The 126 firehouse was waking up with its usual rhythm—boots clattering against concrete, the hiss of the coffee machine in the corner, the warm scent of breakfast burritos Mateo had brought in on the way. The bay doors were rolled up, letting in the early Texas sun, which painted the engines and rescue rigs in streaks of red and gold. TK Strand sat at the rig, methodically checking his medic kit. Gauze, saline, trauma shears, intubation equipment—everything had to be perfect, everything in its place. That quiet focus was one of his trademarks; while others teased or joked to pass the time, TK found calm in preparation.

“TK, you’re triple-checking again,” Paul said as he walked by, tugging on his gloves. “You know, one of these days you’re gonna wear the Velcro out on those packs.” TK smirked faintly without looking up. “And one of these days, you’ll thank me for being the one who finds the missing OPA before we’re ten minutes into a rescue.” From across the bay, Judd chuckled. “He’s got you there, Paul.” Mateo bustled in a few beats late, juggling a coffee in one hand and a breakfast burrito in the other. TK shook his head, amused. “You know, Matty, one day you’re gonna have to decide which you want more—caffeine or food.”

Before Mateo could answer, the station alarms dropped hard and fast. The loud tones echoed through the firehouse, snapping everyone into focus. “126, respond to a multi-vehicle collision, I-35 northbound. Multiple entrapments, possible critical injuries. Time out, 09:46.” The easy chatter evaporated instantly. TK slung his medic bag onto his shoulder, his voice steady but firm as he started delegating. “Paul, you’re on triage with me. Mateo, jaws of life and backboards—be ready for multiple extractions. Marjan, control traffic and keep civilians back. Judd, get us there fast.”

Everyone moved at once, trusting the calm certainty in TK’s tone. As they climbed aboard the truck, TK’s phone buzzed. For a moment, just a flicker, his mask slipped. He glanced down and saw Carlos’s name light up the screen. Carlos: Heard the call. Be safe. I’ll see you after shift. TK’s chest tightened, but in a good way. He shot back a quick reply before climbing aboard: Always. Love you. The rig roared to life, sirens screaming as they peeled out of the station. The city blurred by in flashes of light and color. Inside the cab, the tension was thick, but TK leaned forward, voice calm, grounding his team as much as himself.

“Listen—accidents like this are chaos. People are scared, hurt, disoriented. We don’t just patch wounds. We bring calm. We bring families back together. Remember that when we roll up.” Paul gave a firm nod. Mateo clutched the jaws of life tighter, nerves settling under TK’s words. Even Judd, hands steady on the wheel, gave a grunt of agreement. As the truck sped toward the wreckage, TK let himself think briefly of Carlos—the man who always managed to see the light in him, even in his darkest hours. The man waiting for him to come home. That thought alone steadied his heartbeat.

The radio crackled with updates. “Two vehicles overturned, one pinned under the guardrail. Civilians trapped. Highway shut down both ways.” TK’s jaw tightened, his medic instincts sharpening into focus. “Alright,” he said, looking at his team. “This is it. Whatever’s waiting for us out there, we handle it together. Let’s bring them home.”

The sirens screamed louder as the 126 closed in, and TK’s eyes narrowed on the horizon, already picturing the scene, already preparing for the fight to save lives.