#911 lone star 5x09 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hurt-comfort-cache · 17 days ago

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SHE'S DONE! AND I STILL FINISHED A DRAFT OF THE GRANT PROPOSAL!

400 miles (and a lot of blood)

Carlos hears the bullet pass through flesh, sees the Chief’s body collapse into the dirt with a thud, blood pooling under his head. It isn’t until Campbell hits the ground that he becomes aware of his own body again: His side hurts. Inhaling is agony. It’s as if his left side is on fire. His breaths come in wheezes, but he can’t get enough air. The pain is piercing, burning, and stabbing, all at the same time. He can’t think. He can’t breathe.

He blinks and sees someone staring down at him. He thought it was a blink, at least, but it could’ve been minutes or hours. There’s a pinch in his right arm, then a cool rush. He doesn’t know how he feels it amidst the pain. Voices are swirling around him, but he doesn’t want to listen. He’s so cold. Why is he cold? It was 70 degrees yesterday. Can’t he just go to sleep?

“Carlos?”

That’s his name. He should probably listen…

“Carlos, can you hear me?” It’s the same voice.

He groans. Someone is prodding his side, unbuckling his vest. Paramedics, his mind supplies. Where’s TK?

He cries out involuntarily when he’s lifted onto a backboard, the movement piercing. The same voice is still trying to talk to him, probably ask him where it hurts—everywhere, dammit—but the rushing sound in his ears is growing louder. There’s a tingling sensation in his fingers, somehow separate from the pain rather than shadowed by it.

They’ve cut his shirt off by now, too, which only makes him shiver more. How is he this cold? It can’t be the elevation… He lets out a shuddering exhale. An inhale. It’s as if no air comes in. Why can’t he breathe? Why is he moving?

Without warning, the open sky is replaced by a fluorescent light. He closes his eyes and tries to gasp in pain, but he can’t. “Can’t… breathe…” he pants.

Even colder metal touches his chest, then something wet brushes his side��it’s immediately cold, he realizes, not warm at first like the blood leaking out of him with every heartbeat. The voice says something else muffled, then something pierces his side. He gasps again. His lungs fill with air. Someone must put an oxygen mask over his face, elastic pinching the tops of his ears. His own breath is warm on his face, but he’s breathing.

The painkillers they’ve definitely given him make the pain more distant, but never far away. It’s as if it’s next to him, a separate entity that’s holding his hand, grounding him while the drugs make him float away. He wishes TK was there to hold his hand, but he doesn’t know where TK is. The drugs win in the end, and he slips away.

read more below the cut or read the rest on ao3!

TK leans against his locker, phone in hand. 6 missed calls. None from numbers he recognizes, either… He feels his stomach drop to the floor. “Hey Nance, can you finish restocking the saline in the rig? I gotta check my voicemail.”

“Sure thing,” she chirps. “Everything okay?”

He swallows, tasting bile. “I sure hope so.” He presses play on the most recent voicemail.

“Hi Tyler; this is Camila from Big Bend Regional Medical Center. I’m calling on behalf of Carlos Reyes. You’re listed as his emergency contact and next of kin. If you could please give us a call, the number for our emergency department is 432-837-0209. Thank you.”

TK’s knees feel week. He slides down the lockers until he’s sitting on the floor. Big Bend? Like the national park? That’s hundreds of miles away…

The sound of Nancy’s footsteps interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, can you remind me that we need to order more cathet—” She stops. She must see him, because the next thing he knows, she’s dropped onto her knees and has a hand on his shoulder. “TK? What happened?”

“It’s Carlos.” He barely recognizes his own voice.

“What’s wrong?!”

“I…” He clears his throat. “I don’t know. The hospital just left a voicemail.”

“Have you called them back?”

There’s something stuck at the back of his throat; he’s sure of it. He doesn’t try to speak, shaking his head instead. He plays the voicemail again for her.

“Oh, God, TK. You need to call them back.”

His hands are shaking as he dials the number.

“You have reached the Emergency Department of the Big Bend Regional Medical Center. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 9-1-1.” The phone rings once, twice. TK tries to steady his breathing as the speaker crackles. “Big Bend Emergency Department, Camila speaking.”

“Hi,” TK begins, voice cracking. “Umm, you called me a few hours ago, but I was—I was on shift. You said my husband was brought in? His name is Carlos. Carlos Reyes.”

He hears the receptionist typing on the other end. “Yes, he was brought in by ambulance this afternoon. Are you Tyler?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat again, willing his voice to work. “Yes, ma’am; that’s me.”

“Carlos was brought in with a bullet wound to the chest. His lung collapsed in the ambulance, but they were able to reinflate it. Surgery to repair the damage began as soon as the surgeon arrived. He’s still in surgery now.”

“Shot? He was shot?” Tears are welling up in his eyes now, so he swipes roughly at his eye. “Is he okay?”

“They were able to stabilize him in the ambulance. We’ll know more once he’s out of surgery.”

He feels Nancy squeeze his shoulder reassuringly, but he doesn’t look at her. His gaze is fixed on the lockers across from him without really seeing them. What should he even say? It’s as if all of TK’s paramedic training has left his body with her words, leaving just a scared loved one behind. “Ma’am?”

The receptionist—Camila, that was her name—waits for him to finish. She’s good at her job, he thinks distantly.

“You said… you said Big Bend?”

“That’s correct, sir. We’re in Alpine.”

“I, umm…” He laughs, somehow. “I don’t know where that is.” She must know he’s crying by now, so he doesn’t try to stifle it.

“No worries, honey. We’re about an hour off I-10, two hours from Odessa. One of the Rangers said y’all are from Austin? We’ll take good care of Carlos until you get here.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Of course. Is this number the best way to reach you?”

He almost nods, then remembers he’s on the phone. “It is, ma’am. Can you call me if there are any updates?”

“Sure thing, hun. Do you need our address?”

What he needs is to get on the road. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’ll find it online.”

“Please drive safe. Carlos needs you.”

The drive to Alpine is a blur. It’s like he blinked and went from a large city to the desert. He barely remembers getting in the car and merging onto 290. Hell, he wouldn’t have stopped if he didn’t need gas. All that mattered was getting to Carlos. Nancy offered to come with him so he wouldn’t be alone, but the 126 couldn’t afford to be down both their captain and interim captain any more than TK could afford to spend another minute without seeing his husband. The only positive is that, after passing Fredericksburg, he barely sees any other cars and there’s no reason to speed when the limit is 75. Welcome to the middle of nowhere, he thinks bitterly. Carlos must be fine, right? He survived the hour-long ambulance ride here, and Camila called again somewhere around exit 300 to say that he made it through surgery.

Any thought he might’ve had is drowned out by the pounding of his own heart as he parks and steps through the automatic doors of the emergency room. It feels strange to be at the ER without a patient to drop off, but his feet carry him to the intake desk all the same.

There’s a middle-aged woman sitting behind the desk. She looks tired, but then again, it’s the middle of the night by now. He wonders if it’s the same receptionist from earlier, or if they’ve switched. He clears his throat to get her attention politely.

“How can I help you, sir?” The voice isn’t hers. He needs to explain himself again, then.

“Yeah, hi. My husband, Carlos Reyes, was brought in yesterday? He was shot.”

Her hands are poised above the keyboard, ready to look him up in the system, but she hesitates. “You said he was shot?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s a Texas Ranger. I just drove all the way here from Austin.”

She nods. “He came in before my shift, but he’s been the talk of the hospital. He was admitted to the emergency room and he’s in…” She pauses to type, acrylic nails clacking. “…Room 129. I’ll let the doctor know you’re here and she can talk to you.”

“Can I see him first?”

“Why don’t you sign the visitor’s log and take a seat right over there? I’ll get Dr. Perez now.”

He nods mutely, legs carrying him without thought to what will surely be an impossibly uncomfortable chair. He thanks her anyways. He feels stupid for asking, knowing the doctor just wants to keep him from freaking out, but he needs to see Carlos breathing first.

He wants to check his phone while he waits, but he’s too anxious to be distracted. It’s probably dead anyways… Directions ate at the battery and Carlos was borrowing his car charger. God, Carlos… He puts his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and tries to calm himself while he waits.

“Family of Carlos Reyes?”

TK looks up. He makes eye contact with a woman in a lab coat and stands hurriedly. “How is he?”

“He’s stable and sleeping now. The bullet collapsed his lung, but they were able to reinflate it in the ambulance and I repaired the damage when he arrived. We’ve eased him off the sedation and have him on antibiotics to prevent infection.”

“I… Can I see him?”

She nods. “Follow me. Please don’t be alarmed with the tubes and machines; he’s actually doing remarkably well for someone in his condition.”

“I’m a paramedic,” he replies automatically. He places IVs and restarts hearts every day; he can handle seeing Carlos in the hospital… right?

Dr. Perez pushes open the door and TK sees him, lying partly upright in bed. He’s alive. He’s alive. Carlos looks pale, but his heart is beating steadily; the pulse ox beeping steadily is proof of that. There’s a drain snaking out from where the wound must be, under his gown, and a drip in his arm. TK uses his arm to drag the chair in the corner to his bedside and collapses into it, taking his husband’s hand. It’s cold, but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” the doctor says. TK had forgotten she was in the room, wholly absorbed by being reunited with Carlos.

They removed his wedding ring during surgery, he notices, and looks up at her. “Can I have his patient bag?”

“I’ll have a nurse bring it when they change his IV.”

TK doesn’t remember falling asleep, but his upper back aches and someone is squeezing his hand. He groans, opening his eyes and seeing the hospital. He snaps back to awareness and sits up immediately. “Carlos!”

Carlos smiles, eyes tired. “Hi babe,” he says. His voice is raspy from intubation, but it’s music to TK’s ears.

TK looks around for a pitcher and, finding one, pours Carlos a cup. He knows he should press the call button, let a nurse check his love over, but it can wait because Carlos is alive and awake. He puts the straw to Carlos’ lips, letting him hold the cup and take a few tentative sips. Once he’s sated, TK speaks up again. “What happened?”

Carlos groans, making TK sit up straighter in a momentary panic. “Later,” he promises. “’m too tired right now.” He pats the bed with his free hand.

As much as he wants nothing more than to crawl into the bed next to him and hold him ‘til he’s healed, Carlos should be looked over before he falls asleep again. Reluctantly, TK presses the call button.

A nurse comes in shortly after. TK sees a plastic bag labeled “patient belongings” in the other chair, crossing the room to it as the nurse checks Carlos’ bandages. He pulls out Carlos’ phone and, after a bit of digging, his wedding ring.

“Everything looks good,” the nurse says to them. “You have a slight fever, but we have you on antibiotics and the wound is draining well, so don’t worry too much about it. I’d be surprised if you had a bullet and debris in you for a few hours and your immune system didn’t have anything to say about it. I’ll be back in an hour to bring you some food if you’re up for it, okay?”

Carlos nods politely, but slumps back onto the pillows in exhaustion as soon as she leaves.

“Room for one more?” TK asks, smiling.

He can see Carlos’ face draw up in pain as he tries to scoot over, but he settles soon enough. TK slips off his shoes and crawls onto the thin mattress, mindful of the various wires and tubes.

“Here,” he says, taking the hand with the pulse ox and slipping the ring back on. “Better?”

Carlos makes a contented noise. “With you next to me? Always.”

seriously considering forgoing the grant proposal i'm supposed to be working on in favor of writing a fix-it fic for last night's 911 lone star episode, y'all...

#whump fic #my writing #911 lone star #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star spoilers #911 lone star 5x09 #hospital

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