Work Text:
Words : 5200 words
Notes: Sorry this took a while. I started it but then got addicted to Supernatural (first watch) and it got momentarily forgotten, but I made sure to finish it before I started my new fic ideas for Supernatural.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Tarlos and all information on a medical topic that appears later is from google and should be taken with a grain of salt.
Carlos P.O.V
The sun bore down relentlessly on his cruiser, its rays slanting through the trees and spilling across the dashboard in harsh, angular streaks. Despite the shade he’d managed to park under and the AC blasting from the vents, Carlos could feel the heat pressing against the windows, creeping in wherever it could, piercing the artificial coolness. His bulletproof vest under his uniform clung uncomfortably against his skin as he finished off his late lunch.
A stifling weight had settled over Austin, the kind that radiated off the pavement and buildings, turning the air even denser. It was a stark contrast to the brutal snowstorm several months before, which had almost shattered his already fractured heart while simultaneously providing the chance to then heal it.
He’d wrapped up a minor traffic incident not long ago – one that had taken longer than expected to clear, hence the late lunch – but otherwise, his shift had been as routine so far. Nothing that would delay him getting home on time, especially with TK off shift himself.
He had just taken a sip from his now-lukewarm coffee when the radio crackled to life.
“APD Unit 363-H-20, are you 10-8?”
Recognising Grace’s voice despite the static, Carlos reached for his radio almost automatically, the familiarity grounding him. “10-8, dispatch.”
“Unit 363-H-20, respond to 1728 Old Mill Road for a welfare check. Caller reports they’ve been unable to reach their father after several attempts. He’s recovering from recent hip surgery.”
He was still technically marked off for lunch, but he placed the address as somewhere nearby, as well as its unfortunate low priority, which truthfully was never fair. Plus, Grace knew he didn’t mind the occasional interruption when he wasn’t meeting anyone during his break. “363-H-20, copy that. Show me responding.”
Downing the rest of the grim, cold liquid, he tucked the empty cup back into its holder and shifted the cruiser into gear. As he turned onto the quiet stretch of road, the landscape began to change, the trees thickening on either side, and houses became fewer and farther between. The occasional mailbox stood lonely at the edge of sprawling properties.
Old Mill Road was more rural than the rest of his patrol zone, with scattered ranches and homes spaced further apart. The address in question led him to a property set back from the road, partially obscured by thick foliage, and backing onto the edge of the Greenbelt, more details from dispatch continuing to flicker through onto his car’s monitor as he pulled into the dirt driveway.
A fresh wave of sweat prickled at the back of Carlos’s neck as he stepped out of the cruiser, silently and quickly assessing his surroundings. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary at first glance. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that should have been peaceful yet felt unnerving in the provided context.
The air was still, the curtains all drawn. His boots crunched lightly on the gravel as he stepped cautiously between patches of overgrown grass and weeds. Knocking twice, he called out, his voice steady. “Austin Police Department! Anyone inside?”
He waited a beat, listening, but the answer didn’t come from within the house or from a person at all. Instead, a sharp, rhythmic barking shattered the stillness. It came from behind the property, frantic and unrelenting, Carlos’s eyes flicking toward the backyard as he knocked again.
“Mr. Ramirez, it’s APD! If you can hear me, call out!” With still no reply, Carlos keyed his radio.
“This is 363-H-20. On scene. No response at the door, but pet is distressed. Requesting permission to enter and an ETA on medical.”
A brief pause, then Grace’s voice came through clearly. “Affirmative, Carlos. Son’s given permission. Closest rig is finishing up a call a few blocks south, but they’re on standby if you need them.”
With a quick glance around, he reached for the handle and gave it a firm twist. Locked. His gut told him he wasn’t going to get an answer from inside. The dog’s barking had grown louder, more frantic after his second knock. It wasn’t just noise – it was urgent, almost pleading, as if trying to draw his attention to something.
“Copy that, dispatch. I’m trying around back.”
Thankfully, he found no gates or barriers cutting him off from the backyard as he moved cautiously around the rear of the property, eyes scanning for anything out of place, hand resting lightly on his holster.
The space was as equally overgrown as the front, raised beds now bursting with wildflowers and weeds, while lavender and rosemary bushes had taken on wild shapes, creeping into the pathways. A small stone birdbath, cracked at the edges, sat tilted near a patch of wilting daisies. Yet, despite the signs of neglect, there was something deliberate about the placement of it all. It was an old garden, once tended to with care.
What caught his attention more, however, was the land stretching behind it.
An expanse of trees and undergrowth bordered by an old fence that barely held its shape, one section opening deeper into the woods. And there, at the edge of it all, movement drew his focus. A large German Shepherd stood at the tree line, ears pricked and tail raised. It barked again, sharp and insistent, eyes locked on him, before disappearing beyond the trees.
Carlos didn’t hesitate. He crossed the open section of the fence and stepped into the wooded area. Beyond the break, the land thickened – trees pressing closer, their branches heavy with vines and moss. The air felt denser here, the quiet broken only by the dog’s distant barking.
He didn’t have to go far before the dog reappeared, standing in front of a half-buried structure and pawing at the entrance. Carlos’s gaze followed the movement, settling on the structure itself.
It didn’t seem like a typically storm shelter. It wasn’t deep enough. Yet, it wasn’t just a storage shed either. Built low into the earth, it was reinforced with wood and corrugated metal it had clearly been built to last, though the years had still taken a subtle toll. Thick weeds and creeping vines overtook the edges, blending it into the landscape.
The door was shut, but the dog wouldn’t budge from it, claws scraping against the metal. Its entire posture radiated alertness. But there was no growl, no aggression – just urgency.
Carlos, beginning to understand what was happening, released his cautious grip on his holster and hurried over. The dog backed off slightly, but remained watchful, its gaze never leaving the entrance. “Mr. Ramirez!”
The bunker door wasn’t locked, but the latch on the outside had slipped into place. Carlos ran a hand over it, feeling the rust where metal met wood. He knocked twice.
“Austin Police, can you hear me?”
If there had a been the slightest breeze, Carlos would have missed the responding faint sound. A voice, low and muffled through the thick walls.
As expected, the latch didn’t budge when he tried. The heat had tightened everything, causing the metal to stick stubbornly in place. His fingers slipped as sweat prickled across his palms. Gritting his teeth, he braced his knee against the door and gave it a firm shove up. The metal protested with a harsh scrape before finally giving way, door cracking open with a grinding sound.
Stale air rushed out to meet him from inside, tinged with the scent of damp earth and mildew. Whining, the dog bolted through Carlos’s legs at the first opportunity, darting straight into the darkness.
Mr. Ramirez, his features tired and weathered but alert, squinted against the sudden flood of light as he sat in a rickety folding chair against the far wall, the only other light coming from a tiny camp lantern beside him.
“Sir, are you alright?”
Carlos took a careful step down a single soft, mud-packed natural stair, until his boots scuffed on a concrete floor. The place was small, but almost cozy, with a workbench cluttered with old tools and storage shelves stacked with boxes that looked long untouched.
All but one. A separate box sat open on Ramirez’ lap, scattered knickknacks and yellowed paper spread out before him. As he entered, however, its lid was soon shut, and was set to the side.
“Yeah, fine. Just trapped. Damn latch slipped. Didn’t even realize it until I went to leave.” The man exhaled, now free to lean over and ruffle his pet’s fur. “But I knew someone would come looking eventually, especially with the racket outside from Roxy here.”
The dog barked again in response, nudging hard at his knee. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You raised the alarm, didn’t you?” Ramirez muttered. She huffed a smaller woof, which sounded almost satisfied to Carlos.
“She did, but only after I got here,” Carlos clarified. “Your son reported you missing. He hadn’t heard from you in a day.”
“Ah, he worries too much. There are worse places to get stuck.” Ramirez waved a hand toward the box of mementos. “Lots of memories down here.”
He started to rise but faltered, his knees clearly uncooperative. Carlos stepped in without hesitation, steadying him with a firm grip on his arm.
“Come on, let’s get you back to the house and checked out. I’ve got medical on standby.”
“No, no. No need. I’m fine. Just stiff,” Ramirez said quickly, adding firmly, “No ambulance.”
Carlos’s gaze remained steady. “It’s a hot day, and you didn’t have water down here. Let’s make sure you’re settled and hydrated before we argue about medical.”
“Alright. Fair point,” Ramirez said, relenting with a small nod. Bracing against the walls and Carlos’s support for balance, they stepped back into the sunlight.
“We built this place when my son was little,” he continued, his gaze distant. “Spent nearly every summer weekend down here, camping underground like it was our secret hideout. Haven’t used it in years. He doesn’t like me coming out here now – especially since the surgery. Out of range for my medical alert bracelet.” He gave a tired chuckle. “Guess he knew better this time.”
Carlos kept a steady hand on Ramirez as they started to make their way toward the house. Every step was met with the crinkle of dry underbrush, but despite his stubborn resolve, Ramirez made it barely three steps before collapsing. Instinct sharp, Carlos caught him quickly, pulling the man’s weight against him to prevent him from falling completely. But the sudden shift and the uneven ground slope made it impossible to keep his own balance with the sudden added weight.
The fall wasn’t violent, but it was inevitable. His back hit the ground with a dull thud, muffled by the plants, the thick weeds themselves trying to swallow him whole. The sting of something flared along his elbow, but the pain scarcely registered, buried far down the list of importance.
“Mr. Ramirez?” Carlos pressed his fingers to the man’s neck, searching for a pulse. He found it easily enough, but the steady rhythm wasn’t enough to ease his growing concern. He rubbed the man’s sternum gently. “Hey, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Carlos shifted carefully out from underneath the man, moving him into a recovery position. He found a clear patch on the path and reached for his radio with quick, practiced motions. “Dispatch, 363-H-20. Affirmative on EMS. Found Ramirez trapped in the woods behind the house. He seemed unharmed, but has since collapsed. Possible heat exhaustion, maybe other complications.”
Grace’s voice crackled through immediately. “Copy that, Carlos. EMS is enroute. They’re close.”
Carlos checked the man’s breathing. Shallow, but steady. Roxy whined again, pacing in anxious circles around them, her nose pushing at Carlos’s leg. Her eyes locked onto Carlos, and her tail flicked nervously. Carlos gave her a quick smile, his voice softer now. “He’s gonna be okay,” he murmured.
Her nose pushed next into her owner’s side, and it wasn’t until the faintest groan left Ramirez’s lips that Carlos’s attention snapped back to him. He leaned in closer. “Ramirez?”
The older man blinked slowly, his eyes barely focusing. “What... happened?” he muttered, voice thick with confusion.
“You collapsed. Don’t move.” Carlos reassured him. “I’m afraid it’s a definite yes on those paramedics.”
Ramirez’s brow creased faintly, but he didn’t argue beyond a quiet, “Roxy. My son won’t be here for hours. She’ll be fine alone for that long, but she hasn’t eaten.”
Carlos gave a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll sort her.”
He hovered nearby until the paramedics arrived, the pair navigating carefully through the thick underbrush. After sharing a quick rundown of what had happened, he finally stepped back, taking the opportunity to slip through the rear door, thankful it was still unlocked.
Inside, he found the metal bowls in front a low cabinet, and a jug of kibble on the counter nearby. He filled one, then emptied and refilled the water dish with fresh, cold tap water.
Roxy appeared from behind him, drawn away from her owner at the promise of food, nudging gently against his leg before settling near the bowls. Her tail was still low, but her movements seemed easier now, yet still, Carlos paused a beat, one hand brushing calmly along her back as she ate.
By the time he returned to the yard, the paramedics were nearly finished securing Ramirez in the ambulance. They were about to shut the doors when one stopped him, her eyes narrowing as she pointed at his arm.
“Hey, I think you caught some ivy.”
Carlos twisted his arm, looking at the rash that had begun to bloom along the back of it, wrapping around his elbow. He cursed under his breath, remembering the sharp sting from earlier. “Damn.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s probably not serious, as long as it doesn’t spread further.” She reached into the rig and pulled out some saline solution. “Here, give me your arm.”
She poured the solution across his arm followed by his hands. “You’ll want to wash properly as soon as you can. A warm shower at the station should hopefully do it, and the rash should clear up in a few days.”
“Thank you,” Carlos said quietly, nodding. “I will.”
He watched the ambulance doors close and listened as the engine rumbled to life. Turning back toward the road and his own cruiser, he let out a breath. All things considered, this had been one of the less complicated and straightforward calls. Ramirez would be fine, and Roxy was safe inside.
In his career, a slight tumble into poison ivy was about the mildest injury he could expect.
~*~TARLOS~*~ ~*~TARLOS~*~
Despite the cool water, the heat still clung to his skin as he shut off the shower, like the sun had soaked too deep to rinse away. It was his second shower of the day. He’d taken the advice to rinse off at the precinct before finishing his final stretch of patrol, but it hadn’t helped much.
Neither had this one.
Carlos dressed slowly, his movements sluggish, choosing a long-sleeved shirt not to punish himself with the extra, unneeded layers, but to stop himself from scratching at the irritated skin along his elbow. The rash had flared again, red and raised, and he knew if he touched it, he wouldn’t stop. He’d only make it worse, risk spreading it further.
The fabric clung slightly to damp skin as he padded barefoot into the living room and sank into the corner of the couch. As he tucked his feet beneath the edge of a blanket, he couldn't help but notice a quiet restlessness in the way he kept shifting, like he couldn’t quite get comfortable.
TK materialised behind him from the kitchen, leaning over the back of the couch to press a kiss in his wet curls, before rounding to drop beside him with a quiet thud.
“You pick tonight,” he said, holding out the remote. “Something that doesn’t involve loud battles. I don’t want to be too wired to sleep tonight.”
Carlos blinked at the TV. The words took longer than usual to settle, and it took him a moment to realise he hadn’t replied. Yet, the remote was now in his hand, heavier than it should have been, and TK must have taken that as his answer because he was already talking again.
Something about a video Judd had sent – Charlie rolling over for the first time – but the words barely landed. They skimmed the edges of Carlos’s mind, where everything felt soft and slow, too distant to hold onto.
He clicked through a few menus. Selected something without much deliberation.
He wasn’t sure what.
It didn’t matter.
Apparently, he wasn’t to be following it anyway.
“Babe?”
To Carlos, it only felt like he’d blinked again, except the movie had already passed the opening credits and moved on. He turned his head toward TK beside him, the small movement heavier than it should have been.
“Huh?”
“Were you asleep?” TK asked with a soft smile, but something in Carlos’s face must have made him pause. His gaze lingered, just a second longer. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” Carlos rubbed his forehead. “Just tired.”
“You sure? You look a little…” TK reached out, fingers brushing lightly against Carlos’s cheek. “You’re warm.”
Carlos caught his wrist gently. Not abrupt, just enough to pause the gesture. He didn’t feel bad enough to ruin the evening, and he definitely didn’t feel bad enough for TK to switch into full paramedic mode. “I’m fine. Probably caught too much sun earlier. I was out on patrol for hours.”
TK pressed his lips together, concern flickering across his face, but he didn’t argue. He nodded, letting it sit, and leaned back in – though the position was, perhaps unconsciously, closer than before – settling beside Carlos with familiar ease, gaze back on the screen.
Yet, while usually Carlos would have felt comforted by TK’s simple presence, his skin prickled beneath the touch, heat radiating too fiercely from within.
A sharp clack startled him as the remote slipped gracelessly from his lap while he shifted, drawing in soft, uneven breaths.
TK shifted forward quickly to retrieve the fallen device, Carlos’s eyes tracking the movement as he silently switched off the TV, then set the remote gently on the table in front of them.
“Come on,” he said gently. “Bed. I think your brain’s done for the day. We can finish this tomorrow.”
Through a murmur that sounded like his own unfiltered agreement, his eyes fluttered closed again, but beneath it, he also caught a quiet counter: “Didn’t even start it.”
That earned a quiet laugh from TK. “You’ll feel better after some sleep.”
Carlos smiled faintly. There was a tightness in his chest – not pain or shortness of breath – but something off, an ache of confusion, like he was a half-step behind everything happening around him, even as he climbed into bed.
Something about this shift had hit him hard.
Somewhere nearby, he vaguely heard TK asking if he was going to change, warning he’d boil if he kept his sleeves on.
The mention sparked something deep inside him – a flicker of sharp importance – but it slipped away almost as quickly, swallowed by the slow pull of sleep.
~*~TARLOS~*~ ~*~TARLOS~*~
TK P.O.V
The first thing TK noticed was the damp warmth beside him.
It wasn’t the air – it was cool in the bedroom, the hum of the A/C a constant during the worst of this heatwave. But there was something else. A dense, unnatural heat bleeding across the sheets beneath his arm.
Then came the movement, the soft pull of the blanket as it peeled back unevenly.
TK stirred, free hand reaching out across the empty space, the other pushing against the mattress to sit up.
“Babe?”
“Bathroom…go sleep…I’m fine.”
He didn’t sound fine. He sounded dry-mouthed and disjointed, the words sluggish in his mouth.
The windows let in no light, moonless and dark, and in the dim room, TK could only just make out the shape of Carlos, as his legs swung slowly over the edge of the bed. The way he moved – it wasn’t right. Every motion seemed delayed, like gravity had doubled.
“You sure?”
TK blinked towards the faint red glow from the digital clock. 1:21 a.m.
Carlos was already standing when TK looked back, but only just.
He swayed.
“Hey – whoa.” TK was scrambling across the bed in an instant, instincts and alertness kicking in, practiced from years of middle-of-the-night calls.
Carlos reached out blindly for the edge of the table. Missed.
His knee hit the carpet hard, followed by the rest of him, folding at an awkward angle before his body gave out completely.
“Carlos, babe,” TK breathed, already dropping to the floor beside him. He pressed a steadying hand to his back, and even through the soaked fabric, he could feel as his skin burned his palm. “Jesus, you’re roasting.”
Carlos tried to shake his head, eyes squinting like focusing alone hurt. “It’s nothing. I overheated.”
“In a 76oF room?” TK joked, but he was already brushing curls from his forehead, fingers pressing gently to the base of his neck. His pulse was rapid, hammering beneath the skin. And still, he leaned into the touch, like even holding himself upright was too much.
“Okay,” TK said softly, shifting closer, sliding an arm around his waist. “Let’s get you up.”
They didn’t go far. Just back onto the edge of the bed, TK easing him gently up, guiding him until he slumped sideways against the headboard. It gave them space – less cramped than the floor, trapped between the bedframe and the nightstand.
“Alright, let’s get this off you.”
Even tugging the drenched T-shirt over his head took effort. The sleeves clung, reluctant, plastered to damp skin, and Carlos flinched when the fabric dragged over his arm.
That’s when he saw it.
At first, it was just dark shadow. An odd pattern on Carlos’s upper arm.
TK reached for the lamp, blinking hard as the sudden light flooded the room. Carlos flinched again, eyes squeezing shut, face turned toward the wall.
He looked again.
What he'd hoped were sweat patches or bruising weren’t either. The skin was deep red in some places, tinged with purple in others, the discolouration trailing along the inside of his bicep and branching outward from his elbow.
“Carlos.” TK’s voice was cautious, clear worry echoing though his words. He shifted onto his knees, leaning closer. “What happened here, baby?”
Carlos’s head turned towards him slightly, a sluggish tilt, eyes barely open. “What?” he mumbled, gaze following TK’s to the mark on his arm. “Oh. Ivy. Fell on shift.”
TK frowned. “Babe… that’s not ivy.” He gently touched the edge of the rash, careful not to press. “Poison ivy leaves streaks. This is mottled. See how it follows your veins, like it’s spreading under the skin?”
“Oh.” Carlos repeated, his brow creasing into a frown as he stared at the rash, but TK wasn’t sure he was fully taking it in.
“Carlos.” TK tried once more, firmer now. “Other than tired and hot, how do you feel? Honestly.”
“Foggy…kinda ache. Nauseous. A bit.” A pause. “It’s fine. I just need a cold – ”
Tk didn’t let him finish.
“Nope. Come on – ER it is.”
Carlos let out a thin sigh, in typical protest. “TK – ”
“No.” TK cut in gently but without room to argue. “If you landed in something serious yesterday, I’m not gambling on that in our bedroom.”
Carlos closed his eyes again, relenting. “Fine. You drive.”
TK huffed, a breath of humour and disbelief, despite everything. “You think I’m letting you?”
He pulled on a T-shirt and joggers, quick and plain, before easing Carlos into a pair of sweatpants, skipping the shirt.
Even that small motion earned another wince, so proceeding to then get him upright was slow process, TK needing to pause at each shift of weight. Carlos could walk, but only barely, leaning into him with most of his weight. Every step made him suck in a quiet breath, and by the time they reached the door, his colour had drained further.
Despite his disorientation, Carlos looked scared. Not panicked - just a flicker of something beneath the surface - but TK knew how to read him by now.
TK steadied him with one hand at the small of his back, the other reaching to open the door.
“We’re gonna figure this out,” he said softly, firmly. “I’m sure it’s nothing. And then you can tease me for overreacting.”
Carlos didn’t answer, but he nodded faintly, resting his temple against TK’s shoulder, as he led him out into the quiet night.
~*~TARLOS~*~ ~*~TARLOS~*~
The ER was calm in the way fluorescent-lit rooms could be – clinical but cool, sealed off from the thick humidity outside. TK sat in a hard-backed chair tucked beside the gurney, the only other presence in the small bay, curtains drawn on all sides. The air was cool, humming faintly from a vent overhead, and the sharp scent of antiseptic clung to everything.
Carlos lay against the pillows, half-napping now beneath a thin blanket. His colour was still off, flushed in patches, with a cool compress resting at his collarbone, but the sheen of sweat on his face had scarcely lessened since they'd arrived.
They hadn’t waited long. The ER admission had been quick – the nausea had worsened from the drive, overtaking before they'd even reached the doors, so one look at him, disoriented and barely able to stand, and they’d been taken straight back. Perhaps they’d also recognised him from APD, but no one had mentioned it.
TK had spoken quickly, even as vitals were taken, offering the best version he could make from the brief fragments Carlos had given him about falling into unknown brush. He wished he knew more, but it was evident Carlos had believed it was nothing significant until now.
His fever was spiking – 103.5°F – and IV fluids had gone up quickly, alongside something to settle his stomach. He’d noticed the fast pulse earlier, so wasn’t entirely surprised at the tachycardia, though using his own familiarity with reading the monitor, thankfully hadn’t noticed any arrhythmias yet. But if his gaze wasn’t on the still figure before him, it was tracking the ever-moving lines on the screen overhead.
Bloods had also been taken, but since then, Carlos had been motionless, drifting somewhere between sleep and a blank-eyed haze of exhaustion.
He sat forward when Carlos stirred again – just a blink at first, then a small shift of his head against the pillow. TK traced slow circles on Carlos’s knuckles, and his heart soared as he spotted a tiny spark more awareness than before, though still dazed.
“Hey,” TK said softly. “You’re alright. I’m still here.”
Carlos gave the faintest hum, but before he could speak, the curtain slid aside and the nurse from earlier stepped back in, smiling warmly.
“Let’s see how we’re doing.” She held up a thermometer, already halfway towards the gurney to check the latest read. “102.8. That’s better.”
Carlos blinked, processing. “That... good?”
A gentle, crooked smile lifted TK’s face. “Better than where we were an hour ago.”
“Exactly,” the nurse echoed, pleased. “Trending in the right direction.”
TK nodded, shifted slightly as he glanced up, tense. “Any word on the blood panel?”
“It just came through,” she answered, scrolling briefly on the tablet in her hand. “I’ve paged the doctor to come discuss the results with you.”
He nodded again, jaw tight, eyes flicking once to the monitor before settling back on Carlos. The quiet that followed wasn’t quite easy, but it no longer held the weight of fear. Just waiting.
The curtain opened again, this time to admit a man in scrubs and a dark blue coat. He gave a brief nod of greeting, eyes already flicking back to the tablet in his hands even as he introduced himself.
“I’m Dr Sandoval,” he said. “I’ve had a look at the labs, and you’ll be pleased to know we’ve got an answer for what’s been affecting you.”
TK wasn’t sure ‘pleased’ was the right word. Whatever it was had Carlos pale, and barely coherent, but he bit his tongue, listening.
“Your results came back positive for a toxin called Toxicoscordion obscurum. It’s native to these parts – found mostly in the dry grasslands and foothills. You might be more familiar with its close cousin, Nuttallii Deathcamas.”
TK didn’t. He’d lived in Texas long enough that it now felt more like home than New York – but knowing the names of local poisonous plants hadn’t exactly been high on his priorities. Carlos, however, shifted slightly on the gurney, eyes narrowing in recognition.
“But I didn’t eat any?”
“Ingestion is usually the route for a severe reaction, yes,” Sandoval replied. “But the toxin exists in every part of the plant – stems, leaves, even the root system. Usually, just brushing against it wouldn’t do much. But in some cases, the toxin can be absorbed in minor doses through the skin – especially if the plant is crushed. And from what your partner described, you most likely fell into the underbrush with some force – yes?”
Carlos managed what he hoped passed for a small nod, but regardless, the doctor pressed on as though it’d been a rhetorical question.
“In this kind of weather, the body sweats, pores open, and the dermal barrier weakens just enough to allow small molecules to pass through. That makes it easier for the toxin to enter the bloodstream.”
Carlos exhaled slowly. “So that’s why everything feels... weird?”
“Exactly. It essentially can be classed as a mild neurotoxin. It interferes with how your brain communicates with your body. That’s why you feel weak and probably slow to react. But the good news is your dose was minor, and it seems to already be working its way out of your system. The fluids are helping flush it, and there shouldn’t be any lasting damage.”
TK let out a quiet breath, his fingers brushing lightly across the back of Carlos’s hand again.
“You’ll feel wiped out for a day or two,” the doctor added, tone gentler now, though that might’ve just been the absence of clinical jargon. “But you’re on the right track.”
Carlos gave the smallest nod, eyes drifting closed again – not in pain now, just tired. TK looked up at the doctor.
“Thank you.”
“Of course,” Sandoval said, already stepping back. “I’ll let him rest. If everything continues to improve, we’ll have you out of here by late morning.”
When the curtain settled behind him again, the room fell quiet once more.
TK stayed close. His hand remained wrapped loosely around Carlos’s, fingers warm despite the cooler air. Now, at least, there was a name. A reason. A plan. Not the terrifying unknown anymore. Still worrying – but manageable.
Carlos murmured something, barely audible.
TK leaned in. “Hmm?”
“You’re going to make me wear long sleeves next shift, aren’t you?”
“Honestly?” TK huffed quietly. “I was just thinking about it, but in this heatwave? You’d just probably end up with heatstroke instead.”
Carlos’s brow quirked, barely. “Perhaps we should both just stay home in Extreme temperatures from now on.”
TK smirked. “Exactly. Mid-temperatures only. Strict new rule.”
The corners of Carlos’s mouth tugged upward – not quite a normal smile, but wider than anything he’d managed since they’d arrived. TK squeezed his hand again and didn’t let go.
Notes: I hope you enjoyed, and that this ending isn’t too jolty – I started already but because I stopped mid story, I lost my flow and ideas of where it was heading. It's why the first scene is so detailed compared to the others. :(
Also don’t worry, I will write “S”, eventually. Just if I start this Supernatural AU Story I have ideas for, especially as it’s soon the 20th anniversary, it might end up a crossover fic linked to that series…
S for Supernatural, you know?
If that’d be something anyone would be interested in eventually, let me know and if you have any plot ideas for it comment below and I’ll be sure to credit you if they end up used!