I felt so horrible for Tommy during this episode, and it physically hurt to write it out. It just . . . it was a lot.

Tommy wrestles with her husband's death, and as Judd, Grace, and more try to find out what's wrong, Owen finds himself in a very familiar situation.

***

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

" . . . "

"Is anyone there?"

"I'm at 5674 Merriman Drive. I have a non-responsive, fifty-year-old male. No pulse. No reaction to sternal rub."

"Help is on the way, ma'am. Can you tell me if he's breathing?"

"No."

***

"Ma'am, do you know how long he's been like this?"

Tommy barely heard the dispatcher as she furiously did compressions on Charles, her husband now lying on his back on the floor. "Come on, baby," she begged. "Come on, Charles!"

"Ma'am?" the dispatcher tried again.

"No," she finally answered. "I just got home. Come on, baby, please!"

"Do you know what he was doing before he lost consciousness?"

Tommy swallowed, ending compressions and pressing her fingers into Charles's neck. "Come on, Charles," she cried.

"Ma'am, do you know if he fell?" the dispatcher continued. "Are there any visible injuries that you can see? Ma'am, is there anything else you can tell me?"

No pulse thudded against her fingers, and Tommy's heart sank when she felt no body heat radiate from her husband. She pulled her shaking hand away from Charles's neck and instead curled it around his hand, using her other to coax his fingers around hers.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you still there?"

Tommy swallowed. "I'm here," she managed to whisper.

"Paramedics will be with you within six minutes."

"No need to hurry," Tommy shook her head.

"I'm sorry?"

Tommy steeled herself, looking over Charles. "No pulse," she reported in a monotone. "Cool to the touch. Rigor has started to set in. Patient is beyond resuscitation."

"Ma'am, let's let the paramedics make that determination."

Tommy shook her head. "I am a paramedic," she told him. "Captain Vega, 126."

"Oh, I'm sorry . . . Captain."

Tommy looked towards the stairs, feeling tears in her eyes. "Tell the responders no lights, no sirens," she requested, her hand tightening on Charles's. "I don't want to wake my kids."

Oh, God . . . what was she going to tell her daughters?

***

She left her hair alone as she started unbuttoning her uniform shirt, pausing when she saw her wedding ring dangling on its usual chain around her neck. With trembling fingers, she undid the clasp and slid her ring from the chain, sniffling as she put it on its proper place on her finger. She twisted it anxiously, meeting her own teary eyes in the mirror. Only one thought kept thrumming through her head like a drumbeat.

Charles is dead.

She dressed quickly after that, returning downstairs in just two minutes. She crouched down next to Charles's body, muffling a whimper as she zipped up his sweater and rested his hands on his sternum, making it look like he was simply asleep. She took a deep breath and looked up when she heard a knock on the door.

Just as she requested, there had been no lights or sirens when the first responders arrived. She was quiet as the paramedics placed Charles in a body bag, and she only spoke when they placed him on the gurney to wheel away. "Please take him to St. Raymond's," she said. "I called ahead. Dr. Mary Roberts will do the postmortem."

The paramedic nodded and wheeled Charles away, and Tommy turned back to the police officer, who was writing in a notepad. "Was your husband on any prescription medication, ma'am?"

"Do you know anyone in their fifties who isn't?" Tommy scoffed. At Officer Gates's grimace, she sighed and calmed her voice. "No," she shook her head. "Nothing that would account for this. and no history of heart disease or asthma or epilepsy."

Gates nodded, continuing to write. "Any opioid use or other controlled substances you were aware of?"

"No," Tommy denied. "Absolutely not."

"Alright," Gates nodded, handing her a card. "Call if you think of anything else. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Tommy merely nodded, holding open the door to let the officer out. She barely heard the screech of tires pulling out of the driveway as she looked over the laundry that had been folded before she arrived home, then her gaze slid to where Charles had just been lying mere minutes ago.

Charles is dead.

She never realized she sat on the couch, nor did the register the time passing until the sun shone through the blinds. She jerked out of her stupor, looking around wildly to check the time. The girls . . . she had to get the girls ready.

She had lived with a chef for years, so she knew the kitchen by heart. She expertly got the griddle and the stovetop ready, frying bacon and scrambling eggs as if she was the chef in the family. With Charles's death, she guessed she was.

That thought made her bite her lip so hard, she drew blood. She licked it away as she removed everything from the stove and onto plates, giving herself a moment to breathe through her grief, eyes watching the door her daughters would shortly emerge from. She had to be strong for her girls. She had to.

The door finally opened, and Tommy plastered a smile on her face. "Buenos días, mis niñas!" she greeted.

"Hi, Mom!" Izzy chirped, entering the kitchen as Evie closed the door behind them. "Where's Dad?"

"Oh, he couldn't be here this morning," Tommy told them, sorting out plates for her daughters. "So I get to cook for you."

"Was that the car I heard last night in the driveway?" Evie asked. "Him leaving?"

Tommy paused, barely keeping a lid on her panic. Either Evie was a lighter sleeper than she realized, or the ambulance and police car had made more noise than she thought. "That's right," she nodded.

"Did you and Dad have a fight?" Izzy blinked.

"No," Tommy quickly shook her head.

"But if he's not here, who's going to take us to school, then?"

"I am," Tommy answered, gesturing to the plates. "So dig in, because we're not gonna have a whole lot of time to get ready, OK?"

Evie frowned. "Why are you acting weird?"

"Am I?" Tommy squeaked, looking between her daughters. When she got identical pointed looks in return, she took a deep breath. "OK, listen . . . there's something I have to tell you girls." They nodded attentively, and Tommy took a deep breath. "There was an accident last night."

"What happened?" Izzy asked seriously.

Tommy considered telling them of Charles's death, but fear gripped her heart, and she changed her mind. "There was a fire, in the place where Mommy works," she answered, going with another accident. "So Mommy doesn't have to go to work for a while."

"Yes!" Evie whooped in excitement.

"Don't cheer for a fire!" Izzy scowled at her.

"I'm not cheering for a fire! I'm cheering because Mom can go to the zoo with us on Friday!"

"No," Izzy shook her head. "Dad said we're going after school on Thursday!"

The smile faded from Tommy's face as she watched her daughters bicker back and forth. It felt almost like a normal morning in the Vega household . . . except for one key thing.

Charles is dead.

***

The door to the Ryder house opened, and Judd looked up from his tablet. "Hey, babe!" he waved to Grace as she entered.

"Hey, hey," Grace waved, shutting the door behind her.

"How was PT?" he asked, carefully watching her walk into the kitchen.

"It was really good," Grace admitted, setting her keys and purse down. "Nurse said my hip flexion's almost up to 120."

"What?" Judd grinned proudly. "That's my girl!"

Grace ducked her head bashfully, watching Judd turn back to his tablet. "Look at you with your readers on," she noted, seeing his glasses. "What you working so hard on?"

"So I thought I'd make a first pass at our registry," Judd answered.

"Oh, really?" Grace raised an eyebrow curiously, leaning on Judd's shoulder. "Well, that's sweet. Let's see."

"Come check this out," Judd pointed to the screen. "So I itemized it according to category, right? So you got, like, feeding, clothing, sleepwear, travel."

"Oh, my goodness, Judd," Grace giggled, looking over everything. "Look – what is . . . " She zoomed in on something, and she burst into a peal of laughter at the neon pink cowboy boots included. "This is all really good, sweetheart, but I don't think the baby's gonna have use for cowboy boots just yet."

"Why not?" Judd grinned.

"Well, babies can't walk, Judd, for one," Grace laughed. "So they don't need shoes, much less cowboy boots."

"Think about how adorable she'll look with the little matching hat!" Judd argued.

Grace's smile turned surprised. "So you think it's gonna be a she?"

Judd bit his lip and nodded. "I got a feeling."

Grace's phone chimed with an incoming call, and Grace checked the Caller ID before smiling and putting it on speaker. "Hey, T!" she called. "What's going on?"

"Hey, Gracie." Grace frowned, hearing Tommy's exhaustion in her voice. "Look, I'm sorry to call so last minute, but do you think you can pick up the girls at school today? And maybe spend a few hours with them this afternoon?"

Judd gave a thumbs-up, and Grace nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"Yeah, we're always looking for a little hang time with our goddaughters," Judd added.

"You guys are amazing," Tommy sighed in relief.

Grace frowned. "Tommy, is everything OK?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," she was quick to answer. "Something came up that I have to take care of. Look, I'll call you later."

"OK," Grace nodded, and she hung up her phone when Tommy did. She stared at her phone on the table, then looked up at Judd. "Crew, is it just me, or did she seem like something was wrong?"

"Yeah," Judd nodded instantly. "That was weird."

"Yeah," Grace sighed, rubbing her forehead.

***

"Captain Vega!" Tommy looked up from putting her phone in her purse as Roberts arrived. "I hear there is a case you wanted me to take a look at."

"Yes," Tommy nodded, watching Roberts scrub in. "And I'm sorry, Dr. Roberts. I didn't realize it was your day off."

"Not a problem," Roberts told her, looking her up and down. "Looks like it's yours, too."

Tommy gave a strained smile. "I'm looking to get some answers."

"For the family?" Roberts guessed.

Tommy merely nodded. "That's right."

"Alright," Roberts nodded, walking into the morgue and slinging her coat on. "Uh . . . " She picked up the clipboard, reading off stats as one of the nurses unzipped Charles's body bag. "Fifty-year-old African American male, patient was unresponsive when you arrived on scene. Signs of rigor, lividity – "

She looked up to check on the body she would be examining, and Tommy saw the moment realization settled in. "At first, I thought sudden stroke," she whispered. "But there were no indicators. Most likely an aneurysm. You can see from his medical history, he . . . was healthy. And if there had been a chronic issue, I'm fairly certain I would have spotted it."

Roberts swallowed. "This is your husband?" she asked.

"Yes," Tommy nodded.

Roberts sighed, giving her a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Tommy nodded, taking a deep breath. "We have . . . two very precocious little girls at home. They're gonna have questions."

"I understand," Roberts nodded with a determined look. "Captain Vega, is there someone you can call?"

"I called you," Tommy pointed out.

Roberts nodded in agreement. "I'm gonna get you your answers, Captain," she said determinedly before looking down at Charles. "Captain Vega . . . I don't think you should be here while I do this."

As much as Tommy didn't want to be parted from her husband, she knew the doctor was right. So with one last glance at Charles's still, peaceful face, she turned and left the morgue, heading for the elevators.

***

She knew this hospital very well at this point in her life. She wasn't counting the trips she had taken here as a paramedic, no. This, after all, was the hospital where her girls' lives had begun, where she and Charles had gone, never giving up on having a family until Evie and Izzy had been born.

"What would I do without you?" she had asked after one trip.

"You're never gonna have to find out," Charles had answered. "Never."

I have to find out now, Charles, she thought, sniffling as she sat on one of the benches outside the hospital. And you promised I wouldn't have to.

"Captain Vega?"

She straightened and tried to clear her face as she turned around, blinking when she saw Owen on the sidewalk, looking at her in surprise. "Captain Strand," she nodded. "Are you OK? Are you experiencing any . . . I don't know, complications from the fire last night?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Owen waved her concern away. "This is just a check-up for my cancer surgery today."

"Oh," Tommy sighed in relief. That was very good news; she wasn't certain she could handle someone else she cared for in the hospital for horrible reasons.

"What are you doing here?" Owen asked.

"Oh," she fumbled for what to say. "I, um . . . I have a relative who's getting a procedure downstairs."

"Oh," Owen nodded. "Hope it's not too serious."

Tommy shook her head. "Routine."

Owen nodded. "Well, I'm around if you need anything," he offered. "Heard they make a mean tapioca in the commissary."

Tommy laughed for the first time that day. "I'll pass," she giggled. "But I appreciate it."

Owen grinned at her, then headed for the doors of the hospital. As he disappeared inside, Tommy turned back to watch traffic fly by, the momentary glee leaving as her situation settled in again.

What am I going to do without you, Charles?

***

"Hey, hey!" Judd called as he opened the door to the house. "We're home!"

"There they go!" Grace beamed, watching Izzy and Evie enter. "Hey, girls! Come give godmama a hug." Evie and Izzy hugged her eagerly, and Grace smiled, watching them put their backpacks down. "Y'all look so cute."

"Oh, and we picked up a few extras, too," Judd added.

Grace blinked in surprise, then heard the telltale click-clack of crutches. "Hi, Ms. Grace!" Christopher greeted as he made his way into the house.

"Well, hello, Christopher!" Grace smiled. "How goes the day for you, bud?"

"Good," Christopher grinned.

"Hi, Grace!" Buck waved as he entered next, Eddie bringing up the rear. "Sorry about this."

"Oh, the more, the merrier," Grace shook her head, happy to accommodate Christopher, too.

"Yeah, we called Charles earlier in the week to see if the girls wanted a day with Christopher," Eddie added. "So we had plans to meet at the girls' school after they were dismissed. We were surprised when we saw Judd instead."

"And I figured since we were watching them, it wouldn't be too difficult to watch Christopher, too," Judd added.

"Absolutely," Grace agreed, smiling at the boy. "Y'all are always welcome here if you need us."

"Thanks, Grace," Buck smiled, giving her a hug, careful of the harness she wore to help her walk.

"Ms. Grace?" Izzy looked up at her. "Can we play video games? Mr. Judd said we can play video games."

"No," Judd shook his head. "I said after your homework."

"That's right," Grace nodded. "Listen, head to the bathroom and wash up. We're gonna fix you guys something to drink, OK?"

"OK," the girls agreed, darting off down the hall.

"Buck?" Christopher looked up from where he sat on the couch. "Do you think Mr. Judd and Ms. Grace will let me help Izzy and Evie if they want some?"

"Does Charles let you do that sometimes, Christopher?" Judd asked, tilting his head.

"Sometimes," Christopher nodded. "If they ask."

Judd chuckled. "Well, I see no reason why not."

"Yay!" Christopher cheered.

Buck ruffled Christopher's hair, and as Eddie helped pull out what looked like LEGO sets for him, Buck joined Judd and Grace in the kitchen, face concerned. "Judd said it sounds like something's going on with Captain Vega?" he asked.

"Yeah," Grace nodded. "She called and asked us to pick up the girls for her. It sounds like she didn't know Christopher was supposed to be with Charles."

"And the girls said Charles was gone when they woke up this morning," Judd added.

"Gone?" Grace parroted, looking at him in shock. "Gone where?"

"I don't know," Judd shook his head. "Evie mentioned she thought she heard a car pulling out of the driveway last night."

"In the middle of the night, Judd?" Grace whispered.

"That's what she said," Judd shrugged.

"I don't wanna ask this because I don't know them that well," Buck bit his lip. "Do you think they could be fighting about something?"

"No, that's a logical thought, Buck," Judd shook his head. "They're not really the type to, but I don't know. Everybody does it, you know?"

Buck nodded in agreement. "Eddie texted Charles on our way over."

"Yeah, so did I," Judd nodded.

"And?" Grace asked.

Buck silently shook his head. "Nothing," Judd added.

***

"You mind if I sit here?" Tommy looked up at the unfamiliar voice, and the dark-haired man with red-rimmed eyes gestured to the bench. "I . . . I mean, I can find another place to sit if you don't want – "

"No, no, don't worry about it," Tommy shook her head, gesturing for him to sit.

The man nodded, sitting next to her with a weak chuckle. "Are you here for someone?"

Tommy bit her lip. "A relative," she answered, going with the same thing she told Owen. "Routine procedure. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm glad," the man nodded. "I'm glad it's nothing to worry about. Me? Not so much." Tommy looked at him inquisitively, and he chuckled quietly. "My world's falling apart."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she whispered.

"You know, they want me to say goodbye," the man continued. "I can't say goodbye. I c – "

He cut off to stifle his tears. "I'm sorry," he sniffed.

"Oh, don't be," Tommy assured him, twisting on the bench to fully face him. "My name's Tommy."

He smiled weakly at her. "George."

"Who are you here for, George?"

"My son," he answered. "My boy, Ethan, he's . . . " He cleared his throat as he pointed at the hospital behind him. "He's in the ICU, and . . . it's not the first time he's . . . " He took a deep breath, gathering himself. "Ethan's had seizures his whole life, since he was little."

Tommy winced, imagining if she and Charles had to go through that with their girls. "That's rough."

George nodded in agreement. "You know, this time, it was . . . this time, it was just really bad. He had a seizure that . . . that just wouldn't stop. It's like a cascade of seizures, is what the doctors think."

"Status epilepticus," Tommy nodded, familiar with the diagnosis. At George's surprised look, she smiled. "I'm a paramedic."

"Ah," George nodded. "And he was alone, which is . . . I mean, he has roommates, but they weren't home, and they found him in the bathroom." He sighed, sniffling away tears. "My son has been in a coma for two weeks. And now the doctors are saying that, you know . . . he's just not gonna wake up."

Tommy swallowed hard, watching the grieving father. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"And today, they wanted to put him on . . . " George trailed off. "They call it 'a terminal wean,' which, like, in doctor speak is, like, you know . . . unplugging him. And the worst part is . . . I haven't been up there once, at all. I just, I . . . " He gulped, shaking his head. "I can't. I just . . . every time I try and find the courage to go up there, I . . . I'm just . . . I'm terrified at what will happen if I walk in there."

Tommy nodded, understanding completely. "It'll become real."

"Yeah," George sniffed. "If I loved my son, I would be up there right now. But I'm a coward. I'm just gonna let this moment pass, just like every other important moment in my life, and . . . and I'm gonna regret it. I know I'm gonna regret it. I just don't know what to do, OK?" He burst into tears, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know what to do!"

"Well, you're here," Tommy gestured to the building behind them. "Just go upstairs, see your son."

"No, I can't!" George exclaimed. "I really can't! I mean, I'm . . . I think I'm gonna pass out before I get to the door if I do that."

Tommy smirked. "Well, then it's a good thing that you sat next to a paramedic, isn't it?" She picked up her purse and stood, glad she now had something to do. This was something she knew she could do. She could support someone else when they were hurting. "Come on," she urged. "I'll walk you up there."

George did a double take, then laughed and nodded, standing to follow her inside.

***

Tommy kept a close eye on George as they reached the ICU wing, the man's nerves visible as his eyes darted around the hospital. "How you feeling, George?" she asked.

"Like my feet are cemented to the floor," he admitted.

"Well, just a few more feet, and . . . " Tommy trailed off, seeing his eyes locked on a room across the wing, and Tommy knew he'd found the room he had come for. "Do you want me to go in with you?" she offered gently.

"Uh, no," he shook his head. "No, no, you should go, but . . . but thank you for getting me here."

Tommy nodded, then looked up as a blonde woman emerged from the room, anger on her face as she approached George. "George, what the hell are you doing here?" she spat.

"I think you know exactly what I'm doing here," George countered. "He's my son, too, Clara!"

"You are not allowed to be here today!" Clara snapped. "You're gonna get yourself arrested!"

Tommy did a double take, looking at George in surprise. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure that's true," the man admitted, not denying it at all.

"George, you need to go!" another man arrived behind Clara.

"I need to go?" George repeated, narrowing his eyes. "Uh, no. You need to go." Tommy took a step back when George pulled a handgun out from under the sweater he carried, aiming around the wing. "You all need to go!" he bellowed as workers and visitors screamed and fled. "Everybody out!"

"George!" Tommy protested.

"Have you lost your mind?" Clara demanded.

"I'm not gonna let you kill our son," George hissed.

"We're not killing him! We're letting him go!"

"Move!" George ordered, aiming the gun at her.

Clara steeled herself. "And what if I don't?" she challenged.

"George," Tommy took a careful step forward. "You don't want to do this."

"You were always so ready to give up on him," George accused, glaring at Clara.

"It's not Ethan I gave up on, George," Clara shook her head. "It's you."

George narrowed his eyes, and Tommy cleared her throat. "Ma'am . . . it might be a good idea if y'all just stepped out and let George have a moment with his son."

"And who the hell are you?" Clara scowled.

"I'm just somebody who doesn't want anyone to get hurt," Tommy answered truthfully. "OK? Safest move for everyone in this room – and this hospital – if you just go outside. Just for now."

"She's right," the man with Clara nodded. "Clara, come on. Come on."

Clara nodded, then turned on her heel and went back the way she came. "Where are you going?" George shouted.

"Going to say goodbye to my son!" Clara tossed over her shoulder.

"Wait!" George ran after her.

Tommy followed, watching Clara lean over a sickly-looking young man lying in the bed, strapped to a ventilator. "Goodbye, my precious boy," Clara whispered, kissing his forehead. "I love you so much." She sniffed as she turned around, glaring at George. "I will always hate you for this," she vowed, leaving the room with the other man.

"George," Tommy began.

"I told you to leave," George shook his head, then glared at the petrified nurse. "What's going on with the machines?" he asked. "Are they on? Turn them back on right now! Turn them on!"

"George, just let her walk out of here, OK?" Tommy held up her hand, stopping George from moving forward. "I can handle the ventilator."

George took a deep breath. "OK, just go," he ordered. "You, go!" The nurse sprinted out of the room, and Tommy placed her purse on a nearby chair, finding a pair of gloves. "Ethan?" George sat down next to the bed, swallowing as he reached for the boy. "Ethan, it's Dad. I'm here now. Everything's gonna be just fine."

"Is it?" Tommy couldn't help but ask. "How long do you think you'll be able to hold off the police with a toy gun?" George looked at her in surprise, and Tommy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, we walked through the metal detectors together."

George gulped, then dropped the toy gun on the bed. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

"Right," Tommy scoffed, tapping the screen to make the ventilator whir back to life. "Let's hope that works out."

***

"OK, one last pinch . . . "

Owen barely flinched when he felt the last staple come out, and he looked at Jacobs as she finished with her work. "How's it look?" he asked.

"Looks great," she answered with a smile. "The incision is well-approximated, which means that it's closing nicely. There's no sign of swelling. No infection, no redness . . . " She paused, looking at his upper back, which was bared by the hospital gown. "You know, other than these patches here, which I don't believe are mine." Owen gave her an innocent look, which made her raise an eyebrow. "You know, if I didn't know better . . . I'd say they look a little like burns. Any idea where they came from?"

Owen shrugged. "I plead the fifth."

Jacobs huffed in exasperation. "I thought I told you not to go back to work till at least four weeks after the surgery!"

"I didn't go back to work," Owen nodded.

Jacobs raised an eyebrow. "So you just do this sort of thing recreationally?" Owen opened his mouth to answer, but the doctor held up her hand. "You know what? No. I do not want to know." She sighed, getting the materials she needed to do an alcohol swab on the incision. "You clearly lead a very exciting life, Owen."

"Sometimes a little too exciting," Owen admitted.

Jacobs smiled as she cleaned the area she just examined, then she hummed. "You know what? Actually, I would like to know."

"Really?" Owen blinked. "Well, it's a . . . it's a kind of long, complicated story."

"OK," Jacobs shrugged. "Well, no worries."

"But I'd love to tell it to you," Owen watched her put her utensils down. "Maybe over a coffee?" Jacobs blinked at him, and he chuckled. "I'm sorry, you're a doctor. You probably can't go to coffee with a patient."

"Well, the good news is you are no longer my patient," Jacobs smirked. "So why don't you call me Barbara?"

Owen grinned, but before he could answer, the intercom went off. "Paging Dr. White and Dr. Violet," a man announced, and Jacobs's face drained of all color. "Dr. White and Dr. Violet to the ICU immediately."

"Oh, wow," Jacobs breathed, scrambling to remove her gloves. "OK."

"What's that?" Owen asked, standing from his seat.

"Dr. White is code for the staff to evacuate the hospital," Jacobs answered.

Owen gulped. "What's a code violet?"

"A hostage situation," Jacobs admitted. "We need to go."

Owen balked and moved quickly to get back into his civvies. He wasn't so much worried for himself . . . but Tommy was still somewhere on hospital grounds.

***

"Ethan," George coaxed, looking intently down at his son. "Hey, Big E . . . I know you can hear me. You got to hurry back, buddy."

Tommy's phone buzzed in her back pocket, and she turned her back to George, looking down at the Caller ID. She took a deep breath, then walked out of the room and answered. "Owen."

"Hey," Owen's worried voice greeted her. "Are you still here?"

"In the hospital?" Tommy frowned. "Yes."

"There's an alert. They're evacuating everybody below the ICU. There's a gunman."

"Yes, I'm aware," Tommy cleared her throat, already anticipating Owen's response. "I'm . . . looking right at him."

***

Owen halted in his tracks, eyes wide at Tommy's response. "What?" he asked sharply.

"I'm fine, Owen," Tommy hastily assured him. "It's a toy gun."

"How do you know that?" he demanded, stopping Jacobs as he focused on Tommy.

"Just trust me," she urged. "The guy's a little off his rocket, but he's harmless. He's just a distraught dad that doesn't want his son off life support."

"Well, I can promise you the SWAT team won't be using toy guns," Owen warned her.

"Which is why I need you to buy me some time."

"For what?" Owen frowned.

"I think I can talk him down."

Owen closed his eyes. As much as he felt like a hypocrite for his current thoughts, this was no time for Tommy to try and play hero . . . not when SWAT was outside the hospital with heavy weaponry that could easily cut her down and leave Izzy and Evie without a parent. "Tommy . . . "

"I walked him in, I can walk him out."

Owen reeled, blinking rapidly. "What do you mean, you walked him in?!"

"Nobody has to get hurt today, Owen," Tommy pled. "Please . . . just a little more time."

Owen closed his eyes. "I'll see what I can do," he whispered.

***

Tommy hung up her phone, then walked back into the room. "George?"

He didn't look up from Ethan. "Yeah?"

"We don't have long," she told him. "So I really need you to listen to me. You have to surrender, now."

"No," George shook his head at once. "I can't do that. I can't. Ethan is counting on me. They come through that door, they're gonna kill him. No."

"You said you didn't want anyone getting hurt today," Tommy reminded him. "If you don't surrender right now, people are gonna get hurt, starting with you."

George scoffed. "I don't care about me. You're right. You need to go. Thank you for giving my son a chance."

"George," Tommy whispered. "Your boy has been in a vegetative state for two weeks, OK? The odds are that he's not coming out of it, especially not in the next few minutes."

George bit his lip, looking at Ethan. "When Ethan was thirteen, he went over to a friend's house after school to play, and they decided to go swimming. We had no idea. Clara and I didn't even know they had a pool. And Ethan had a seizure, and all the air came out of his lungs, and he sank to the bottom. Took his friends five minutes to pull him out."

Tommy swallowed. "It's a miracle he didn't drown himself."

"The doctor said, 'he's probably not gonna wake up,'" George told her. "And even if he did, he wouldn't be the same. And guess what? The next day, he came out of it. My son's a fighter."

Tommy took a deep breath. "That's an incredible story . . . but twelve hours? It's a lot different from two weeks."

George glared up at her. "What would you do, hmm?" he challenged. "If this was your loved one, what would you do to give them even just a minute more for a chance at a miracle?"

Charles is dead.

Tommy swallowed hard, thinking of Charles lying down in the morgue, looking peaceful in death. "Anything," she confessed with a nod. "Anything."

***

"Make sure the first two floors are cleared, the stairwells secured," one of the SWAT officers ordered as a police officer led Owen through the assembled force. "Radio Echo Team, have them put shooters on every rooftop with a clear line of sight to the south side of this building." The man paused, seeing Owen led to him. "Officer, all civilians have to be on the other side of the barricades."

"I'm not a civilian," Owen shook his head. "I'm Captain Owen Strand, Austin FD. I have some information on your suspect."

That got the man's attention, who stepped forward and extended his hand. "Lieutenant Jeff Tyler," he introduced himself.

Owen nodded, shaking his hand. "A colleague of mine, Paramedic Captain Tommy Vega, called me. She is inside with him right now."

"She's a hostage?" Tyler asked in concern.

"No, no, he's not holding her," Owen denied. "And she says he's armed with a toy gun."

"But that's not something that I can assume to be true," Tyler pointed out.

"I understand that," Owen nodded. "She's asking for some time to get him to surrender."

Tyler frowned. "The man commandeered an ICU!"

"I know you don't know me, but I do know her," Owen told him. "Captain Vega is asking for some time."

Tyler frowned, thinking it over. "She has ten minutes."

Owen smothered a smile and nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir."

***

As George stroked his son's hair, Tommy leaned on the nurse's station of the ICU, watching intently. When her phone buzzed again and displayed Owen's name on the Caller ID, she answered after a moment's hesitation. "Owen."

"Hey, I spoke to SWAT Commander Tyler," he told her. "He's agreed to stand his team down. You have ten minutes to try and get that guy out of there."

Despite her situation, Tommy smiled, impressed with the captain. "You do get results," she complimented.

Owen sighed. "I do what I can."

"And please pass my thanks along to the lieutenant," Tommy continued, "but things have changed here. We're not coming out of this room." She paused, then sincerely said, "Sorry" before hanging up on Owen, never giving him a chance to protest.

***

"Did you put in a cheat code while I wasn't looking?" Judd scowled, watching the TV as Evie thrashed him.

"No," Evie smirked, hearing Izzy giggle from Judd's other side. "I don't cheat."

"Well, you must be a black belt, then," Judd sniffed, pretending to glare at Christopher from where he sat at Evie's feet. "But either way, it ain't fair."

"Ain't is not a word, Mr. Judd," Izzy informed him.

"Our mom says we shouldn't whine," Evie added.

Christopher's giggles were louder that time, and Buck grinned at Judd's predicament. "I think you're outnumbered there, Judd."

"Yeah, you're right," Judd nodded, searching for his phone when it started to chime. "I guess that means they've got to go through each other now."

"Yay!" Izzy grinned, seizing Judd's controller and sitting next to her sister.

"I'll play winner!" Christopher declared.

"Good idea, mijo," Eddie chuckled.

Judd checked his phone, then quickly answered. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Have you talked to Tommy today?" Owen demanded.

"Yeah," Judd nodded, gesturing to Buck and Eddie to follow him into the kitchen, where Grace was working. "Actually, Grace and I are watching the girls right now. Buck and Eddie brought Christopher over, too." He turned to the three other adults, telling them, "It's Cap."

"She said that she was here because she had a relative who was getting some sort of procedure done?"

Judd blinked. "Where's here?"

"St. Raymond's," Owen answered, making Judd blink. "Look, what relatives of her live here in town?"

"It's just her and Charles," Judd shrugged. "I mean, that's why we're babysitting the girls now. What's going on, Owen?"

"I don't know," Owen sighed. "But something's not right with her. Otherwise, I doubt she'd be in the middle of a police standoff right now."

"A what now?!" Judd did a double take.

"Yeah, and I talked to her twenty minutes ago. Now she's not picking up my calls."

***

Tommy shut the curtains in front of the room's doors, then walked back to George. "Whatever you do, stay away from this window."

George paled, watching her shut the blinds as he slid his chair over. "What, you mean they'd actually – I mean, without even talking to us first?!"

"Well, we're playing for keeps now," Tommy told him. "They'll be here soon."

"So let's barricade the door!"

"There's no point," Tommy shook her head, pulling out her phone when it rang. "When they come, they come."

George swallowed. "So what else can we do?"

Tommy sighed and denied another call. "Pray."

***

Grace sighed, closing her eyes when her call was denied. "She's not picking up for me, either."

"I mean, this don't make no sense!" Judd huffed in annoyance. "You know? And what the hell relative is she visiting at the hospital anyway?"

Neither Buck nor Eddie answered, but Grace looked out at Izzy and Evie on the couch. "You know what?" she whispered. "It's like you said . . . Tommy has one relative that's in town that is not in this room right now."

A burst of laughter from the kids made them all look over, in time to see Izzy carefully wrestle with Christopher for her controller, Evie giggling as she watched. "Oh," Buck's face fell in realization.

"Charles," Judd closed his eyes.

"So what if it wasn't a car that Evie heard," Eddie swallowed.

Grace nodded solemnly. "What if it was an ambulance?"

***

Maddie's string of 9-1-1 calls was interrupted by a call directly for the dispatch center, and with a hum, she changed channels. "Austin Emergency, this is Maddie."

"Hey, Maddie," Grace said. "This is Grace."

"Hi, Grace," Maddie smiled. "How's it going?"

"I, uh . . . well, I'm doing well, but I could use your help."

"Of course," Maddie nodded. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a bit of a . . . strange request. Could you tell me if any 9-1-1 calls came in last night from a residence? 5674 Merriman Drive?"

"5674 Merriman Drive . . . " Maddie mumbled as she typed. "567 . . . " She trailed off, the address registering in her head. "Grace, isn't that the address of – ?"

"We need to know, Maddie," Grace told her. "Please."

Maddie finished typing in the address, and she swallowed, seeing it blink at her from the logs. "Yes, one call at 3:18 a.m."

"Maddie, I need you to play it for me, please."

Maddie licked her lips, then took a deep breath. "Copy," she whispered, clicking the icon to play the call.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"I'm at 5674 Merriman Drive," Tommy's voice with a hint of panic came through, and Maddie put her hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp, feeling tears sting her eyes. "I have a nonresponsive fifty-year-old male. No pulse. No reaction to sternal rub. I need cardiac life support here now."

***

"Help is on the way, ma'am," the dispatcher continued in the recording, and Buck looked at Judd and Grace with wide eyes, Grace hanging onto the counter for support as Judd watched Evie and Izzy with sorrow. "Can you tell me if he's breathing?"

"No," Tommy answered. "His airways are clear, but no respiration. Starting compressions." Her next words were whispers, but still clear as day. "Come on, Charles, please," she begged, making Eddie swallow and duck his head. "Please, come on! Come on, Charles! Come on!"

"Paramedics will be with you within six minutes," the dispatcher said.

After a few seconds, Tommy's voice returned. "No need to hurry."

"I'm sorry?"

"No pulse. Cool to the touch. Rigor has started to set in. Patient is beyond resuscitation."

"Oh, my God," Judd choked, turning away and pulling out his phone.

Grace buried her face in her hands, and Buck hastily drew her into a hug as they listened to the last of the recording. "Tell the responders no lights, no sirens. I don't want to wake my kids."

"Grace?" Maddie's voice was barely audible. "Oh, my God . . . I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"Thank you, Maddie," Eddie was the only one capable of speaking to her as Grace tried to keep her composure and Judd spoke into his phone. "That's what we needed to know."

***

Owen's phone rang as the SWAT team moved past him towards the ICU, and he quickly picked up when he saw it was Judd. "Did you get her?" he asked hopefully.

"No, Cap, we didn't."

Owen froze, hearing the roughness in Judd's voice. His 2IC sounded like he was about to cry. "What happened?" he asked, fearing the worst.

Judd took a deep breath. "Gracie had an idea, and we called the dispatch center. Tommy called an ambulance at 3:18 this morning. Cap . . . it's Charles. He's dead."

Owen's breath hitched in his throat. "What?" he croaked in horror.

"Charles is dead, Cap," Judd choked out; Owen could hear Grace's whimpers in the background and what sounded like Buck comforting her. "That's why T's at the hospital. She wants to know how he died."

"Oh, my God," Owen closed his eyes.

"Cap, the girls . . . Cap, please get her out of there. The girls can't lose both parents in one day."

"They won't," Owen vowed viciously, spinning on his heels and heading towards the ICU. "I give you my word, Judd, they won't."

Judd sniffed. "Thanks, Cap."

Judd was the first to hang up, and Owen shoved his phone back into his pocket so he could take the stairs at a sprint. He had already seen his best friend lose his wife, had seen the spiral that started to take him down. He had seen how frantic his kids were to keep him in their life and not lose him like they lost their mother.

He was not about to see Evie and Izzy become orphans in less than 24 hours.

"Breach on me," he could hear Tyler order, and he picked up his pace. "Three, two, one – "

"Stop!" Owen shouted at the top of his lungs as he rounded the corner, and Tyler whipped around, rising from his crouch when he saw him. "Stop!" he panted, jogging up to him. "Don't go in there yet. I know what's wrong with her, with Tommy, and I think I can get them to come out peacefully, but I've got to talk to her alone."

"Look, you go in there, and I can't protect you," Tyler protested.

Owen clenched his jaw, moving past him to the ICU doors. "I'll take my chances."

"You have two minutes!" Tyler warned.

Owen remembered to give him a nod of acknowledgement before he pushed open the doors to the ICU. Two minutes was all he needed.

***

A knock on the door startled both Tommy and George, then a familiar voice called out. "Tommy, it's Owen! I'm alone, and I'm coming in!" George reached for the toy gun, clutching it and aiming as Owen peeked through the curtain. His eyes found her first, then saw the gun pointed at him. He disregarded it in favor of nodding at Tommy as he closed the doors behind him. "Hey."

Tommy held up her hand, gesturing for George to put the gun away. "You shouldn't be here, Owen," she told him.

"None of us should be here," Owen countered. "But we're here."

"Who is this?" George asked suspiciously.

"My name is Owen, and I'm very sorry for what you're going through," Owen told him. "I really, really am, but I've come to save my friend."

"I'm fine," Tommy told him firmly.

"You are not fine," Owen countered sharply, and Tommy met his gaze stubbornly. "Nothing about this is fine. It's brave, it's noble, and I understand it." He sighed, watching intently for her reaction. "You want this man to be able to experience the miracle you didn't get to."

Tommy faltered, feeling her bravado start to dissolve under the sympathetic and understanding look Owen gave her. "What's he talking about?" George asked in confusion.

Tommy shook her head, refusing to say it. Owen did for her. "Her husband died," he whispered. "This morning."

"Last night," Tommy corrected automatically, flinching when the words came too easily.

"Last night," Owen repeated, a sense of dread filling him. Last night . . . when Tommy had been with them discussing the serial arsonist and saving TK and Carlos from their burning house. "And you weren't there."

Tommy whimpered, shaking her head. "I wasn't there," she confirmed, internally cursing when her voice broke.

Owen swallowed hard. Just like Elliot hadn't been there when Kathy died, Tommy hadn't been there when Charles died. "I am so sorry."

George stared at her in horror. "Oh, my God."

"Tommy, you have to walk out of this room with me," Owen pled, desperation seeping into his voice as he stepped forward. "You should, too," he added to George before looking back at Tommy. "But you absolutely have to. There is a lot of firepower pointed at this room. Your little girls have already lost a parent. Don't let them lose another one."

Tommy had never seen the calm, confident, in control Owen Strand ever lose his composure before . . . and now here he was, eyes wild with panic, begging her to leave before SWAT burst in and opened fire. That would mean she would be killed . . . and it would leave Evie and Izzy without their parents. That very thought made her shudder, tears falling down her cheeks. Owen shifted, as if he wanted to move and comfort her, but Tommy sniffed and raised her hand, brushing them away. "Say goodbye," she choked out.

"What?" George's eyes widened.

"Say goodbye to your son," Tommy told him roughly, getting to her feet. "And we're gonna walk out of here together." George looked back at Ethan, and Tommy shook her head. "No," she said fiercely. "You're not going with him. That's not what he'd want."

George gulped. "I don't want to say goodbye."

"Hey," Tommy whispered, squeezing his shoulder. "It's a gift."

Owen nodded silently in agreement, and George sobbed, turning back to Ethan, squeezing his hand and arm. "Ethan," he whispered. "Ethan . . . Daddy's here." Grief surged up in Tommy again, clogging her throat, and she turned around to give George every bit of privacy she could manage. She saw Owen avert his eyes at the same time, the fire captain's face muscles twitching as he, too, tried to keep himself together. "I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me. You are my best friend, the greatest joy in my life." George leaned over, kissing his forehead. "I'll see you again," he promised. "One day, I'll see you again. I love you so much." Tommy closed her eyes, internally chanting keep yourself together, then heard George gasp in shock. "He's – he's holding my – he just squeezed my hand!"

Tommy spun around, eyes wide. 'You're sure it's not a spasm?" she stammered, hurrying around the bed to see for herself.

"Yes!" George nodded desperately. "He's squeezing my hand! Look at this! Feel it! He did it again!"

He released Ethan's hand, and Tommy carefully took it in her hands. "Ethan," she cleared her throat. "Ethan, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

It took a few seconds, then she felt a brief, albeit tight squeeze on her hand. Tommy's jaw dropped, and George laughed joyfully. "He's – !"

"He's in there," Tommy nodded, feeling dizzy as she watched color return to Ethan's face. "Yeah." She turned to Owen, eyes wide. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah," Owen nodded in confirmation, awe on his face.

"Oh," George smiled happily, surging to his feet as Ethan's eyes slowly opened. "Hi! Hi, son!"

Ethan's eyes immediately looked towards George, and Tommy backed away, leaving George to have a moment with his son. She backed right into Owen, and she felt the man hesitate before he laid a cautious hand on her shoulder. "That is a miracle," he whispered.

"Yes," Tommy nodded, sniffling. How was it possible to feel so happy while her heart broke all over again? "Yes, it is."

Charles is dead.

***

When SWAT burst through the ICU doors, they were met with Owen, Tommy, and George in the lobby, hands held above their heads. When it was confirmed George only had a toy gun, he was put in zip ties and led out the doors. Before he disappeared, George turned to give Tommy a bright, thankful smile. He was leaving as a man who made peace with his son, and that was all that mattered.

Tommy insisted on staying in the ICU as Clara was escorted back. She never expected Owen to remain, though on second thought, she guessed she should have. Owen was always protective of his own, and it made sense he wasn't going to leave her. He remained a respectful distance down the desk as Tommy watched Clara run to Ethan, her smile bright as she stroked his hair. It relieved her to no end to see someone get a happy ending, because while Ethan was still alive and Clara had another man who loved her, Charles was . . . Charles was . . . was . . .

Charles is dead.

Owen's head shot up when a low keen left Tommy's lips, and he watched in alarm as the paramedic captain abruptly sat back on the nurse's station, her expression crumbling as she started to sob. As he moved forward and laid a careful hand on her back, everything was background noise to her as she finally succumbed to the pain and despair she had kept bottled and numbed since she had discovered Charles dead in her home. Her ribs protested the ferocity of the sobs that escaped her, and she clutched at her side, no longer able to remain upright, and without realizing it, she reached out for something to support her.

Her hand landed on Owen's arm, then Owen finally moved, arms encircling her, offering her some form of refuge as her world came crashing down. Tommy lurched forward, crying into Owen's chest, latching onto the comfort given, and Owen tugged her closer to him, swallowing down his own tears as he rubbed her back, watching a woman so strong around others finally let someone else be strength for her.

***

"Your intuition was right," Roberts shared to Tommy, and the paramedic looked down at Charles with a heavy heart. "It was an aneurysm. I found the rupture in the subarachnoid space between the brain and the skull. There'd have been no warnings, no indicators. It's the kind of thing you might find by accident."

"So there's nothing we could have done," Tommy whispered.

Roberts shook her head sadly. "No."

Tommy sighed, biting her lip and looking at her. "Would it have been painful?" she asked.

Thankfully, Roberts shook her head again. "It would have happened fast." Tommy sighed in relief, looking down at Charles. "I'll give you a minute."

"Thank you," Tommy nodded absently.

She barely heard Roberts leave the morgue and start to speak to the lone person waiting outside. She ran her hands along the blanket covering Charles's corpse until she found his hand, and with a shaky breath, she pulled Charles's hand into both of hers. She clutched it tightly, remembering how tightly she had squeezed his hand once upon a time.

"Babe, do you remember when I told you one day that this miracle would happen? Today is that day. So you squeeze my hand and you push through, Tommy Vega. Squeeze!"

Their miracle had become two when Evie and Izzy were born. Their miracle . . . and now it was hers to carry, and to carry alone.

Tommy placed Charles's arm back on the table and carefully smoothed out the blanket so there were no wrinkles. She walked out of the morgue, silently nodding to Roberts. The doctor nodded and stepped back inside, leaving Tommy to take a deep breath. "I want my girls," she whispered.

Owen merely nodded, holding out his arm. "OK."

Tommy tucked herself into his side, and Owen placed his arm around her shoulders, guiding her out of the hospital.

***

"Gold head and body, but then black wings," Judd watched Izzy as she colored. "That's cool."

A knock sounded on the door, and the four adults looked up, all of them wondering how to proceed. Grace stirred from next to Evie, holding up her hand to stop anyone from moving. "I got it," she whispered, getting to her feet.

"Birds are some of the coolest animals in the world," Christopher grinned, assisting Evie with the flamingo she was coloring.

"I know what I'm trying to do with it," Izzy giggled.

Grace opened the door, and she felt her heart shatter when she saw the crestfallen look on Tommy's face. "Hey, friend," she whispered, holding out her arms.

"Hey, Gracie," Tommy sighed, accepting her hug. Before Grace could say anything more, Tommy cleared her throat and walked into the house. "Hey," she smiled.

"Hi, Mom!" Evie perked up and waved.

"Hi, Miss Tommy!" Cristopher smiled.

"Hey, babies," Tommy's smile was more genuine. "Hey, Christopher. Girls, come on. Let's pack stuff up. It's time to go."

"Oh, but we aren't done coloring!" Izzy sighed in disappointment.

"Hey, so how 'bout this?" Judd cleared his throat. "What if I just save that page, and we'll do it next time? Yeah?"

"Can't we just have a sleepover?" Evie looked up at Tommy with wide eyes. "Please?"

On any other day, Tommy would have caved. But on this day, she wanted her girls as close to her as possible. "No," she shook her head. "No, sweetheart, not tonight. But we can stop on the way home for some ice cream."

Evie brightened at once. "Can I have a waffle cone?"

Tommy giggled. "Absolutely."

"Is Daddy gonna meet us there?" Izzy asked.

Buck's face fell, and Eddie silently reached for his hand. It didn't go unnoticed by Christopher, and the boy paused in his coloring, looking around the room. While Izzy and Evie didn't notice, he saw Grace's lips tremble and saw how pale Judd looked. This wasn't how his family was supposed to look . . . and that meant something was wrong. "No," Tommy shook her head. "No, it's just gonna be the three of us. Don't forget to thank Ms. Gracie and Mr. Judd for watching y'all, and for the Diazes and Buck for spending the day, too."

Evie and Izzy beelined for Christopher, and the boy carefully got to his feet before hugging both of them. "Thank you, Christopher," Evie whispered.

"You're welcome," the boy answered, hugging the girls as tightly as he could.

The twins made their way around the room, and if they noticed the hugs given from the adults were extra tight, they didn't comment on it. "Y'all be good," Judd told them. Grace barely kept her composure as she hugged the twins, then assisted Tommy in putting their backpacks on. "Be good to your mama," Judd added.

"Thank you for everything you did today," Tommy said sincerely, looking around the room. "I really appreciate . . . I don't know what I would have done without you."

"If you need anything, T, we're here for you," Judd told her.

"I know, Juddy," Tommy nodded, shepherding the twins towards the door. "I know. I appreciate that."

"Drive safe," Eddie told them.

"'Kay," Tommy nodded. "Good night."

"Good night," Buck whispered, watching Tommy shut the door behind her.

The engine revving did nothing to cover the sound of Grace failing to hold back a sob, and Eddie looked down when he felt a tug on his sleeve. "Dad?" Christopher looked up at him in concern. "Something's wrong with Mr. Charles, isn't there?"

And Grace spun into Judd's arms, sobbing into his shirt. "C'mere, sweetie," Judd closed his eyes, tugging Grace into a hug. "It'll be OK."

"Yeah, Chris," Eddie swallowed and nodded, and Christopher allowed himself to be pulled into a hug as well. "Something's wrong."

***

The door to the apartment quietly opened and closed, but Nancy heard it anyway. "Hey!" she called to welcome Maddie, carefully pulling a casserole dish out of the oven. "You're just in time. The timer just buzzed for the chicken parm, and I know it's been a rough week for you, so I figured I would – "

"Nancy?"

The quiet, uncertain voice of her roommate cut Nancy off mid-sentence, and the paramedic spun around to see Maddie lingering in the entryway, her knuckles white around her purse, her eyes red . . . and were those tear tracks on her face? "What happened?" Nancy asked, abandoning her oven mitts to hastily move to Maddie. Maddie just shook her head, covering her mouth to try and stifle a cry. Nancy pried her purse from her other hand, then pulled Maddie into her arms. "Hey," she soothed, rubbing her hand up and down Maddie's back. "What is it? What happened?"

Maddie just shook her head, unwilling to share something that was Tommy's to share, and she settled for crying into Nancy's shoulder. Nancy didn't pry any further and simply held her, mind spinning about what had upset her so badly.

***

Owen: Will you let me know when you get home?

His text to Tommy remained unanswered as Owen made his way through the ruins of the 126, glass and wood crunching under his feet. He was able to make his way to the upstairs level, staring at the charred remains of the bunkroom . . . specifically where one blast had reduced two to smithereens.

Those were Sylvie and TK's bunks.

He swallowed down a wave of nausea and turned his back to the bunks, stepping into what remained of his office, which had been Matt and Kelly's during their brief time as the officers of the 126. His flashlight beam bounced from corner to corner, then reflected off a piece of his past. He took a deep breath, somehow comforted as he bent down and plucked the melted metal from the South Tower off the floor.

He heard the faint echo of Sylvie's laughter from downstairs. He peeked out of the office to see Carlos unloading a few coolers onto one of the tables, and he flicked off his flashlight, heading down the stairs, his way illuminated by the lamp Matt set on the table. "Hey, Cap!" Paul grinned, waving to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I came here to survey the damage," Owen answered, looking around at the snacks and drinks being distributed by Carlos and TK. "But it looks like you guys came here to do some."

"Yeah, we never miss a hang," Paul nodded. "Come rain, shine . . . or diabolical acts of arson."

"They're usually at Carlos and TK's place, but, as you know, that's kinda burnt to the ground," Marjan added.

"Unlike this place," Owen gestured around the firehouse. "Which is merely toasted."

"Squad 3's never gonna let me hear the end of that when we get back to Chicago," Matt sighed, shaking his head as he took a drink of his beer.

"Can you just imagine the faces Boden and Grissom are gonna make?" Kelly snickered.

"Oh, I already am," Matt rolled his eyes. "Forget them, though . . . Delaney."

"Ooo," Kelly winced. "Yeah . . . he's gonna hold that over your head forever."

"Guys, guys, guys!" Sylvie bounded into view with a grin. "Good news! The foosball table made it out mostly unscathed. There are two little burnt figures on each team, so . . . anyone up for it? Doubles?"

Marjan whirled around, pointing at Matt and Kelly. "Doubles against you two?" she challenged. "I call attack!"

"Oh, you know what?" Kelly grinned. "Bring it."

Sylvie whooped, high-fiving Marjan as they moved to the foosball table. "Paul and I'll play winner!" Mateo called.

Owen watched fondly as the teams took their marks, then he started when TK nudged him. "Hey, Dad . . . where were you today all day?"

Tommy's heartbroken cries echoed in Owen's head, and he winced, shaking his head. "I'll tell you later," he answered, then gestured to the cooler. "Hey, Carlos, why don't you hand me a beer?"

"Absolutely," Carlos nodded, handing over a bottle.

"Oh, hey," Mateo frowned, scrolling through his phone. "Buck and Eddie are bowing out tonight."

"What?" Sylvie blinked in surprise, searching for her phone when it beeped.

"That's the first night Buck's missed, like, ever," Marjan frowned.

"It happens," Kelly shrugged.

Sylvie, however, looked confused when she checked her phone. "That was Nancy," she said. "She and Maddie aren't coming, either."

"Four of them at the same time?" Paul did a double take. "That's unusual."

"Maybe something happened with the Buckleys?" Matt guessed.

"Captain Strand?" Carlos looked at Owen in concern. "You look a little pale."

"Dad?" TK asked quietly.

His phone chirped, and Owen shook himself over, looking down at the texts he received.

Tommy: We made it back.

Tommy: I'm telling the girls before they go to bed.

Tommy: Grace, Judd, Buck and Eddie already know.

Tommy: You can tell the others, too.

Owen took a deep breath, sending off another few texts.

Owen: Are you sure?

Owen: The rest of them are here at the station for their usual night.

Tommy: I'm sure.

"Dad?" TK repeated.

Owen sighed, pocketing his phone. "I need everyone's attention," he said, gesturing around the table. "Now."

In a flash, the foosball players abandoned the table and joined the crowd, everyone looking concerned. "What is it, Cap?" Marjan asked.

Owen drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Everyone knows TK and Carlos were targeted by the serial arsonist last night," he began. "Sylvie, Matt, and Kelly came, along with Judd, Tommy, and Billy to get them out of the house. We couldn't stop the fire, but they survived."

"Thank God for that," Mateo nodded.

"Today, I had a regular check-up to see how I'm doing post-surgery," Owen went on. "I saw Tommy outside the hospital, and when I asked why she was there, she said a relative was undergoing a procedure. It was hours later, after a police stand-off at the hospital, that I found out what that procedure was." He braced himself for the onslaught of questions. "It was an autopsy."

"An autopsy?" Marjan balked.

"Which relative?" Paul demanded.

"Charles," Owen answered.

Silence echoed in the firehouse. "Charles?" Sylvie repeated faintly, swaying on her feet.

"Charles," Owen nodded, watching her whimper and turn to lean against Matt, the other fire captain's eyes wide. "When Tommy got home from the fire last night, she found Charles . . . he had an aneurysm while she was out of the house. According to the doctors, it was quick and sudden. No indicators that it could have happened."

"Oh, my God," Carlos whispered, covering his mouth.

"Poor Captain Vega," Paul bowed his head.

"What about the girls?" Mateo asked, looking lost. "Izzy? Evie?"

"Tommy's going to tell them tonight," Owen answered. "The Ryders already know, and so do Buck and Eddie. I assume that means Maddie knows, too . . . and since Nancy isn't here, she likely knows as well." He checked the time. "I know a bunch of you will want to give the Vegas your condolences, but given how late it is, I ask that you wait until tomorrow. Tommy . . . she's been through hell today. Let's give her a reprieve."

"Of course, Cap," Marjan nodded. "Absolutely."

"I'm sorry if I ruined the night," Owen said apologetically, looking around at the makeshift party. "But I know this house – even if the building is no longer usable, for now – is a family. We're each other's rocks."

"We want to be there for them," TK nodded firmly, and everyone around the table mimicked the action. "The Vegas come first."

***

It was well after midnight when Tommy collapsed on her sofa, exhaustion radiating from her. Izzy and Evie had been eerily quiet when Tommy sat them down and quietly explained that their father was gone. There had been tears, of course, but they had quietly retreated to their room to prepare for bed. When Tommy had gone to tuck them in, that had been when the waterworks really started. She had only just now gotten them settled.

A quiet knock on the door made her look up, and she looked outside to see who had come. She did a double take, then opened the door. "Owen?" she asked.

"Hi," he smiled sheepishly, holding up a bottle of Sylvie's favorite wine. "You don't have to say yes . . . can I come in?"

"Of course," Tommy nodded, stepping back and letting him inside.

Owen crossed the threshold, surveying the Vega house. The girls' backpacks were resting against the wall, ready to be used whenever they went to school; he had a feeling they would be excused the next day. A laundry basket, full of folded clothes, was by the coffee table. Nothing looked out of place. It had to be unnerving for Tommy to be here. "I told the rest of the firehouse tonight," he told her, offering the bottle of wine. "Everyone will likely want to check in tomorrow."

"Thank you," Tommy sighed, moving to the kitchen to retrieve glasses. "It was . . . hard, telling Evie and Izzy."

"How did they take it?" Owen asked.

"Quietly, at first," Tommy answered, pouring them generous helpings of the wine. "But then it sank in. I only got them to fall asleep a few minutes ago."

Owen winced, checking the time. "I'm so sorry, I just wanted to drop by and make sure – "

"Don't apologize!" Tommy let out in a rush, and Owen looked surprised by her outburst. Tommy flushed, looking down at the counter in embarrassment. "Company is nice," she admitted lamely.

"Don't be embarrassed by that," Owen told her softly, putting his hand on hers "You've had a lonely day."

Tommy rubbed her forehead, biting her lip. "It never felt real," she admitted. "It was never real . . . not until I saw Ethan wake up and realize I wouldn't see Charles wake."

"I'm so sorry you weren't there when it happened," Owen sighed. "It was my obsession with a serial arsonist that put you with us when TK and Carlos were attacked."

"I don't regret being there for TK and Carlos, Owen," Tommy told him. "I just wish I had gotten home sooner."

"So do I," Owen admitted.

Tommy sighed, taking a long sip of her wine. "You didn't have to come back," she told him. "I knew you were cleared to leave, once SWAT left the building. You stayed, though . . . and you came back tonight."

"I did," Owen nodded. "Easy decision to make."

"Why?" Tommy asked, looking hard at him. "We're friends, yes . . . but – "

"But nothing," Owen cut across her, shaking his head. "Tommy, it's been less than two weeks since Elliot lost Kathy. She died of a ruptured spleen, and just like you, Elliot never got to say goodbye. It's been tearing him apart ever since. I wish I could be in New York for him, but my place is in Austin. Liv's there for Elliot, but I wish I could do more." He leaned across the counter. "If I can't be there for Elliot, I'm sure as hell going to be here for you," he told her. "So if there is anything, and I mean anything, I can do for you . . . let me know."

Tommy swallowed at the intensity in his gaze. "Stay a little longer?" she asked meekly.

Owen smiled. "As long as you want me to stay."

***

"Ugh," Grainger made a face as he walked towards 51 the next morning, looking at his phone.

"What?" Pelham asked, craning his neck to look, and he hissed sympathetically. "Is Evan seriously keeping a log of every injury he gets from this demon?"

"I think so," Grainger nodded, grimacing as he looked at the picture of deep claw marks on Evan's hand. "You'd think after this long, he would have formed some sort of bond with her by now."

"I mean . . . " Pelham shrugged. "Girls."

Grainger laughed, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "I guess that's really all you have to say."

"Hey, fellas?" Herrmann looked out of the door to the firehouse, his brow furrowed. "Chief is asking for us to meet in the conference room immediately."

Grainger and Pelham exchanged concerned looks. "We'll drop our bags and be right there," Grainger replied. Herrmann nodded and disappeared into the firehouse, and the floater lieutenants increased their pace to the quarters. "I wonder what happened," Grainger murmured, looking into the truck officer's quarters and dropping his overnight bag on the bunk.

"No idea," Pelham shook his head, following Grainger to the conference room. "Have you heard anything?"

"Not a thing," Grainger murmured as they stepped inside.

The rest of the shift was gathered, and Boden looked grim as he nodded to the lieutenants. "Good morning, everyone," he greeted. "Before shift, I was informed by Commissioner Grissom of certain events that have taken place in Austin within the last 48 hours . . . one of which involved Captain Casey, Lieutenant Severide, and Captain Brett."

Gallo's eyes widened in alarm, and a whimper came from Gianna. "What happened?" Cruz demanded, Capp looking as taut as a bowstring next to him.

Boden sighed. "A serial arsonist got onto Captain Strand's radar," he answered. "When the chief arson investigator didn't believe him, he got the captains and the lieutenant involved."

"And of course, there's no way they said no," Herrmann grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Boden nodded. "Captain Strand was framed by another Austin fire captain, but with the help of one of the Texas Rangers, they found the arsonist . . . but not before six IEDs were planted and detonated inside Firehouse 126."

"Inside the firehouse?!" Stella's jaw dropped.

"Was the house out on a call?" Grainger asked, mind whirling with possibilities.

"Squad 9 and EMS 99 were," Boden answered. "The rest of the crews were still at the firehouse. Thankfully, Casey got everyone evacuated in time. When the IEDs detonated, no one was in the building."

"Oh, thank God," Gallo sank into his seat, a pale-faced Ritter squeezing his shoulder.

"For now, the 126 is out of commission," Boden nodded. "But the firehouse has still suffered a loss."

"Who?" Violet gulped, her hand clutching Gianna's, both paramedics looking scared.

Boden sighed. "Captain Vega's husband died of an aneurysm yesterday night," he answered, and Grainger closed his eyes, hearing gasps ring in the room. "She informed Captain Strand the information could be shared, and Casey called to tell me last night."

"Oh, my God," Mouch gulped. "Their twin girls . . . "

"Is there anything we can do?" Gianna asked.

"We can pass a boot around," Gallo suggested, which made Ritter nod. "Maybe raise what we can until Casey and Severide come back from Austin?"

"I like that idea," Mouch nodded. "Maybe we can even set one up at Molly's, for when Intelligence and the Chicago Med staff come through?"

"I can have one ready by the end of shift," Herrmann agreed.

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Boden praised, and Gallo beamed happily. "That will surely help Captain Vega."

"Is there anything else we can do?" Pelham asked.

"Without hearing anything more, I don't think so," Boden shook his head. "For the time being, even though the 126 is closed, Deputy Chief Radford has requested to have Casey and Severide stay in Austin until Captain Strand is officially cleared for duty. For now, it sounds like he still has over three weeks to go."

Cruz whistled. "Whatever he went through must have taken a toll on him."

"It was surgery to remove the rest of his cancer," Boden nodded.

"Did they get it all?" Mouch asked.

"Indeed, they did," Boden smiled, and Gallo, Ritter, Violet, and Gianna cheered. "Officially, he is cancer-free."

"There's some good news, at least," Herrmann sighed.

Boden checked the clock in the room. "I ask if anyone hears from Casey or Severide about something we can do, please inform the house," he said. "It's never easy when a firefighter loses a loved one."

"Copy, Chief," Grainger nodded.

The bells rang, and Boden nodded when the entire house was called. "Let's go!"

Grainger clapped Pelham on the back and ran for the apparatus floor, effortlessly jumping up into the officer's seat of Truck 81. "I can't believe they found another arsonist," Mouch muttered as he climbed in behind him.

"How many does this make?" Grainger asked.

"At least three, I think," Gallo answered.

"It's four," Stella corrected as she revved the truck to life. "They caught their first one before you joined the house."

Grainger shook his head, laughing as Stella drove out of the house. "They're never bored, are they?"

"That's when you should worry," Mouch told him. "Because something ultimately ends up happening."

Grainger snickered. "Noted."

***

The last time silence had been this deafening, it had been in the firehouse during the immediate aftermath of Tim Rosewater's death. Just like then, this silence was the product of a death of a family member.

Christopher and Buttercup were curled with Evie and Izzy, the twins quiet except for the occasional sniffle. The adults sat in a cluster by them, all clutching drinks in their hands . . . and all had no clue what to say.

"I can't believe he's gone," Sylvie finally broke the silence, her voice still hoarse from tears. Matt and Kelly shuffled closer from where they sat on either side of her on the bench, and Sylvie downed another large gulp of wine. "I mean, we never saw anything."

"And we never would have," Tommy sighed, staring into her glass. "Not according to Dr. Roberts. It was very sudden and very quick."

"No warnings at all?" Buck asked.

Tommy silently shook her head, and Eddie put to words what everyone was thinking. "Oh, my God."

"I'm so sorry, Captain Vega," Maddie swallowed.

"Thank you, Maddie," Tommy gave a strained smile as Nancy leaned into her captain's side, the younger paramedic's mascara running.

"How about next time, don't choose the same day to get in a police stand-off," Judd looked at Tommy with a scowl, both arms tight around Grace.

"I understand why she did it," Owen shook his head. "I know if Elliot had a chance for a miracle . . . he would take it."

"That's the impression I got when he was here," Paul agreed.

"This sucks," Marjan complained, resting her chin on her hand.

"His funeral will be on Thursday," Tommy told them. "I know the 126 is closed while the damage is surveyed – "

"We'll all be there, T," Grace told her.

"Absolutely," Owen agreed.

"You're not going through this alone, Captain," Matt confirmed.

Tommy gave a watery smile, leaning her head on top of Nancy's. This time last year, she had never pictured going back to work as a paramedic. Now, she had no idea how she would get through this if she didn't have the 126. "Thank you," she finally said, looking around the group.

"Family shows up for each other," Owen told her firmly, to nods from everyone. "There's nowhere else we'd rather be."

***

I . . . did not expect this chapter to be as long as it ended up being. I thought this would be somewhere in the 9K range . . . I had no clue it would be over 12.5K. I guess I had a lot to say when writing out Owen and Tommy's thought processes during this chapter. What a day.

So, according to "Dust to Dust," two weeks pass between Charles's funeral and the season finale of 9-1-1: Lone Star . . . I guess that means I need something to fill in that gap. I wonder how all's going for Grainger and Pelham while they hold down the fort at 51? ;)

"What Comes Next" will be the next chapter!

graphic by marvelity