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Words: ≈ 12000
Disclaimer: New year and still don't own Tarlos. Damn. I also apologise for possible medical errors.
Notes: Whoa! This one took a while. You can probably tell from the wordcount!
Anyway, I know there’s been a lot of these posted recently and you’re probably bored of the same old thing, so I decided to add my own little twist!
ENJOY AND HAPPY NEW YEAR! IT'S 2025!!!!
Carlos P.O.V
The pain was relentless.
Carlos could feel the blood seeping into his uniform, a deep, sharp ache that gnawed with each strained breath. A steady rhythm of agony, but the worst part, the deepest part, was the hollow sting of betrayal.
"But you know somethin'? I really do feel sorry for ruining your wedding."
The words sliced through him sharper than any bullet, cold and final, as the barrel of the gun levelled at his forehead. He was going to die here. Miles from home, his body crumpled in the dirt and rocks. Just like his father had lain, in his own doorway, the year before.
Carlos had studied the photograph of his father’s body, clipped in the case file, more times than he could count, memorizing the pale and still face of the man who’d been stolen from him.
Now, Carlos was about to join him, be stolen from TK, who’d be left behind with nothing but the memory of a fight they couldn’t fix this time. TK would have to see him, just as he had seen his father. A body on a cold slab, lifeless and broken. Only this time, a hole in his forehead would join the matching one in his chest.
Carlos couldn’t stop himself from flinching at the shot when it came - a sharp crack of thunder in the middle of the desert. But it wasn’t the one he'd expected.
The shot echoed from a distance, and in an instant, Bridges’ body crumpled like a ragdoll, his life extinguished in a single, swift moment.
Reeling in disbelief, Carlos barely had the strength to lift his head. His vision swam, his chest heaving with shallow, ragged, but relieved breaths as he struggled to focus on the figure stepping out from the shadows of the distant rocks. Campbell.
His stance was uneven, and the blood drenching the whole of his shirt was stark against the desert’s muted colours. His rifle lowered as his eyes locked on Carlos’, an inscrutable expression flickering across his face.
Campbell swayed, his body giving out as the rush of adrenaline faded. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground in a heavy collapse, disappearing from Carlos’ view.
The world grew quiet in the aftermath. The moment stretched out into a hazy blur.
"Campbell!" Carlos choked out the name, the word barely a whisper of a shout. "Sam!"
His fingers twitched at his side, trying to summon the strength to move, but it felt as though every inch of him was weighed down, the chill of cold sweat on his skin sending a shiver through him, indistinguishable from the tremors of shock plaguing his entire body.
“Campbell...” he called again, softer this time, his voice lost in the vast, open air, failing to reach the man who had saved him. He squeezed his eyes shut, gathering whatever shred of concentration remained.
The radio. It was still clipped to his belt, trapped between his body and the unyielding rock beneath him. Reaching with the hand on his injured side pulled tight against his wound, the movement sending a fresh spike of agony through his chest. His fingers fumbled against the smooth device as he worked it free.
Pressing the button took every ounce of willpower he could muster, his hand shaking as he held it to his mouth.
"Code 4... need..." The words tumbled out, disjointed. They were fragments of a plea he couldn’t finish. The radio felt heavy in his hand, and his grip slackened before he could receive a response.
Energy drained, the world and sounds around him grew muted and surreal, his body sinking deeper into shock. He could vaguely perceive that he was beginning to pass out. His left side burned like fire, every breath an effort, and he wondered if his lungs were collapsing.
Was this what TK had felt when he'd been shot all those years ago?
Vibrations trembled through the ground beneath him, and for a moment, he wondered if he was feeling his own heartbeat struggling to pulse in his chest, until the thundering of footsteps joined, cutting through the thickening fog, heavy and urgent. Voices followed, sharp and commanding, shattering the haze in his mind. Carlos forced his eyes open, his vision sharpening just enough to make out multiple figures closing in from different directions.
Border Patrol agents swarmed the scene, their boots pounding past him as others fanned out, rifles raised.
“Sam Campbell, this is Border Patrol! You’re under arrest! Move your hand away from the weapon!”
Their movements were swift and precise, their rifles trained on the ground where Campbell had collapsed. Their shouts echoed off the rocky terrain, but it meant one thing: he was alive, and at least conscious enough for them to issue commands.
Carlos struggled to push himself up. This was wrong. He needed them to understand. He needed to make them see.
"No… It wasn’t... It’s not him...!" But the words were weak, the confusion swirling in his head, not even making sense to him.
Still, the sound of boots crunching over the rocks drew closer, shadows moving in his periphery, and someone crouched beside him. "Ranger Reyes, relax. We’ve got you," someone urged, low and firm.
Carlos shook his head desperately. Relaxing wasn’t an option. Not now. "Don’t... arrest him," he managed, the words thin and strained.
He tried to force out more words, something that would make them understand, but no one seemed to be listening. Hands began roaming over him, feeling almost intrusive as they worked quickly at the clasps of his vest, undoing the straps with practiced efficiency. The vest loosened, the brief sense of freedom giving way to a sudden, sharper stabbing sensation as the same fingers found the new hole in his uniform and pressed down firmly on his side, directly on the wound.
The sudden pressure made him gasp, and any remaining air left his lungs in a sharp exhale. His vision flickered as the pain radiated through his body, overtaking and scattering any coherent thought.
“Reyes, stay with us,” another voice repeated, closer now, but Carlos couldn’t make out the face. His vision darkened, the edges blurring and twisting too much to focus, fading into nothingness as he was finally dragged him under.
Carlos floated between consciousness and oblivion, his senses slipping in and out of focus. Time stretched, the rhythmic thrumming of something heavy growing louder, reverberating through the air, though he couldn’t place what it was. Muffled voices spoke in rapid tones around him, but the rest seemed swallowed by the haze.
When he woke again, his surroundings had shifted. He could no longer feel the blazing heat of the sun, replaced by the stale, confined air of a helicopter's cabin. The deep thrum of engines vibrated through him. Between each second, it felt like hours, each fragment of time slipping out of reach, too hard to hold on to. His mind kept slipping, tugged back into darkness every time he tried to grasp the edges of reality.
~*~
The next thing Carlos knew, he was lying on a hospital bed, a rhythmic sound dragging him back into awareness. It didn’t have the steady tone of a monitor, but was more urgent, almost like a mini alarm. It stopped abruptly, however, as he sensed movement beside him, followed by a gentle tug on his arm.
He blinked his eyes open, his gaze landing on a nurse hovering above him. She started slightly, her expression softening from mild surprise into an apologetic smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said softly. “Your fluids were empty. We’ll start another bag in a few hours, but you’re okay for now.”
Carlos swallowed hard, his throat scratchy and dry. His eyes darted around the room, trying to take in his surroundings. Something was off. The room was unfamiliar - he didn’t recognize the layout of this hospital’s equipment. He’d been in West Park’s rooms enough to know their design and aesthetic by heart, as well as several others he’d been in and out of as a police officer around Austin.
“Where… where am I?” he rasped, the sound hoarse and barely audible.
“Odessa Medical Center,” the nurse replied gently. “You were airlifted in from the border – it’s the closest Level 2 trauma center. You’ve been through a lot, but you were lucky. The bullet didn’t cause major damage.”
Carlos shifted slightly, his hand brushing against the bandage wrapped around his waist, hidden under his gown. Breathing definitely felt easier now, though there was still a dull ache with each inhale. It was a sharp contrast to the searing pain he remembered earlier, and he recognized the effects of medication dulling the worst of it.
“I’m Marisol,” the nurse continued, introducing herself as she reached up to unclip the empty bag of saline from his stand. “Now that you’re awake, I’ll let the doctor know to come around shortly to explain everything in detail.”
“Thank you,” Carlos said automatically, though his thoughts were swirling as he tried to piece things together. He vaguely remembered the helicopter - the noise, the motion - but the realization of being so far from home sent a pang of worry through him. TK. They might have been arguing before this, but now… now, he knew TK would be frantic, knowing Carlos was lying in a hospital bed miles away.
Why did one of them always end up in a hospital bed when things were already going bad enough?
“Did… did anyone contact my husband?” he asked, the words thick with worry. “TK? Or, uh, Tyler Strand?” he clarified, guessing the nurse might be more familiar with the legal name from the paperwork.
Marisol nodded. “Your colleagues handled it. A liaison called your emergency contact, your husband I believe. He’s on his way, but you’ve only been here for about three hours. It’ll probably be a little while before he arrives.”
Carlos’s eyes flickered with something close to relief, though it didn’t last long. He was still sifting through all his muddled thoughts, but one other name kept rising to the surface. He tried to push himself upright, but was quickly stopped in his effort, Marisol immediately setting down the empty IV bag and moving to assist, raising the bed with practiced ease.
“What about Campbell?”
Marisol hesitated, her expression softening. “I’m sorry. The older gentleman was pronounced dead on arrival. The other man is still in surgery. The doctors are doing everything they can.”
Carlos furrowed his brow, the words taking longer to process than they should have.
“You’ve got quite the army of officers out there,” Marisol added, her tone steady but light.
An army. That made sense. The Rangers would’ve mobilized. The death of Assistant Chief Bridges would have shaken them into critical action, mobilizing resources across the state. No one from Austin would’ve arrived yet, but closer hubs would’ve responded quickly.
There were still so many loose ends. So many questions he would now have to answer and explain.
Bridges had worked for the Rangers for decades. People trusted him. Like he had. Like his father had.
Would anyone even believe him?
“I need to talk to them,” Carlos said, his voice tightening with urgency. “Please. Can you let them in?”
Marisol gave him a small, understanding nod and moved toward the door. Before she reached it, he called out again.
“And… my personal effects. Can I have them?”
“Of course. I’ll have someone bring them to you shortly,” she replied.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Carlos lay back against the pillows. His body ached, and the cloud in his mind still refused to clear entirely, but one thing was certain: something had shifted. The crushing weight of everything that had led him to this moment was pressing heavier with each second that passed. The momentum of the past year, the theories he’d believed, his sense of standing in his own life - it all felt shattered.
And he wasn’t sure how much of it he would be able to piece back together.
~*~TARLOS~*~
TK P.O.V – Earlier
TK sat on a splintering wooden bench, his shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his knees, watching Jonah scramble up a miniature climbing frame with boundless energy. Buttercup lay beneath him, his heavy, aging body stretched underneath in quest for the cool shade. He twitched occasionally in his sleep, and TK reached down absentmindedly, brushing his fingers over his soft fur.
He’d come off shift just as the first light of dawn crept across the horizon, his body weighed down by exhaustion and his mind heavier still. Yet when Sofia called, asking if he could take Jonah for the day while she dealt with some personal matters, he hadn’t hesitated. After all, she was stranded in another state far longer than she’d expected, navigating the unexpected challenge of holding emergency custody of the little boy she once simply nannied. Besides, it was the least he could do, and he wasn’t about to pass up a chance to spend some one-on-one time with his little brother.
He’d asked her to drop him at his dad’s, glad everyone was still asleep to avoid conversation. In his mind, it killed two birds with one stone. Buttercup provided the opportunity for a simple morning activity, while also getting him out of the loft. The space, usually a safe haven and a reminder of the love for his husband, felt different, still carrying echoes of their latest argument, still unresolved.
Carlos’ latest message was stamped in his mind.
“Hey, I know we’re in the middle of everything, but we’ve got a lead taking us to the border. I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’m sorry, love you.”
TK had stared at that text for what felt like hours, stealing glances at it between calls on his shift. His short reply, a simple return of love, felt inadequate. He usually said more. He needed to say more. But what could he say?
He’d seen Carlos earlier. His posture had radiated resolve as he stood beside his Chief, interviewing their home invasion victim. Yet, even without interacting, something about his tension seemed to run deeper than mere professional concerns. From their line of questioning, it was evident they already knew their suspect’s identity - someone who, if tied to the same case, was now attempting to flee the country.
A shriek of delight pierced the crisp air, snapping his attention back to the present world unfolding in front of him. Back to Jonah, who was successfully perched at the top of the small frame. TK couldn’t help but grin as Jonah waved with his one free arm in triumph. “TeeKay! Look!”
“I am, buddy. You’re a superhero. Well done!” he called back, and Jonah beamed before turning to start a slower, more careful climb back down.
TK’s heart squeezed. It was moments like this that made everything else fade, but only for a few precious seconds. The significance of Jonah’s presence, of the circumstances that brought him here, felt too monumental.
He’d meant what he told Nancy and Tommy the day before. He hadn’t said it aloud before then, and he hadn’t expected himself to in that moment, but he had because maybe deep down he knew it was true. But for the life of him, he didn’t want it to come to that. Maybe this was his karma. To finally have the life he’d dreamed of and loved, only to have to choose between his soulmate and his brother.
He’d always known life was unfair, but this? This felt cruel.
His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. He pulled it out, frowning at the unknown number flashing on the screen. His thumb hovered over the green button as he checked on Jonah once more before swiping to accept.
"Hello, is this Tyler Kennedy Strand?" a calm, professional voice began. A knot of unease twisted in his gut. Calls that started with his full name were never casual. Nothing good ever followed.
"Uh, yeah, this is him," he replied, his tone tight as his heart began to race. He took a shallow breath, trying to convince himself it didn’t have to be bad news. Didn’t have to upend everything.
That hope shattered in the next moment.
"My name is Officer Bennett with the Texas Department of Public Safety," the officer continued, every word sharp and precise. "I’m calling to inform you that Ranger Reyes was injured in the line of duty earlier today during a joint mission with Border Patrol."
The world seemed to tilt. "What?" The word barely left his mouth, dry and unfamiliar.
"He was airlifted to Odessa Medical Center with a GSW, where he’s currently receiving medical care." The words felt distant now, as though TK were hearing them through water.
"Okay, but..." He clenched his jaw, struggling to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Is he... is he okay?" His hands trembled; the phone felt impossibly heavy in his grip.
"I’m afraid I don’t have any further information for you," Officer Bennett replied, their tone softening slightly, apologetic. "The situation is still developing, but I’ll keep you informed as I receive updates. Do you have someone with you right now?"
"I, um... I’m out with my brother..." For a moment, his thoughts scattered, leaving him grasping for clarity. His words faltered as a flood of unnecessary details forced their way out. "I’m near my dad’s place. I can borrow his truck or... I just need to get there."
He was explaining too much to a stranger on the phone. Officer Bennett wouldn’t know Jonah was only three years old. Wouldn’t assume he meant a toddler who wouldn’t understand the fear creeping into every word.
"Of course. If you need help getting to Odessa or have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out to this number. We’re here to provide whatever support you need."
TK blinked, his thoughts spiralling. "Okay," he whispered, barely audible
The call disconnected. It didn’t feel like enough. He needed more. More answers, more certainty, as the news settled in.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there, the phone still in his hand, but he forced himself to focus. He had to get to Carlos. His fingers flew to his phone’s maps, inputting the hospital’s name he’d been given, and he stared at the screen.
365 miles. A six-hour drive.
His husband had been shot - airlifted to the hospital and was several hours away. Panic started to bubble.
“Jonah!” TK called out. The three-year-old, apparently now climbing halfway up a slide, paused when he heard his name. He quickly slid down the plastic slope, his tiny feet kicking up gravel as he ran to TK.
“Hey, listen.” His voice was strained, trying to keep calm, but the urgency in his chest was growing. “I’m sorry we got to go, bud.”
Jonah’s face fell. “Why? I wanna play!”
“I know you do, Jo-Jo.” The nickname slipped out, something Enzo usually called him. “But, Carlos... um, Carlos had an accident, and I need to go find him. He needs me at the hospital with him.”
“Like Daddy?” he asked, faltering.
TK took a moment to realize what Jonah meant. In the chaos of Enzo’s arrest, he had completely forgotten about the dinner that had ended with a trip to the hospital and a broken arm. “Yeah, something like that.”
TK took Jonah’s hand, the other snatching the abandoned leash as Buttercup slowly emerged from beneath the bench, his large body stretching before he shook his thick fur, ears perked and ready to follow.
“Does that mean he’ll go ‘way like Daddy did?” Jonah’s words were barely above a whisper.
The question struck him like a jolt of electricity, freezing him in his tracks. Buttercup tried to pull ahead, unaware, but he barely noticed.
He hadn’t imagined Jonah’s innocence would somehow connect his father’s injury with his arrest and subsequent absence, but hearing it now sent his mind spiralling to the worst-case scenario he'd been blocking since the call - that Carlos would ‘go away’.
Permanently.
He felt sick. His husband was fighting for his life at this very moment, and he was powerless to help. But maybe, he could address one concern.
“No, no,” TK said quickly, crouching down to Jonah’s level. “Your dad didn’t go away because he was hurt, remember?”
“Sofia says he did somethin’ bad. But when I’m in trubble, I don’t go ‘way.”
TK sighed, lifting Jonah into his arms as he rose to his feet again. “Sometimes, grown-up problems are a little more complicated, I’m afraid."
They started moving faster now, TK carrying Jonah, his little arms around TK’s neck. They reached the house, TK’s mind racing as much as his feet.
“Dad!” TK called as he pushed through the door, setting Jonah down and rounding the entranceway. Buttercup padded in front them, his claws clicking against the hardwood floor. “Dad?!”
No answer.
Just Mateo standing in the kitchen, frozen, holding a mug of coffee mid-air.
“TK?”
“Where’s my dad?” He asked, his composure was betrayed by his urgency.
Mateo frowned. “He went out. Something about Judd. They went out last night. I think he drank too much?” His voice trailed off as he took in TK’s expression, his panic evident. “What’s going on?”
TK rubbed his hand over his face, taking a breath that didn’t do much to calm him.
“Carlos was shot.” he said, low and rushed, glancing at Jonah, who was too busy scratching Buttercup behind the ears now he could reach again. “I have to go. Now. I needed his truck.”
Mateo’s eyes widened, his face going pale. “Oh my God. Is he…?”
“I don’t know,” TK admitted, shaking his head. “They didn’t say. Just that he’s in Odessa? I don’t even know how to get there, just it’s hours away and...”
His voice cracked, breath shallow, already moving toward the spare room downstairs. It was the room they’d stayed in after the fire - and then him alone after… Grabbing a bag, he threw it onto the bed, his hands trembling as he began shoving clothes inside, his mind scrambling to prioritize too many things at once. He bit down the fear as he grabbed a few tracksuit bottoms and shirts - old ones he’d left behind when he finally moved into the loft. He was going to be six hours away, for god knows how long.
“Can you watch Jonah?” TK’s words tumbled out in a rush as he turned back toward Mateo, who’d trailed behind.
The younger firefighter hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “I’d do it in a heartbeat, man, but… Marjan and I are covering B shift in two hours. I’m so sorry.”
TK groaned softly, the truth of the situation pressing on him.
Owen was gone. Both him and Judd were probably hungover right now. Nancy had mentioned checking in with Tommy as the effects of her first chemo hit, and Paul had something with Asha.
Andrea hadn’t even met Jonah yet; he couldn’t bring her into this without her asking questions, and then she’d just insist on coming with him. He couldn’t call her. Not before he knew more. Not after last year.
He remembered struggling to organize their couples’ hangout a few months ago before the train derailment. This felt the same, just infinitely more pressing. And infinitely lonelier. He shoved that thought aside. This wasn’t about frustration. This was about Carlos. Focus.
TK moved onto the bathroom, snatching toiletries with trembling hands. Anything he didn't grab, he'd just buy, but at least he wouldn’t need to stop at home first. When he returned to the kitchen, Mateo was still tracking his frantic pacing, concerned.
“What about his um…Sofia was it?”
TK shook his head. “Errands. It’s why she dropped him off. I can’t disturb her. She’s got enough on her plate.”
A small tug at his sleeve caught his attention. Jonah looked up with worried eyes. He’d deserted Buttercup, and had caught on to the conversation, probably at the mention of his nanny. “I wanna stay with you.” He mumbled softly.
TK’s heart clenched. He wanted to argue, to insist it wasn’t a good idea, but he couldn’t leave Jonah - not with no one available and not when the boy was already scared. TK sighed, crouching down to lift him again. “Okay. Okay, kiddo. You’re coming with me.”
He headed for the door, before remembering – again - that without Owen, he still didn’t have the truck he’d planned on taking. Mateo, however, tossed him his car keys without hesitation, TK snatching them from the air one handed.
“Take my car. I’ll Uber to the station.”
“Thanks,” TK said, tight with emotion. “I owe you.”
Mateo shook his head. “Just get to Carlos, man.”
By the time TK had gotten Jonah ready and buckled into the car seat, grateful Sofia had had the foresight to leave it behind in case they’d gone anywhere, his mind was still racing. He programmed the satnav for Odessa, trying to push away the thought of driving Jonah so far without formal custody. He wasn’t leaving the state and Sofia would understand.
Mateo was right: all that mattered was getting to Carlos.
~*~
The drive to Odessa felt like an eternity.
The low-hanging sun inched across the horizon, casting different amber glows on the road. Jonah, mercifully, had settled into the rhythm of the journey not long after they left the city, his little head was tilted to one side sound asleep and completely at ease - a peaceful contrast to the whirlwind of his own mind.
TK couldn’t help but notice how accustomed Jonah had become too long trips like this. Between the trip from New York, and the recent chaos back and forth to the prison, he seemed almost too comfortable with them for his young age. It wasn’t fair to him.
Tension clawed at TK with every passing mile, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel. The phone had vibrated in the bag multiple times during the drive, each one a fresh temptation, but he couldn't stop. Even a brief detour would only delay him more.
It wasn’t until TK eased the car into the hospital parking lot and killed the engine that he finally reached for the bag in the passenger seat. His fingers fumbled over the power button, his heart surging as the screen lit up.
Three missed calls. Two from an unknown number: the same one that had called earlier. But it was the third call that made him freeze. Carlos' name sat at the bottom of the list, and just beneath it, was a message that made his breath hitch.
Carlos: I guess you’re already driving. They said they informed you. Just wanted to let you know I’m okay, babe. Room 124. Don’t rush the traffic, I’ll be here waiting. Love you.
The relief hit him like a wave, leaving him momentarily lightheaded. He hadn’t known what to expect. The call had been unsettlingly vague, and every worst-case scenario had spiralled through his mind since. But Carlos had texted, and that simple fact meant everything: he was not only conscious but aware.
Shouldering the bag, he climbed out and opened the back door. He gently nudged Jonah awake with a soft hand on his shoulder. The boy blinked blearily, rubbing his eyes as he stretched in his seat. “Here?”
“Yeah, kiddo, we’re here.” He reached into unbuckle Jonah from the seat. He gave him a soft smile as Jonah scrambled out of the car into his arms, still groggy from his nap.
TK carried Jonah through the hospital corridors, the boy leaning heavily against his shoulder. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, and the sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air. It was quiet - too quiet -like the calm before a storm.
His stomach began to knot again as they stepped off the elevator and read the sign for the trauma-surgery ward. TK knew Carlos was awake and waiting for him, but surrounded by patients and hospital personnel, doubt crept in. Was he really okay?
He adjusted Jonah’s weight in his arms as they reached the front desk, freeing one hand. He grabbed the clipboard and pen resting on the counter; the nurse behind the desk didn’t even glance up as he scribbled his name to sign in.
“Do you know where Room 124 is?” he asked aloud, his voice strained with a mix of urgency and nerves.
“Straight through,” the nurse replied flatly, still focused on her monitor.
“Thanks,” TK muttered, sarcasm edging his tone at her idea of being helpful.
He counted the room numbers as he walked but frowned when they didn’t match the sequence he was expecting. Rooms 100 to 105 lined one side of the hall, while 115 to 120 were scattered further down the other. Confusion prickled at him until another nurse emerged from some double doors ahead.
“Excuse me,” TK called, catching her attention. “Could you help me find Room 124?”
The nurse smiled kindly and stepped closer. “No problem. It can certainly be a bit of a maze with the numbering. It’s through these doors and around the corner on the left. You must be TK?”
“That’s me,” TK said, surprised.
“I’m Marisol,” she said. “I just came from Carlos’ room. He’s still awake. I hung some new fluids for him before starting my break.”
Relief flickered in TK’s chest. “Thank you.”
At the sound of Carlos’ name, Jonah perked up and squirmed in his arms. “We see ‘Los now?” he asked, bright with anticipation.
TK paused. Swallowing hard, he gently set him down. He hadn’t thought this through any further than arriving here, not how Jonah might react to the hospital bed and medical equipment, or how Carlos might feel seeing Jonah unexpectedly, especially considering the root of current tension between them. Carlos at least deserved a heads-up.
TK crouched to meet Jonah’s gaze. “Actually, I need to find Carlos first and let him know you’re here, okay? He doesn’t know, remember?”
Jonah’s face scrunched in disappointment. “Surprise!”
“Surprises aren’t the best when someone’s hurt, bud. I just need to talk to him for a couple of minutes,” TK said gently, brushing a hand over his hair. “After that, we can start thinking about getting you something to eat. We drove through lunch, didn’t we?”
He glanced up at Marisol. “Sorry, I know you said it’s your break, but do you mind watching him for just a minute? I wouldn’t ask for more than a minute or two, and if not, I can figure something else out…”
“I can do you one better.” Marisol cut him off with a warm smile and crouched slightly to address Jonah directly. “You know, I was just about to visit a secret room just for us adults. I think we’ve got sandwiches and maybe even some snacks in there. Would you like to come see if we can find something good to eat?”
Jonah’s face brightened instantly. “Snacks?”
TK felt some of the tension in his chest ease as he glanced at Marisol. “That sounds perfect. Thank you.” He turned back to Jonah. “You go with Nurse Marisol, and I’ll come get you as soon as I’ve found Carlos, okay?”
“Okay!” Jonah said, already reaching for her hand.
Marisol stood and gave TK a reassuring nod. “Take your time. He’ll be just fine with me.”
She led him away toward the staff room, chatting easily with him as they walked. TK watched them disappear down the hall, grateful for her kindness. With Jonah safe and distracted, TK took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned toward the double doors.
~*~TARLOS~*~
CARLOS P.O.V
As promised, Marisol had returned promptly after he’d asked, handing him back a small bag containing vital pieces of himself -his rings, necklace, and phone - all now back in their rightful places.
The blue stone of his father’s ring caught the light as he twisted it absently on his finger. It was a habit he’d picked up over the past year, one he found himself repeating now, his thumb idly tracing the edges.
It had only been another three hours since he’d woken, but time felt meaningless. Between the doctors, nurses, and waves of Rangers officials filtering in and out, each with their own endless repetition of protocol and questions, he should have been exhausted. He was exhausted. But sleep didn’t seem to want him, not with everything swirling in his head. With the impossible truths now revealed.
Anyway, he wanted to be awake when TK arrived. He’d called and messaged him, but the longer TK didn’t respond, the more Carlos knew his husband remained worried, not yet aware that he was okay.
Meanwhile, for the first time since it happened, stillness crept in. With it came the weight of everything he’d spent hours monotonously recounting to others, the hollow, aching reality of betrayal that lingered sharp and jagged in his chest, harder to bear than the ache in his ribs with every deep breath.
The man he’d trusted, the man his father had trusted - the one he’d known since childhood as his father’s friend - was the same man who had orchestrated his death. The same man who had stood by him this year, watched how grief had changed him, and mentored him as he joined the Rangers. Carlos squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the thought away, but it clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind.
The soft creak of the door pulled him from his thoughts. His eyes snapped up, and there was TK, standing frozen just inside the threshold.
The sight of him with those familiar, beautiful green eyes wide with worry, was enough to wrench Carlos his spiral. TK wasn’t smiling, but his expression softened as their gazes met. Slowly, a flicker of brightness and hope broke through, a small, hesitant smile that made Carlos’ heart twist in the best way.
“Hey, you made it,” Carlos said, his voice soft. “Sorry you had to drive so far.”
“It didn't matter. I had to be here,” TK said simply, his tone steady and certain.
He set a holdall down on the chair in the corner before crossing the room in a few quick strides. His hands were warm and steady as he cupped Carlos’ face, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips The gesture was light, almost reverent, but Carlos could sense the wave of relief it carried.
“Hi, baby,” TK murmured.
The kiss grounded him, pulling him out of the haze. “I love you. I’m okay,” Carlos said, quieter than he intended. The deep breath he instinctively took as they broke apart, however, made him wince.
TK pulled back slightly, frowning as he scanned Carlos’ form, searching for the source of his pain. “What happened? They said you were shot.”
Carlos shook his head, offering a faint smile. “It sounds worse than it is, really. Just fractured a couple ribs. The bullet came out clean. Didn’t even need surgery.”
The words felt like a lie, not because of the injury itself, but because it wasn’t nothing. The bullet, the gun it came from, the betrayal. It was all the physical proof of a truth he now had to carry.
His gaze drifted back to the ring on his finger, resuming its slow twist, trying to find some comfort in the cool metal. He could feel TK’s eyes following his every movement and sensed the way TK braced when he saw where his attention had landed. Without a direct look, Carlos could almost feel the shift in TK’s posture, the way guilt flooded him as he misinterpreted his silence.
TK’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally spoke, his words tumbling out in a hurried rush.
“About the other day… I know I said I wouldn’t apologize, but am sorry, Carlos. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. What I said...it wasn’t fair. I don’t feel like I’m living on pause. You…”
He could hear the sincerity and regret in TK’s words, but Carlos couldn’t fully process the weight of the apology. Everything that had happened since… it all felt too overwhelming, too overshadowing. The fight, the words they'd thrown. They barely seemed to matter now.
With a final twist of the ring on his finger, the fragile hold he’d kept on his emotions threatened to shatter.
“It’s over,” he said softly, interrupting TK’s spiral. “The case. It’s over.”
“The case?” TK blinked, his brows furrowing. “ Wait, the case? I thought you were working on the home invasion?”
“It’s connected,” Carlos’ throat tightened as he clarified. “It was all connected. The captive we found in the attic was my father’s CI taken only two days before dad was shot. A Ranger must have leaked the files. He identified Campbell before he died.”
TK's hand reached for his, the warmth of his fingers curling into his own grounding him. “Babe...”
“Chief found the evidence, then Sam stabbed that man and ran. I was so sure it was him, but...” His voice cracked, repeating the words he'd said over and over since waking, only now allowing his emotions to seep into them. “It didn’t add up. Chief Bridges was too eager. Like he wanted me to take him out in revenge, without asking questions.”
He looked at TK, who seemed to already suspect perhaps a little where this was heading.
“It was him. Chief Bridges killed my dad. He was going to kill me, too.”
The grip on his arm tightened; TK’s words raw with anger. “What? No. I can’t...I don’t... He’s helped you... How could he?” His words faltered, the questions hanging heavily between them.
“He held a gun to my head and apologized for ruining our wedding.”
“That piece of..." TK's words faltered with frustration, but with a tender look, he pulled Carlos into his arms, his tone becoming gentle." "I’m so sorry, baby. And he didn’t ruin it. It was the best day of my life.”
Carlos’ eyes closed briefly, collapsing under the weight of the hold, a small, weary smile forming against TK’s shoulder. “Mine too.”
There was a long pause. Carlos could feel the sting of tears threatening to break through, but he held them back, not quite finished explaining to the point where he could fully surrender. A detached quality to his tone crept in as he continued, the volume a near whisper. “He’s dead. By the way.”
TK pulled back slightly, his expression questioning, the concern in his eyes gentle, not accusatory. “Did you...?”
Carlos shook his head. “No. Sam did. He was shot, but he still saved me.”
TK’s gaze never wavered, but Carlos could see him struggling to process everything they’d both just revealed so quickly. “Campbell? Is he...?”
Carlos nodded in silent reassurance. After several hopeful inquiries over the hours he'd waited, Marisol had finally been able to provide some clarity. “The nurse said his surgery went well. He should be okay.”
A new silence began to stretch between them, slow and thick. Carlos glanced over at TK, who seemed to be struggling against the quiet too, fidgeting in restless movement. Every time their eyes met, TK’s expression softened, but Carlos caught him glancing toward the door, then back again - a flicker of nervous energy. Something about it felt off, like there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t figure out why.
Carlos frowned, wondering if he was expecting someone. “Did you call my mom?”
“What?" TK blinked, his gaze shifting. "Oh. No. I didn’t think. I only told Mateo – I borrowed his car. Sorry, should I...”
Carlos interrupted, still barely above a whisper. “No, that’s fine I can’t tell her... not yet. Not until I know what to say. My sisters, too.”
“Okay, that sounds good,” TK rambled, nodding, then drawing his phone from his pocket. “I’ll update him. Tell him to keep it to himself. I need to hit the head, anyway.” TK's tone was light, but Carlos could still hear the same restless edge and restraint underneath it. It was an attempt at normalcy, but it wasn’t working. “Do you want me to grab you anything?”
Carlos shook his head. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t thirsty. He was just... empty? “No, I’m good.”
TK smiled and left with another kiss, but the moment the door slid shut, the room felt suffocating in its stillness. His thoughts immediately wandered back to Campbell. The guilt gnawed at him - he couldn’t shake it.
How could he have been so sure, so certain? After all, he'd accused Campbell of murder, of killing seven people, and yet, in the end, in his own agony, Campbell had still managed to force himself across the desert, firing the shot that had saved his life.
How had he gotten it so wrong?
The shame burned in his chest, his thoughts tangled, trying to make sense of it. His eyes fell to the IV pole beside him, and then to the holdall still discarded on the chair.
Determined, he pushed himself over the edge of the bed, biting back a wince as he grabbed the IV pole and shuffled toward the bag, hoping TK had at least packed some bottoms in his rush.
He had to see him.
~*~
Stepping back into the corridor, his eyes re-adjusted to the bright glare, a sharp contrast to the dim room he’d just left.
He’d only had a couple of minutes with Sam, but it had left him feeling lighter than he’d expected, like a breath of air after drowning. He'd been pale, exhausted, and still hazy from painkillers and residual anaesthetic, but his easy, wry demeanour had been a relief Carlos hadn’t realised he needed. Or deserved. Sam had even apologised unnecessarily, as though pointing a weapon at him could ever compare to the weight of the accusations Carlos had thrown at him.
Still, Carlos knew not everyone would take it so well. Ashley Campbell was going to be more difficult. The glare she’d shot his way before he’d left could level a room, sharp, unyielding, and entirely warranted. She had every reason to be protective of her husband.
Speaking of husbands, Carlos shook the thought away and refocused on the corridor, intent on reaching his own room before TK returned.
He had barely taken a step, however, when a small force barrelled into his legs, catching him off guard.
He staggered, almost losing his balance if not for the IV stand keeping him steady. The initial shock faded as he looked down at the small weight against him, instantly recognizing the little boy blinking up at him, brown eyes partially hidden by his hair, tiny hands clutching his hospital gown.
“Jonah?” Carlos asked, masking his confusion.
Jonah didn’t answer, his thumb inching toward his mouth as he pressed closer. Carlos tried to process what he was seeing. TK must have brought Jonah with him - there was no other explanation. The realization hit him, finally understanding the reason for his earlier unease. It also answered where he'd disappeared to, instead of using his own patient bathroom outside his room.
He scouted the length of the hallway, hoping to spot either TK, Sofia, or another of their friends, but there was no one in sight. His ribs ached as he shifted his position. He’s definitely been on his feet too long.
Jonah, however, didn’t seem to notice, still clinging to him while Carlos gently led them to a nearby chair against the wall and sat down carefully, breathing through the ache in his chest.
The toddler finally released his grip, only to hop up into the chair beside him, his small legs swinging from the large seat. He scanned him almost curiously, tilting his head before finally mumbling, “Your arm hurt?”
“My arm?” Carlos blinked, taken aback by the question. He peeked at his own arm, half-expecting to find an injury he hadn’t noticed, the action oddly amusing in hindsight.
Jonah shrugged, rocking slightly where he sat. “Tee-Kay said you were hurt. Like Daddy.”
His brow furrowed as the pieces clicked together. “You think I broke my arm?”
He chuckled softly, surprised as Jonah gave him a slow, serious nod, his expression earnest.
Like TK, he thought.
It brought a smile to his lips, pulling at something he couldn’t quite place inside him.
“TK’s right, I did get hurt,” he admitted carefully. “But not my arm. See?”
He flexed his arm slowly, Jonah watching closely, his fingers twitching as he studied the movement before finally seeming satisfied.
Frantic footsteps echoed through the hallway, drawing Carlos’ attention as TK rounded the corner, his expression tight and distressed. Shoulders stiff, his gaze darted to and fro, before locking sharply onto the spot beside him.
“Jonah!” Carlos could hear the fear in TK’s voice fading with every word. He rushed over, dropping to one knee in front of his younger brother. “Why’d you take off like that? Nurse Marisol was looking everywhere for you. I was worried.”
Jonah however, seemingly unfazed by the mild scolding, simply pointed towards him. “I found 'Los.”
TK’s eyes snapped to his, recognising, for the first time, where they all were. That Carlos wasn’t in his hospital bed where he’d left him. His husband’s face immediately clouded with concern, his brows furrowing, panic creeping back. “Babe, what are you doing out here?!”
Carlos’s lips pressed into a small, restrained smile. “I needed to see Sam,” he said simply, but the amount of need in the words were apparently clear, as TK softened in understanding. “Jonah found me on my way back.”
“Yeah, he did. Well done, bud.”
He ruffled Jonah’s hair before turning and crouching. With a little help and a boost from the chair, the boy scrambled onto his back, giggling as he settled into place, his head finding its favourite spot in the crook of his neck once again without a hint of protest.
TK ran his hand through his own hair this time, still clearly flustered. “I’m sorry, I was going to warn you before, but with everything you explained, it didn’t seem right. It’s just, I was with him when they called me, and everyone was busy…”
“It’s okay,” Carlos cut in. Jonah’s presence might be unexpected, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He could hardly fault TK for juggling everything in such a moment of uncertainty and urgency.
He shifted in his chair, bracing himself with a small wince as he tried to straighten. The movement sent a sharp stab through his torso, forcing him to grip the IV stand for support. Getting down into the low seat had been easy. Standing back up was proving to be another matter entirely.
TK’s eyes narrowed in concern, carrying that gentle undertone Carlos had grown so used to. “Come on, back to your room. You need to rest.”
He opened his mouth, perhaps to protest out of habit, but his legs betrayed him the moment he stood fully. TK didn’t hesitate, stepping to the side opposite the IV stand. He shifted Jonah’s grip, one that looked borderline strangling to Carlos, to ensure it was secure around his neck and waist before freeing a hand to offer a steady presence.
He accepted it with surprisingly less resistance than he usually would. He hated feeling this dependent, but with TK’s help, they made it the rest of the way back to his room, the short journey marked by slow, measured steps.
As they entered, Marisol approached from the other direction. Relief softened her own expression as her gaze landed on the small figure still clinging to TK like a tiny shadow.
“Oh, there you are, Mister.” Jonah simply buried his face back into TK’s neck in response.
It was only then that she noticed her patient out of bed. “It seems he wasn’t the only one off adventuring.”
Her voice stayed light, but her brow arched, and Carlos gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”
She stepped forward without hesitation, taking over from TK as Carlos finally eased down onto the edge of the mattress. Her movements were practiced as she lifted his gown just enough to check the bandages underneath. He stayed still, letting her work.
Satisfied that there was no fresh bleeding, Marisol still gave him a pointed look. “You need to be careful. It could still start bleeding again if you don’t take it easy.”
She turned next to reposition the IV stand to its rightful place behind the head of the bed. Adjusting the tubing, she smoothed out small kinks before glancing back at him. “Do you want anything more for the pain?”
Carlos hesitated, but the tension in his muscles refused to ease on its own, even as he moved to lie down properly in the bed. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Yeah, okay.”
Marisol offered an approving smile. “I’ll be right back,” she promised.
The rare quiet as she left felt almost jarring. Carlos let out a slow breath, trying to relax, though the exhaustion pressing down on him refused to let go entirely. TK perched on the bed beside Carlos, his movements slow and deliberate. He gently eased Jonah off his back and onto his lap, the boy’s body instinctively curling against him.
After a beat, TK broke the silence.
“Um, so Mateo had already told our friends, but it didn’t make it out of the group chat. They send their wishes. I didn’t say what happened. just that you’re okay. He’s going to make sure no one mentions it to anyone else.”
Carlos nodded, the gesture small but genuine.
“My dad knows, too,” TK added after a moment. “He was with Judd but asked if we needed him to come down to help with this little guy.”
TK’s fingers glided over Jonah’s ribs, tickling him through the soft fabric of his shirt as he burst into quiet, muffled giggles. TK held him still as Jonah squirmed, clearly trying not to jostle the bed too much.
Small round eyes finally peeked out from the darkness of TK’s clothes. “No need help.”
“Oh really?” TK raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I still haven’t forgotten your grand escape earlier. You’re not fooling anyone.”
He gave a small, tired smile as he watched them, TK’s affection pairing with Jonah's innocent joy. However, the playfulness quickly shifted back to the seriousness from earlier.
“Anyway, I told him we didn’t know how long we’d be here yet.”
Carlos frowned. He didn’t have an answer for that either. Before he could try to respond, Marisol returned, balancing a small tray in her hands, having caught the tail end of the conversation as she chimed in.
“Well, I can help with that. If he takes it easy and there’s no sign of infection by morning, you’ll probably be discharged tomorrow,” she said.
She moved quickly and efficiently, administering the injection to his port with the practiced ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times.
“And by taking it easy, I mean actual sleep,” she added, her tone firm. “This room’s been busy enough with everyone coming in and out all day.”
"He will," TK's resolve made it clear he'd see to it personally.
Marisol gave them a final goodbye before leaving, her steps quiet. The soft click of the door left the room steeped in an almost heavy silence. The quiet lingered, comfortable yet charged, as if neither wanted to break it. For now, they both needed the stillness.
~*~TARLOS~*~
TK P.O.V
Just over 24 hours later, TK found themselves in the same position - only reversed.
He woke with a start, his body tense, blinking into the darkness as he searched for the muffled, uneven breaths that had roused him. Moonlight seeped through the bare windows, casting the familiar bluish glow over the room as his eyes adjusted, darting around the space to find Carlos hunched, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed.
As promised, they had finally returned to the loft earlier that afternoon. Exhausted from the long drive from the hospital and still processing everything that had happened, once Sofia had collected a rather reluctant Jonah and Carlos had called his mother and sisters to arrange a family meeting for the next day, there hadn’t been much time or inclination to do more than order takeout over the TV and crawl into bed.
Carlos hadn’t said much more since yesterday, his gaze distant and unfocused, but TK understood. He needed time to process.
Now, though, TK’s heart ached as he took in the sight of Carlos’s tightly coiled posture, his shoulders trembling with quiet, controlled shakes, but body rigid as if trying to suppress any sound. Even with his back turned, the panic was unmistakable. The kind of panic that was often buried during the momentum of the day but emerged in the stillness of night, spilling out in the raw vulnerability of dreams.
“Carlos?” TK murmured, still hoarse from sleep but tinged with concern. He shifted up onto his knees slowly, shuffling over to Carlos’s side of the bed. He reached out tentatively. “I’m here. You don’t need to hold it in.”
Carlos didn’t respond immediately, the shaking seeming to almost intensify, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as if he could hold himself together by sheer force of will. TK gently placed a hand on his back, his fingers grazing the tense muscles before rubbing soothing circles as he settled beside him.
When Carlos finally turned his head to look at him, his eyes were hollow and wet.
“You knew, didn’t you?” Carlos’s voice cracked when he spoke. “That knowing who did this wouldn’t… wouldn’t fix it.”
He swallowed, and TK’s heart twisted at the way he was still trying to find a way to make the grief fit into a neat, solvable box.
Because, if he was truthful with himself, Carlos was right. TK had realized probably a year ago that, whenever Carlos finally found his father’s killer - and he’d always believed it was a matter of when, not if, even if had taken decades - it wouldn't have brought him any closer to healing. If anything, it would only deepen the emptiness.
“Yes,” TK said honestly, gently brushing his thumb under Carlos’s eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not so proud of you for doing it, babe. You found justice. Grief was just never going to be a part of what you solved. It’s a part of you.”
His chest tightened as he spoke, knowing full well the truth behind them. He’d known the cause of his mother's death from the start, but that hadn’t made it any easier.
“I thought I’d be okay. I couldn't let go of the last piece of him,” Carlos returned. “Now it feels like I’ve lost him all over again.”
“I know,” TK met his gaze, his heart heavy. “But you haven’t.”
With a sudden impulse, TK eased away and made his way to their dresser. The bottom drawer creaked as he pulled it open, revealing a jumble of clothes he wore less often. His hand sifted through the fabric, eventually pulling out a small envelope of photographs. He shuffled through them, finding the ones he had set aside for this exact moment, pictures of Carlos with his father, moments frozen in time from the days before their wedding, before everything had changed.
He’d printed them out the same time as their wedding photos, but the pain had felt even rawer then, too much for Carlos to want to see them.
Returning to the bed, he held them out to Carlos, his eyes lingering on the image of Gabriel laughing in the top photo, his arm around his son. The smile on his face was the kind that spoke of a love and pride so deep it could never fade.
“I never showed you these,” TK started softly. “You didn’t want to see them, but I thought I’d keep them for when you were ready.”
Carlos took them in silence, running his fingers over the edges of the photos.
“You carry him with you, in everything you do,” TK continued, words steady with confidence. “Every day. As a husband, and as a Ranger.”
TK kissed the back of Carlos’s neck, feeling the warmth of his skin under his lips. Carlos instinctively leaned back into the touch, no hesitation between them, but the movement triggered something different. A faint wince and a slight catch of breath and TK froze, the realization hitting him a fraction too late.
“Your ribs... That couldn’t have helped,” he asked, edged with worry. “How’s the pain?”
Carlos shook his head. “They’re fine.”
Not quite believing him for a second, TK reached for the pills and water he’d left on Carlos’s bedside table before they’d fallen asleep. He handed them to Carlos, watching and gauging for any sign of discomfort as Carlos took the pills, his fingers without complaint, and sipped the water slowly.
TK’s eyes still lingered on him as Carlos settled back against his pillows. He pulled the covers up around them, the soft fabric draping back over their bodies. The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around them, their bodies finding their place together as they breathed in sync.
“I want to go see him tomorrow, before we go to Mom’s,” Carlos whispered into him. “Tell him the truth.”
“We’ll go together.” TK echoed. “Anytime you need.”
“Thank you,” Carlos exhaled softly as he shifted one last time, his eyes fluttering closed. “For being here.”
“Always.”
His throat tightened around the word as it left his mouth. It sounded too much like a hopeful promise. He stayed still for a moment, listening as Carlos’ breaths deepened once again, before quietly slipping out of bed himself.
Sleep was far from him now.
Those final words echoed as he crept into the living room. Desperate for any distraction, his fingers fumbled for the remote. The TV flickered on, the silence broken by the soft hum of the screen, its audio thankfully still muted from earlier. It was quickly snapped off again at the re-runs of the news. The familiar anger that had been smouldering since yesterday flared hotter at the images depicting the chief a hero.
He wanted to stop thinking about what had almost happened. To not be reminded.
TK paced, his brain refusing to slow down.
He’d come so close to losing Carlos. He owed Campbell a huge thank you. Without him, tonight would have been unimaginably different. For now, he could only mentally promise to retire the soup jokes.
His gaze caught subtle movement from the softly lit enclosure against the wall. He turned, meeting the steady, unblinking stare of two dark, beady eyes. A small smile spread across his face as he crossed the room, drawn to the familiar comfort of the tiny presence waiting inside.
“Hey, Lou Lou. What are you doing awake?” he murmured, his volume soft and low as though not to disturb the quiet. Gently, he lifted the lid, tracing his fingers over the cool, scaly skin. The routine movement was a grounding tether. “Did we wake you? Sorry about that."
But the reprieve was fleeting, as he was reminded of the day Carlos brought Lou home, the joy of that unexpected surprise. The day the promised he would be okay with not having kids. That they didn’t need children to be a family.
He never believed he’d have a cause to break it.
But Jonah was already a part of them, and now he was alone. TK didn’t regret wanting to adopt him, not for a moment, and he never would.
It would be difficult. Yesterday had been just a small example of the challenges of juggling life with a toddler, but they could manage. Every day wouldn’t be an emergency like that.
He’d never be able to live with himself if his brother grew up in some boarding school abroad, cut off from anyone who truly loved him. Never learning of their mother and her traditions. Sure, they could visit, but with their schedules, they had yet to even make it to New York, let alone another country.
TK’s thoughts drifted, picturing a future perhaps ten years from now, visiting a teenage Jonah on a rare trip to Switzerland. He could almost see the hurt and anger in his brother’s eyes, accusing him of abandonment.
TK couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose him to distance and time. Not if he could help it.
Even if it cost him his heart.
TK's shoulders slumped forward, leaning against the wall. He wasn’t going to find an answer tonight.
Tomorrow morning, they would visit the graveyard, but only the days ahead would reveal their new path, together or not.
~*~TARLOS~*~
CARLOS P.O.V
“You were my dad. And I hope you'll be with me as I become one too. I'm about to tell him that I'm ready for that. So…wish me luck on that too. I hope I make you proud, Dad.”
Tentatively, to avoid pulling on his side, he knelt on one knee, placing one of the photos TK had given him last night on the grave. His throat tightened, and he could feel the tears welling in his eyes again, and he blinked them away as he gently palmed the top of the headstone, his thumb stroking the cold marble.
“Te quiero para siempre, Papá.”
He rose to his feet, placing his hat on his head with a slow, deliberate motion before turning toward TK, quietly waiting at a respectful distance.
His husband looked as exhausted as he himself felt, and Carlos couldn’t deny he knew why. In truth, he hadn’t quite fallen back to sleep when he felt TK slip away from him last night.
He’d listened silently to his other half in the other room, inaudible whispers presumably directed to Lou. It was a good hour before he’d finally crawled back under the cover beside him. He hadn’t been able to return to sleep either, but had felt torn on joining him, despite the support TK had just shown him, because his own mind had begun its second turmoil of the night. Guilt had frozen him, gnawing as he recognised part the cause of his husband’s anguish.
And it stemmed from one subject.
Jonah.
Carlos remembered the conversation with Campbell in the waiting room, before his world began had started to crumble around him. His partner had opened up more about his family for the first time, before leaving him to scroll through his phone. Photos of Jonah and TK filled the screen, the frozen snapshots of joy lighting his heart, but it was his interactions with the boy at the hospital that had only deepened that feeling, the undeniable truth that Jonah was already a part of them.
He might not be fully ready, but maybe that was the point. Maybe no one ever is.
But by doubting himself, he had forced TK to believe he had to divide his heart in two. Jonah was his brother, a last link to Gwyn- his mother who had pulled him out the abyss of his darkest time.
And if there was one thing Carlos was acutely aware of in this moment, it was how deeply important that was, especially from those they’d lost.
TK gave him a tender gaze, his exhaustion hiding behind the softness in his eyes, as Carlos wrapped his arm around his waist. He leaned in, only to pull back and remove his hat again, wanting nothing to hinder him from pressing gentle kisses to TK’s cheek. He felt the warmth of arms slipping around his neck in response, leaning into each other with their shared silence speaking volumes as they made their way back to the car.
With Carlos himself still prohibited from driving under paramedic orders, TK fished the keys out of his pocket and started to separate for the driver's side, but Carlos reached out and caught his hand.
“Wait,” he said softly. TK paused, glancing at him in mild but curious confusion. Carlos hesitated, looking out over the peaceful stretch of cemetery bathed in the soft glow of morning light. “Can we walk? Just for a bit. By the trees.”
TK nodded, slipping the keys back into his pocket. “Sure.”
They moved toward the tree line, steering clear of the graves. The air was crisp, the early sunlight weaving golden threads through the branches above. The calmness of the early morning wrapped around them, the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes the only sound for a while.
“When are your sisters getting here?” TK asked as they strolled, his voice softly breaking the silence.
Carlos thought back to the conversation he’d had with his family the night before. His sisters had been suspicious of the sudden call for a family meeting, but thankfully, being the weekend, they could make it at such short notice.
His mother, however, had been… different. Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that she already knew something had gone down, even if she didn’t know what or why. Perhaps, she’d heard whispers through her friends with their own connections in the Rangers. Either way, she would now know for certain after last night’s news, and he’d been surprised she hadn’t sent more messages.
“Luisa will be there around midday, but Ana said she can’t get someone to watch the kids until then so will be a little later,” he answered, “But I should probably talk to Ma first. We have time, though.”
Silence stretched between them again as they wandered under the trees. Carlos wrestled with the words in his head, unsure how to start, until eventually, he stopped, turning to face his husband.
“I heard you,” he said quietly. “Last night.”
TK’s eyes widened, a hint of guilt flashing across his face. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I just… I couldn’t sleep either,” Carlos assured him. “And I think I know why. You’ve been more than patient the last few days with everything, but we should talk. About Jonah.”
TK opened his mouth, then closed it, his gaze dropping. “I told myself I wouldn’t push. After you brought home Lou, I promised I’d wait until you were ready, or that I’d be happy even if you never were. But this…”
“This is different,” Carlos finished. He took TK’s hands in his, looking intently into his eyes. “I know you wouldn’t have, if not for these circumstances. Maybe I wasn’t totally fair to you on that.”
“Carlos, you...” TK shook his head, starting to interject, but Carlos didn’t let him.
“No, Jonah’s your brother. He’s already family. A piece of Gwyn.” His words caught slightly at the end, but he pressed on. “And, because while you haven’t said it yet, I know what you’d choose, and I can’t ask you to break your heart like that. And because, honestly, I need you too much for that.”
TK froze as he realized where this was heading, emotion flooding his expression. “Wait, are you saying…?”
“I am,” Carlos said firmly. “I want to adopt Jonah. With you.”
“You sure?” TK’s breath hitched, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t want you to feel like I forced you into this when you’re not ready.”
“You haven’t. I might not be ready, but maybe I’ve been holding myself back.” Carlos exhaled steadily. “You aren’t pushing me, TK. I want this.”
TK’s face broke into the widest smile Carlos had seen in the longest time, relief and joy flooding his features, cracking with emotion. “Thank you.” A laugh broke through his tears as he wrapped Carlos into a tight hug, with only just enough last-second foresight to adjust his grip around his shoulders rather than ribs. “I love you.”
Carlos held him close, their foreheads brushing as they stood beneath the trees. “I don’t need thanks. I love you too.”
After a moment, TK pulled back, wiping at his eyes with a sheepish smile. “Come on. Let’s get to your mom’s,” he said, his tone lighter now.
Together, they turned and finished the loop around the tree line and back to the car, relishing their moment of joy, the morning air between them now feeling warmer. As TK drove, companionable silence fell, comfortable yet quietly shifting as Carlos’s thoughts turned to his mother. Staring out the window, he barely registered the streets, as the earlier lightness began to be shadowed by what came next.
To say she’d be devastated to learn the truth would be an understatement. She had known Chief Bridges a lot longer than he had. The man had stood at his father’s funeral, had handed her his flag offering false sympathy, all while knowing he was responsible for her heartbreak. His jaw tightened, anger simmering beneath his skin, sharp and bitter.
When they arrived, Andrea greeted them at the door with a warm, if slightly weary, smile. He was right; she knew this spontaneous meeting wasn’t exactly for something positive. But she didn’t let it show, composed and enthusiastic as ever as she reached out to embrace TK.
“Mijos! Good to see you! Come in, come in. And TK, I’m sorry again I couldn’t make it to your birthday party. It sounded marvellous.”
TK chuckled awkwardly. “Um, it was… certainly adventurous.”
“Now, what is this? You’re early,” she continued, shifting effortlessly to envelop Carlos in a similarly warm hug. “Your sisters won’t be here for hours. I haven’t even started lunch.”
This time, unlike with TK, he couldn’t avoid recoiling in pain as her arm unknowingly bumped against his side, and his mom’s eyes narrowed, the familiar stirrings of maternal concern emerging.
“You’re hurt.” She studied him sharply, her gaze filled with tense suspicion. “This is about what they said on the news, isn’t it? Chief Bridges was killed? You were there…”
“I was, but I’m fine. Mostly.” Carlos acknowledged quietly. The last word added only for TK's benefit as he made a sound of disbelief beside him. “But I need to talk to you. It’s about Dad.”
It was as best as any starting point he was going to get.
His mom’s face stilled, the warmth in her eyes fading as realisation took hold. No words came, but grief settled in her gaze, raw and unguarded - something he’d scarcely witnessed in his mother before this past year. The silence thickened around them, enveloping them all, heavy and inescapable, filling the space with unspoken understanding.
TK squeezed his arm and offered Andrea a warm smile. “I’ll give you two a minute.”
“Make yourself at home,” she said softly, if rather distractedly, but TK merely nodded and slipped into the backyard, giving them privacy.
Still, as Carlos watched his retreating figure, a thought wandered in his mind. Perhaps later, after lunch and discussing it with TK, they could share something else to lift his mom's spirits - a glimmer of hope to balance the heavy news.
The prospect of a new grandson.
Notes: There we go. Finished, I almost cried as I wrote this. I wondered about continuing further, but I felt maybe the conversations would start to feel repetitive. Anyway, I wanted to finish so I could post today as a new year treat before going back to work tomorrow.
Hope you enjoyed the journey! It's now my head canon that TK was with Jonah when he got the call.
As always if you spot any errors let me know in the comments!