Alright people. It has been three and a half years since I posted this fic. People are still reading it and it is simply delightful. So, as an early Christmas gift, we have the blood on my hands revamped, a little polishing of the original fic, plus an additional 5k words, divided between two brand new chapters. This may mean nothing to you. You may be thinking, "Well, Talie, this is just nonsense; what are you talking about?" And to that, I say, "Please just read one of my favorite fics that I've ever written..."
TK’s been off all day. Paul noticed it first (obviously) and now Judd wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. Because now-- after watching him a little more carefully-- he’s seen TK wince about a dozen times in the last three hours. He’s been wearing long sleeves.
In the middle of August.
In Austin, Texas.
And he has tried to put it out of his mind, because TK would talk when he’s ready, he thinks. And he has learned the hard way how well he does when they press him on topics he’s not ready to talk about.
So Judd tries not to think about it and is successful in putting it out of his mind.
Until he goes into the locker room.
He turns the corner and runs a towel over his drying hair, glancing up at TK on the other side of the room.
But he stops.
The black and blue bruise coloring his shoulder stands out against his skin, spilling over the top of his arm and onto his shoulder blade. TK winces as he pulls his shirt on.
Happy new year! Hope youve had a great holiday! Just wanted to say thank you for sharing your writing with us - I love your work, especially the Tarlos fics <3 Do you still take prompts for your bad things happen bingo card? Would love to see either "take me instead" or "grabbed by the chin" with hurt!TK if you're up for it? 👉👈 No pressure, tho! ;) Tysm for sharing ur writing once again <3
Anon I want to thank you because this got me back in gear and broke my writer's block so ily💜 also it wasn’t as heartbreaking as I had originally intended so. You’re welcome ig
and what if I'm left without a choice?//2.7k//
ao3
warnings: gun violence, shooting mentions, tiny little hospital moment
“Yeah, I’ll be home first so I’ll cook something,” Carlos says. “It’ll be done by the time you get home.”
“No,” TK says with a small smile. “I want to cook you something.”
“Um,” Carlos laughs on the other end of the line. “Don’t take this the wrong way, babe, but you can’t cook.”
“Let me cook.”
“TK.”
“Let me cook, Carlos.”
He sighs dramatically and TK knows he’s won.
“Fine, but not without supervision. I don’t trust you not to destroy my good pans.”
“Rude.”
The alarm goes off, calling for medical but Carlos is the one who says, “Hey, I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”
TK’s on his feet, rushing to the ambulance. “Yeah, be safe, I love you.”
“Love you too.”
He slips his phone into his pocket and climbs into his seat in the truck.
“Where are we headed, Cap?”
“Westside Mall,” Tommy answers; TK turns the rig in that direction. “We’re just here to triage the crowds. And whoever’s still inside.”
He’s not exactly sure what he was expecting when they get there. There are people scattered all over the outer edges of the parking lot, a line of police tape separating them and the first responders.
“Start triage along there,” Tommy starts, climbing out of the rig. “I’m going to talk to the IC, see what the damage is. But if anyone asks you to do something you do it, got it?”
TK and Nancy both nod. They start at opposite ends of the crowd, intending to meet in the middle.
TK carefully places an Iron Man bandaid on a young boy’s scraped knee, offering a smile to him and the mom—who is thanking him profusely.
“No problem, ma’am,” he assures her, already moving to the next person.
“Paramedic Strand.” He can’t help but grin.
“Officer Reyes,” he says, turning to find his boyfriend striding up to him. “Fancy seeing you here.”
They share a smile and TK turns back to the woman in front of him. There’s a cut on her forehead and she’s holding her wrist gingerly.
“How are you feeling, ma’am?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insists. “But my daughter, you have to find her. She’s twenty-four. She was headed to the car. We parked in the parking garage—that one there.”
“Alright, well, after the scene is cleared for us, we’ll find her.”
“No, you don’t understand.” She’s shaking her head, pushing TK’s hands away. “She was supposed to take her medicine an hour ago, her insulin.”
“And you don’t think she’s taken it yet?” She shakes her head again. “Okay, I’m going to do everything I can to get her what she needs.”
He stands upright again and Carlos is shaking his head. “No, I know what you’re thinking—”
“Carlos, I can’t just leave her in there.”
“There is an active shooter.” He sighs and rolls his eyes, reaching for his radio.
“Cap, we’ve got a twenty-four-year-old female diabetic. Her mom says she’s late to take her insulin.”
“What are you asking, Strand?”
Carlos gives him a look but he ignores it. “I want to go into the East parking garage to find her. The shots were fired on the other side of the building and we haven’t heard any movements from the inside since.”
He sees Tommy by the IC tent, talking with Richards.
“We’ll give you ten minutes tops.”
He takes a breath. “That’s all I need.”
“You aren’t going by yourself,” Carlos says matter-of-factly.
“Fine. Then come with me.”
— — —
He still firmly believes that this is a terrible idea.
They walk in silence, TK just a few steps behind him, eyes alert.
“Looks like date night came a little early,” TK says after a few minutes, and Carlos can hear the smile in his voice.
“TK, I swear to god.” TK laughs and he smiles a little.
“Jesus…Carlos, over here.”
He follows TK’s gaze to the figure on the ground. TK gives him a look as he kneels down next to the woman. “Ma’am? Ma’am, can you hear me?”
Carlos steps away and looks around the parking garage. They’re toward the top of the structure now; it’s not as full here as the other levels and they’re in a free spot. There’s a van a few spaces over and a car the other way.
There’s a sharp inhale behind him.
“Don’t.” That voice is new. He turns and—god, how do they keep ending up in situations like this? TK’s hands are raised, a roll of medical tape in one. There’s something pressing against his boyfriend’s back. He can only assume that’s the reason they’re here in the first place.
This is exactly what he’d been trying to avoid.
The other side of the building, huh?
“Don’t move.”
Try to gain control of the situation.
Carlos holds up his hand, the other lowering his own weapon to the ground. “What’s your name?”
The man cocks his head. “What?”
Ease the tension.
“What’s your name?”
“Stevie,” he says stiffly.
“Nice to meet you, Stevie,” Carlos says with a small nod. "I'm Carlos."
Ask open-ended questions, you want them to open up.
“This is quite the situation. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
TK’s eyes have been trained on the woman in front of him but he glances up at Carlos curiously.
“It… It all went wrong,” Stevie almost whispers. “We didn’t mean for it to go like this.”
“We?” Carlos prompts. He sees TK in his peripheral vision, slowly lowering his hands to finish the bandage he’d been securing.
“Me and my partner, Vinnie.” He shakes his head. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” Carlos insists. “You didn’t intend for this to happen? So what did happen? How did it end up like this?”
“There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here!” He raises his voice and it echos through the parking garage.
Their radios crackle. “Reyes, Strand, status report.”
TK looks at Carlos, who looks at the man with a gun pointed at his boyfriend.
Buy some time.
“TK, will you answer that?” TK nods but Stevie shakes his head again.
“Don’t.”
Carlos puts his hand out in front of him, trying to stay calm—praying to whoever is listening that they can both make it out of this. “Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be better for you if one of us responds; otherwise, they’ll think something’s up. He’s going to buy us a little time, that’s all.”
“TK, Carlos, talk to me.”
The paramedic has his hand over his radio and Stevie nods. TK lets out a breath and keys the radio.
“Cap, we need a few more minutes.”
“I can give you five, at the most. IC’s itching to go in.”
Their eyes meet and Carlos hopes TK can read his mind—it’s going to be okay, we’ll be okay.
“Copy that.”
Almost as soon as he takes his hand off of the radio, Stevie is pulling his arm—knocking him off balance for a moment—and dragging him toward the van. The gun is pressed firmly against TK’s temple now.
“Listen to me–” he gives him a warning look and TK whimpers softly as the gun is pressed harder against him. “Please, just listen to me. Leave him here; take me—I will go with you. He can stay with this woman here, makes sure she stays alive.”
TK struggles slightly, following his train of thought—like always—and hating it.
“Shut up!” The man jerks TK a little to get his point across. But TK’s eyes are on Carlos, desperate and pleading.
The man’s jaw tightens and Carlos takes that as a sign.
“You need a hostage for leverage, I get it. So take me instead. Once you’re gone, the police will come in and clear it for the paramedics,” Carlos explains. His voice is miraculously steady. “If you take him, she might not make it. How is that going to look for you, Stevie?”
“Why should I?” The man sneers. “What can you offer me that he can’t?”
Carlos shifts. “More leverage. The city doesn’t take kindly to hurting innocent people. But the police will do whatever they can to get one of their own back.”
He furrows his brows like he’s considering it; TK’s eyes widen at that. Carlos meets his eyes and there’s a fear there that he wishes he could do something about.
Don’t do this to me.
It doesn’t take long before Stevie is smirking.
“But if I go with you,” Carlos says cautiously, “you leave him. You don’t hurt him.”
“Fine.”
He pushes TK away and Carlos lets out a small breath as TK collides with him.
“Hi,” Carlos breathes and he smiles back as he surveys his face for any sign of bruising on there or—
And he’s dragging Carlos toward the van. TK doesn’t let go of his hand until the very last moment. Stevie opens the door and pushes Carlos in but turns to look back at TK swaying slightly on his feet.
Then the worst thing happens.
There’s a loud crack; TK stiffens; he crumples to the ground and Carlos can’t breathe.
“No, no… No, you said you wouldn’t hurt him!” Carlos tries to push past him to get to TK. The man presses the weapon against Carlos’s chest.
“You told me…You said he’d be safe.”
“Guess I’m not a man of my word.” He shoves Carlos hard, giving himself just enough room to close the door.
He’s plunged into darkness but all he can see is TK’s horrified face.
God, how do they keep ending up in situations like this?
“Reyes, Strand, get out of there, now.”
So they did hear the shot. Good.
“That’s… That’s gonna be a bit of a problem, Cap.”
He’s alive. He’s alive and that’s what matters. There’s a click and he looks toward the front, where Stevie now has his sights on him.
“Turn it off.”
Carlos pauses for a moment but does as he’s told. The man turns and looks out the windshield. “How do you plan on getting out of here? They’ve got the place surrounded.”
He doesn’t get a response.
Carlos takes a moment to survey his options. TK’s alone and in pain, Carlos’s radio is off, they’re in a parking complex surrounded by various police departments. But he has his phone.
After a long silence, he leans toward the front seat. “Can I offer a suggestion?”
— — —
“Captain Vega, we’re going in,” Richards announces and Nancy meets her gaze.
TK didn’t tell them what the problem was, but she knows it’s not good. Carlos hasn’t responded to the radio either. She wants to think that it’s nothing, but it’s TK and Carlos—one a danger magnet and the other willing to follow him into anything.
Nancy stands and paces the length of the truck. She hates sitting out here when her partner could be hurt. Again. Her phone digs, effectively pulling her attention out of her head.
“Wait, wait, Cap!” Tommy and Richards—tall, broad-shouldered, in a black SWAT vest—are at her side in a moment. “It’s an audio message from Carlos.”
“Play it.”
“Can I make a suggestion?”
A muffled what? Tommy shakes her head.
“That’s not TK,” she mutters.
“We should go out on foot. Make our way down to the ground level, jump over the barrier at the back of the structure.”
“Why shouldn’t we take the van, it’ll be faster that way.”
“No,” Carlos says fervently. “There’s one way in and one way out and they’re waiting for you to use that.”
“He’s making sure we’re ready for them,” Nancy says, looking up at Richards. “He’s telling you exactly where you need to be.”
“But, look, it will be better if you walk out of here. Willingly. You shot a first responder, Stevie.”
That last sentence is bitter and angry. Nancy doesn’t blame him.
“TK,” Tommy breathes.
“Running is only going to make this worse.”
The message ends. Richards is already walking away, spouting orders to the team leaders.
“Tommy?” The captain looks up at Nancy once more. The words are on the tip of her tongue.
What if we’re too late?
But she doesn’t need to say anything. Tommy takes one look at her and smiles—like a mother consoling her child—pulling Nancy into a hug.
“They’re going to be okay.”
— — — — —
It worked. Carlos cannot believe it worked. He grabs the back of the passenger seat—why don’t criminals ever put seats back here?—and watches as they descend, closer to the ground level.
From what he can tell, Stevie has every intention of giving himself up. All Carlos has to do is wait.
Level 2.
Level 1.
“Go slow,” he instructs. “If you go too fast, they’ll think you’re going to try and go through. That won’t be pretty.”
Carlos hears someone yell as they come into view.
“One last thing,” Carlos says, leaning forward a little as they slow down, “you need to keep your hands up and empty. So give me the gun.”
“What?”
“Put it on the seat next to you if you want. But if you have it on you, they’ll be less than nice about it.”
Stevie finally pulls to a stop, reluctantly placing the weapon on the seat next to him. Carlos lets out a breath as the police and SWAT circle the car. Someone’s opening the driver's door, yelling orders at Stevie. And the moment they open the back door, Carlos pushes his way out—despite the protests of his fellow officers.
“Reyes, just wait, you should let Tommy look you over—”
He pushes someone else away and pushes through the stairwell door.
Level 5.
He saw the text, but it’s not enough. He needs to see it with his own eyes.
Level 6.
Carlos stumbles through the door and looks around. He sees the woman TK had tried to tend to.
“TK,” he calls.
“Carlos…”
And there he is. He’s unsteady, and he’s holding a spot on his chest, but… He’s alive. TK sways on his feet and Carlos catches him.
“Why don’t we sit you down, yeah?” Carlos asks. “Will that be better?”
When TK nods, Carlos helps him sit carefully to the ground. One of TK’s hands is on Carlos’s and the other is holding tightly onto his arm.
“Jesus, the kevlar barely helped.”
“You’re going to be okay,” Carlos says. “You owe me dinner remember?”
TK smiles. “I was just…going to make box mac and cheese.”
Carlos laughs, “that’s cheating.”
“You never said I couldn’t,” he mumbles.
He groans and shifts—wincing painfully. Carlos clicks his radio on.
“Captain Vega, can we get the—”
“We’re right here, Carlos,” Tommy calls, turning the corner of the nearest ramp. Nancy is behind her, pushing the gurney.
She smiles at him—relieved in her own way, he knows—and squeezes his shoulder.
“If you scare me like that again,” she scolds TK, “I swear, I will get you fired.”
TK grins up at her, “You’d miss me too much.”
— — —
Everything else goes by in a blur. He rides with the paramedics to the hospital and he sits by TK’s side as he gets looked at by the doctor. Aside from the spreading bruise across his chest, he’s fine and can even go home within the hour.
But there’s something else. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet, hardly looking at Carlos, finding something to busy himself.
Carlos knocks on the door frame of TK’s room.
“You ready to go?”
TK just nods, his eyes trained on the watch he’s trying to clasp around his wrist. Carlos shifts and steps closer.
“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”
He doesn’t respond for a long moment. “You know, you might be the dumbest person I know.”
Definitely not what he was expecting. “What?”
“You can’t—You can’t do that to me.” His voice is shaky and Carlos feels his heart crack.
“TK…”
“No,” he snaps. No, Carlos Reyes, you cannot put yourself in danger like that. Not for me.”
Carlos frowns. “Why not? Why not for you?”
TK finally meets his gaze—only for a moment—then tries to push out the door past him, but Carlos stops him.
“Let’s just go home,” TK pleads.
“Why not for you?”
“Because I’m not worth it!” He scoffs and runs his hands over his face. “If you get hurt because of me…I’m not worth that risk.”
Carlos takes a moment then cradles TK's face in his hands. “Baby, look at me,” he tilts his chin up. “You are worth every risk.”
Carlos wishes he could take it back. Not what he said about TK being sick—that’s true.
Just everything else. Everything he’d blown out of proportion.
And he misses him.
But something isn’t right. TK’s got a ghostly look to him—one that reminds him of his latest hospital stay—and he’s curled into himself like he’s trying to keep something out—him or the cool air, it’s anyone’s guess.
There’s something else—anger of some kind—just behind his eyes.
“Please, TK, just go home. You’ll feel better.”
“Stop,” TK snaps, straightening and squaring his shoulders. Carlos stiffly follows suit. “I’m so tired of doing this, Carlos. You told me no. Can’t we just accept that and move on?”
Carlos furrows his brows—both at the words and the way TK’s stumbling through them. “What do you mean I told you no?”
TK rolls his eyes; he sways on his feet slightly, so he tightens his grip on the rail.
Shit is all that Carlos is thinking.
“When I proposed, you told me no.”
“Propo-”
“No point in s-staying with someone who doesn’t want to spend the rest of their life with you. Someone who doesn’t love you as much as you love them.”
Something is definitely not right. It’s all very, very wrong. “TK, you never proposed to me.”
