#Tarlos Fanfiction One-shots

Shattered Pieces

Shadows in the Silence Part 2

Trigger Warning:

This story contains themes of emotional distress, self-harm, and suicidal ideation, which may be triggering for some readers. If you or someone you know is struggling, please know that help is available. You are not alone.

This one-shot also serves as a reminder of the importance of checking in on loved ones. Sometimes, a simple conversation, a genuine question, or a moment of connection can make a world of difference and prevent someone from feeling alone in their struggles.

Helplines:

・US National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Dial 988 or visit 988lifeline.org  for support.
・Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 (available in the US, UK, and Canada).
・International Helplines: Visit befrienders.org  for a global directory of crisis centers.

Please take care of yourself, and reach out for support if needed.

This storyline is purely a work of fan fiction and is not part of the official 9-1-1: Lone Star narrative.

***

Carlos unlocked the door to the loft just before midnight, his body heavy with exhaustion but his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Tonight had been the turning point, or so he hoped. After dropping TK off, he had gone to the station, not to bury himself further in his father's case, but to organize and delegate his workload. He wanted to make good on his promise to be home on time, to be present, to fix the damage he'd done to their marriage.

As he stepped inside, something felt off. The lights were on, TK's bag and jacket were discarded on the floor—a clear sign that TK hadn't been in the best mood. Carlos called out softly, "TK?" but there was no answer. He paused, listening carefully. There was no sound from the bathroom or the bedroom. Then he noticed a faint shuffle coming from the kitchen, but he couldn't see TK over the counter. His stomach tightened with unease as he moved closer.

When Carlos rounded the counter, his world stopped. TK was slumped on the floor, his wrist slick with blood, a pool of crimson spreading beneath him. The knife lay discarded nearby. TK's face was pale, but there was a peaceful smile on his lips, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

For one horrifying moment, Carlos thought TK was gone. His knees threatened to give out, and his breath hitched painfully. Then he noticed the subtle twitch of TK's hand, the knife slipping further from his grasp. Carlos's instincts kicked in, snapping him out of his shock. TK wasn't gone—he was still here, still breathing. He needed help, and he needed it now.

Carlos dropped to his knees, pulling out his phone with shaking hands. He dialed 911, his voice cracking as the call connected.

"911, what's your emergency?" came the calm, familiar voice of Wyatt Ryder.

Carlos's breath came in shallow gasps as he spoke. "This is Texas Ranger Carlos Reyes. My husband—he's bleeding. He cut his wrist, and there's so much blood. Please, I need an ambulance now."

"Carlos? Is that TK?" Wyatt's voice shifted, concern flooding through as he typed furiously into the system to dispatch help.

"Yes, it's TK," Carlos choked out, his voice trembling. "There's so much blood. He's—he's not responding."

"Carlos, listen to me," Wyatt said, his voice calm and steady. "Help is on the way. I need you to stay focused. Can you tell me where you are?"