#Tarlos Fanfiction One-shots

The Edge of Regret

Carlos Reyes had never been angrier at T.K. than he was in the last 24 hours. Their argument about T.K.'s decision to confront Iris about the divorce without telling him had left Carlos raw with hurt and betrayal. T.K. had crossed a line—something so personal to Carlos had been meddled with. That kind of disregard cut deep, and now Iris was missing, making everything worse. The fight that followed had been brutal, with words slung like knives in the heat of the moment, but what lingered the longest was the feeling of being blindsided by the person he trusted most.

The anger hadn't left him since. Now, as they stood on the edge of a cliff, summoned to help a woman who had reportedly fallen, Carlos avoided looking at T.K. altogether. Their usual unspoken connection in the field was nowhere to be found. The space between them felt like a chasm that widened with every second they spent apart, even though only a few feet physically separated them on the rocky ledge.

T.K. had arrived with the 126 crew, ready to rappel down with Paul to assess the victim's condition. He could feel Carlos' fury in the air—it was impossible not to—but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task. Usually, they worked together like a well-oiled machine. Today, Carlos didn't even acknowledge him. That hurt more than T.K. wanted to admit. They had fought before, but this—this was different. Carlos had closed himself off completely, and T.K. could feel the icy wall between them.

Carlos stole a glance against his better judgment. His eyes followed T.K. as he descended, but something felt off. T.K. wasn't moving as smoothly as usual. He could see the tension in his fiancé's body, the subtle hesitation as T.K. maneuvered around the jagged rocks. When T.K. glanced back up at him, the flash of fear in his eyes was unmistakable, and it sent a jolt through Carlos' chest. He had never seen T.K. look like that—not in all the dangerous situations they had faced together.

Carlos' gut twisted with a sudden wave of panic. "T.K.?" he called into the radio, his voice tight with concern. There was no response. "T.K., talk to me," he tried again, louder this time, but only static came back.

Before he could call out again, a sharp snap echoed through the air. Carlos' heart lurched as he saw the rope fray, unraveling before his eyes. In an instant, it gave way entirely.

"TK!" Carlos screamed into the radio, terror ripping through him as he watched T.K. plummet. For a split second, their eyes locked, and Carlos saw pure fear in T.K.'s face—then T.K. crashed onto a small platform jutting out from the cliff. The impact was brutal, the sickening sound of bone meeting rock sending a cold shock through Carlos' veins. His breath hitched, and for a moment, the world went silent.

Carlos frantically called into the radio again, but there was still no response from T.K. His blood ran cold as he heard Marjan's voice break through. "The rope's gone! He's down hard, and we're struggling to reach him. The terrain is worse than we thought."

Carlos' hands clenched into fists, helplessness gnawing at him as he watched the 126 crew inch their way down. His heart was racing. Every second felt like a lifetime.

"Someone needs to get to him!" Carlos shouted into his radio, the panic in his voice unmistakable. "He's not answering—he's hurt!"

Marjan was the first to reach T.K., her voice tight with fear as she spoke into the radio. "It's bad. T.K. has a puncture wound in his side. There's a lot of blood—he's losing it fast. We need to hurry."

Nancy was right behind her, already checking T.K.'s pulse. "He's unconscious, but he's still with us... for now. We need to get him up, or we'll lose him."

Paul's voice cut through the growing panic. "We need more time to rig a stable lift. The rocks are shifting under us. We can't rush it."

"We don't have time!" Carlos shouted into the radio, the desperation raw in his voice. He could feel his composure slipping. "He's bleeding out!"