Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For as long as he could remember, TK had been able to see ghosts. Once or twice TK, in a drugged up state where he was high enough that he gripped the bedsheets with white knuckles to avoid falling off the earth, would say this to someone. Each time the person would sniff, laugh a little and throw in a ‘wicked’, and then go back to what they were doing.

TK didn’t find it wicked at all. He found it terrible.

It hasn't always been so bad. When he was seven, just after his grandmother died, she would come and sit on the chair beside his bed, eyes watery and sunken in. Death was something that TK didn’t particularly understand, wondering why his mummy and daddy would cry so much when she was right there.

Sometimes she would weep as she sat. Other times, she stared into the darkest corner of his bedroom and spoke to something TK couldn’t see. When TK would scream, his father would chastise him for making things up and upsetting his mother.

He hadn't seen her for a long time. By then, TK had begun to despise this woman who existed only to get him told off, only to have his schoolmates call him a freak at sleepovers.

After 9/11 however, it was much worse. Nobody had told him that when people die, they keep their marks. His dad came home, limping heavily with shadowed eyes, followed by his old team.

TK had screamed when Markus staggered toward him, legs shattered below the knee and jaw half-torn from his face. He had gagged and cried when Uncle Steve’s head crunched and cracked as it moved side to side with each step, slivers of white bone poking out from jagged cuts. He had wailed when he couldn’t tell if his dad was alive or dead.

After tens of meetings with various therapists, TK learned to be quiet about it. His dad had begged him to talk to the ghosts, saying that TK had a gift and he would be selfish to not use it.

Later, TK would realise that his father was traumatised and grieving. Owen had wanted his family to be at peace, it must have seemed like a blessing that TK could give him that chance.

TK had never seen it as a blessing. He had regretted letting his father know, because now Owen seemed unable to move on and his mummy wanted a divorce. They would scream at each other when they thought TK was asleep.

The worst ghost by far was the one who began to follow him home from school each day. This only lasted for a few years, before he got too old to be of ‘interest’. He smelt of rot, a gunshot apparent above a bloodshot, displaced eye, erupting from his receding hairline on the other side.

What was worse was the feeling that followed this man. It was like mist on his skin, the sheer evil that seeped out of every pore of the decrepit beast. But what could TK do?

Ghosts came and went, some aware they were dead, some not. They could choose when they were visible, but TK always knew when they were there. He couldn’t explain how, just that it was like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Over time, he had gotten better at ignoring them. He barely slipped up anymore, accidentally talking to one who looked so alive or flinching at a particularly bloody death. Most of them had little interest in him, despite their appearance they were still people.

His ‘power’, if you would be so bold as to call it that, was many things. Irritating. Frightening. Haunting. Certainly, it was not ‘wicked’.

— — — — —

It took until they pulled up outside the abandoned firehouse for TK to realise that this was, in fact, not some elaborate prank. His father, knowing his abilities, had genuinely brought TK to what might be the most haunted place in Texas.

“It’s a new start!” Owen had said, with far too much enthusiasm for a man who had overdosed barely over an hour ago. “Won’t it be great to be able to use your gift to help people there?”

TK didn’t particularly feel like using his ‘gift’ anywhere. The ghosts had never helped him, in fact TK didn’t recall more than one or two over the years even being civil toward him.

They were especially bad after a tragedy, and this place had tragedy written all over it. The flowers outside were a nice touch.

Inside was even worse. Whilst he couldn’t actually ‘feel’ ghosts, there was a psychological element to having a person walk through you. TK was unsure if the cold vacantness of the building was psychological or not.

The odor of burnt flesh permeated the air, likely stemming from the man who was chatting away happily to a non-existent friend. Bitterly, TK thought that at least someone was happy.

The man must have been one of the firefighters who worked here before, based on the yellow stripes of his clothing. Or what was left of his clothing. His skin was charred, peeling off in strips like old wallpaper. One eye was watery and half-melted.

TK swallowed down the nausea and averted his eyes. Every now and then, TK would remember that at some point, this was a person just like him. He didn’t like those moments.

Noticing his distress, Owen placed a hand gently on his shoulder, eyes unbearably sympathetic.

“It’ll get easier.” The captain promised. Were he not about to vomit, TK would likely have used every weakness he knew his father held and torn him apart with them. How dare he say that.

— — — — —

Whilst the interviews were conducted, and the building was painted and knocked down and dragged back into the world kicking and screaming, TK got to know the rest of the ghosts.

He did his best to be civil with all the new employees, but couldn’t help the intense resentment tucked away under his skin. In a childish manner, TK hoped that if he continued to act like a spoiled brat then his father would give in and he could go home.

The only reason he even came was because he couldn’t bear New York anymore. He had tried to convince himself that getting away from all the memories of Alex would make things better.

Logically, he knew that there was no escaping what was wrong with him, no matter where he went. Emotions didn’t care much for logic. It wasn’t Texas, or New York, it was him.

His dad, in that regard, was a scapegoat. TK couldn’t yell at whatever higher power had cursed him, or at Alex for being so selfish and cruel.

When Juddson Ryder arrived, TK had at last found someone more haunted than him.

He didn’t care to learn the names of the ghosts, and they didn’t seem interested in telling him. Still, he nicknamed them.

Bone guy was quite self-explanatory. The skin and muscle had been torn away from his arms, so much so that the pinkish-white bones peeked out between the wrenched skin. He didn’t pay any mind to TK, almost obsessively slunking after Judd as the man stormed out the house.

The barking man spoke only in short, angry spurts. TK had witnessed a lot of people realising they were dead, and each time he felt pity. The lines were blurred for him, but he imagined it must be quite the horrible observation. At first look, TK had thought he was still alive, until he saw the concave wound on the abc of his skull.

Mr Weep would cry when his wife and daughter came by, as though he were only just remembering what happened. The rest of the time he seemed to wander in a daze, ineffectively rubbing the truck down. He looked normal if you ignored the jagged piece of metal that stuck out of his chest.

The last guy was Burnie, the guy TK had seen when he first came into the firehouse. This guy was the only one who would talk to TK, not that it was particularly good conversation. He was harmless, so when nobody was around TK would respond.

Looking at the pictures on the memorial board, TK assumed that most of the ghosts had moved on. He hoped so.

TK didn’t consider himself to be an expert on death, but he had picked up a few things. People on the other side didn’t seem to see life in the same way that the living did, at one point a ghost having told him it was a little like dreaming.

Perhaps it was only when you came to terms with what had happened that you could move on. A mental obstacle to overcome.

TK would be lying if he said he was enthusiastic about working alongside Judd. He felt bad for the man, but it didn’t have to be TK who made it better, right? If anyone saw what he saw, they would understand.

— — — — —

When Mateo slipped on a job, nearly falling over the side of the building, TK had been so angry that he didn’t know what to do with himself. The poor probie had been almost in tears by the time TK was finished.

Afterwards, TK had become public enemy number one and got countless seething glares over the rest of the day. The guilt curled like a snake in his stomach.

A psychologist would have pointed out that it wasn’t anger, not really. It was fear. Unfathomable terror at the idea of seeing another young man pottering about the station in a daze, sobbing intermittently as he realised he was dead.

Despite his best efforts, TK did actually care about these people.

That's why he had to keep this secret. What decent person would tell Judd that his team was not all at peace yet? Who would say that telling Paul his grandmother walked beside him, bitching about how she missed her ‘little girl’ and using his deadname?

Who would tell Carlos that a little girl he had been just slightly too slow to save sometimes watched him from behind the door, giggling as though she were playing hide and seek? Ignorant to the dark bruises marring her neck.

It felt invasive to know these things. It felt wrong. At the police station, covered with bruises and feeling more alive than he had in months, TK had wondered whether perhaps he could try to love Carlos.

Alex had been… well he had been a mistake. TK wanted the bad feeling to be gone, and when he was with Carlos it was. But then he would see the little girl.

It was stupid to believe that he could ever love anyone. Anyone who thought they loved him couldn’t possibly know him, and anyone who knew him couldn’t possibly love him.

— — — — —

At last, he hit a breaking point.

Back in New York, the ghosts had felt manageable. They weren't, of course, but at least he knew what to expect there. If he decided to give up on his sobriety, he was just a stone's throw away from a supplier.

In Texas, things were different. Things were slower, which meant the ghosts were too.

A few days prior, TK had arrived at a scene where the person was already gone. Before they even went into the building TK had seen the woman standing just outside the door, blood coating her clothing and pooling in her shoes.

The official cause of death was murder, after an ex had turned nasty. ‘Such a shame’ the neighbors had said, after they ignored the constant thumping over the months before it happened. ‘If only we had known’ said the police who stopped bothering with the domestic calls to the area.

It had been just him and Judd in the firehouse tonight, catching up with the last of the paperwork. They mostly ignored each other, Judd still furious with TK for the grain silo incident.

The woman had been following him ever since, begging him to help her. For once, the smell of iron overpowered the smell of smoke and burning. The constant drip drip dripping of her blood on the concrete floor was deafening in TK’s ears.

At last it was too much.

“I can’t!” TK wailed, despair thrumming in his veins with every heartbeat. “I can’t save you, please stop. Please leave me alone!” He dropped to his knees, barely able to feel the pain as they cracked off the floor.

“I can't do this anymore!” He sobbed, distantly aware of Judd speaking to him, voice pitched with fear and concern. “Why are you punishing me? I just want it to be quiet, I will do anything to make it quiet.”

Standing, TK started pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. It felt like he was going to explode, with every neuron in his brain firing at once. Desperate for some escape, he clawed at his wrists, thrashing as someone tried to stop him.

The woman kept begging, and TK screamed. He screamed until he couldn’t anymore, voice rough and scratchy. Blind with terror and pain, TK lashed out at the ghosts surrounding him, unable to bear the way they just watched him. He didn’t stop until something heavy forced him to the ground, and his arms were pinned behind his back. Something sharp dug into his neck.

He struggled weakly, but there was nothing left in him. He felt empty. It probably would have sounded like a better alternative, but TK found it to be just as bad as the desperation. He remained limp as he was rolled onto a backboard, soft restraints attached to his wrists and ankles.

As he was rolled into an ambulance, TK wondered if he was dying. If he did, would he know? Maybe he already was, and that was why he felt so unreal. A light shone in his eye, but TK ignored it, just as he paid no attention to the rubbing at his sternum.

He didn’t pay attention to anything at all.

— — — — —

When TK came back to himself, he was in a hospital bed. He didn’t think he had been unconscious at any point, but he couldn’t remember a thing.

Something was wrapped around his wrists and ankles, and after an experimental tug TK accepted that he wasn’t going to get anywhere until someone let him out.

For his entire life, TK had despised hospitals. Given his condition, he thought it was an understandable aversion. The place was so filled with grief and tragedy that TK could feel it, pins and needles at the surface of his skin.

For the first time in weeks, he was completely alone. TK remembered the first time he woke up in hospital after his first overdose, and he had truly thought that he had escaped. How naive.

For a long time TK had wondered if he was crazy, and he was just imagining all these ghosts. It had been both a comfort and a source of grief when he was able to confirm he wasn’t by telling his father things that a kid couldn’t possibly have known.

The door opened, and TK let his head fall to the side. He didn’t have the energy to bother doing anything more. Carlos paused when they made eye contact, but only for a split second before TK allowed his head to list to the side to return to a staring contest with the ceiling.

“How are you doing?” The officer asked, voice soft and quiet. There was a witty retort to be made, but TK instead offered a shrug. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I got upset.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“What are you, a shrink?” TK hissed. Why bother with all these questions, what was he expecting TK to say? Everyone would believe that he was crazy, and there was nothing he or his father could say to make it appear otherwise.

“I want to help you TK.” Carlos soothed, only serving to make TK more irritated.

“You can't.” Carlos thought for a moment.

“I can try.” With a sigh, TK turned back to the man, taking in his pretty dark eyes and gentle expression. What the hell, he might as well.

“I see dead people.” He stated. Carlos blinked, averting his eyes and biting his lip.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You actually believe me?”

“I believe that you believe it.” TK rolled his eyes.

“I’m not crazy,” he retorted defensively. “I can prove it.” As the words left his mouth, he regretted saying it. The little girl was crouched in the corner of the room, head cocked as she watched him curiously.

There was no way he could tell Carlos the truth. There was no way he could tell this gentle, loving man who had stopped the car on the way back from the station to allow a duck to cross the road that he was being followed by a dead child.

TK had never asked what happened. Once, when he was younger morbid curiosity would have taken over, but he knew better now.

Carlos raised an eyebrow expectantly, but TK shook his head.

“I can't tell you.” He whispered, despairing.

“Why not?” It was a gentle probe, almost convincing enough to make TK believe that the officer actually believed him. In his silence, Carlos found his answer.

“You think it’ll upset me.” TK nodded. Carlos shifted in his seat, drawing closer to TK. The firefighter almost felt uncomfortable at the intimacy, but after so many months of people avoiding him it was nice to have someone so close.

“Ghosts don’t see things the same way we do. Sometimes they are upset, but mostly they just… exist. Not everyone gets that.” The man admitted. Carlos seemed to consider this for a moment.

“Tell me.” TK started, disbelieving, but Carlos didn’t bat an eye. “When I became an officer, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to save everyone. I knew it would upset me when I couldn’t, but I decided it was worth it anyway. I made my choice.”

Deciding that it was worth a go, and if Carlos felt like he could deal with it then so be it, TK sighed.

“There's a little girl. I think she’s got to be, oh I don’t know four or so? She’s got blond hair and brown eyes, and her clothes look like they're probably second hand. There's tearing at the neckline, like she was dragged or something. And her neck…” TK trailed off.

The little girl giggled again, vanishing. Where she went, TK didn’t know, but he could feel that she was gone from the room. Carlos paled.

“Clarissa Kentworth. There was a call to her house, apparently none of the neighbors had seen her for ages when they used to see her every day. When we got there…” Carlos swallowed.

“Do you believe me?” TK asked hesitantly, waiting for the man to either freak out or drop headfirst into denial. Instead, Carlos nodded.

“Her neck… that was never revealed publicly. I don’t see how else you could have known.” It seemed far too simple, but TK was so relieved to have someone actually believe him that he was close to tears. He blinked them back forcefully.

“So, you see them all the time?” TK nodded.

“For as long as I can remember. It’s funny, my mum never let me watch Sixth sense because she thought I would be too scared.” It wasn’t really meant as a joke, but the ludicrous nature of the whole situation made both men start giggling. It took several minutes for them to calm down enough to speak.

“That sucks.” Carlos commented. TK raised an eyebrow.

“You find out I can see dead people, and that there's an afterlife, and you say ‘that sucks’?”

“I mean, what else is there to say?” TK shrugged.

“My dad wanted me to act as a ghost telephone so he could talk to his old firehouse. He’d bring me into the station and ask me who was there. I sort of imagined that you would do the same.” To his credit, Carlos looked horrified.

“That’s terrible. Obviously I don’t know your life story but seeing dead people sounds awful. Especially when you’re a kid.”

“My dad always says that it’s a gift. That I should be using it to help people move on, and that I’m being selfish for not using my-” with what little space he had he used his fingers to make air quotes “power for good.”

“That seems unfair. I became a cop because I wanted to save people, and because I watched my dad come home every day and thought ‘someday I'm gonna be just like him’. I’m guessing your dad probably became a firefighter for similar reasons.”

“I have no idea what you’re going for here Carlos.”

“What I’m going for is that it was our choice. You were born able to see dead people, including how they died, which is pretty fucking traumatic. To me, that doesn’t sound like a gift.”

“You don’t think I should save people?”

“I think you do save people, as a firefighter. You told me that ghosts don’t see things the same way we do, and I think that there is a reason for that. Call me old fashioned, but I don’t think dead people should be able to control the living. We can do our best to respect them and we can love them, but we don’t live for them.”

Despite himself, TK started crying. Between sobs he apologised.

“Nobody has ever… validated me.” He explained. Carlos frowned.

“You aren't crazy TK. If I went through all the trauma you must have gone through I would probably have done what you did. I doubt I would have held out that long.”

“I haven’t gone through trauma.” TK argued, confused.

“It’s not really my place, but I would say you have. Seeing that many dead people, especially considering you could see how they died, as an adult is terrible, let alone as a kid.”

TK pondered Carlos’ words. It felt, for the first time, like things had begun to slip into place. All the emotions and outbursts that he hadn't been able to explain. All the nightmares and fear that followed him wherever he went.

“I don’t know how to fix this.” TK trembled.

“I don’t know either, but we will find a way, alright? We’ll get you out of here, and we will find a way.”

“We?” TK questioned. Carlos nodded firmly.

“I’m not here to be your boyfriend, not if you don’t want that, but I want to help. Like it or not, you’re my friend, and you have far more people who care about you than you think.”

“You’re biting off more than you can chew Reyes.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Chapter Text

There are certain memories that stick with you for the rest of your life, no matter how desperately you try to forget. Most days they are manageable, given enough time. Other days, it is a snapshot hiding in every photograph, every smile of a loved one, every shadow.

One such memory for TK happened at what was supposed to be a perfectly pleasant lunchtime. Owen had made veggie burgers, which TK had choked down with a smile despite a mouthful of pure, poorly mixed tomato. His father had been so enthusiastic that it would be ‘the best burger they ever had’, and nobody had the heart to tell him otherwise.

It was at that point that Burnie, who had previously been sitting on a spare seat with a half aware smile, moved to go and do whatever it was he did when TK couldn’t see him. Over the months, TK had picked up quite the talent at completely ignoring the ghosts in the firehouse, but on this day he hadn't been able to look away.

As he rose, Burnie pressed a hand into the table, and when it retracted a ribbon of burnt, reddened skin peeled away. The ghost was unbothered, but TK was less fortunate.

Suddenly, the tomato no longer looked like a tomato.

TK was retching forcefully before he had even fully registered what was happening, pure adrenaline pulsing through his system. With nothing to fight, and nowhere he could possibly escape from the vision, TK was frozen in place.

After a period the invisible bonds loosened, and TK reached the sink with centimeters to spare, spitting out a mouthful of bile. His whole body was overcome by cold shivers, covered with sweat that left him trapped between too hot and too cold.

The hesitation, paired with a healthy dose of hyperventilation, left TK coughing and choking. His throat burned agonisingly and terror thrummed in his chest as the firefighter wondered if he was going to die.

Eventually the sensation eased off, and TK collapsed to the floor, wooden cabinet handles digging painfully into his spine. The team was staring at him, faces ranging from pity to abject horror.

Burnie, conveniently, was nowhere to be seen.

— — — — —

“Can you see any ghosts following me?” Paul asked one morning, as the pair relaxed on the couch after a tiring call. TK observed the man for a second.

When you tell someone that you can see ghosts, there are several reactions that they might have. None of them could be considered right or wrong, but there were ones that TK preferred.

Paul had a glimmer of pity in his eyes, the question asked out of mild curiosity in an attempt to be supportive. TK knew that the firefighter didn’t believe him.

It was not a cruel disbelief, or even outright denial, just certainty of their own reality. For people like Paul, who knew that all evidence suggested ghosts aren't real, it was far easier to assume TK was suffering from a mental illness.

TK couldn’t begrudge him for that belief, he himself doubted most so called ‘psychics’ who charged $100 an hour for desperate people to get some glimmer of hope that their loved ones weren't gone forever. Not only was mental illness a more obvious explanation, it was also more comforting.

Mental illness meant that you could go on living with the same worldview as before, albeit with a little more pity for the unfortunate soul cursed with such visions.

This was, TK noted, one of the kinder approaches a person had taken toward him when he told them. ‘Can you see any ghosts following me?’ The man had asked. Not ‘Is there’, or ‘who’, a poorly disguised attempt to prove TK wrong, ‘can you see.’

Paul was asking in a way that didn’t outright say ‘I believe you’, but did say ‘I believe that you believe this’.

In response to the question, TK was uncertain what to say.

For as long as TK knew Paul, there had always been an elderly woman following him. She must have passed quite peacefully, TK observed with relief, since it was almost impossible to tell her apart from her living counterparts.

Unfortunately, thus far she had been nothing but a miserable old bat, constantly berating Paul for not being what she wanted. It was likely a product of her time, but TK didn’t have the patience to listen to her transphobic slurs and use of Paul’s deadname.

As Paul asked, the old woman gave TK an expectant look. He knew what she expected of him, and got a bit of satisfaction when he instead answered ‘No’.

Paul had just nodded, gave TK a pleasant smile, and returned to his book. It irked the man, to know that his friend thought that he was crazy, but what else could he do? The only way he could prove that he was telling the truth was to tell Paul about this woman. Expose him to her cruel words and taunts, make him aware that in everything he did, she was following.

Sometimes, it was better for the dead to stay dead. That was TK’s opinion at least, though he was certain there would be millions who disagreed. In response, he felt that when they were given this curse, they could do as they pleased.

— — — — —

Marjan was one such person. She, like his father, believed that TK had been blessed, and that he wouldn’t have been given this ability unless there was a reason for it. Once again, it was a fair enough opinion.

He wondered whether either of them would say the same thing if they were watching the teenage man who had just stepped into the firehouse.

A dreadful head wound was displayed across his face, so deep that under the blood TK could make out a part of his skull. His eyes were pointed in different directions, one bulging out of its socket in a terrible show of what killed him.

Underneath all the gore, TK recognised the kid. William ‘Billy’ Glenn had gone missing on his way back from the cinema, after spending the evening with his friends. So far, nobody knew what might have happened to the kid. Nobody except TK.

It might seem like the obvious thing to do would be to ask Billy what had happened to him, but TK knew it wasn’t so simple. In death, you moved at your own pace, and in doing so you came to peace.

For however long he needed, Billy would wander around quite contentedly until he realised he was dead, something he would do in his own time and accept before he even knew it. The only thing that could change that would be TK telling him before he was ready.

The idea of making someone, barely even a teenager, suffer more than he already had, was a cruelty that TK couldn’t force himself to do. He had made that mistake before, just once.

Instead, he had to sit with the heavy weight of knowledge. With no idea where or what or who had happened to Billy, there was nothing he could say to the police. He hesitated to even tell Carlos, worried it would make it appear like the cop had some involvement in the case.

He watched as the parents came into the station to hand up missing posters, desperate to believe that they would be reunited with their beloved child. All he could do was pray that someday, Billy could tell him what had happened, so that he could bring the family some peace.

TK wondered who exactly this was a ‘gift’ for.

— — — — —

Mateo had one of the worst reactions, given the unfortunate fact that he believed TK.

You might have expected that belief would be a relief, after all there were only so many times you could be called ‘crazy’ before you started to wonder if it was true. Sometimes that was the case, and it would actually allow TK to become closer with other people, but this was not one such situation.

TK had always felt somewhat protective over Mateo, he had an aura of innocence and naivety about him. It hadn't been an option to not tell him, Mateo would have likely picked up on being excluded and felt all the worse for it, but that didn’t make it easier.

When TK walked into a room, Mateo would go white as a sheet, as though he had been broken from a peaceful mindset by the reminder that the dead were all around him. Each time TK so much as flinched, or just stared off into the distance while lost in thought, Mateo would grow anxious and sweaty.

The kid was terrified.

One morning, after a painfully drawn out night shift, TK had come downstairs to see a new ghost, who was watching Mateo with wistful longing in her gaze. Once, she would have been a beautiful young woman, but that was hidden behind a sickness riddled body.

At that moment TK recalled that Mateo had a cousin who had been in hospital. Observing the porbie as he hummed contentedly to his music, doing a little dance as he went between cabinets to make a cup of hot chocolate, TK knew instantly that he didn’t know she was gone.

“We didn’t say goodbye.” The woman whispered, half to herself and half to TK. Uncertain of how to comfort her, TK gave a small shake of his head. The woman sighed, before looking back to Mateo.

“Don’t tell him yet, please,” The woman pleaded. “I want to have just a few more moments.” Mouth dry and fingertips buzzing, TK ducked his head obediently. By now, Mateo had turned around, jumping slightly when he saw the firefighter.

“Is there someone there?” The kid questioned, blood draining from his face and mug nearly dropping from his fingers. TK dragged his eyes from the woman, plastering on a false smile and shaking his head.

“Uh, no, no. I was just lost in thought, I’m so tired.” He fumbled. Ever the trusting one, Mateo just smiled and sighed with relief.

The words were like ash in his mouth, and he murmured out a jumbled excuse before hurrying back upstairs and locking himself into one of the shower cubicles. In a daze, TK didn’t even remove his clothes before turning the cold water on.

His skin started to sting, fingers numb with cold, but Tk refused to move until his mind had gone blank. He would do anything to not have to feel the regret and pain, and the cravings for anything that could ease it tugged at his heart.

It wasn’t until an hour later that the call came for Mateo, and listening to the kid cry was one of the hardest things TK had done since they arrived in Texas.

— — — — —

Judd was so talented at acting like TK didn't actually exist that the younger man was starting to think he might have actually died and not realised it.

It wasn’t like people hadn't hated TK for his power before, hell he hated himself, but it did make everyday life a huge inconvenience. When they had a call, Judd would speak to him in tight, thin sentences, and nothing more.

It wasn't even TK that the man was so angry at. It was the idea that his family might not be at peace, the idea that the god he believed in either didn’t exist or wasn’t the way Judd had thought. TK’s argument that he actually had no idea if there was a god or not didn’t seem to ease this.

If Judd would allow him, TK hoped to someday explain that ghosts didn’t see time the same way they did. They didn’t feel scared or angry, or at least not in the same way the living did. The old firehouse team were not there through force by some evil higher power, they were just there.

TK had accepted that Judd would likely never get along with him. It made his skin prickle to watch everyone get along so well whilst he was left out in the cold, and his heart throbbed when Judd and his father had their little ‘conversations’, but he was fine. He had to be fine.

Even if he wasn’t, it’s not like anyone would be able to help. Nobody would even try, he felt.

That's why it was such a surprise when Judd came into the gym at the same time as TK. The medium was so shocked that his arms trembled, the weight almost crushing him before Judd pulled it off.

Coughing and rubbing a sore sternum, TK eyed Judd warily. His expression was unreadable, but his hands wrung each other in a repetitive, self soothing motion. The pair remained in tense silence for a long moment.

“Can I help you?” TK asked eventually, the tension making his heart thrum anxiously. For the first time, Bone guy seemed to take interest in TK, head cocked in curiosity. It took conscious effort to not look away from the jagged, pinkish-white stubs where a pair of hands should be.

“Why can you see them?” TK blinked in confusion, but Judd continued, voice strained and touched by unspoken agony. “You don’t even seem to care about them, or even respect them.” Ah, one of those.

“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you why I have to do this, but I can't.” He responded tiredly. Judd tensed with anger.

“Don’t you realise how many people would do anything to see the people they lost? To be able to speak to them? I would do anything to spend just one more day with my friends.” Logically, TK knew that Judd was making reasonable points, given what he knew, but that didn’t help the rage bubbling in his chest.

“Of course I do.” TK hissed between gritted teeth. “But I’m not seeing ‘Jake the fishing buddy’, I see people who have died horribly. I see people who don’t even know they're dead. Is that how you want to see them?”

It was a bit of a cruel blow but TK was too riled up to care, despite Judd being appropriately upset at the implication.

“So what? That gives you the right to be a dick about it? Sorry that little baby TK could bring peace to hundreds, he’s too busy being uptight.” Judd growled.

“I can be a dick about whatever I want. Go ahead, be all high and mighty, but you can't say shit about how I handle this when you don’t have to deal with it.” TK snarled, voice laced with venom.

“You think I’m disrespectful to ghosts? What about how disrespectful they are to me? I was followed home by pedophiles when I was a kid, I saw New York after 9/11, I see innocent people who’ve been murdered beg for me to help them and I can do nothing.” The younger man seethed.

“Every person we lose at a call wants to know why we didn’t save them, and every little kid who’s died stands at the end of my hallways. Go on, tell me how I should be grateful to have this power, that it’s a ‘gift’.” Judd was lost for words, and TK rose sharply.

With a final “Fuck you,” he stormed out the gym.

— — — — —

After his outburst, everyone seemed hesitant to speak to him, as though they were afraid of what he might do. It served to make TK feel even more isolated and detached from the unit, leaving him regretting everything he said.

Well, that wasn’t entirely correct. Truthfully it had been a relief to finally get some of it off his chest, but he did regret how it happened. Of all the people who deserved some sensitivity it was Judd. The man hadn’t done anything that wasn’t fair given his experience, it just happened that he was the one TK snapped at.

Owen had been sympathetic, because he always was. TK loved his father, but the man did have a habit to act like a friend only to bail when things got rough. Owen didn't ask for a son like him after all.

Then there was Carlos. Despite everything, the cop had stuck by TK’s side. The officer would appropriately call him out when he was stuck in his own head and acting ‘dickish’, but was somehow also gentle and loving when TK had a hard time. It was very different to what TK was used to, and he didn't quite know what to make of it.

On the days when TK cursed the world, wracked with pain over whether he was making the right choices, Carlos would either come over or call him until he felt better. Carlos would listen patiently to every rant TK had about how difficult things could be without complaint.

In return, TK did his best to be there for the cop, but he never felt as confident as Carlos seemed to be. He had no idea how the officer always seemed to say the right thing to make TK just a little self-pitying.

Several months after they met, Carlos would admit that he was winging it, and had no plan when they started talking. He wasn’t entirely sure how it went as well as it did, but was glad for it anyway. The admission would make TK laugh so hard that he choked on his drink.

Being with Carlos was like being high, in the best possible way. They never ran out of things to say, and every joke they shared brought so much elation that TK would feel lightheaded. TK would be the first to admit that he had a bit of a troubled history with partners, prone to chasing physical sensation as an escape from his own head, but this was completely different.

In the past there were times that he would sleep with someone as an agreement of sorts. ‘If I get you off you’ll pay for the oxy, right?’ TK wasn’t exactly ashamed, he knew that addiction had that soft effect on a life, but he was sometimes troubled by memories at night.

Somehow, the worst nights were the ones where he just couldn’t quite recall whether they had done anything. It wasn’t a feeling of violation, mercifully, rather a feeling of anxiety that he didn’t know what he had done. A feeling that he was out of control of his own life.

Those nights were less around Carlos. For the first time in years, he felt alive.

— — — — —

Roughly a week after the incident, Judd came up to him. TK had been worried, hair prickling as he anticipated a fight, but the older firefighter raised his hands in a gesture of calm.

“I uh, I wanted to apologise,” Judd began. “When I lost my family, it was like everything else became mute, and I wondered if I had lost the ability to feel… well anything. The firehouse reopening didn’t fix that exactly, but it gave me something to believe in again. It felt like I could move forward.

“Then you told us what you could do. It made me feel like I was back in that place, because suddenly all the things I had told myself, and all the justifications I had for it being okay that I’m the one that lived were gone. I could only think about how I felt, I didn’t imagine what it was like for you. I'm sorry.”

TK was a little taken aback, having to take a moment to organise his thoughts before he responded.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have thrown that all at you, you didn’t deserve it. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Judd shook his head.

“Maybe I don’t, but you don’t either. I ain't been doing a good job at making you feel welcome, but you are a part of this family TK. You’re dealing with a lot of shit that you never signed up for, you shouldn’t have to hide it to make us feel better.” TK huffed.

“You know a lot of people say that but they don’t actually want the truth.” He replied half-heartedly. It wasn’t coming from a place of anger, more a resignation that it was the way of the world.

“Well we want the truth.” Mateo said sharply, making TK jump. Paul and Marjan stood beside him, nodding approvingly. “Your problems are our problems man.”

“You don’t have to tell us everything,” Paul said hesitantly, “but we promise to listen when you do.” TK was slightly surprised by the turn in the group, chest feeling shaky.

“It’s worth a try at any rate, don’t you think?” Marjan added.

Emotion tugged at TK’s chest. He had heard countless declarations before, but something about this felt different. More final. He found himself actually believing them. More importantly, they believed him.

Tears pooled in his eyes, and TK wiped them away hurriedly.

“Alright.” He agreed.

Bone guy, who had been until this point hovering just beyond TK’s vision, appeared just behind Judd. TK watched him warily, until the man gave an approving nod, his eyes glistening with unspeakable adoration as he looked between Judd and the group.

“My boy has another family.” Bone guy whispered, looking more alive than TK had ever seen him. As a single tear fell to the floor, he vanished. This time, there was no cool feeling against his skin to indicate that he was hidden away. The Bone guy was actually gone.

A ball caught in his throat, TK sniffed as he was pulled into a hug by Judd, who was unaware of what just happened.

Perhaps, his power sometimes could be a gift.