#the next announcement needs tk be about six hours earlier in the day

[malpractice-morale]

One midnight walk and love run (album) listen through later and I think my heart-rate is back to normal? maybe?

[meloingly]

Through Rivers of Family Blood

Have Me, Have You, Have Us

Summary:  Carlos slings his bag over his shoulder, sighing as he barely resists slamming the car door and jogging up the short stairs to the gym. It's his day off, and even though he's meeting with TK later on and that should have him in a good mood, he’s on edge, tethering the line to downright pain and anger, so he figured he could relearn whatever skills he might have forgotten over the past few years while punching his frustrations out rather than stew in his resentment.

Carlos can’t stop the booming laugh he lets out as he stands up, as Marjan drags him to his own car. She will never replace Dora - no one will ever be able to - but Carlos is starting to think that maybe he’s earned himself a younger sister, even though Marjan claims otherwise.

-Chapter Two of Have Me, Have You, Have Us.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Paul Strickland, Marjan Marwani, Mateo Chavez, Judd Ryder, Owen Strand, Michelle Blake, Original Female Character, Original Male Character, Developing Friendship.

Warnings: Light emotional angst.

Beta: The owner of my soul @lire-casander. There’s literally no words to explain how much help this woman has been. She’s sat through me screaming cause of lack of inspiration, she’s been a sounding board as I threw messes of ideas at her, and then somehow made sense of all of them. This would not have been done without her, and I’m forever grateful.

Chapter 1

Read on AO3.

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Chapter 2: Marjan: Through Rivers of Family Blood.

Carlos slings his bag over his shoulder, sighing as he barely resists slamming the car door and jogging up the short stairs to the gym. It's his day off, and even though he's meeting with TK later on and that should have him in a good mood, he’s on edge, tethering the line to downright pain and anger, so he figured he could relearn whatever skills he might have forgotten over the past few years while punching his frustrations out rather than stew in his resentment.

His sister hasn’t been approved for time off. And neither has he. Which means they’re going to enter their third year of not meeting face-to-face. And he’s much more discouraged by it than he thought he could ever be. It hurts even more that they were going to go on a weekend vacation together - Dora was finally meeting TK in person - and the image of waking up to the two most important people talking and laughing together takes a step back, resigning to be unfulfilled in a yet again unknown timeline.

So he marches in and stands in line to the counter, getting the formalities over as fast as possible. He was hoping he could catch a quick run on a treadmill before the kickboxing class that he’s here for, but he’s barely fifteen minutes early, and he knows that’s not enough time - it still doesn’t stop him from longing for the burn that would spread across his thighs as he pushes himself harder than he should.

As he hands his membership card and is given the sign-in paper, somehow, even through the blurriness that's clogging up his mind right now, he notices 'Marjan Marwani' two rows over his own name.

A slight frown takes over his features before it clears up quickly. He remembers Marjan and Paul mentioning that they workout together. He just didn't think that he'd meet someone he knows his first day in a new gym.

He just about hands the paper board back when he feels a pat over his arm. He turns around to none other than a smirking Marjan.

"Here to show off your muscles to TK?"

Like a magic spell, Carlos laughs - for the first time today - Marjan bringing a quick lightness to his world. He shakes his head and follows Marjan when she motions towards the locker area with a flick of her head.

"Hello to you too, I'm very well, thank you very much for asking," he says, which Marjan rolls her eyes at, but he pays her no mind, and keeps going, "How's yourself I wonder? I hope all is well?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Polite Texan Gentleman."

It's Carlos' turn to groan now. The crew saw him open the car door for TK once, and, apparently, the nickname has become a thing.

"Just wanted to kill a little time since I have nothing else to do,” he chooses to ignore her and explain instead, continuing when she raises an eyebrow at him. “Captain Strand has a hospital appointment today, so TK's over there with him," he elaborates.

Marjan lets out a sympathetic hum, frowning as she undoubtedly racks her mind for any mention of this session. He knows she won't find it. He confirms that no one knows about it when she asks.

"Damned Strands and their need to internalise everything," she huffs. And Carlos can't help but snort in agreement, even if he thinks he’s somewhat a hypocrite at this specific moment.

"I'd much rather punch the frustration out," she continues, and that is something Carlos finds himself agreeing with yet again.

"Which class are you taking?"

"Kickboxing," Marjan says, pulling up her arms in a classic defensive stance. “Started when I still was in Miami, and moved to this location since I moved here.”

"Oh, it’s my first class today!" he exclaims as he raises a fist to bump it to hers.

He hasn’t kickboxed in years, and he’s never been to this specific gym. He’s always been highly sceptical of it as a whole; it’s a famous chain with branches all over the country, and this specific branch is giant. Carlos would pass by it and wonder why it’s so large, why it takes up so much space. Knowing that Marjan has been a regular attendant brings a sense of relief. The fact that the recommendation came from his sister - she goes to the same gym in New Jersey - meant that he’d at least give it a try before deciding anything against it.

They fall into an easy silence as they walk to the locker areas, branching off to different sides when Marjan enters the Female-Only section of the lockers with a promise to meet him outside once she’s changed.

He hurries to the lockers, following the numbers until he gets to his assigned compartment for the day. He had caught a shower at home right before he left, so all he has to do now is change from his casual sweatpants and t-shirt into his workout gear. Which means that he barely needs five minutes before he’s leaving the locker room to find a seat in the lounge area.

Except that he must have miscalculated the time, because the moment he sets foot into the lounge area, the speakers come to life, announcing the end of the current classes and asking all attendants of the next class to make their way towards their designated halls.

So Carlos turns himself right back around, looking around the open hall for a moment trying to find the room that he’s supposed to go to before he finds the needed label and arrow, and follows them down a long hall.

He ends in a large hall, the entire front wall lined by mirrors, and what looks like an audio station shelf in one corner, a couple of headsets hanging from the corner. There are long benches that surround both sides and tables at the very end of said benches, water bottles and towels laid down across the top. The entire floor is lined with foam flooring, tape lines stretched across, marking squares where everyone has gone to stand. There are multiple sizes of punching bags both sitting on the floor and hanging from the ceiling.

Carlos can’t help the shocked expression he knows he must be making. He didn’t expect the gym to be as well furnished as it is. Especially not with the number of classes that they offer. And yet, as he stands in what is the best kickboxing hall he has ever set foot in, he can’t help but think that he might have found his new favourite gym.

He makes his way to an empty square, placing his water bottle on the ground at the edge of his border before standing in the middle. He starts cracking his joints, turning his neck both ways and folding his fingers in to get into the mindset for what he’s about to do.

Carlos would never call himself out of shape, but he is aware that he has lost much of his kickboxing abilities throughout the years. It started as a way to destress when he was a teenager, a safe and useful mechanism that helped him relieve his frustrations while keeping him healthy. As he grew older, it stopped being a coping mechanism and swung to being a sport. Unfortunately, once he graduated from the Academy and was a full-fledged officer at APD, free days came by less and less, forcing him to eventually give up the sport altogether.

So, when Dora informed him of this new program that had multiple classes throughout the week and the ability for its attendees to catch any of the week’s scheduled classes as long as they book a minimum of twenty-four-hours earlier, he knew it was a chance he couldn’t miss up.

Still, a breath of relief filled his chest at the sight of Marjan coming to stand next to him. He throws a grateful smile her way, and she responds with a low chuckle and a shake of her head. He's about to retaliate in a way, maybe take a page out of TK's book and stick his tongue out at her, when the coaches at the front of the room call the class to attention.

With a final shared grin, they both look ahead, listening as they explain the goal of the class and the plan of the day and the upcoming six weeks.

Marjan was not supposed to kick his ass the way she did.

It's not that he doesn't think she's fit or strong; she's a firefighter - and an adrenaline junkie - so he knows she's on top of her physical health.

It's just that Carlos thought that he was on top of his own physical health. And it turned out that he was wrong. So very wrong.

He noticed that while Marjan was walking with a spring in her step, arms swinging wide around her, he was limping out, holding his shoulder close to his torso after a particularly rough tackle that he didn't defend well enough.

Even now, after he's gotten a quick shower and is getting dressed in the locker room, he's starting to see bruises flourish and darken his skin, each one a testament to something he didn't do right.

Some part of him blames it on his distraction. He wasn’t exactly focused on following the tiniest of details, and maybe he wanted to get bruised and beat up a little. He hasn’t used working out as a way to disguise his emotional distress in quite a few years. And yet, as he pokes one particularly visible bruise, the blood starting to pool in distinct dark discolouration spreading across the lower edge of his ribs, he can’t help but think that his distraction wasn’t at fault here, and he’s just fallen back into older less-than-ideal coping mechanisms.

With a groan, he finishes dressing up, grabs his bag and makes his way towards the front desk.

Once he has given the locker keys back and received his membership card in return, he's out of the door. He finds himself stopping right in the middle of the parking lot, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. It doesn't fill him up like a breath of fresh air should - not that a parking lot has fresh air to begin with. But while he was expecting some relief, he finds that gets none. His shoulders are still tense, his mood still sour.

Letting out a small sigh and making a quick split second decision, he starts moving to the juice bar at the corner of the street, determined to grab a juice to go and wallow in his misery at home.

It’s a small shack right around the edge of the street that has made a magnificent business out of selling a variety of coffees, juices and post-workout drinks. The place is so tiny, it barely houses any sitting arrangement indoors, which works wonderfully when most of their regulars take their drinks to go anyway. Those who do want to sit for a moment though will find a rather large spread of benches on the terrace. It’s one of Carlos’ favourite places. The fact that it's locally owned makes it all the better.

It's on the terrace that he notices - while waiting for his drink to be prepared - a turban in the very far end of the outdoor sitting area. Immediately, he realises that he knows that turban. He knows the style and colour. Simply because he was just with Marjan. And now she's here, sitting alone, on a bench, staring at the small expanse of greenery and the parking lot ahead of her. His trance is broken when his name is called. Picking up the drink, he looks over and starts to make his way towards his car, only to stop a few steps later.

A frown starts to deepen on his forehead the more he stares at her. All the times he's met her, Marjan has always been a bright entity. Always smiling, eyes glittering with happiness and mischief. And yet as he looks at her now he finds that she seems… dull.

The worry has him abandoning his initial plan and moving towards her instead. He might be in a sad mood, but he'll be damned if that stops him from acting on his concern.

"Got space for one more person?" he asks once he's next to her. His suspicions that her mind is occupied elsewhere are confirmed when she looks up at him with wide, startled eyes. A few moments later - once she realises who is talking to her - she graces him with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and a nod of her head.

Still, he takes the permission and plants himself next to her, drink in his hand.

The initial silence is comfortable, aided by the cooling effect that the juice had on his throat and the light breeze on his bruised body. And yet, it's heavy. Marjan is one of the firefighters he hasn't gotten many one-on-one interactions with. She’s a major part of their hangouts, and while they are friendly with one another, he hasn’t had the chance to know her better.

He's standing on uneven and unknown grounds with her. He wants to talk to her, ask if he can help. He just doesn't know how to. But the longer he takes to come up with something, the more awkward the air around them becomes, and the harder it is to speak.

So they sit in silence instead, while Carlos still tries to think of something. How it’s possible that there isn’t a single topic popping in his mind comes as a shock to him.

The silence seems to be choking Marjan as well, because she groans and drops her head into her hands. Carlos looks at her for a moment, before he slides a foot or so across the bench, inching closer to the seemingly troubled woman next to him.

"You okay?" he whispers, hands playing with the straw of his drink. Marjan sighs, so he turns his head to look at her.

She doesn’t look at him. Her head is angled upwards, eyes closed as the wind gently blows on their faces.

"You know, usually I’d talk to Paul, Mateo, or TK,” she whispers so low that Carlos has to lean towards her a little, “hell, maybe even Judd. But they’re just, they mean well. But they also feel the need to give advice and help out. And sometimes, I just want to rant about stuff and listen to them rant. And at the end of the talk, I want to not have a solution for anything."

Carlos hums, pondering over her words for a moment. He knows that the 126 have gotten close - they've been through the wringer one too many times not to be. He's also been in the position where he was the one being given advice. Even when it wasn't solicited.

He knows it's out of good intentions, they want to help, and advice is a way to do that. But so is just listening.

"Well," Carlos starts, placing his drink down on the bench next to him, "I'm here to silently listen if you want."

Marjan flats him with a raised eyebrow, the questioning challenge clear in her eyes. When Carlos doesn't budge, she looks away with a sigh.

"It's a two-way street, man. If I rant, you'll have to rant about whatever put that frown on your face too," she says as she leans back on the bench, stretching her legs ahead of her.

Carlos shoots her a shocked look, not aware that his own bitter feelings had been so clear to an outsider. Marjan seems to read his shock too though, "I could see you brooding from a whole mile away, Carlos," she explains with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, let's mend one sad soul at a time," he shrugs at her, waving her worries with a flick of his hands.

Marjan glares at him for a moment. But he’s been around her enough to know that this isn’t one of her judgemental or annoyed glares, this is more of a playful and teasing glare. He replies to it with a wide grin, and she reciprocates with a shake of her head and a soft smile.

“I miss my family,” she says after a sigh, all pretences of strength draining out of her. “I just, every time I think things are good and I start to savour life, something happens with them while I’m here and I start to think I let you down, mama and baba, and I just, I miss them.”

Carlos nods his head in understanding, the feeling somewhat familiar to him. But he doesn't speak, he lets Marjan rant, the way she seems to truly need.

“Like, my parents did raise us to go all out and be independent and live our lives for us,” she says as she gestures ahead of her. “But I guess I also just always thought I’d have them with me while I live life. And now I’m here and I’m on the move, and they’re not, they’re sitting at home catching up on their rest and their health.”

Carlos stays in his place, listening intently to each phrase Marjan is saying. Her words all run across scars he's had to deal with in the past, and they make him yearn for a time when he had his entire family under one roof.

“Did you know that my dad has been diabetic, on insulin, for a year and I had no idea?!” she exclaims, waving her hands around her head. “None at all! I don’t even think he was ever planning to tell me. I just happened to Facetime my mom one day just as he was giving himself an injection in the background.”

She pauses for a moment, dropping her head to rest her chin onto her chest, and Carlos thinks she might have gotten everything off her chest. But he’s proven wrong moments later when she lifts her head.

"And it's not just my parents. My younger sister, Yara, the fifteen-year-old one, she has grown so much during the past year I've been here. And I've missed a lot of what makes her who she is. And now, when I talk to her, there's nothing to talk about. I don't know what she likes and doesn't like, what shows she watches and what foods she enjoys and what career she wants to pursue." She stops for a moment to catch her breath, before she keeps going at it with the same passion as before.

“And my eighteen-year-old brother, Karim? We used to do everything together, he was my best friend when I was younger, and now? We could go for literal weeks without speaking. And I just,” she pauses to sigh, “I just miss the simpler times, you know? Waking up to have breakfast together, going to school, coming back to have lunch together, doing my homework quick and early to watch some dumb show with my entire family while we have dinner together, I just miss them all.”

She stops for a moment, her hands coming to rest in her lap as she whispers, “Is it supposed to look like this?”

This time feels like this is an actual question, rather than a rant, so Carlos turns to Marjan, raising an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Adulthood,” she groans, throwing her hands in the sky. “This whole I’m an adult and I need to leave my family and I must transcend the world on my own. I want to live and go through the world and still go back home to them, you know?”

Marjan stops talking for a moment, eyes on Carlos before she frowns and trails her eyes away. Carlos keeps his own gaze on her, waiting as she comes to a conclusion to whatever question is obviously racking her mind.

"Do you?" She asks then.

Carlos has to blink a few times, certain that he missed something.

"Do I what?"

"Do you know what it's like to leave your family? I just realised I have no idea if you have siblings or where your parents are or anything."

"I… Well… I’m the younger one, so my sister left for college first, and she still works far away, so, I guess?" he questions, unsure if his answer is what she was looking for and trying to conceal his pain with confusion.

It seems to work because a wide smile breaks over Marjan's face as she turns to face Carlos completely, bending one leg under her.

"You have a sister?! I never knew!" she exclaims as she does a full one-eighty, going from hurt and frowning to eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, one sister."

Marjan stares at him with wide eyes for a few moments. "And? Tell me about her!" she demands when he doesn't say anything else, making a “go on” gesture with her hand.

An easy smile takes over Carlos' face, even as he breaks eye contact to shake his head in amusement.

"Well, her name is Dora, she's four years older. And she's kinda my favourite person in the world, but don't tell her I said that," he threatens with a pointed finger.

It brings a chuckle out of Marjan, but she still mimics a zipper closing over her lips.

"Dora and Carlos Reyes, huh?"

"Well, kinda. Her full name is Isadora," he explains, continuing when she both frowns in confusion and nods in encouragement. “I saw her wearing a pink shirt one day, and she had a bowl cut like most kids of the early nineties, and my two-year-old self decided that she looked like Dora the Explorer,” he smiles as understanding starts to take over Marjan’s features.

“Isadora in a pink shirt and a bowl cut, it’s only a natural progression that you get to Dora.”

“Exactly!”

Marjan sits back on the bench, a laugh filling the space between them. She pulls to a side and grabs her drink, Carlos copying her when she brings the straw to her mouth. Silence follows as they gulp down their now warm drinks in quick sips, trying to catch up to the last thread of coldness.

This entire situation reminds him of his own self some ten years ago, when Dora first-ever left for college. He remembers how heartbroken he was, how he felt abandoned. He knew she was leaving for her future, and that he would undoubtedly do the same. But his fourteen-year-old self was still extremely offended and hurt, no matter how illogical it was.

“Do you miss her?” Marjan asks just as he realises that she finished her drink first, and has put down the empty cup beside her. “I mean, if she’s four years older, then she graduated at least eight, nine years ago, and she isn’t here, is she?” She asks, continuing when Carlos answers with a shake of his head. “Did it ever feel like she abandoned you?”

Carlos hums for a moment, trying to figure out how he’s supposed to control his emotions when Marjan puts it like that. It doesn’t help that he can’t really tell who she is asking about. But he wants to answer her in a way that’s both honest and gentle.

“Are you asking me about me, or asking me for your siblings?” he asks, figuring he doesn't need to assume when he can get the answer almost instantaneously.

Marjan snorts, shaking her head as she takes a deep breath and lets it out in a slow sigh.

“You’re too smart for your own self, Reyes,” she grumbles before she concedes, “I don’t know. Both, I guess?”

“Well, I can only speak for myself when I say that I did feel abandoned. I was so sad and angry at her that I didn’t really talk to her properly for the first few months, even though she kept trying and calling and adding me on social media," he starts to explain, taking a moment to think of the best phrasing. "Home was her, my dad and I, and when she left, she somehow ruined our home."

He shrugs as he stops, the memories of how hurt he was coming back to him, mixing with how hurt he feels right now.

“But after a while, she just kinda messaged me less, and we weren’t that close-knit unit we were anymore.” He feels the earlier bubble of anger return, but this time at his past self, at how he was so angry that he did things that are just so stupid.

“Yeah, that sounds very familiar right now,” Marjan sighs. "Are you guys in contact now? Or has it been that way ever since?"

"No!" he almost screams in his haste to correct Marjan, the sole idea of being on non-speaking terms with his sister leaving a sour taste in his mouth. "No, no, God,no, we're good now, we're best friends, we're proper close," he assures her, crossing his index and middle finger together.

"So how did you go from not talking for months to being best friends?"

"This is tethering on advice-giving, Marjan," he teases, raising an eyebrow at her and chuckling when she rolls her eyes at him. He can’t help but chuckle at how he seems to be getting the full blast of the Marwani Eye Rolls today.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm done ranting, I'm now asking for advice. I heard you gave Paul amazing words that started his journey with the mystery bar lady, so share that wisdom, Reyes," she huffs in feigned annoyance, much to Carlos' amusement. He knows that Paul has been making progress with Bar-Lady, but he's been keeping it under wraps lest it gets jinxed and falls apart, and Carlos has been respecting his wishes, refusing to say anything about their conversation or the events leading up to Paul approaching her.

Carlos reaches a hand to Marjan, grabbing her cup and getting up to throw the trash into the bin. Even though it's covered as environmental care, it's a way for him to catch his breath and organise his thoughts. And from the soft look Marjan gives him when he turns around, she knows that as well.

Still, she doesn't say a word even when he sits back down, giving him his space as he stretches his legs and finds a comfortable position on the bench. After a couple of minutes of silence, he finally turns to face Marjan.

"So, when my sister left, I was really hurt. Dora and my dad are all I've had, they were my entire world. In my head, she left our family and somehow that meant that it was broken," he begins, recalling how his joy over her getting into her dream college was quickly shattered when he realised how far away she'd be. "And at fourteen, I didn't know how to express that pain, so I just stopped talking to her."

"Now that I'm older, I think that I did that to hurt her back." He remembers when he came to that conclusion many years after the event was done and gone. "I knew how much our relationship meant to her, and I think I wanted her to know how it feels to be left, the same way she left me."

He sneaks a glance at Marjan, finding a guilty frown on her face. He wishes there was an easier way to say what he has to say, but it's one of those things that can't be sugar-coated.

"To be fair to her, she did keep trying. She was always calling and messaging me, asking about school and sports and TV shows. And I was sad and snappy, giving her short replies or single word answers. Sometimes I'd leave her on read just out of spite."

The memories are somewhat fuzzy in his mind, those months something he'd rather forget. But he still remembers how he'd race into his room after school, turn on his computer, open Facebook, read the message, only to exit the website again.

He'd give young Carlos a good slap up the back of the head if he could.

"It wasn't until one day, a couple of weeks before her first spring break, I got home earlier than usual. And I walked into my dad in the kitchen, talking to Dora on speaker. The first thing I had registered was how hurt she sounded," he recalls the absolute agony in her voice, the defeat, the resignation. "I was about to run in, ask what was wrong, when I heard her say I just don't know what to do, Papa, he won't talk to me, and I miss him so much."

He stops for a moment, he needs to, his voice just on the verge of cracking on that last word. It's a stark reminder of the rush of emotions he felt all those years ago, when he first overheard that conversation.

"I think I needed to hear that, though. To hear that she missed me too and to realise how hurt she was by leaving. I pretended I didn't hear anything, and just snuck up to my room. Except that now, I knew exactly how she felt. I knew that she was hurt too, but it didn't feel good. I didn't feel satisfied because she missed me. I just felt like I had lost her."

"A few days later, I went downstairs to my dad, and asked him if Dora would ever forgive me." The mention of his dad forces a smile out of him, and how he was so distressed that he just had to seek his dad's wisdom. "I think he tried to play it subtle at first, asking what I meant. But when he realised how affected I truly was, he quickly laid the truth down for me."

He can tell that Marjan is hanging onto every word he says.

"He told me that Dora laughed every time I hit a milestone and cried every time I got hurt. She wasn't going to hate me just because I didn’t talk to her for a few months. But that didn't mean that I was off the hook. The ball was in the middle of the court, and I had the chance to take the first step to make things right," he shrugs, his dad's words running through his mind again.

His dad was gentle, the way he always had been, but he didn't lie to Carlos either. He made sure that Carlos knew that he was responsible for the hurt both he and Dora were going through. And no matter how he felt at the very beginning, the end result was still pain for both of them.

"So I did. The next time she texted, I replied. And then I called her, and she picked up. And, you know, it took time, but we got there. And now, we're best friends again. We're so close right now that the fact that she hasn't gotten approved for time off has put us both in the worst of bad moods."

Marjan sighs as he comes to a stop, turning around to fiddle with her rings. He thinks that part of it is giving him privacy to get his emotions under control - they both act in the same way in that they aren't overly emotional in front of just anyone, and he doesn't think they're at that level of vulnerability quite yet.

"So," Marjan says after a long moment of silence, "I just need to keep going at it? Keep trying until they see what’s been happening, then we’ll be best friends again, Yara, Karim and I, huh?"

”I mean, I don't know for sure. But yeah, I think so."

"You know," Marjan quips with a frown on her face and what he thinks is the beginning of hope in her eyes, "I think I heard Yara mention Marvel and Iron Man once, and Karim is super into video games these days. I'm no expert in either, but…"

"But interest is the first step. I don't think Dora understood a single word of all the Pokémon talk that I used to tell her, but it got us talking!"

Marjan hums, looking out ahead of her into the parking lot. There isn't something in particular that's worthy of attention, but Carlos finds himself staring at a random tree next to the juice bar.

There's a weirdly placed nest high up on one of the branches, a bird of some kind making trips back and forth between the nest and the street underneath. He's starting to wonder if birds feel sorrow when one of them leaves, when Marjan breaks his non-conventional train of thought.

"Well, that's my family drama," she sighs, turning towards him again, slinging her arm on the backrest and rests her head on top of her hand. "What are we going to do about your sister?"

"I don't know. Suffer in sadness, I guess," Carlos huffs. "There's nothing to be done. Neither one of us is getting approved for time off anytime soon."

The sad smile that Marjan gives him is exactly why he didn't want to meet anyone right after he got the news. The sympathy would only make him feel worse. Though, now that he got the frustration beat out of him, it covers him like a comforting blanket.

"Well, I know no one can replace your sister," Marjan says with a shrug and a suspiciously teasing smile, "but I can be your big sister until you meet her again."

The rapid blinking that Carlos' eyes do on their own accord is probably enough of a reaction, because Marjan stares at him for a few moments and then breaks into laughter, the happiness he's come to associate with the woman finally making itself visible.

"You're, you're younger than me!" he exclaims.

“That just doesn’t sound right, does it now?” Marjan quips, a smirk spreading on her face.

"It's literally a fact!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she says as she gets up off the bench, hooking an arm around his once Carlos is standing up. "Drive me home, baby brother."

Carlos can’t stop the booming laugh he lets out as he stands up, as Marjan drags him to his own car. She will never replace Dora - no one will ever be able to - but Carlos is starting to think that maybe he’s earned himself a younger sister, even though Marjan claims otherwise.

[lilywoood]

You’ve got a mail Part 3/?

Hi so after hours of debating if I should post or delete part 3 I decided that I was going to post it, I hope it’ll be as good as the sneak peek I gave you and that I didn’t make you wait too much, I hope y’all like it and don’t hesitate to hit my ask box if you want to be tagged or if you want to get more sneak peeks ♥️!

Tag list : @diazbuckleysworld @translucent-bisexual @cherishingstydia @felicitous-one @comablog2 @justsmilestuffhappens @gxtop @chrrlees @hardychick89 @jb-ap-94 @chioink @peroquenotevean @tk-carlosforlifex @nighting-gale17 @fyeahhipsterdoctor @leslilupe @anthony-e-stark-3000 @haderofthesociety @iamonlyaliveformalex @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @serena040506 @multi-fandom-writing @my-name-i-we

Words count : 1571

Song : Bang Bang - Nancy Sinatra

Sleeping was more penance than relief as he couldn’t close his eyes without being constantly haunted, tortured, reminded by how much his teammates, his family hated him, haunted by the sound of their laughs, by the impact of their insults, by the venom of their remarks.

He couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop tormenting himself, couldn’t prevent his mind to play his days, all the overheard conversations, and not so discreet whispers on loop in his head, he couldn’t help but remember their faces, their snarls every time he entered a room, he couldn’t help but hear their voices… his voices, as he was told over and over again that he wasn’t needed, wanted, that it was too bad the ladder truck hadn’t crushed his whole body…

He prayed for a dreamless night, he prayed his mind to stop the self-persecution, to stop thinking about them, as they never did think about him. He wished he was bold enough to down the six pack in his fridge, the one who was calling his name every day, so that he could pass out, so that he could finally and peacefully rest but like all his nights since the lawsuit Buck found himself once again starring at his computer screen, thinking about what he would say to TK and how he could help the equally tormented Texan firefighter.

He remembered TK’s last answer, remembered how he could feel his distress, how he felt the same, he remembered how they chatted until dawn about wither they should keep fighting, should keep proving their worth, their right to be among their brothers or if they should just give up as fighting was making more miserable, he couldn’t forget the last words they exchanged that night.

From TK: My mother used to tell me that even if we’re blood related my father would never love me as much as he loves his firefighters family and that what made me want to be part of it, I wanted to be seen and loved too, I fought and for a brief time I had it, my dad love and attention, I was so happy, I felt whole until I realized that he loved firefighter TK, he only saw me when I was part of the team, outside of it I was nothing.

From Buck: I didn’t have anything outside the 118, when I got the job I was the happiest in the world, for the first time I knew what it felt to be loved, to be appreciated, my parents weren’t that great and Maddie was gone, I had no one, I just had them, after the truck incident I fought, I trained to be back with them cause I missed them but they replaced me, they taped her name over mine and they treated her even better than me and to make things worse I learned that it wasn’t the Head that didn’t want me back, it was Bobby, it felt as if maybe I wasn’t good enough for him, for them, I mean they’re all I have….

From TK: They meant more for you than what you mean for them and that what hurt the most, that why you have to move on and let them go, you can’t keep feeling miserable for people who don’t deserve you Evan.

From Buck: I know, I’m still foolishly hopping though.

TK wasn’t online that night, he didn’t have anyone to turn to, to talk to, he couldn’t bother Maddie, and even though Hen told him she was there, he couldn’t help but let the little voice convince him that she only said that to be kind, she didn’t meant it, she wasn’t expecting him to call her, confide in her, she wasn’t actually there, no one was.

Sleepless nights were becoming more and more common for him, his body grew accustomed to the lack of rest, his mind not so much, the voices were increasingly present, allowing himself to become more and more apprehensive and stressed at the sole thought of going to work the next day, what once was his home, his safe heaven, quickly became his personal hell.

He was changing himself quietly when Bobby and the rest of their team cornered him, they barely let him button his pant before barging into the locker room, all wearing their signature ‘‘we hate you’’ glare, he quickly rose himself waiting for Bobby to tell him that it was it, he was thanked, fired that they didn’t want him in this family anymore.

-So I had an interesting conversation with the Heads today, he started making Buck gulp in fear, apparently I can’t have one of my guys on light duties for more than two months, he waved dismissively, so, he sighed, as of today you’re officially back on call, he announced looking at him expectantly.

-Thank you I guess, Buck articulated not meeting his eyes, I…I won’t let you down, let any of you down, he croaked still fixing his shoes.

-I hope so Buckley, the older man retorted before turning back and leaving the room.

He waited until the footsteps vanished to let out the breath he was holding, he then let himself fall on the bench behind him not once acknowledging the fact that someone stayed behind, it wasn’t until he hear Eddie clear his throat that he gave him his attention.

-Listen Eddie, he began but a single look from his teammate made him flinch and quiet down.

-You might be reinstated, Eddie roared getting up from his place, you might be back on the team, back on call, he enumerated walking toward him, but you’ll never be a part of this family again, he sneered fist clenched at his side, so don’t try, he huffed, don’t try to mend things, don’t try talking with us from now on we’re only colleagues Buckley, he deadpanned leaving the locker room.

And just like that everything went silent, he could only hear the sound of his shattering heart, the wail of his broken soul, the realization hitting him like a truck, it was meaningless, there were nothing holding him back, nothing to keep him fighting, nothing and no one worth fighting for, everything was silent and even if the siren were getting louder, even though Hen kept on calling his name he couldn’t move the violence of his heartbreak, of his grief nailed him to the ground.

He could handle light duties, could handle the glares, the critics, the insults and even the bullying sometimes, he could handle being isolated, handle eating alone and hiding in his car to shed the tears he held up all day, what he couldn’t handle, couldn’t support, couldn’t accept was his teammates lacks of professionalism, he couldn’t handle the fact that they couldn’t let go of the grudges they held against him during calls.

He was only doing his job, only asking the routines questions when Bobby decided it was the right times to belittle him in front of his team and the victims, making him pass for the dumb blond he wasn’t, making him regret the day he started to think of him as his hero, his model.

He was sitting gloomily in the locker room when Hen found him, his gaze fixed on the dark screen of his phone, he didn’t acknowledge her presence, didn’t raise his head and gave her the little smile she was so used to get by now, he was only looking at his phone, only staring at him with sadness and confusion.

-Something’s wrong Buckaroo, she breathed sitting next to him

-I...I asked for a transfer after Bobby told me I wasn’t reinstated, he revealed quietly his sight still on his phone, and I learned today that they actually accepted it, he revealed in a mirthless laugh.

-Why didn’t you tell me...tell us about it, Hen chocked, I never thought you all of people would actually give up, she frowned grabbing his arm, Evan, she pressed using his name for the first time.

-I’m not giving up, he swallowed facing her, I fought, I tried, I did everything to get them back, to get my family back, he hissed tears streaming down his face, I never gave up, he roared pointing to himself, I never gave up, he breathed kneeling down tiredly, it’s a losing game Hen, he half smiled, it’s better to accept defeat, he shrugged.

-Where are you transferred, she queried staring at him,

-Don’t know yet, he shrugged, could be on the other side of LA or in another state, he revealed, told them I was pretty flexible, he joked miserably.

The spell was broken, just like Cinderella after the clock struck midnight, the mail was a reality check, it was the sign he was waiting for, the one TK was talking about, his Californian dream was definitely over, he didn’t know how to process it, didn’t know how to accept that after three years he was ejected from his earthly Eden.

He found himself once again the target of a dreamless and sleepless night, once again facing his laptop screen, once again messaging the only person able to get him

From Buck: It seems that the sign I was waiting for came earlier than expected, I don’t know if I’m ready to give up yet.

From TK: It’s not giving up, it’s moving on.