#Tarlos Fanfiction One-shots

Chlorine Gas

What if TK inhaled the chlorine gas? 

*****

The day they faced the chlorine gas leak, TK had done what he always did—put on a brave face and focused on the task at hand. The wind shift had saved them from the worst of it, and they'd all come out seemingly unharmed. He'd told himself he was fine, brushing off any lingering discomfort as mere exhaustion from the long shifts. Two days later, TK still hadn't mentioned the occasional tightness in his chest. He convinced himself it was nothing—a minor side effect that would fade. After all, the team had survived far worse, and Carlos was still deep in the whirlwind of his father's murder investigation. TK didn't want to burden him with more worry.

But the tightness didn't fade. It worsened. And TK kept pushing himself, ignoring the dizziness and the burning sensation that sometimes made him gasp for breath. Until he couldn't anymore.

Carlos returned home late that night, exhausted but fueled by determination. The case consumed him, taking him away from the one person he needed most. He'd told TK he'd be home earlier, but leads had come up, and the hours slipped by. When he finally stepped through the door of their loft, it was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

"TK?" Carlos called, setting his keys on the counter. No response. A faint unease prickled at the back of his neck.

"TK?" he called again, louder this time, as he moved through the apartment. When he rounded the corner into the living room, his heart stopped. TK was on the floor, his body curled in on itself, eyes closed, and his face pale and glistening with sweat.

Carlos's vision blurred. He dropped to his knees beside TK, his hands shaking. "No, no, no. TK!" He gently turned him over, cradling his face. TK's breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling with agonizing effort. Carlos pressed two fingers to his neck, finding a weak but steady pulse. Relief mingled with panic.

"TK, can you hear me?" Carlos's voice broke. He ran his fingers through TK's damp hair, willing him to wake up. "Please. Open your eyes."

A weak groan escaped TK's lips, his eyelids fluttering. He tried to focus, but his gaze was unfocused, dazed. "Carlos?"

"I'm here." Carlos's voice was thick with emotion. "I'm right here."

"It... hurts..." TK whispered, each word a struggle. He clutched at his chest, gasping for breath.

Carlos's heart clenched. He needed to get him to the hospital—now. He carefully scooped TK into his arms, ignoring the burning ache in his own chest as fear threatened to overwhelm him. "Hang on, baby," he whispered, pressing a kiss to TK's forehead. "I've got you."

The drive to the hospital was a blur of flashing lights and Carlos's desperate pleas for TK to hold on. By the time they arrived, a team of doctors and nurses took over, rushing TK into the emergency room. Carlos stood there, frozen, the image of TK's pale face burned into his mind. He blamed himself for every second he hadn't been there. If he had come home earlier... if he had seen the signs... if...

Hours passed in a haze. He paced the waiting room, replaying every moment, every missed opportunity to notice that TK wasn't okay. He barely registered the presence of the 126 when they arrived, their faces etched with worry. Tommy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but it did little to quiet the storm inside him.

When a doctor finally approached, Carlos felt his knees go weak. The doctor's expression was serious, but there was a hint of confusion in her eyes. "We're seeing significant inflammation in his lungs," she said, her tone measured. "But we're not entirely sure of the cause. It's unusual—was there any recent exposure or incident that might explain this?"

Carlos opened his mouth, desperate to provide an answer, but his mind was blank with worry. That's when Tommy stepped forward, her face paling as realization dawned. "Oh no," she whispered. "We're paramedics. We were at the scene of the train derailment a few days ago. There was a chlorine gas leak."

The doctor's eyes widened slightly, nodding as if pieces of a puzzle were coming together. "Chlorine gas exposure can cause delayed inflammation and respiratory issues, especially if it wasn't detected immediately."

Nancy, who had been standing off to the side, spoke up, her voice soft but urgent. "That would explain it. He's been so breathless for the last two days, but he brushed it off."

Carlos clenched his fists, a wave of guilt washing over him. He brushed it off, he thought bitterly. And I didn't notice.

The doctor nodded again, now with more understanding in her eyes. "Thank you. That context is helpful. We'll treat this as a severe reaction to chlorine exposure. He's stable, but it's critical. We'll do everything we can."

Carlos could only nod, the words barely sinking in. All he knew was that he needed to see TK. And he needed him to be okay. Critical. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Can I see him?"

The doctor hesitated, then nodded. "Briefly."

The room was too bright, too sterile. Machines beeped steadily, and tubes snaked around TK's body. Carlos stepped inside, his breath catching at the sight of his husband—pale, fragile, but alive. He pulled a chair close and took TK's hand, careful not to disturb the wires and IVs.

"I'm so sorry," Carlos whispered, his voice trembling. "I should have been there. I should have noticed..."

TK's eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first but slowly finding Carlos. "You're... here now," he rasped, his voice barely audible.

Carlos squeezed his hand, tears streaming down his face. "I can't lose you. I won't."

TK's lips twitched in a weak smile. "You... won't. Promise."

For hours, Carlos stayed by his side, whispering words of love and comfort. He pressed kisses to TK's knuckles, his forehead, vowing over and over that he would never let him go. The road to recovery was slow, but eventually, TK's condition stabilized. The swelling in his lungs reduced, and his breathing improved. The worst was over.

Days later, TK was sitting up in bed, color slowly returning to his cheeks. Carlos walked into the room with a tray of food, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion. "Room service," he joked, setting the tray down. "And before you say you're not hungry, too bad. Doctor's orders."

TK laughed softly, the sound weak but real. "Bossy."

"Always," Carlos said, his voice warm. He sat down beside TK, their knees touching. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," TK admitted, his gaze meeting Carlos's. "Thanks to you."

Carlos's jaw clenched, emotion flashing in his eyes. "Don't thank me. I should've been there sooner."

TK reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. "You're here now. That's what matters."

Carlos exhaled slowly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to TK's forehead. "Next time, I'm wrapping you in a bulletproof, fireproof vest. And maybe a bubble, just to be safe."

TK grinned, his eyes bright. "I'd probably find a way to mess that up, too."

Carlos chuckled, the sound soft and full of love. "You might. But I'd still be right here, putting you back together."

"For a paramedic," TK said, feigning exasperation, "I really do spend too much time in hospitals."

"Not anymore," Carlos said firmly, his hand resting on TK's cheek. "We're done with this."

"Deal," TK whispered, leaning into his touch.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other's presence, knowing that no matter what the future held, they would face it together—stronger, closer, and more in love than ever.

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