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“What is it we’re dealing with exactly?” TK asked. As usual, he was in the back of the ambulance, hanging on to an overhead bar and swaying with every sharp turn.
“Uh- two teenagers, around sixteen. Male and looks like they were jumped,” Nancy was biting her lip as she relayed the information. “Police are en route but we’ll get there first,”
TK nodded. His grave expression was mirrored on both her and Tommy’s faces. None of the three were easily rattled - as a paramedic it was a liability to be phased by much - but beaten up kids was testing TK’s limit. “Anyone else around?”
“I don’t know, and we don’t need to. Just focus on helping these kids, ok?” Tommy didn’t tear her focus from the road as she guided the ambulance between the tiniest gaps in traffic like it was nothing.
“Yeah, yeah. I know,” TK nodded.
His feet were the first to hit tarmac the moment they pulled up, already shouldering his kit with a familiar ease. They were parked on a side street, run down and lined with skips and fluttering rubbish. It smelled sour and made him breath carefully through his nose. Behind him, Tommy hurried to approach a grave looking man of about forty. He was pacing restlessly at the mouth of an alley, and sagged in relief at their arrival.
“Paramedics sir,” Tommy said briskly, any trace of worry buried under an all business exterior. “You called about two teenagers?”
“Yeah, yeah,” the man nodded hastily, wringing his hands. The poor guy looked on the verge of tears. He jerked his head at the narrow alley. “They’re over there. I didn’t wanna move ‘em, y’know? They’re breathing and all but there’s a lot of blood. I don’t know ‘em: never seen ‘em in my life,”
The words spilled out in a rush, tumbling over each other so that TK struggled to keep up. He was already moving again, hardly paying attention to Nancy raising a soothing hand, assuring the man that he’d done the right thing. Tommy was at his shoulder as he steeled himself. Even with the bracing, the scene in the alleyway was more than enough to turn his already twisted stomach and make an uncharacteristic rage bubble up in his chest.
One of the boys was on his side, his face a mottled mess of bruises and blood. His shirt was torn and filthy, his arms equally as colourful as his face. Dark hair sticking to his forehead, one eye swollen beyond recognition, wrist bent at a sickening angle. TK swallowed bile and looked past him: the second boy was further down the alley, slumped against the brickwork. All TK could see of him was a red shock of hair and an even redder shock of blood. His chin was on his chest, and TK could see it - and his companion’s - rise and fall slowly.
“Ok. TK, start on him,” Tommy said, indicating the black haired boy. Her voice was unwavering, TK thought, through years of trained composure and not a lot else. “Nancy, with me,”
“Got it Cap,” TK dropped to his knees, let his bag slide of his shoulder. There was a slight humming in his ears, the sound of the rest of the world fading out. It muted as he focused. He checked the boys pulse (mercifully strong) and had just ran a hand over his side to check for broken ribs when his patient rocketed upwards. TK swore and the boy swore too, violently as he knocked away TK’s arm with startling strength.
“Woah, take it easy kid. You’re hurt: I’m here to help,”
“Get the fuck off me,” the boy snarled thickly - that was the only word for his tone, dripping with ferocity as it was. His good eye was wide, his breathing so rapid TK wondered if he’d ever been fully unconscious. He struggled to sit up further, cradling his broken wrist and then suddenly his head whipped around. His gaze landed on the red haired boy and before TK could stop him he had unsteadily lurched to his feet. Even as he grunted with pain he managed to yell, “Leave him the fuck alone!”
TK’s heart hammered, painful in it’s worry that the frantic kid would hurt himself more. No, not frantic. Angry. In a spur of irrationality, TK grabbed his shoulders, tried to hold him back so Nancy and Tommy could help his friend and was promptly rewarded with a sharp elbow to the stomach. Winded, he staggered away and blinked back tears.
“Don’t fucking touch him,” the black haired boy said savagely, lunging over to Tommy and Nancy. He didn’t spare TK a backwards glance, like he’d hardly even registered him.
In the few heartbeats it took TK to catch his breath, the boy managed to put himself between his friend and TK’s colleagues. He crouched protectively over him, chest heaving with each ragged breath. Nancy was covering her left eye: she’d clearly been similarly graced with a well placed blow and was letting Tommy take the reins. TK didn’t know what to do as he watched her hold out her hands in an attempt at a calming gesture. He could see her alarm clear as day underneath it.
“I’m sorry we scared you,” she said. She was putting on her best mother voice, trying to deescalate the adrenaline thumping through the injured boy. “My names Tommy. I want to help your friend, and you,”
“Like hell,” the boy ground out. He spat. It was scarlet on the uneven ground. “You’re not touching him. Turn around and leave,”
“We can’t do that,”
The boy sneered, blood rimming his teeth. Despite his expression, his whole body trembled and TK couldn’t tell if it was with anger, pain or the simple effort of staying upright. His gaze never settled, flickering back and forth, calculating and restless. The thought crossed TK’s mind that he looked like a wild animal before he chided himself for it. This wasn’t an animal: this was a hurt, frightened kid who needed his help.
“Sure you can. You always do. I don’t need help,” was the snarled reply they got.
“I disagree,” Tommy said gently. “I get it: you don’t trust us but we’re going to sort this out, ok? Police will be here soon and-,”
Before TK could warn her not to mention the imminent officers, the boy laughed bitterly and then coughed. Blood flecked his lips as he grimaced. “Course you called the fucking cops. You would. That’s your only solution. What, gonna arrest me after this?”
“Son, you’re hurting yourself more. Please let me and my team take a look-,”
“What part of fuck off aren’t you people getting?” Sweat was mingling with blood on the boys forehead: he was only on his feet through sheer force of will, strained at every edge and threatening to crumble. One hand moved quickly, with the other still cradled against his stomach and then Tommy eyes widened and she immediately backed up because suddenly there was a knife in his hand. The blade was steady in front of him despite his state, and TK had no idea where it had come from. His blood roared in his ears as panic surged once more.
“Cap…,”
“It’s alright, TK,” Tommy murmured. Behind her, Nancy was muttering rapidly into her radio. TK caught ‘agitated’, ‘blade’ and ‘police’ among the jumble.
“Yeah TK, everything’s fine. You can go,” The boy edged back a few paces to nudge his friend with his foot. He didn’t take his eyes off the three paramedics. “Wake up. Gallagher. Ian, wake the fuck up,”
So the red haired boy was called Ian.
“We need to take a look at him,” Tommy said. Desperation crept into her voice, inch by tiny inch. Clearly Ian was the priority to the black haired boy, so she focused on that slight leverage. “We can help him,”
TK agreed on the need front. He was becoming increasingly worried about the second boy, who still hadn’t stirred despite the commotion. Whatever had been done to him, it was bad and whatever good intentions the black haired boy held were liable to backfire at any moment.
“Just go away,” the boy haltingly growled. Even as he grew more violent his energy seemed to be fading, slipping from his grasp as the burst of adrenaline dwindled and his injuries caught him up. Still, the knife held steady as he addressed all three of them this time as opposed to only Tommy, who was spared answering by the sudden echoing wail of a siren and a flash of red and blue. The police had finally arrived.
TK hurried to greet them (not before making sure Tommy and Nancy were well out of the knifes range). The boy was kneeling now, white knuckled and white faced and trying to wake his friend again. Every time Tommy or Nancy moved his head snapped over to them, a wary animal ready to lash out the moment the need arose.
The police cruiser had pulled up next to the ambulance, and the poor caller was white faced as he talked to the officer on the passenger side. TK didn’t pay them any attention because all he could see was Carlos closing the driver side door and it took everything in his power not to crumple into his arms. It wasn’t often that they wound up on the same calls together: fate was playing a cruel joke today.
“Oh god, hey Carlos” he said weakly.
Carlos’ already grave face managed to fall even further. “TK? Shit baby, are you ok?”
TK shrugged helplessly. “I’ve had better calls,” he fell into step beside his boyfriend, managed to breathe a tiny bit easier with him there. “One of them is refusing treatment and he won’t let us near his friend. He’s hurting himself more but he’s got a knife and-,”
TK hadn’t realised his words had started to snowball until Carlos stopped to grab his hand. He held it tightly, kissed his knuckles. “Hey, hey. It’s gonna be ok. We’ll sort this,”
TK nodded and they headed into the alley side by side. Carlos looked as shocked as TK had felt while Nancy and Tommy greeted him and briskly filled him in further.
“The second boy is awake,” was the first thing TK registered Tommy saying. The rush of relief made him dizzy. “Barely, and we still can’t get near him, but awake,”
Carlos nodded, squared his shoulders, carefully approached the black haired boy. The three paramedics hung back but stayed ready to move. True to Tommy’s word, his friend was awake and neither of them payed the four adults any attention. Ian was fighting to stay upright against the wall, blinking and whispering while his friend struggled to get an arm around him with his broken wrist. When Carlos moved he looked up, abandoning his endeavour in favour of gripping the knife that bit tighter. “Come near us and I’ll put this through your gut,”
“Ok. Message received. I’m staying here,” Carlos said. He had his hands out in front of him: some people might assume the threat was empty, but TK knew better and so did Carlos. Nothing was more dangerous than a wounded animal who felt backed into a corner. Irrationality smothered consequences, left nothing but violence in it’s place. Self preservation always won out and people were no exception. “But son, I need you to put down the knife,”
“Why? So you can cart me off again?”
Behind him, Ian murmured something and blearily shook his head. The poor kid was confused and exhausted, tugging the back of his friends shirt. His efforts were ignored bar the slightest flickering of a gaze, the uncertain bite of an already bust lip.
“No. You’re not in any trouble,” Carlos assured him. TK was sure threatening four emergency service workers with a knife constituted for a lot of trouble, but that wasn’t something to dwell on right now. “We just need to get you both to the hospital,”
“Mickey please-,” Ian said. He was sitting straighter now. TK willed him to stop moving, terrified about the risk of internal or head injuries that had knocked him out for so long. “You’re sto-,”
“Shut the fuck up Gallagher,”
And there was the other name. Mickey. Mickey and Ian. Not what TK had been expecting but still, it suited him in some strange way.
“I’m asking you again to put the knife down,” Carlos was eerily calm in that police officer way of his. Not an external feather out place, he was utterly in control but TK knew him too well not to notice the hunch of his shoulders and the worry in his eyes. He was rattled.
“Mick,” Ian said desperately. TK could barely hear him. “Don’t be stupid, you need-,”
“I’m not fucking stupid. It’s fine,” Mickey snarled back. His tone surprised TK: he had expected something softer, more worried and willing to listen to Ian, whom he obviously cared for. Instead he spoke with contempt and impatience. “Why can’t you people tell when you’re not wanted. So high and- and fucking mighty,”
His sentence trailed slightly at the end, stumbled over a wince. TK caught it, and he knew Tommy and Nancy had as well. He knew without needing to look that they would also see every warning sign like neon lights around Mickey: the shaking knife tip, the uneven drawing of his stubborn lungs, the sudden lack of focus in his eyes. He was straining every part of him beyond whatever limits he had, still bleeding and more battered than TK had ever seen in his life. This was a boy on the verge of collapse with no one there to catch him.
“Carlos….,” TK murmured. “Baby, he won’t stay upright for much longer,”
Carlos nodded slightly and then his eyes widened at the same time as TK’s stomach dropped. “You have to put the knife down,” he said urgently to Mickey.
Put the knife down or you’ll fall on it.
This time, Mickey didn’t reply because the trembling was worse and Ian seemed to have had the same realisation as TK but he too was still battling with unconsciousness. His weak attempts to grab the blade only resulted in a bloody cut along his palm. Mickey’s non-swollen eye widened when his friend cried out. “Jesus Gallagher, I’m-,”
Ian just shook his head, curled his hand into his chest and muttered something TK couldn’t hear. He was frantic eyed and terrified, blood and tears streaking an impossibly pale face.
Mickey’s furious gaze swung back over to land on TK, boring into him in such a way that TK wanted to squirm. It didn’t last long. When Mickey’s knees finally buckled Carlos was already moving, lunging to safely get the knife from him. Everyone else was moving too. Tommy, rushing to Carlos’ side. Nancy, snatching up her equipment again. And Ian, curled over Mickey where he’d fallen against him. His shoulders were shaking as he quietly sobbed in a ragged wave of gasps, clutching as much of Mickey as he could. Trying to shield him. When TK approached him he was worried, but Ian’s gaze was softer than Mickey’s had been.
“Help him,” he whispered.
“I need to help you first,”
Ian shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said unsteadily. TK knew he was far from it. Now that he was closer he could see the bloody mess on the back of his head, matching a spray on the wall behind him but when Ian fumbled to pull up the bottom of Mickey’s shirt TK understood. He drew in a sharp breath.
Mickey’s stomach looked like someone had taken a knife to it: several deep, deliberate slashes that still oozed scarlet ran across the pale skin. TK paled considerably. The blood loss alone was severe, only unnoticed by the dark fabric and Mickey’s arm, which he’d kept across his stomach. How the hell he’d stayed standing so long was beyond TK.
He swore, violently. “Cap! I need help!”
In an instant Tommy was beside him, helping to manoeuvre Mickey onto his back. She registered the situation in a heartbeat and hardly needed time to think. TK’s hands were shaking as he worked, pushing fluids, unrolling wads of bandages and trying not to throw up. The pulse that had been strong earlier was slow now, painfully so next to the way TK’s was racing.
“Shit, shit c’mon kid. Don’t you dare give up now,”
Mercifully, Ian didn’t seem to share the same objections to paramedics that Mickey did, and let Nancy see to him without protest. Though maybe that was because he had no fight left to protest with. He was still crying, locked in a losing battle to stay awake but now it was evident that TK’s assumptions had been wrong. Ian was in far better shape than Mickey, as well as being far more mellow. His blow to the head was bad enough to have knocked him out, but not quite as bad as it looked.
It felt like an age before both boys were in the back of the ambulance. There was really only room for one but TK had refused to transport them separately and Tommy hadn’t argued. Mickey had almost killed himself to protect Ian from those he clearly hated. Splitting them up now was a cruel concept, one TK could hardly bear.
He stayed in the back with Nancy while Tommy drove. Ian hadn’t said a word but didn’t take his eyes off Mickey as much as he could, until Nancy had placed him in a neck brace. He’d objected but only briefly. Now he stared at the ceiling while she monitored him, and TK stayed laser focused on Mickey: he was growing more confident that the boy would be ok, but wouldn’t be able to breathe properly until they were in the hospital and could get the exact attention he needed. There was a thick, suffocating silence inside despite the beeping and wailing all around them.
“Don’t arrest him,” Ian whispered out of the blue. TK thought for a second that he had made up the words, quiet as they were under the sirens - louder than usual, with Carlos and his partner right behind them in their cruiser. They made his heart break as Nancy caught his gaze helplessly.
“That isn’t my choice to make,” he said gently. “But-,” a split second decision made TK drop the formality of calling Carlos officer. “-I know Carlos - he’s my boyfriend and I promise he’ll understand,”
An impossibly long pause.
“…boyfriend?”
And with that simple, timid question came the most brutal moment of realisation TK had ever experienced. It hit him with unimaginable force, knocked the air from his lungs, made bile claw a burning path up his throat. He swallowed it back, spoke around the lump caught there. Carefully, he reached over the small space to squeeze Ian’s hand. And very briefly before he let go, Ian squeezed it back. “Yeah kid. Boyfriend. And he’s gonna make sure you’re both ok. We know Mickey - that’s his name, right? - Mickey was just trying to protect you,”
Ian tried to shake his head. “He doesn’t wanna protect me. Just hates cops,”
That made TK pause. He looked at Nancy, who shrugged. She looked lost, totally adrift in this situation. “I don’t think that’s true,”
“It is. He doesn’t care about me,”
“Really? Cause he put up a hell of a fight to stop us touching you,”
“He did?”
“Yeah,” Nancy put in, hesitant but determined. “Almost gave me a black eye to do it. Trust me, he cares,”
Ian - who’s tears had been temporarily slowed - was crying again. What had previously been silent sobs turned louder, making dried blood run again and hiding the spray of freckles over his nose. “But he’s still in trouble,” he whispered wretchedly.
In trouble. It was such a juvenile way to phrase it, so innocent and it made TK remember that these boys were barely seventeen. Both of them had seemed much older, much braver and much more capable but now the illusion was shattered and lay in shards at their feet. Mickey was lying still and vulnerable and looking at him now, it was difficult to see what had scared TK less than ten minutes earlier.
“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. He couldn’t bring himself to lie no matter how much wanted to.
“It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything, I swear it wasn’t his fault,” Ian gasped raggedly. The emotion came out of nowhere; it was severe and painful to watch. Tears kept slipping down his face, distress bordering on delirium as he suddenly struggled. “I’m sorry. Fuck Mick, I’m so sorry,”
“Hey, hey, take it easy. It wasn’t anyone’s fault kid, alright? Certainly not yours or his. Just hold on ‘till the hospital,” TK cut in as his heart shattered in his chest. “I need you to stay still while we drive. Can you do that?”
Ian then, rather startlingly, fell silent, sniffing with glassy eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I can,” he whispered. Blindly, he reached across the small space with his free arm in a vain search. A desperate one. It was a moment before TK understood. With a tangible hesitance, he lifted Mickey’s limp hand and placed it in Ian’s.
“He’s here. He’s ok. You’re both gonna be ok, I promise,”
Ian immediately squeezed Mickey’s hand, holding onto him like he was the only tether he had. TK’s heart ached and he fought back tears the rest of the short drive.
The hospital was a blur. All TK knew was Mickey being rushed away with Ian close behind, Carlos making a dozen calls, his own refusal to leave. He saw Nancy whisper something to Tommy and watched her face soften with worry and then Carlos was hugging him and he didn’t care about anything else.
“It’s ok. It’s ok baby, I’ve got you,” Carlos whispered into his ear while TK tried to bury himself in his shoulder. He already knew that Carlos was aware of the situation, already knew that he was breaking down inside as well. There was a sharp stabbing in his chest that had started in the ambulance, in time with every beat of TK’s heart.
“I managed to contact Ian’s family. They’re on their way but I don’t know about Mickey’s,” Carlos said after a moment. “Ian won’t tell me his surname, and Mickey’s still in surgery,”
TK frowned. “Why won’t he tell you?”
“I don’t know. Said he just…can’t,” Carlos was frowning. Clearly he didn’t like that reasoning and neither did TK.
“This is fucked up,” TK said quietly. “How could someone- they almost- just because-,”
“I know baby. I know,”
They must have looked a sight: both in uniform, blood still on TK’s hands and staining his shirt, holding each other up in a busy hospital corridor but TK didn’t care. He wanted to hold Carlos forever and forget about how horrible the world was for a little while.
But, as if trying to live up to the impression TK was forming, fate continued to interrupt. This time it was in the form of a harried, pale young woman - she couldn’t have been over twenty three - rushing down the corridor. She stopped at a reception desk, trailed by a boy the same age as Ian who was obviously her brother. Behind him, a little red haired girl held a chubby cheeked baby and wiped tears from her face while a narrow shouldered boy held his brothers hand, wide eyed.
“Hi, yeah, I’m looking for Ian Gallagher? I was told he was brought in here,”
Carlos glanced at TK, who nodded, and then approached the young woman. “Excuse me, miss? I believe we spoke on the phone earlier,”
“Yes, hi. Fiona Gallagher. Where’s Ian?” she asked. While she spoke, the oldest of the younger Gallagher’s - TK was assuming they were all siblings - was peering into room after room and in his expression TK saw a bit of Judd. Big brother worry mixed with the want to hurt someone. It made the stabbing worse.
“My name is Officer Reyes,” Carlos said, offering his hand. “I was on scene with Ian. Your-?”
“Brother. He’s my brother,”
“Right. Do you know the other boy involved? Mickey?”
“Mickey Milkovich?” Fiona’s face soured in a way TK didn’t like. “Yeah I know him. Why?”
“Do you know where he lives, perhaps any way to contact his family?”
“His family? Why, so you can call up his old man to finish the job?”
“I- I’m sorry,” Carlos hesitated. “I don’t understand what you mean,”
“I mean Terry fucking Milkovich probably did it. Biggest piece of shit I’ve ever met,” Fiona said, like it was obvious.
TK stopped listening then. All he could hear was a high ringing. The sick feeling in his stomach, the pressure behind his eyes. He didn’t know who he thought had done it: some sick, backwards bastards who had seen two boys falling in love and decided it was unacceptable. Someone unknown. But not his father. Anyone but his father. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. That was all wrong.
TK knew he was lucky: there’d never been any doubt about that. Never once had he been scared to say the words ‘I’m gay’ to Owen, or Gywn. Nervous, yes but never truly scared. They’d hugged him and told him they loved him and he’d cried and felt so lucky but after ten years that knowledge started to dull. He still knew it of course, but he took it for granted. With friends who stood up for him, strangers who didn’t bat an eye, Carlos an immovable presence in his life, it was hard to do anything else. This was an ugly wake up call. A painful one. TK couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see, couldn’t think about anything but Mickey.
And then Carlos was crushing him in another hug and TK clung to him like his life depended on it and cried. He didn’t hear Ian’s siblings leave. Didn’t care. He just held his boyfriend and blotted out the rest of the world.
It was an hour before TK composed himself enough to check on Ian. He looked hesitantly through the glass of the door. He saw that kind, red haired boy - upright, with more colour in his cheeks and the baby in his lap. A dozen bandages adorned his bruised person. Fiona was holding his hand, the two younger kids perching on the bed and the older boy slumped in a chair. All of them were smiling tiredly. Lovingly. A family in every sense of the word.
And then TK thought of Mickey, who was going to be ok but who no one knew what to do about. He thought of that ferocious black haired boy, alone in his own bed knowing no one was coming to visit him. Knowing he had no one to hold his hand and tell him they were glad he was ok. TK remembered Carlos’ response when he’d voiced how shocked he was that Mickey had stayed on his feet so long. That he was already covered in scars that Ian didn’t have.That his body was probably used to it in a way no teenager should ever be. TK didn’t know what to do, hated the thought more than anything in the world but it was far out of his hands.
As TK walked away, he was worried. More worried than he’d ever been in his life. He didn’t know if he’d could ever make it stop.
Nine years later
TK Reyes-Strand hated grocery shopping. Carlos always wanted him to get strange organic stuff, niche brands no one else had even heard of. He got them of course, but begrudgingly and not without making sure his husband heard every complaint he had to offer. The shop aisle in front of him now was as daunting and baffling as ever, and TK huffed a small sigh that would have made Carlos laugh. Was he looking at the right things? Even in the right section? He had honestly no idea and was spared from figuring it out by a tap on the shoulder. Turning, he found a man about ten years his younger with startlingly red hair, wearing an expression that could only be described as mild shock. That threw TK off and his instincts told him to worry.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he quickly sidestepped and tried not to do that. It was fine. Just a stranger in a crowded supermarket. “I didn’t mean to stand in the way,”
“Oh, no you’re fine man. It isn’t that,” Suddenly the stranger looked nervous, shuffling his feet and clearing his throat. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something. Might sound weird, but are you a paramedic?”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am,” Wih the question came a sudden whisper of recognition in a dusty corner of TK’s mind. He titled his head. “Why?”
Now the man was suddenly eager, smiling with relief and something else that was unidentifiable. “Wow, thank god. I thought I was going mad,”
TK thought he was going mad until he continued. “I think you helped me and my- well, then boyfriend. Saved us, really. It must have been nearly ten years ago now,”
And then the penny dropped. “Holy shit. Ian?”
A call like that wasn’t one easily forgotten. Ian was taller now, broader. Less freckles and darker hair but underneath it was the same frightened boy TK had helped all those years ago. The same bright, kind eyes and stubborn resolution.
“Yeah!” Ian said, clearly pleased. “You remember my name,”
“Are you kidding man, of course I do. How are you?” The last time TK had seen Ian was permanently seared into his mind and even now the memory was a vile, painful thing. He’d never stopped wondering what had happened to him, and Mickey. Sometimes the worry had cost him sleep, endless nights of analysing the cracks in his ceiling.
“Really, really great. I’m actually a paramedic now,” Ian shrugged. “Partly thanks to you, I guess,”
TK thought he might cry. As it was, he looked at Ian with a stunned expression, mouth slightly open and a smile spreading over his face while the younger man looked sheepish. He couldn’t think of what to say, but Ian continued for him. “And I kinda married Mickey,”
Now that was enough to bring real tears to TK’s eyes; if he’d been worried about Ian, he’d been terrified for Mickey. “No way! That’s… absolutely amazing. I’m so happy for you,”
“Yeah,” Ian’s smiled softened, his face turning distant in the way TK’s often did when he thought about Carlos. “I guess after everything it was kind of inevitable. You might not have noticed but he’s a hard guy to shake,”
TK remembered a protectiveness burning fiercer than any flame he’d ever seen, refusing to be doused even when he could hardly stand. That black haired boy had been a force of nature and had scared TK half to death. “I don’t doubt it,” he said. The increasing emotions were gathering in his throat, his words coming out a little thick. “Wow, you have no idea how amazing it is to know that you guys are ok,”
Ian smiled again and nodded. “We’ve had our ups and downs but-,” Another shrug. “What about you?”
“Well, I’m married as well. To Carlos,”
“The cop?”
“The cop,”
“Congrats! That’s awesome,”
“It is,” TK agreed. Even years on, TK’s heart still sang whenever he said ‘my husband’.
There was a long pause and then Ian laughed softly, shook his head. “Sorry, sorry. I’m so bad at small talk,”
“Who isn’t?” TK didn’t mind the slight awkwardness to the conversation because the emotion, the significance underneath was enough to drown it out. He’d run into patients long after calls before, but this was different. This was so much more.
“Yeah, that’s true. I guess I just wanted to say thank you. I didn’t get the chance to, y’know...before. So thank you so much, for everything,”
It was TK’s turn to shrug and try not to let on just how much that meant to him. “I was just doing my job,”
“Well, your job saved my husbands life,” There it was again, still there after almost a decade: selflessness like TK had never seen before. Not Ian’s life. Mickey’s. The same way that Mickey had fought tooth and nail to protect Ian, never once factoring his own well-being into the equation. Something about the intensity with which Ian spoke made TK think he wasn’t just talking about that day either.
“That’s why I do it,” he replied. And it was. Moments like this, seeing the impact he had on people’s lives, on their friends and families kept him sane throughout the worry, the guilt, the doubt. Spurred him to keep going despite the rollercoaster that came with his job, no matter how much it might hurt.
“Me too,”
TK had to knuckle his eyes then, blinking back burning tears. Maybe fate wasn’t so bad after all. “God, you’re gonna make me cry,”
Ian laughed. He sounded slightly choked as well, smiling in that happy but watery way that came with bittersweet moments. “I can offer a hug, if it’d help?”
“That’s a good idea,”
Later, TK would hold his husband and cry - really cry - for the two stubborn boys who’s lives they’d helped change. For now, he hugged Ian and said, “Take care of yourself kid. And Mickey. For me and Carlos,”
“I’ll do my best,”