beneath him, the corner of Carlos’s pillow brushing against his arm. 

He goes through the rest of the list, using his senses to anchor him back to reality before he takes a deep shuddering breath and quietly slides out of bed. He glances at Carlos’s still sleeping form before he steps away, slipping out their bedroom door and down the stairs to the kitchen. He knew his fiancé would want him to wake him, would remind him time and time again that he wanted to be there for him; that TK wasn’t a burden. 

But he couldn’t help but feel like one. 

Carlos had been his rock this entire time. In the month since his abduction, Carlos had been by his side each and every day for both the good and the bad. He had held him as he cried, he had stepped away when being so near someone was too much. He had treaded carefully in his own home, he had learned to spot the signs of a panic attack and had coached TK through far too many of them. And he had done it all without complaint because that was who Carlos Reyes was and while TK appreciated it more than he could ever say, he hated it in equal measure. 

He was trying to be okay, but he wasn’t and he knew he wouldn’t be for a while. His therapist assured him he was making great strides and TK believed her and he knew it was going to be a process but that did nothing to quell his frustration. There was still a part of him — a traitorous part he hadn’t been able to shake despite everything and all the growth he had managed in the past few years — that wondered when Carlos would finally have enough. 

Which is why he slipped out into the dark kitchen, alone. He just needed to pull himself together and go back to bed. Then he could go back to sleep and Carlos would wake up in the morning, none the wiser. He didn’t have to know that even now, over a month later, TK still couldn’t get through a night. 

Or at least, that was the plan. 

The reality was footsteps on the stairs as TK pulled his head out of his hands to see Carlos standing at the edge of the kitchen, studying him with concerned eyes. 

“Hi,” TK says lamely as Carlos carefully steps into the kitchen. 

“Hi,” Carlos says in return. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. They knew each other so well they could have entire conversations without saying a word and everything from the way he was carrying himself to the way he was rubbing his fingers together told TK that he was upset. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Carlos merely sighed and stepped closer, gently placing a hand on top of TK’s, lightly enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. “That’s not what I’m upset about, Ty, and you know it.” 

Tk looked down at the counter then, examining the color variations in the granite as he avoided Carlos’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just hate feeling like such a burden. You should be able to sleep through a night without your basket case of a fiancé waking you up with the same damn dream he’s been having for weeks. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” 

TK felt light fingers on his chin and allowed his head to be lifted so his eyes were faced with Carlos’s. They were just as warm and loving as always, but there was a sadness in them too. 

“You didn’t ask for this either,” Carlos reminded him, “and I wish more than anything you never had to go through that. But it happened and I am not going to leave you to deal with it alone. I care about you far too much for that.” 

TK could feel his shoulders loosening at Carlos’s words but he wasn’t ready to accept them just yet.

“Still…” he began, but Carlos shook his head. 

“Still nothing,” he told him firmly. “Don’t even try to tell me that if the roles were reversed you wouldn’t be standing right where I am, doing the exact same thing. You would never leave me to deal with anything like this on my own, why do you think you deserve to?” 

TK was quiet for a few moments before he finally spoke the words that had been hounding him. “I just hate being a burden,” he admitted so softly it was almost a whisper. “You deserve better than that.” 

Carlos shook his head. “I deserve to have the man I love be happy and safe,” he said instead. “And if that’s not possible I am going to do everything I can to make you feel as close to it as you can. We’re about to promise for better or worse in front of a room full of people we know, now is not the time to try and pull a solo act, TK. We’re in this together, just like always.”

TK blinked against the tears that had appeared in his eyes. He managed a small smile as he nodded, twisting his hand on the counter so he could grasp Carlos’s and squeeze it. Carlos returned his smile and leaned across the counter to press a light kiss to TK’s lips.

“Do you feel up to going back to bed?” he asked when he pulled away. “We can cuddle on the couch and put on a movie or something if you’re not. Whatever you need.”

For what was probably the hundredth time that day TK was floored by just how lucky he was to have Carlos in his life, to be loved by someone like him. He stepped around the counter, closing the distance between them as he pressed himself against Carlos’s chest. He smiled into the other man’s shirt when his arms instinctively wrapped around him.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said after a beat. “Just, promise me you won’t let go?”

“Never,” Carlos assured him as he pressed a kiss into his hair. “You’re stuck with me forever. For better or worse, remember?”

TK simply smiled in response and allowed himself to be led back up the stairs and to their bed. As they settled back underneath the blankets and Carlos settled against TK’s back and wrapped his familiar arms around him TK took a deep breath and closed his eyes with a smile on his lips.