Eyes Wide Shut

Beside him, TK sleeps like a baby. Neither of them are bothered by the light so there’s no use for darkening curtains and it allows Carlos’ eyes to trace all of his husband even in the dead of night. His mouth slightly open, his face relaxed, his arm folded in below his body in a way Carlos knows will make it numb by the time he wakes up even though he’s so tough when it comes to serious injuries but so whiny about a prickling arm or a runny nose. The other arm lays curled close to Carlos’ chest, his wedding ring the dimmest glint in the near dark room. 

He slides closer, until his forehead gently touches TK’s sternum and he can soak in the familiar warm smell of his husband. He knows each inch of his skin, his lips traced where his fingers had been first. Deeper than that, he knows the inner world of TK well enough to know which conversations to skirt, which buttons to press to bring him to smile, the things that fill TK with shame and the space compassion takes up in his body to the point of his own suffering.

Carlos knows the beginning and ends of him; but even long before they were married he had the sense that he understood TK. Soulmate, he’d said and meant it. What he hasn’t told TK yet is that he has always thought he’s had a sixth sense when it comes to him. 

When TK didn’t show up for a dinner date, Carlos’ chest had ached long before the time stretched into a worrying amount and it only increased when TK didn’t answer his phone and even more so when Carlos discovered he wasn’t at Owen’s house either. When the plane came down, Carlos chalked his shortened breath up to the typical anxiety he got about his loved ones traveling. Every single time TK came home to tell him he was in a burning building, he was hit by a patient, he just made it out of a manufactory before it blew up, Carlos understood that the whale lying on his ribcage had been justified.

But then, he hadn’t really seen all of it coming, had he? 

He hadn’t known the ice would break because his heart at that time had been frozen from the seconds he faced his ex in the furniture store. He hadn’t known that the minute he’d leave to get food before flying to the funeral, TK would be seeking a way to ease his suffering.

Today, there’d been thick glue sticking Carlos’ lungs shut, but that felt too dull in comparison to the weight his body had to carry each day since his father’s death. 

Every movement is more strenuous these days, and it's easier to shut off paying attention to every single ache individually. His suffering is a conglomerate that is easier to shoulder, because if it isn’t— if he really looks at the wide-stretched net of his pain— he feels like he would sink through its holes and never return.

So any additional burdens, Carlos piles on top and goes about his day because he has to. And he wants to. Everyone tells him that the grief will ease. It is hard to navigate in a dimmed world, but life means walking blindly and trusting that everyone is right about the light at the end of the tunnel.

It will have to get better because there is no alternative. Sometimes, TK looks at him in a way he never had before. Like Carlos is the only one feeling like he knows TK better and better each second they spend together. TK seems to search for something in him that he’s lost, as if Carlos is a stranger to him. And Carlos understands.

He wants himself back too, and he knows the only way to do it is to solve his father’s murder. It’s why he spent some of his time while watching Izzy and Evie going over the same case files he sees when he closes his eyelids. He’d brought the documents anyway, before knowing that Trevor would be there, but that’s what he’ll say to justify to others if him working on his day off makes it out of the twin’s mouth to Tommy and then to TK. 

An elastic had been around his entire chest while he read his father’s case file, his lungs in its tight grip, but Carlos hadn’t paid it any attention. Even when TK called to tell him he was still out with his team, evacuating a school, Carlos didn’t pay the screaming ribcage any mind. He didn’t want to watch the news, didn’t want to hear Trevor and the girls repeat how late it was getting and how no one had heard back from the 126. 

Instead, he had been the voice of reason, reassuring them that they had evacuated the area, surely late because they were helping elsewhere. 

“And if you don’t believe me, my husband’s with your mom,” he said. “And he has nine lives, so everyone around him will survive anything too.”

Izzy looked at him a bit appeased, but Evie was visibly annoyed the way only a teenager could be. “We’re not six anymore, Carlos,” she said. “We know miracles aren’t real.”

Carlos had wanted to reply that not only were miracles real, they lived and breathed and loved lizards too much, drank coffee when it was piping hot then complained about it, laughed louder than anyone else in the cinema and when they did, even the grumpiest of people joined in. 

Nothing was wrong because nothing was wrong because nothing was wrong—

Carlos bore the weight of his phone daily even after the night his mother had screamed through it, and there would never be a day he could go without it being fully charged, a power bank in his satchel. And as long as no one called, nothing was wrong. 

He could open his father’s case and mull over the same information of the last lead he had that ran nowhere, while he thought of an angle to revive it. There had to be something he missed. His gut was telling him there was something he missed and his chest—

The door opened and Tommy walked in, followed by TK and ah there was his breath. See, nothing had been wrong. He could get up and greet his husband, same as always, extra tight for the day he must have had with the train wreck, the chlorine gas, the destruction he must have seen. Maybe they could grab dinner outside somewhere, go to their favorite Indian place, the only one that made samosas right. Then he’d draw TK a warm bath, let him soak alone with a dumb reality TV show he loved and work a little more and they’d see if either of them was up to having the lazy kind of sex they had after long and draining shifts.

Carlos had known none of those plans would fold out the second TK was in his arms, holding him like a lifeline. There was something about how TK hugged him back, the relief in the sigh he exhaled, dropping into Carlos’ arms like it took all the effort to get there. To find himself back here.

His entire rib cage ached from it, cooking up pain like destiny had waited for the reality of it to show Carlos what it had ached for the entire day. Past meeting present.

That’s when Carlos knew. Everything he’d done that day to assure everyone in the Vega house, the pizza, the painted toenails, the goddamn case, so he could ignore a strapped down ribcage while his husband nearly died. There’s no doubt about it. He was so happy to see TK walk through the door, always, but Carlos only tightened his hug further and rubbed his shoulders once he knew how much TK had thought he wouldn’t ever have it again.

They had to get out of there. The way TK folded his hands in his pockets, the way his eyes roamed, Carlos knew he wanted to talk to him. They bid everyone goodbye, Carlos feeling equal parts relieved and guilty when Tommy thanked him for watching her daughters.

Carlos took TK’s hands but only as the door closed behind them, did he ask, “Hey. What happened? Are you okay?”

TK’s eyes glistened in the streetlights. “I am now.”

Carlos didn’t press the first question until they were in the Camaro, sealed in behind multiple doors. He twisted around to the passenger side as much as he could, cursing the tight space of the sports car, as he slipped his hands in between the jacket and TK’s sweater to be closer to his skin. 

“What happened?” Carlos repeated. “You said you were going to evacuate the school and then all contact broke off? Did you have to evacuate more buildings? Was the cloud ever close?”

TK smiled, but it fell soon after. “When I was on the plane a few years back, and we were plummeting…I came so close to dying so many times in my life. But that was the first time I actually was awake and coherent enough to really grasp what that would mean. Yes, during that moment I was scared, but I was in such a dark place, I didn’t really fear dying.” He took a deep breath, while Carlos lost his ability to breathe at the memory. “And then today I— Tommy wanted to look for a missing person and Nancy and I couldn’t leave her behind. We were too late. We hid in this classroom but the cloud was already wafting through the slits of the door, around the jackets we stuffed under it. I thought the fan might help. Or I didn’t, I don’t know, I was just desperate to protect Cap and Nance and to come back home to you.” TK broke off to chuckle wetly. “Nancy was on my case the entire ride back. About how much faith I had in this little table fan I set up in front of us to save us from chlorine poisoning. She’ll never let me live that down.”  TK extracted one arm from Carlos to bring his palm to his cheek. “But on the plane and now, I don’t know, I believed I was about to die and I didn’t?”

“God,” Carlos murmured, kissing TK’s palm and curling his other over the heart that was still beating. “God, I had no idea.”

No idea? His tight chest protested this lie.

“Tommy talked to Wyatt on the radio,” TK continued. “She made arrangements for her girls, and all I kept thinking was that it wasn’t necessary. Because how could it be possible that I would never see you again?” TK blinked until tears fell and Carlos couldn’t hold back any longer, everything snapped, even the weights on his back, as he pulled TK against his chest as best he could between the seats. “But then I understood it. I nearly— I nearly didn’t see you again.”

“You’re alive,” Carlos mumbled into TK’s temple, cradling his neck and his spine, holding them upright when TK felt so fragile in his arms. “You’re alive, you’re alive.” 

His own tears pooled over, always so ready to drop these days if he wasn’t careful, but that night he didn’t curse them. 

When they came home, a lot of the dread and anxiety had already fallen off of TK. He’d gotten so much better at bouncing back, but Carlos couldn’t marvel like he usually did at marrying the strongest man on the planet.

Now Carlos breathes TK in, cold sweat he’s never been happier for, and his perfume that smells faint but still sweet and flowery in the crook of his shoulder. He holds the bones of TK, his frame so familiar, sturdy and strong, giving Carlos the perfect body to wrap around without crushing him, but making him feel large all the same. He had nearly lost the way TK’s breath feels against his skin, the way his fingers dig into his shoulder blades and lips curl into the kisses on his cheek. The way his tears feel and how he  always makes sure to brush his thumbs under Carlos’ eyes before his own tears fall.

He’d nearly lost TK tonight and he hadn’t even known.

Or had he?

He wants to wake him now. Ask him. If TK knows that if he had died without even a message to Carlos, that it wouldn’t have mattered because there is no corner in Carlos, no organ, no cell, that doubts TK’s love. If he can forgive Carlos for being distracted while TK was out there, looking death in the eye without him? If Carlos had held him tight enough when he came in. If he can forgive him for not allowing himself a second of wondering if one more person was ripped away—

“Baby?” TK’s eyes are squeezed shut but his fingers start carding through Carlos’ now short locks without hesitation. “Can’t sleep again?”

They’ve been here before. Too many times these past few months. A hand will slip down Carlos shoulders, the gentlest rake trying to coax Carlos into sleep by rubbing his back. His stomach sinks as he thinks about his sixth sense, of the way he must have known TK was in danger but chose to ignore it.

Carlos doesn’t deserve to be touched gently after today. 

“How can you sleep?” Carlos asks, heart feeling so heavy it should tip the bed to his side. 

TK slides closer like he’s actually tumbling toward him. His hand keeps on trailing up and down Carlos’ back. “I’m okay.” He kisses the top of Carlos’ head. “I can sleep because you’re here tonight and that’s all I need.”

Tonight.

Carlos turns the word around and around but it won’t shift from looking like an accusation for all the nights he wasn’t in bed.

It pulls the first confession out of him. “I took the case file with me when I went to watch the twins.”

TK’s hand stops its gentle scratches. “Oh. Okay.”

“I didn’t even watch the TV when the live news updates were on.”

“Baby—”

One thing kicked loose, and now Carlos can’t stop the rest from spilling. “I didn’t even check my phone to see if maybe I had missed one of your messages.”

“Carlos.”

“I knew you were in danger and I fucking ignored it and distracted myself with that case and making pizza and giving someone else relationship advice. But I knew!”

When Carlos sits up as the nausea goes up from his stomach to his esophagus, TK follows him. “What do you mean?” TK asks softly into his shoulder. “Did Wyatt call you?”

Confused, Carlos shakes his head. “Wyatt?”

“Did Wyatt update you guys that we were still stuck in the elementary school when the cloud was above it?”

“No,” Carlos says, trying to swallow the panic with the tears. “But even when I left the station after I brought you donuts, I had this feeling . This tightness in my chest. It’s the same feeling I had when your team was kidnapped and when you stepped on the plane. I know when you’re in danger.” Hearing TK sigh, Carlos feels irritation meet the tightness between his ribs. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true.”

“I didn’t say it was ridiculous,” TK counters softly.

“But you think it is.”

A hand turns his head toward TK, whose eyes are shimmering too. “I think you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself to make sure people you love are safe and taken care of. That’s what keeps you up at night and what makes your chest so tight.”

“It’s not the same,” Carlos argues.

“You have anxiety, Carlos. Remember the panic attacks after you were abducted? I know that has gotten better, but after everything that happened with your dad—”

“It’s not the same!” Carlos snaps, twisting away from TK’s hand. He gets up, giving into the restlessness shaking his bones and starts pacing by his side of the bed. “I knew you were in danger today and I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even want to think about it. I didn’t even pray for you to come home. What if I hadn’t even known that you’d died?”

The only thing stopping Carlos in his tracks is glancing at TK on the edge of their bed and seeing the way he’s slumped in on himself. And he caused this. He made TK relive this day and now they’re in this fight, because there is nothing Carlos can do to steer his life back into the light, not even for TK.

Instantly, Carlos sinks to his knees beside TK, the way he never thought his pride would allow for anything except for pleasure or asking for his soulmate’s hand. This is him surrendering in a way he’d never felt he was permitted as a man.

His hands cup the back of one of TK’s knees as he lowers his forehead to it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

TK shakes out of his grip with difficulty, because it pains Carlos to let him go. But he does. He has to. Something warm and solid robs his breath as his head is pressed to it.

“Breathe,” TK says from a distance. “Breathe, baby.”

Air shudders in, sharp like glass shards. Carlos continues to follow the instructions anyway until he crashes back down to earth and into his body. Slowly, he understands that he is pressed into TK’s shoulder, and soaking the material of his shirt with his tears. 

He’s broken down in front of TK too many times to count ever since the dam of the facade he put up cracked and spilled. None of these times has TK ever made him feel weak for it. It still hasn’t gotten any easier to cope with the shame of his own vulnerability, even in these safe, loving arms. 

He extracts himself to wipe away his tears but TK quickly replaces them.

“Take another deep breath for me.”

“I’m okay now,” Carlos slurs. “Sorry.”

TK’s thumbs stroke his cheeks dry. “Come on. One more.”

His breath audibly shakes, sounding like a whimper. He’s crying when TK is the one who looked at his own death today. What kind of man is he, what kind of husband, to make it about him?

“I should have—”

“There’s nothing you should have or could have done,” TK interrupts him. His voice is firm. Undoubtable. “Nothing either of us could have done. We both know our jobs are dangerous. The other day, you acted as a decoy and someone pointed a gun at you, knowing full well that the last driver had died that way. And today I ran into a building and tried to save a life, knowing she was doomed even if we got to her. Those are the risks we take. That’s the kind of people we are.”

It would be so nice to believe they’re the same.

“I used to be able to handle it all,” Carlos says, eyes to the ceiling. “I used to take care of you.”

TK gets up on his knees to catch Carlos’ gaze, like he always would if the roles were reversed. He wishes the roles were reversed. 

“You’re grieving,” TK whispers.

“It’s been months. And I’m not sad… Most of the time, I’m just so numb.”

“It’s been years, and I still have days where I miss my mom so much that every breath feels like a chore I don’t want to do without her.”

That makes Carlos shake off the last bit of panic keeping him small. “I wish I could turn back time for us. We were so happy when you moved into the loft. Remember when our biggest troubles were the arguments about how to recycle right?”

Instead of dreaming with him, TK shakes his head. “We can’t go back. And we were happy even during the hard times. At least I was.”

“I was too,” Carlos reassures him, grabbing TK’s wrists. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I wasn’t.”

TK sighs and kisses his cheekbone. “I get what you meant, but I want to make sure that you don’t lose sight of all the goodness we still have even during our toughest times.”

“I know. It could never touch what we have,” Carlos says. “But I feel like I’m failing at everything right now.”

“You’re not failing at everything.”

The thick tendrils of doubt pull out the worst of Carlos’ crimes. “I’m a lousy husband.”

“No, you are not ,” TK says, his sharp tone allowing no argument. “You are not a lousy husband. You did nothing wrong by not completely tearing apart Tommy’s house in worry over me today. Keeping a cool head is the best thing you could have done. You are human and you’re doing the best you can.”

It’s not good enough. Carlos knows TK hates how he’s working late. How distracted he is even when he’s home, his mind always stuck on the last thing he read up on. It’s not the right moment to bring up how many ways he is messing up in their marriage, but clearly he is. Clearly, TK isn’t as happy as a freshly married man should be.

“I’m going to give you everything,” Carlos promises, kissing TK’s knuckles. “I’m going to give you the entire world once I’m better.”

“All I’ll ever need is you .”

It feels so good to hear it. So healing. But it doesn’t stop Carlos from following it up with, “I’m this close to solving the case and I promise you, everything will change after that. Give me a little more time.”

TK breathes out and it sounds like devastation. His eyes trap the arguments they had about this, the recognition of the words Carlos must have said too many times to count. He doesn’t say anything though. He presses his silent lips to Carlos’ and that is familiar in the sweetest way.

“Let’s go back to bed,” TK whispers. 

Carlos follows him up and back under the covers, his legs shaky but held together by the press of his husband’s touch. The air is filled with disappointment, his own and TK’s, but they mix perfectly well together. After all, he’s the common cause of it.