walls of white pour from the sky, unlike anything carlos had ever seen, a chill in the air to rival another unending cold front. a stab in the heart every morning, because tk's absence wasn't something he could hold onto while he slept. when he closed his eyes and he dreamed, it was of smiles and warmth, and a love shared. it was everything he'd had, everything he'd fought for, perfect, vivid, clear, and too real to be gone when woke up. except it slipped through his grasp every morning, his life now was an empty reach and the touch of cool sheets against his palm.
wet boots are scuffed against the mat in the hospital lobby, snow tapped free before he steps forward. he hadn't expected to hear from nancy, and he'd spent the entire ride trying to decipher her intent. or tk's intent. summoned and predicted to obey, and as reliable as the sun coming up in the morning, or a good dog, here he was. the hallways are too familiar, route to the icu navigated without thought. so routine that he can almost pretend his stomach hadn't tied itself inside out, that there wasn't a tremble to his hands, or cotton in his lungs that burned with every breath.
arrival is marked by nancy's heavy gaze, and then a hug that they both seem to wear with some discomfort. he shadows her steps after, automatic doors happy to oblige their entrance as he tries to ignore the pain he'd seen in her gaze. he snaps some formality into his limbs. routine, practiced motions, his signature on the sign-in sheet nearly foreign to him in his haste, but it felt like an anchor. enough stability for him to straighten up and offer a barb on the curling ends of a plastic smile that would soon melt, his words as much an admission of his own naivete as an inquiry to ease tumultuous considerations of the unknown.
answer to silent question is found in a confession of deception that's difficult to process. if tk didn't want him here, what could this possibly be about? what kind of game they playing?
later he'll only remember that the woman who approached had red hair, an interruption that seemed to slow time with the force of revelation. carlos hears her speak, but he doesn't understand. something about a kid being rescued, about heroes, then his attention is turned to nancy's reply. the unwanted truth coming into focus makes him feel like he's splintering beneath its weight. the exchange between the two women warping and fracturing, leaving him unable to comprehend even as he looks blinking from one to the other. … my friend … went into the drink … we're all praying.
then they're alone again and he steadies his voice before he asks, already seeing the answer painted across her face, ❝ — how serious is it nancy? ❞ he doesn't want to ask, he doesn't want to know, he doesn't want to be here.
honestly? it's not good. cap's finding out the latest now.
it's near perfunctory the way he nods along to her response, her delivery like a script in its precision. an attempt is made to gulp down surging apprehension, but it lodges in his throat.
as tommy approaches time lurches back to normal with the impact of a freight train.
we need to find his father.
not owen, not captain strand, his father. his next of kin. carlos knows everything then without needing to hear more. he's been in this scene too many times, safely on the outside of this terrible life-shattering moment. an outsider's mingling empathy and relief at not being marked for the pain and grief that was going to steal more than one life. he can feel the heavy blanket of shock begin to settle over him and he has to fight not to welcome it.
anger attempts to find a foothold, why had nancy radioed him? why was he here? this was her fault. except he can see the mirror of his own fear and desperation in her eyes and he knows there's no blame in any of this. they were all underwater now, slowly drowning with nobody to pull them out. though the comradery of the realization does nothing to quell the sudden clawing of another doubt. it's not supposed to be him she calls. he didn't belong here, he was out of place, and now he stood inhaling shallow breaths saturated with acrid antiseptic in a place he wasn't wanted.
then he catches sight of tk over tommy's shoulder. he was framed like a painting by glass doors, peaceful and still, ventilator breathing for him, and porcelain pale. fragile like he was threatening to break. carlos had seen tk in a hospital bed before, but not like this. he wants to beg tommy to say it's going to be ok, but she offers nothing to them in the way of hope. no smile, no good natured attempt to bring light to the darkness threatening to swallow him. just a bleak truth that summons a sting to his eyes as tears blur his vision.
there was no denying his truth now, to himself or anyone else. of course he still loved tk, and he'd spent months learning to cope, trying to live without his heart in his chest. he loved that man just as much in this moment as he did the first time he'd thought it, the first time he'd said it, everyday in between, and everyday since. he knew exactly why he was there. because he would do anything for the person he'd so carefully imagined building his future with. the person threatening to slip out of his life forever. leaving him to pray it wasn't too late to fight harder. to get his dream back.
❝ — whoa, time out, ❞ carlos dials his attention from the tablet in his hands to @str4nd lounging beside him. hesitant curiosity drawing his features in as he tries to figure out why their conversation had shifted direction. ❝ that's not what i said, ❞ why did he suddenly feel the need to hedge toward the defensive, to proceed with caution? ❝ i never said he was cute. ❞ // 9 - 1 - 1 sc.
* ) blood coats mouth as matches nods , ‘ yeah i had a sneaky suspicion it might . . . ’ 𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙾𝚁 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝙴𝙵𝚃 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎. ‘ who knew they’d get so creative ? ’ head remains turned as arm wipes mouth , ‘ this city . . . there’s only so much she can take ’ in truth he didn’t exactly REMEMBER what went wrong , all he remembers is jumping in between to ensure that carnage remained to a minimum. though the thirst for blood remained high , GOTHAM herself seemed to feed off the blood that trailed upon pavement , and pooled in dark alleyways. the streets themselves remain hidden , 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙴𝚃𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙿𝚂 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚝. 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙿𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚝𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; GCPD rarely visited those districts that were deemed ‘DANGEROUS’ leaving many to fend for themselves. matches looks at the other , as he then pushes back blonde hair with bloodstained fingertips.
‘ this isn’t your normal haunt is it ? ’ TEETH shine in the moonlight as a smile is given. ‘ i’ve gotta ask why the fuck are you here ? ’ then getting back to the problem at hand ,
‘ you’re off duty aren’t you ? ’
❛ 16 . a kiss first thing in the morning . — @str4nd
if tim's internal clock was correct ( it was ) then his alarm would be going off within the next few minutes. he was never one to wake slowly, moving from slumber to consciousness without the weary cobwebs claimed by others. with the rare exception of a hangover when he was just like everyone else. a hand is surrendered to the cold outside the blankets to click the switch on the clock to avoid the noisy clamor that would soon ensue. he very much preferred to wake the man sleeping pressed to his side with a softer touch.
weight is shifted with care, bringing them chest to chest, and tim watches with warm adoration as the veil of dream recedes from his sleeping beauty's expression and a smile ticks up in the corner of his mouth. a smile tim presses a soft kiss to. ❝ good morning handsome, ❞ sleep still roughens tim's voice, deep and calm as he brushes their noses together before pressing another kiss to the rise of tk's cheek. ❝ time to rise and shine, ❞ words are offered as neither of them hurry to move, they'd stay like this for a while, the time planned in to their same shift morning routine.
❝ last night was… fun, ❞ there's a knowing tease laced through the tone of his voice and he can feel the way tk's smile spreads out a little further. somehow the other always managed to find ways to surprise him. he lets his hand roam down to squeeze a tk's hip and nuzzles another kiss, more demanding this time. no matter how much he had, he could never get enough. when he finally does pull away from languid exploration he offers a soft grin, ❝ — i think i might need another demonstration of your technique tonight. ❞
a bright smile precedes the obvious answer, an enthusiastic nod as tabby joins tk in the firehouse galley. the kettle is steaming and she watches with fond admiration as he gets another mug to settle beside his, her favorite tea added before the bath of hot water joins it to steep. she waits until his hands aren't busy to take advantage of the opportunity to inquire about a current curiosity. casting her eyes around quickly to ensure they wouldn't be overheard, ❝ — ok spill it, ❞ she levels with a playful voice, that still doesn't leave room for argument.
❝ what's the story with the officer hottie? ❞ she would never reveal her sources, but she had it on good authority that there was a bit of a developing spark with a certain lapd patrol officer. that maybe there was even a first date… now she had until buck got back from a call to unravel the mystery for herself. ❝ no detail is too small, i want to hear everything. ❞
“nuh, uh,” he punctuates with a shake of his head. “absolutely not.” paul has nothing against halloween. his opinions veer more neutral, skewed by too many shifts working the night itself or the few nights leading up to it. he’ll attend parties, loves a good costume moment himself, gleefully point out special affects makeup and practical affects to those easily scared, but his appreciation stops there. it’s a few days fun at most. not a whole month. or months, plural. “it’s not even october yet. i’m not helping you with that nonsense till the calander turns over.”
