I Will Carry You

Owen

Owen Strand had never been a big fan of long car rides, and his recent journey across the US hadn’t exactly changed that opinion. However, he couldn’t ignore the way he felt like the long trip had done a lot of good for him and TK. 

His son had spent the first few hours of the trip in relative silence, occasionally singing under his breath to a song on the radio or flicking through text messages on his phone. Owen had been concerned that the person he was messaging was Alex, and he tried to think of a way to ask TK about it without being overbearing. 

Owen needn’t have worried, however. By hour five, TK seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion with himself before he groaned and adjusted in his seat. His back was to the door, and he looked at Owen, apparently trying to decide what to say. 

“You okay, son?” Owen finally asked. 

“It’s not, Alex, in case you’re wondering. Who I’ve been texting, I mean,” TK said, his eyes sliding to the phone in his lap. 

“Okay,” Owen replied, drawing the word out slowly and then waiting for TK to continue. 

“It’s a therapist chat service; one of those platforms for people who have…I don’t know, trouble talking about things out loud, I guess? Bee suggested it, said it worked okay for him after the tsunami.” TK’s eyes remained in his lap, stuck solidly on his phone as he flipped it around in his hands. 

The fidgeting was so like something his nephew would do; it brought a tickle to Owen’s throat. 

Keeping his eyes on the road, both for the sake of safety and for helping TK feel like he was in a non-scrutinizing space, he said, “I’m glad Evan suggested that. Do you feel like it’s been helping?”

“I think so? I mean, I’m still going to talk to whatever therapist you pick in Austin; I know that’s non-negotiable or whatever. I just—I thought maybe getting ahead of all this somehow could help.” TK finally picked his eyes up and looked at his father. “The therapist, Dr. Winslow, thinks I should—talk to you, you know, about my feelings and the overdose. What lead to it, I mean. He suggested it may help you understand, which means I wouldn’t be alone to process it all. He thinks that’s possibly hurt me in the past, dealing with my emotions alone, and that having someone else involved could make a difference.” 

Owen couldn’t ignore this possible change of attitude was a positive development and wanted to give TK the benefit of the doubt. At the same time, he tried to be realistic and not to get his hopes up too high. His son was prone to clamming up about his emotions, usually at the worst possible moment. “And what do you think about that?” 

TK sighed again, but his response surprised Owen. “I think he might be right.” He picked his head up and met his father’s eyes when Owen turned to look at him. Cracking a smile, TK said, “Well, don’t look so surprised, Old Man.” 

They both chuckled mirthfully, and Owen returned his eyes to the road. “TK, all I want is for you to trust that you can come to me with whatever you want to whenever you want to. You’re my son; I love you, no matter what, when, or where. There is nothing you could ever feel or say that would change that. Not ever,” Owen said with a finality, looking in his son’s eyes quickly again, before returning them to the road. 

“I know, Dad,” TK said softly, and Owen could practically hear the smile in his response. “And I will tell you; I promise. I just—maybe not yet? It still feels too…” 

“Raw?”

“Yeah,” TK answered, relief at Owen’s understanding coming through in his voice. 

“Whenever you’re ready, TK. I’m here,” Owen smiled and grabbed his son’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance. 

Eventually, the pair of them had reached Nashville—their chosen halfway point. They checked into their room, went out for some barbeque, and called Evan once they’d returned to the hotel for the evening. 

Since he and TK had a lot more property to move, Owen elected to hire movers to pack and ship everything. The two of them only took the most important and immediately necessary items in a few boxes and suitcases—most of which filled the back of Owen’s newly acquired Jeep SUV. 

Evan, however, had only one person’s worth of property to move, so he’d decided to drive it to Austin himself. When his nephew called TK to find out how their trip was going, and to express his fears at how easy he seemed to be finding his own leg of the journey, Owen reassured him all the positivity was a good sign. 

He hated the way his nephew’s life in LA had warped his mind and twisted his emotions so much that the kid honestly believed good things couldn’t happen to him anymore. It reminded Owen far too much of the broken teenager his nephew was when he came to them after high school and in the wake of TK’s first overdose. The idea that Evan could be back to that desolate place again scared Owen almost as much as everything he’d gone through recently with TK. 

“He sounds so sad,” TK whispered after he’d hung up the phone. “I mean, I know he was trying to hide it and sound happy, but I could tell, Dad.” 

“I know, TK,” Owen sighed, sitting on the first queen bed opposite TK. “You should’ve—you should’ve heard him when he first called me. I’m not sure who sounded worse at the time: me or him.”

As though he could read his emotions, TK asked the same question that had been floating through Owen’s mind. “Dad, what if—I mean you don’t think it’s happening again with him too, do you? I know I don’t know much about what happened during those months you and mom sent me to rehab the first time or what led him to that rooftop, but I remember October and everything after. I remember the look on your face when you came to get me and bring me to the hospital to see him. I remember the way I practically didn’t recognize Bee, how broken he looked. He was right there, Dad, the whole time and I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was almost too late. What if—what if it’s happening again?”

Owen took in the terrified expression on his son’s face, the way unshed tears shone in huge green eyes, and felt another small piece of his heart shatter. “I know you’re scared, TK; I am too. And I won’t lie to you; I don’t know what kind of shape your cousin is going to be in when we see him tomorrow. But no matter what he brings to the table, we’ll do what we always do. We’ll endure. We will figure all of this out and we will find a way through it together. It’s going to be okay, son. It’s why we’re moving. This isn’t just for you; it’s for all of us.” 

TK raised his head from where he’d been staring down at Evan’s contact card on his phone, tears finally falling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I know I’ve said that a few times already, but I’m really sorry that this happened again. I wish it was just Evan we both had to take care of, instead of you having to deal with me on top of it.” 

“Son, no, that’s not—” Owen sighed and brushed a hand through his hair, before moving to sit next to his boy on the other bed. “TK, you’re my son. Evan is my nephew. I’m not ‘dealing with’ either of you. I’m taking care of my family, my boys. That’s what family does. They care for each other, pick each other off the ground, and hold them up when it’s too tough to do it alone.” Owen clamped a hand on his son’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “I love you both and I would die for either of you. I’d move Heaven and Earth for both you and Evan, regardless of the cost. Never forget that.” 

TK pulled Owen into a hug and the elder Strand tried not to think of how the possibility of him dying had been much closer lately than it had ever been. Instead, he tried to revel in the feeling of his son’s arms squeezing him tightly. 

The hug lasted for several minutes until TK finally pulled away. His son pinched the bridge of his nose, seeming to collect himself for a moment, before he looked at Owen again. Biting his lip, TK clenched his hands and closed his eyes.

The silence lingered for a few moments and Owen considered giving his son some space when TK said, “I didn’t want to die, but I also felt like…like I didn’t want to breathe anymore either. I felt like the act of breathing, trying to exist in my life without Alex in it—without one more person—was just…too much.” 

Owen clenched his jaw, surprised that this conversation was happening so readily, but kept quiet and left his eyes on TK. He comfortingly squeezed his son’s shoulder again, willing him to say more, as much as he might be ready to. 

TK’s eyes stayed shut, as though it was easier for him to talk if he couldn’t see past his own memories—his own mind. “I felt like I’d already lost so much, with everything that happened during 9/11, you and mom, losing Evan, my—my first OD and almost losing Ev again, all of it. But, Alex, he—he’d stayed. He’d stayed longer than I ever thought anyone would, and I guess I believed that I would be worth enough for him to stay for…for forever. It sounds stupid, but I honestly thought he was the one, Dad. And when I…when I suddenly lost that, I felt like it was the last thing. Like I couldn’t lose anything else anymore, like I couldn’t breathe for one more second knowing he was gone too. It was just too much and too little all at once; I think I wanted everything to just stop for a moment. I think I believed that, if everything just froze for a minute, my whole life would finally make some semblance of sense; that all this pain and loss would become understandable.” 

Owen wasn’t sure if TK noticed the new tears he’d let fall down his face; his son’s eyes were still clenched tightly shut. If he noticed, he didn’t remark on it and Owen wasn’t about to stop him. But then his son laughed darkly, and the sound sent a chill through Owen. 

“Obviously,” TK said softly, “we know how well that plan worked out.” 

His boy finally opened his eyes, but he immediately dropped his head to look at his lap again, shame evident in his expression. Owen couldn’t ignore the guilt that coursed through his system when he thought about the cancer currently taking up residence in his lungs--threatening his existence in TK’s life--and the fact that he’d yet to tell his son. He considered telling him, but every time he tried, Owen couldn’t get the words out. After everything he’d been through, everything TK had been through, he couldn’t add one more thing to the pile. Owen tried, but something stopped him from saying it out loud, from making it real. 

Shaking the thought of his diagnosis from his mind, Owen placed both hands on his son’s shoulders, gently pressing his fingers down in a way he hoped felt comforting. “TK, son, look at me.” When TK finally picked his head up, Owen said, “I believe you, and I know what you mean about trying to make sense of pain—no matter what you have to try to do so. Pain rarely makes sense and trying to relieve it can be next to impossible sometimes. I can’t pretend to know what an overdose is like, or what thought processes exactly may lead someone to that, but I can understand how enticing the possibility of a reprieve from pain—even if just for a moment—can be. I can’t…I don’t,” Owen tried to emphasize, “blame you for trying to find that reprieve, even if I don’t approve of the method. And I do believe you that you weren’t trying to die.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that. I can imagine what it took, and I am so proud of you. You have no idea how far you’ve come today, and that’s how I know we’re doing the right thing here. I know this is hard, son, but you’re doing amazingly well. Don’t doubt that, okay?” Owen smiled at TK in reassurance, and to his relief, TK returned it. The pair hugged once more, Owen doing his best to convey comfort and pride to his son, before they parted again.

Deciding TK could probably use some space, Owen rose from the bed and shuffled to his suitcase. He grabbed some clothes and excused himself to shower, giving his son a few minutes on his own to relax from the heavy moment. 

After he closed the door to the en suite, both Strand men breathed a sigh of relief—each glad that the other had responded to the conversation as well as they had. And by the time Owen emerged from the bathroom, refreshed from both the conversation and long shower, TK was tucked into his own bed. Deeply asleep, the younger Strand was none the wiser when his father pressed a soft kiss to his head and whispered that he loved him. 

The following morning, both Owen and TK seemed to wake with a renewed calm about them. Something not unlike a feeling of rejuvenation followed the two men around as they dressed in comfortable attire for a day of driving and headed down to the lobby for breakfast. 

They ate quickly before departing the hotel and making for the closest gas station, followed by the highway. A slight delay involving some rogue alpacas put them about two hours behind schedule, and by the time they’d made it to the outskirts of Austin, Evan had already been in town for over an hour. 

TK had texted his cousin a short while earlier and they all agreed to meet at the storage unit, rather than the hotel, to help Evan unload his truck and prepare for when their own property was delivered tomorrow afternoon. Navigating Austin’s traffic with relative ease, Owen’s GPS directed them to the Cubesmart, and he pulled into the underground lot. 

After the manager, Simone, confirmed who he was, she directed him deeper into the facility to where TK and Owen’s unit would be, and he pulled into a space alongside a ten-foot box truck. As TK and Owen hopped out of their SUV, a large Jeep Wrangler pulled up on the other side of the box truck into a parking spot. 

It only took a moment for Evan to emerge from the Wrangler, and when he did, it took most of Owen’s strength not to drop the smile from his face. He’s gotten so thin, and he’s so pale, Owen thought to himself, before shaking the negative thoughts from his head. His nephew was already hurrying over to them, delight evident on his face. 

“Uncle Owen! TK!” 

TK laughed at Evan’s happy expression and met his cousin halfway. “Hey Bee, it’s good to see you,” TK said, pulling Evan into a crushing hug. 

Owen let the boys enjoy their reunion for a moment before he walked over. “Alright, my turn,” he said with a smile. After Evan stepped back from TK, Owen pulled the boy into his own hug. He winced at the way he could feel Evan’s shoulder blades so pointedly, even through the jacket he wore. Telling himself to just be glad Evan was here, alive and on his way to being well, Owen squeezed his nephew to him tightly. “I’m glad you’re here, kid.” 

“Me too, Uncle Owen. Me too.” 

The pair of them stepped apart and Owen placed a hand on both Evan and TK’s shoulders. “My boys, back together again. What have I gotten myself into?”

The three of them laughed at Owen’s joke before Evan pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Well, what do you say we get this truck unloaded and start finding out?” 

“You got it, kid. Let’s get this done.” 

Between the three of them, they made short work of the truck. Unloading everything took little time and organizing all the items Evan would be leaving in the unit after they’d found a house took even less time than that.

It saddened Owen immensely to see how little in the way of possessions his nephew had obtained in the years he spent in LA. It only served to further Owen’s resolve that this move to Austin be permanent and good for Evan and TK both. 

In the end, they’d spent less than two hours emptying the U-Haul and organizing the unit, and after dropping the truck off at the closest rental dispatch, the three men made their way to the hotel Owen had booked.

The Fairmont, a modern, all-glass-facade hotel, had immediately appealed to the side of Owen still lamenting the loss of New York City. TK and Evan seemed to enjoy it too, both whistling in appreciation as they wandered through the lobby and commenting on how they couldn’t wait to take advantage of the pool.

After the three of them had checked into their adjoining rooms, they all took some time to freshen up and change, before walking to a restaurant a few blocks away. They spent a few hours eating, enjoying each other’s company, and catching up. They kept the conversations as light as possible, an unspoken agreement passing between them that the heaviness of why there were all there would keep until another day. 

As he watched TK and Evan catch up and share stories, Owen knew it wasn’t just the few beers he’d had warming him from head to toe. The smile on his son’s face was the first genuine one he’d seen in days, if not longer, and he could imagine the same was probably true for Evan. 

Owen liked to think, in the few hours they’d been together, that it wasn’t just his imagination that his nephew had regained some color in his face. Evan still had dark circles under his eyes, which he’d no doubt use his long drive as an excuse for, and Owen could only hope a few days in the Texas sun—surrounded by him and TK—would do some good in erasing them. 

And if he shoved a few extra chicken wings onto Evan’s plate or heartily encouraged him to eat a little more, neither of his boys seemed to find it odd. 

When it was nearing ten pm and they’d all yawned more than a few times, Owen rose from his seat and told Evan and TK it was time to head back. They returned to the hotel and within a few minutes, after agreeing to wake early for breakfast, retired to their beds. 

It pleased Owen to no end that the boys shared Evan’s room and kept the adjoining door open. He hadn’t doubted it would happen for a moment, but he was still glad to see it was as though no time had passed and the pair seemingly remained closer than ever. 

The relief of his boys both being back under his roof—in some form at least—had Owen drifting off to sleep comfortably for the first time in days. 

The next day, after a relaxed breakfast in the hotel restaurant, Owen asked if the boys wanted to accompany him to the 126. He needed to check out the space and start determining what needed to be done to get the House up to standards. 

Evan’s reply surprised him more than it probably should’ve. “I went yesterday before you both got here. I didn’t see inside, of course, but I get the feeling there are a lot of…ghosts there, Uncle Owen. I’m not sure people are going to be quite ready for this yet, so we should watch ourselves.” 

Owen could hear the determination in Evan’s voice, his honorable side leaking out. So much like Killian, Owen thought, always so good. TK, however, had a look of apprehension on his face, something Owen had expected, but hadn’t determined how to handle just yet. 

Throwing them both a smile and finishing the last of his coffee, Owen said, “Don’t worry, boys. It’s all going to work out fine. We’ve got this.”

Soon after, the three of them left the hotel and hopped into Owen’s Jeep, bound for the 126. Evan vaguely remembered the route, but they kept the GPS on in the background to be sure. Soon enough, they’d reached the firehouse. 

They all stepped out and while TK stared up at the building, Owen wandered over to the memorial, still taking pride of place on the sidewalk. He felt Evan walk up behind him and, as the pair of them stared at the photos, he could sense the ghostly feeling his nephew had mentioned. TK sidled up alongside him and Owen looked at his son, the lingering darkness behind his eyes a stark reminder of why they were here.

Opening the first of the two bay doors did nothing to assuage the haunted feeling that had settled over the grounds of the 126. They all walked slowly into the firehouse and took it in. There were inches of dust and layers of cobwebs over everything in sight. “This place is exactly like it was the night the call came in,” Owen divulged, walking deeper into the hollow space. “They shuttered it the next day.” 

“It’s like a tomb,” Evan replied, staring up at the ceiling and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Dad,” TK said after a few minutes, fear evident in his voice. “Tell them you changed your mind. We—we don’t belong here.” 

Evan turned sharply to face his cousin, before turning to Owen, a stricken look in his eyes. Owen had expected this, particularly from TK, and he kept a relaxed facade. “We were invited here.” 

“Yeah, but not by anyone grieving the loss of those men,” TK retorted, pointing outside the bay door’s to where the memorial sat. “I mean, they’re not even ready to get rid of the dead flowers on the sidewalk. And what? Now, some city slicker’s gonna come in here and scold them on how they’re doing life all wrong?” 

“‘City slicker’?” Evan interrupted with a smirk. 

“An outsider,” TK emphasized, rolling his eyes. “A—a stranger.” 

“Sometimes it takes an outsider. Someone they can blame,” Owen said. “And possibly hate.” 

A resigned look crossed his son’s face, and he shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Just…don’t go out of your way to prove the point, okay?”

“You know me,” Owen replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “I tread very lightly.” 

Evan let out a snort and a throaty laugh, followed by a soft, “Yeah, right,” before walking past both Strands and going deeper into the empty firehouse. 

Evan

The sound of jackhammers and construction was probably audible for a mile, but Evan couldn’t help the slight happiness he got from putting giant holes in the wall of the fire station. The sledgehammer may have been heavy, but it felt incredibly cathartic to hit something he wasn’t worried about hurting. 

The remodel of the 126 had begun almost immediately, with Owen taking the budget he was given and stretching it to an unrecognizable degree. 

His uncle never failed to surprise him with the kinds of feats he managed to accomplish. And when it came to managing budgets, his insight was almost scary. 

After taking out another section in the wall, Evan lowered his hammer to take a break and get a sip of water. While he watched TK continue on his half of the wall, Uncle Owen and Deputy Chief Radford wandered past him. 

“So, is—is this in the budget?” Radford asked, pointing to the walls they were all working on tearing down. 

“I find people work better in spaces where there’s more natural light,” Owen replied, bringing a smile to Evan’s face. “Whatcha got there?” 

Evan noticed the large stack of papers in the Chief’s hands and looked on with curiosity, while trying to appear as though he wasn’t eavesdropping. When Radford started explaining they were all resumes, Evan observed his uncle was no longer listening to the chief. Instead, he was staring at a young kid polishing up Radford’s SUV.

“Uh—” Owen interrupted the Chief’s chatter. “Who’s he?” 

Radford turned to look where Owen pointed. “Oh, that’s Mateo. Frequent flier in the Academy. Never passed, but he’s a good kid. So, I hired him as my driver.” 

Evan watched Mateo as he polished the inside of the door handles, impressed at the kid’s effort. He also couldn’t help but cringe at the way Radford seemed pleased by the consolation prize of being the Deputy Chief’s driver that Mateo had been offered.

He knew how bad it felt to want to be a firefighter and to get so close, only to fall short of the goal.  

“Alright, Chief, well, I will…look at your resumes,” his uncle replied, his eyes still trained on Mateo. His voice dropped an octave and he looked back at Radford. “I’m casting a slightly…wider net.” 

Evan chuckled to himself again as Owen tucked the stack of papers under his arm and wandered away from Radford to check on the construction in another part of the building. Dropping his now-empty bottle in a recycling bin, Evan realized TK had stopped hammering. 

“What are you laughing at?” his cousin asked him. 

“Just your dad,” Evan said, smiling and picking back up his own hammer. “This city has no idea what they’ve gotten themselves into.” 

TK shook his head at Evan’s assessment and the two of them returned to their task. 

The following day, heavier construction work was being done and the men couldn’t be at the firehouse, so Owen asked for Evan and TK’s help going through resumes. They’d already eliminated many of the obvious choices and Owen had them concentrate on seeking out more diverse candidates. 

“If diversity is what this city wants, then it’s what we’re going to give them,” Owen said as they pulled up to the food truck plaza for lunch. Evan had told TK and Owen about it the day after they’d arrived in Texas, and they all made a plan to try every food option available to determine which was the best place. 

“This crew can’t just be good,” Owen continued as they walked up to the Tic Toc Taco, the current champ for best truck. “They gotta be the best. Gotta be the 1927 Yankees.” 

He handed the resume currently under review to TK, and Evan looked at the paper over his shoulder. “No one’s gonna cut us any slack,” Evan agreed. “We need exceptional people.” 

“Gotta be battle tested,” Owen finished, staring up at the menu board. 

“But, Dad, this chick seems kind of crazy,” TK interrupted, scrutinizing the resume. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, T!” Evan laughed, lightly cuffing his cousin in the shoulder before heading to the window to order more gorditas—his new usual lunch order. 

After they finished eating, they decided to explore the city a bit while reviewing more resumes. Evan had made the suggestion that Owen talk to Mateo and see what the kid’s situation was. He’d impressed the both of them, and Evan was curious about what it’d take to give the kid a real shot. 

After reviewing his file, Owen was in immediate agreement. 

While they walked through the park in front of the Capitol building, Evan and TK flipped through the remaining possibilities, eliminating options and passing off promising ones to Owen. When they’d reached a firefighter from Chicago, Owen quickly tucked it in TK’s “Yes” pile. 

“Dad,” TK warned, looking at the resume. “You bring this guy in, people here would lose their minds.” 

All Owen said was, “Yep,” and Evan burst out laughing again. 

By the end of the day, Evan and the Strands had walked miles around Austin, eaten their weight in Mexican food, and possessed a considerably smaller pile of potential interviewees for the new 126. After they returned to the hotel, Owen sent the list to the Deputy Chief’s office, requesting they set up interviews as soon as possible. 

Evan was still itching to try out the hotel pool, but after the heavy labor the day before, followed by so much walking all afternoon, his leg had developed some swelling and joint pain. The long-term side effects of his leg operation would take a year at best to overcome, if not longer, and while it didn’t happen as often as it did months ago, overexertion could still cause him some difficulty. His doctors back in LA told him that CRPS was a possibility, considering the damage that was done to his leg, so anytime he had a flair up, it would send ripples of panic through him. 

He tried to disguise the way his gait had developed a slight limp the longer the day went on, the fear of being considered a liability overwhelming his knowledge that his family would never treat him that way. But Evan needn’t have worried, of course. After he finished taking a long shower, during which he’d tried to work out as much of the stiffness and pain as possible, he returned to his and TK’s room to find a heating pad plugged in near his bed. His cousin all but forced him to lay back against the headboard before propping his leg up on some pillows and securing the heating pad around the area with the worst swelling. TK also handed him a few Advil and a water bottle with the instruction to wait four hours before taking more. 

“Geez, T, since when did you become a paramedic?” Evan flashed him a cheeky grin before taking a sip of water. 

“Ha ha, Bee. I’m not; I just want to help you feel better. That’s all.” 

His cousin’s small shrug and quiet smile was beyond endearing to Buck, and he gave TK’s arm a squeeze. “Well, thanks, bud. It’s working already.” 

“You know, kid, I bet there are plenty of acupuncturists in Austin. I’m sure one of them would be able to help you with your leg.” 

The idea of someone sticking him like a pincushion was a last resort option for pain relief in Evan’s book. Just the thought of it had him cringing. “Ugh, no thanks, Uncle Owen. The last thing I need is to become someone’s human voodoo doll. I’ll stick to the heat and aspirin if it’s all the same to you.” 

Owen put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Hey, it was just a suggestion. But I can understand how the idea of more needles in one’s future could be a daunting experience.” 

“No less daunting than going on a skincare shopping trip with him,” TK whispered to Buck. 

“I heard that!” His uncle called through the adjoining door to his room he’d just returned to. 

“How does he do that?” Evan asked, shaking with laughter. 

“Trust me; he hears all. It’s a dad thing,” TK replied with a smirk before grabbing the TV remote and plopping on the bed next to Evan, careful not to jostle his leg. 

While Owen spent the remainder of the evening completing paperwork, Evan and TK enjoyed a night of channel surfing and looking at home rentals online. They had an appointment with a realtor at the end of the week, and she’d already sent them a list of possibilities they’d be checking out. Owen and Evan still hadn’t told TK they’d all be living together, eager to surprise him with the news when there was a place to actually move into. 

After enjoying the warmth of the heating pad off and on for a few hours and the medicine finally kicking in, Evan’s leg started feeling better. He was still a bit stiff when he rose from the bed to unplug the device, but he’d take stiffness over pain any night of the week. 

Despite the late hour, he still felt wide awake. Exhaustion seemed to win over TK, however, having fallen asleep with his head on his laptop. The imprint it left on his face after Evan moved it made him smile, and he ruffled his cousin’s hair after tucking the blankets around him. He lingered at his bedside for a moment, taking in the fading, dark circles beneath TK’s eyes. The younger man had perked up quite a bit since they’d arrived in Texas, but Evan could still sense lingering darkness beneath the cheery facade he’d been wearing the past two days. 

After adjusting his blankets and running a fond hand through TK’s hair one more time, Evan wandered over to his Uncle’s room and gently closed the adjoining door behind him. “How’s the paperwork going, Uncle Owen?” He asked, sitting on one of the beds in as comfortable a position as his leg would allow.

Owen made a few last keystrokes on his laptop before turning to face his nephew. “It’s going okay, kid. Lots to do, but you boys helping me go through those resumes today was a big step forward. Saved me a lot of reading.” 

“Yeah,” Evan laughed, thinking of Michelle’s tip about the Travis County manual—something Evan had already read, and Owen promised to get to eventually. “I know how you prefer to do something, rather than read about it.” 

“Yep, which reminds me,” Owen said, rising from his chair and stretching his stiff muscles. He came over and sat next to Evan, handing him the list of interview candidates they had for the next three days. “I’d like you and TK to sit in on the interviews with me. This will be a quick process, and I want input from both of you.” 

Surprised, Evan took the list, glancing over it briefly. “But, Uncle Owen, I’m no lieutenant or anything. Am I even allowed to be there?”

“I don’t care what your rank is, and I’m kind of making up my own rules here. This is going to be yours and TK’s team too; you should have a say in who’s a part of it. Look, Ev,” Owen sighed and turned to Evan, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know you’ve spent the last few months thinking you’re less than and being told all kinds of shit about yourself that isn’t true. But I’ve seen my share of good and bad firefighters. I’ve trained them; I’ve worked with them; I’ve known them. You are one of the good ones. Trust me. I need you to help me choose the best people for this job.”

Evan smiled at his uncle and tried to enjoy the way Owen continued to bolster and support him without the reminder of LA souring the feeling. Owen released his shoulder and took the paper back, looking at it while dropping his shoulders. The motion gave Evan pause, but before he could ask, his uncle carried on talking. 

“The truth is, Evan, I’ve already had to do this once before—as you well know—and I know the strength it takes to rebuild a firehouse alone. I’m glad I have you boys here to help me this time. It makes me proud to know you both wanted to be part of this, despite the fact that you and TK were both also somewhat forced into it—in one form or another. It’s truly a new beginning, in so many ways, for all of us. So, let yourself enjoy it, kid.”  He set the list of candidates to the side and gently bumped Evan’s shoulder with his own. “And on another note, how’s the leg feeling? Any better?” 

The concern Evan could see in his uncle’s gaze overrode any fear that the question may have come from a place of doubt or negativity. He leaned forward and rubbed his knee, pondering how to answer. “Honestly? Most days it’s not so bad, but it’s been a rough couple of weeks and I had a feeling a bit of a crash was coming. I almost always have some lingering stiffness,  but I think today was just the result of a lot of stress and tension building up. But don’t worry about me; I’m sure the pain is just temporary and honestly, it’s already mostly gone. I’ll be back to one hundred percent in no time and I promise you this won’t affect my work at all while I’m here.” 

He hated the way his reassurances came out in a rush, one half of him knowing this was his uncle and he didn’t need to placate him at all, and the other half of him screaming at him that this was his captain who could pull him from duty if he slipped up. The volleying emotions in his head sent a spike of shame through him, and he stared down at his leg in frustration, unable to look Owen in the eye. 

“Kid, I’m not worried about your work; I know how tough everything has been for you with this injury and everything that came after, and I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made. And in such a short time too!” Owen squeezed Evan’s shoulder again and smiled at his nephew with pride. “So long as you’re taking care of yourself and are honest with me if and when something may be bothering you, that’s all the reassurance I need. And if you start to have pain or discomfort that starts to become unmanageable again, we’ll find you the best damn leg specialist in Austin and get you fixed right up and back to work in no time. I trust you to be honest with me and take care of yourself. You may be one of my boys, but you are an adult and I know you’re plenty capable of knowing your limits.” 

Owen’s encouragement and confidence in him sent sparks of joy through Buck. It was exactly what he needed to hear and everything he’d wished Bobby would’ve said to him back in LA. It’s what he should’ve said , he thought bitterly to himself. Hearing the words come from Owen, the trust his uncle had in him, just strengthened his resolve that coming to Austin was the right choice and he couldn’t help the giant smile that crossed his face. With the boost to his morale Owen gave him, Buck decided to make a request that he’d had on his mind all day. “Uncle Owen? In the spirit of new beginnings and being honest about who I am and want to be now that we’re here, can I ask you to do something for me?” 

“Sure, Ev, anything.” 

He knew it was a needless request, one he probably didn’t need to make at all; he could just tell everyone and that would be that. But, at the same time, Evan hoped that by forcing himself to ask the question out loud, he would know that he meant it and it would be a true reset for him with his future team. “Could you, and the rest of the team, call me Evan—instead of Buck? I—I know my last name will be used quite a lot too, I just…I don’t want to be Buck anymore. I want to be Evan. It’s been too long since I’ve felt like myself, my true self, and I think I’d like to find him again--starting with reclaiming my real name.” 

Owen looked at him and smiled softly. His uncle had never called him anything other than “Evan” or “kid” anyway, so it wouldn’t be a big change for him. And TK only ever called him Bee or Evan too, so again, not a huge change there. But “Buck” was once his go-to, the moniker he preferred everyone else call him above all. For him to let it go, well, Evan was confident Owen would appreciate what that meant. 

“You got it, kid.” Owen smiled again, tucking him into his side in a hug, before getting up to walk over to his desk. He shuffled a few papers before turning around again and asking, “Did I ever tell you why your parents named you ‘Evan’?” 

Shocked at the semi-random segue, Evan shook his head. They so rarely discussed his parents, if only because it was such a sensitive topic for all of them. To hear any new revelation about his father and mother during the good days, well, that was a treat and a half. 

“It was all your dad. You see, Killian was obsessed with his heritage. He always tried to learn everything about his Irish ancestors. It didn’t matter that there was also quite a bit of Welsh in him; he was determined to absorb as much information about Ireland as he could. He and your mom went there on their honeymoon, and afterwards, he told Julia and me he was going to learn Gaelic,” Owen said laughing. His uncle’s joy in talking about his former best friend was infectious, and Evan found himself smiling with ease. 

“So, I don’t just get my thirst for knowledge from Mom, then?” he asked.

“Oh, definitely not. Both your parents were like that,” Owen said, a faraway look in his eye for a moment. He looked back at Evan and continued. “Well, you know they wanted to have a second child and it took a while for you to happen. What you don’t know is that your mom had a difficult time giving birth to you. There were complications, she started bleeding, and you went into fetal distress before you made it out to us.” 

The sudden grave turn in the conversation saw the smiles gone from both men’s faces, and Owen’s hands were gripped tightly on the edge of the desk. The faraway look returned to his eyes again.

Evan had never known any of these details regarding his earliest moments; he’d always been in relatively perfect health, at least until recently, and he’d assumed it was always so. “So…what happened?”

At the question, Owen’s smile returned, and he looked down at Evan again. “You did what you always do, kid. You fought like hell. You were no more ready to go than we were to lose you. Your mom and dad hadn’t even seen you yet; they—not to mention the rest of us—weren’t about to let you go without a fight.” The happiness in his voice was back again, too, and Evan couldn’t help but feel a little proud of his younger self. “The doctors ended up doing an emergency cesarean, got your mom’s bleeding stopped, and got your oxygen up to a regular rhythm. You were back to normal practically within the hour of gracing us with your presence.

“Eventually,” Owen said, taking a seat next to Evan on the bed again. “We all got to meet you, and when your aunt and I asked your parents what they named you, Killian said, ‘There can only be one name for this little fighter, but since it’s already taken by another member of the Strand family, we’re going to call him Evan.’ As you can probably guess, the Strand they meant was me,” Owen said with a light-hearted smirk and a gentle rib of his elbow. “According to Killian, both ‘Owen’ and ‘Evan’ mean some variation of the word ‘warrior,’ but ‘Evan’ was the superior choice because it’s Gaelic.” 

Evan laughed at his father’s idea of a joke, as well as the way his uncle rolled his eyes fondly. Desperate to hear more, he asked, “And what about my middle name?” 

“Ah, well, that one was your mother. Dylan Thomas was her favorite poet. She was obsessed with his writing and his theories regarding the unity of life and death and everything in between. She believed what he did; that people’s lives aren’t random or separated, and we’re all inevitably connected to each other. So, when you came out fighting, determined to be a part of this world and unwilling to meet your death before your life even began, she said ‘Thomas’ was meant to be. So,” his uncle said, rising again. “Evan Thomas Buckley, you became.” 

“Wow, Uncle Owen, I—” Evan wasn’t sure how to properly express what hearing the story of his origins meant to him, not to mention what it meant that Owen still remembered all that. Evan had spoken so little to his mother in the past ten years, and he’d heard even less about his father in that time and then some. To get a story like this, there were simply no words. “Thank you…for telling me that. You have no idea—I mean, to know that it was my dad who chose my name, and why he picked what he did. Even to hear something new about—about Mom. It means more to me than I can say.” It gave him more pride in being Evan Thomas Buckley than he’d ever had before and he knew he’d made the right decision to reclaim the identity he’d felt like he lost. 

Evan stood up, both legs now a little stiff from sitting for so long and threw his arms around his uncle. He refused to cry, wanting to relish in the happy feelings these memories gave him, and instead tried to put as much gratitude into the hug as he could. 

Owen squeezed him back tightly and said, “You’re welcome, kid. Anytime. I know I don’t talk a lot about your parents; I’m sure you can relate to why. But, if there’s something you want to know, I’ll tell you. You deserve to have someone tell you where you come from and I’m happy to be that person.” 

The two men pulled apart and Owen’s eyes strayed over to the clock on his nightstand. “Alright, enough of this emotion for one night. It’s late, and you and TK both have an early day of helping me conduct interviews. Off to bed with you, alright?”

Evan chuckled at his uncle’s shooing motion and raised both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going.” He quietly opened the adjoining door and just before he wandered into his room, he turned back and whispered with a grateful smile, “I love you, Uncle Owen.” 

Owen smiled back and nodded gently. “Love you too, Evan.” 

The pair shared one more smile before Evan disappeared into the other room. Owen heard the sound of blankets shuffling float through the doorway, followed by the groan of a mattress and a soft sigh. He turned off his desk lamp, and right before he got under his own covers, he looked out the window at the night sky, thinking of Killian and how much he hoped his brother could see the kind of man his son was becoming. 

The next day saw Owen, TK, and Evan back at the 126. The construction was coming along, all unnecessary walls were down, and equipment was rolling in—including the new team uniforms. Owen had both Evan and TK suit up for the day’s interviews, all of which were firefighters from Texas houses—with the exception of Mateo Chavez. 

Owen and the boys sat behind a folding table in the middle of the firehouse, sounds of hammering, banging, and sawing continuing around them, while each interview was conducted. The first four went well, with Owen deciding on two from the group as possible candidates, before Mateo—the last interviewee—arrived. 

The young man seemed surprised, if not a little confused, to have been called. Owen welcomed Mateo and introduced him to TK and Evan before getting down to business. “Mateo, I called you here because I want to know if you’re interested in working for the 126.” 

“You sure you got the right Mateo Chavez?”

Both TK and Evan kept quiet, but the latter couldn’t help but empathize with the kid and the way he questioned their interest in him. 

“You set AFD Academy records in multiple categories,” Owen responded before his eyes flicked over to Evan—a subtle association to his own record if Evan ever saw one. 

“The field stuff is easy,” Mateo said, shrugging. 

Owen took a sip of his smoothie, appearing to maintain an air of nonchalance. “The field is where you’re tested.” 

“Except you have to pass the written exams too,” Mateo said, clenching his hands together in his lap and shame coloring his expression. “But I—uh—flunked out.” 

“Four times,” Owen nodded, smiling. “When you wash out that many times, why do you keep coming back?”

Evan held his breath, waiting for the young kid’s answer. None of them was disappointed. 

“Because I was born to do it, sir.” 

Evan could already tell Mateo was clearly firefighter material. But, for the sake of the interview, Owen pressed on. “When you were washing your boss’s car,” he questioned. “You were wiping down the inside of the door handles. Why? Nobody would ever know if they were clean or not.” 

“I would, sir.” 

TK glanced at Evan and nodded slightly, his smile indicating his own impressed reaction. Evan turned to Mateo and asked him, “Mateo, why do you think passing the written exams has been such a challenge for you?” 

The young man’s face turned a little red and he looked down at his hands. “I’ve always had trouble with reading and getting things to stick in my head. It took me forever to make it through the AFD manual when I first read it, and I still have a hard time whenever I try to go back and get through it. It—it’s not an excuse, I know that, and I know I can do better. It’s just—my teachers all said I was a little slow,” he confessed, picking his head up and looking at the three of them. 

Evan couldn’t help but feel more empathy for Mateo, a kid who was obviously doing the best he could and then some. He knew what it felt like for everyone to think and treat you like you were stupid, no matter how hard you worked to prove otherwise. 

Once again, Uncle Owen flicked his eyes over to Evan, staring at him for a moment before turning back to Mateo. The man seemed to reach a conclusion, but whatever it was, he didn’t say. “I don’t know what your teachers told you in the past, but I know what you’re not,” he said. “You’re not stupid.” 

Mateo swallowed and seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m not?”

“No,” Owen said, leaning forward in his chair. “You’re thorough, you’re relentless, and you’re exactly the kind of man I want on the 126.” 

The small, hopeful smile on Mateo’s face could’ve lit up the room. Evan could see from his expression how glad the kid was just to finally be seen by someone, to be told what he probably believed deep down: that he was capable of doing this job he wanted more than anything. Sometimes though, it wasn’t enough to believe it on your own. Evan knew sometimes you needed to hear the words out loud.

Evan looked at TK, and they both smiled at Mateo, nodding in agreement with Owen. 

“Now,” his Uncle said, a tone of finality in his voice. “You’re going to need to take the written exam again in order to stay past the probationary period. However, it sounds to me like reading is an issue for you. It’s not uncommon, Mateo, so what I’d like is to have your reading and language skills assessed. It will give us an idea of where you’re having difficulty, so we can determine the best way to help you move forward.” 

Despite the semi-harmless threat of an assessment looming over his head, Mateo’s hopeful look remained firmly pasted on his face. “You—you want to help me?” 

“We do, Mateo,” TK answered. “Because we want you here at the 126 with us. So, what do you say?”

“I say, hell yeah!” The young man shot out of his chair in joy, practically leaping over the table to shake all their hands. “Thank you, Captain Strand. Thank you so much. You will not regret this.” 

“I’m sure we won’t, Mateo,” Owen replied, shaking his hand. “I’ll give you a call in a day or two when I get the assessment set up. And you’ll receive a few emails by the end of today with your contract and details about your new employment.” 

“Oh my gosh, this—this is amazing. I can’t wait to get started. Thank you! Thank you again!” He shook Owen’s hand one more time before turning to go. “I have to go tell my folks!”

Evan and TK both laughed at the kid’s effusiveness. “It was good to meet you, Mateo. Welcome to the 126!” Evan said, receiving one last smile before the young man bolted for the parking lot. 

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I feel pretty damn good right now,” Uncle Owen said, smiling at Mateo’s back as the kid practically flew into his car. 

TK and Evan both crossed their arms and nodded, smiles lighting up both their faces. “So,” TK said, looking at his father. “Who’s next?”

The following day, the three of them were back at the folding table, construction even further along than it had been the day before. Things were really starting to come together at the 126, and Evan was getting more excited at the prospect of working where he was. 

He’d called Maddie and Athena the night before, giving them both brief updates on what he’d been up to and how things were going in Austin. He wondered if they could both hear the relief he felt from no longer being in LA imbuing his words, but if they did, neither reacted to it. The conversations were mostly brief, his exhaustion creeping into his voice,  but it made him happy to listen to two of the women in his life giving him updates on their lives. When he finally hung up with both of them, he fell asleep with a smile on his face, knowing that things with them were still okay. 

Today they were only seeing five interviewees: two from the Midwest area, one from a Dallas station, and Marjan Marwani, the “kind of crazy” firefighter based out of Miami. 

She’d made a name for herself in the Sunshine State, both in infamy and in action. A few days earlier, Evan had found a video of her saving a bunch of people from a bus that had gone off a bridge and into water. While Marjan sat casually across from them, TK reviewed the video once more. 

“Miami Fire and Rescue Instagram got, what, six million likes now?”

“Nine. Cardi B reposted it last night,” she responded with nonchalance, as though a celebrity sharing a video of her heroism was no big deal. 

Owen ignored TK and Evan’s impressed faces. “You’ve racked up 11 reprimands in one year. That has to be a record.” 

“Well, my parents taught me if you’re gonna do something, be the best.” 

Evan snorted at her response but couldn’t ignore—despite the reprimands—how she’d clearly been doing exactly what her parents said. Her test scores were off the charts, she had made quite a few miraculous—if not a tad reckless—saves, and she did have a number of desirable skills under her belt. 

“Insubordination, reckless behavior,” Owen listed off. 

“I’m allergic to poor leadership,” she said matter-of-factly, adjusting in her chair. 

“Insubordination…insubordination,” Owen skipped over her comment and kept talking. 

Reprimands aside, and god knew Evan had seen his share of those, Marjan was clearly a skilled firefighter—possibly more so than him even. Despite the frequent admonishments for insubordination, which Evan knew his Uncle saw no threat in, Marjan would make a phenomenal addition to the 126--one that they genuinely needed. She was diverse in body, spirit, and mind; she wouldn’t take crap from anyone inside or outside this firehouse, she was proud of her accomplishments—be they good or bad, and she clearly owned every move she made. She didn’t try to excuse her reprimands; rather, she embraced them for what they probably were: men in positions of power disapproving of a woman of her skillset threatening their comfortable lifestyles.

That kind of refreshing attitude was something Evan knew his Uncle wanted on this team, whether Austin was ready for it or not. 

Owen reached the end of the reprimands list and promptly shoved the iPad aside. “So, Marjan, how would you feel about relocating to Austin?”

She shifted in her chair to face them head on. “Well, look, I’ll be honest. The real reason I agreed to come out here is ‘cause I’ve always wanted to check out South by Southwest.”

TK put his chin on his hand and Evan looked at Owen, uncertain where this might be going. 

“Things have really changed for me in Miami since that video went viral,” she continued. “For the first time, I genuinely feel respected.” 

Evan shifted in his chair, suddenly understanding the turn in conversation. He knew what she was implying, what she believed she felt, but he also knew it probably wasn’t real. The feeling you get when one of your “big saves” goes viral usually wasn’t true respect. Sure, some people did appreciate your skills, but more often than not, the person in question became little more than a show pony. After the whole “County Fair Spider-Man” thing back in LA, Evan really thought that people respected him and the lives he’d saved, even if he couldn’t save all of them.

In reality, people just wanted their picture with the hot firefighter who’d been on TV. Or they wanted to use him for sex or to catfish women. They cared no more about who he really was, or the fact that a young man lost his life, than they did about any other person in a viral video. It was all just a farce.

Before Owen could respond, Evan interrupted. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me your department’s not using you as a prop?” 

It was the question he wished somebody had asked him years ago, after the rollercoaster or even after the tsunami. He’d saved so many people, even if more were lost, and Evan often wondered how much of his team’s approval had been genuine support and how much had been showboating for the benefit of the public. After all, it wouldn’t do for the guy who’d saved a dozen lives during a tsunami—right after a serious, on-the-job injury no less—to be anything less than favored by his own firehouse. 

Evan wanted Marjan’s situation to feel different, for her experience to be a genuine one. He just wasn’t sure that it was at the moment.

Her eyes flicked to him before she leaned back in her chair. “How do I know you’re not looking for a prop of your own to show everybody how ‘woke’ you are?”

She doesn’t pull punches; that’s for damn sure, Evan thought, impressed by her pointedness. 

“Marjan, I’m not going to sit here and insult your intelligence by pretending you wouldn’t be bringing diversity to this team. You would be, for more reasons than one.” Owen pointed out. “But, when I look at you and what you’ve accomplished, I don’t see a Muslim or a woman. I see a kick-ass firefighter.” 

She nodded slightly and raised an eyebrow, waiting for Owen to finish.

“Now, you can go back to Miami, do the job we all know you’re brilliant at, and enjoy your respect—if you truly believe that’s what you’re getting there. Or,” Owen paused for a moment. Dramatic effect, Evan could only assume. “You can come to Austin, be a part of the 126, and receive real respect based on your merits and what you bring to the House, not because of a video some celebrity reposted. So, what do you say?”

Evan felt like he was holding his breath, and it seemed as though TK was doing the same. None of them spoke while they waited for Marjan to consider the offer. And while she never broke eye contact with Owen, Evan could tell she was deep in thought, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the tabletop. 

After a minute or two of silence, Marjan finally made a move. “Well, Captain Strand,” she said, rising from her chair. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a new teammate.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake, and Owen did so gladly after standing from his own chair. She offered a shake to both TK and Evan as well, and both of them smiled warmly at her. As Evan shook her hand, he gladly said, “Welcome to the 126, Marjan.” 

She gave them all a nod and a smile, after which Owen explained the paperwork she’d be receiving from the AFD Office later that day. The Deputy Chief had already negotiated offers for moving expenses, if necessary, for people to relocate to the city. Marjan seemed pleased by the offer and quickly excused herself to return to her hotel and start negotiating her arrangements. 

Evan watched Marjan as she strolled out of the firehouse with the same air of nonchalance she’d had when she walked in, head held high with a triumphant smile on her face. “She sure doesn’t mess around, does she?” Evan asked TK, lightly elbowing him in the arm. 

“Sure as hell doesn’t, Bee. I told you both she seemed kind of crazy,” TK responded, looking over at his father who was busy organizing papers. 

“Maybe, but that’s exactly the kind of thing this place needs. Don’t you boys think?” Owen grinned as he ruffled TK’s hair. 

“Ugh, Dad! Why?” 

“Because he can,” Evan said laughing and doing further ruffling of his own to his cousin’s head. “How many people are left, Uncle Owen?” 

His uncle pulled out the iPad again and flipped through a few screens. “No more today. The last four are tomorrow, including Paul Strickland.”

“He’s got a hell of a resume,” TK said, looking at the screen. “Do you really think he’ll go for this though?” 

Evan was just as impressed by Paul’s skills as he was by Marjan’s. He hoped his uncle could get him to transfer; Evan could see himself learning just as much from the people on this squad as he already was from his uncle. 

“Don’t worry, boys. I’ve got a few tricks up these Captain’s sleeves. By the time I’m done, we’ll have the best squad of firefighters Austin has ever seen.” 

Evan didn’t doubt his uncle; he just hoped the remaining people they wanted would go for what AFD had to offer. 

The final day of the interviews dawned cloudy with the rumble of thunder in the distance. Evan hoped that didn’t mean the day would go south or that things didn’t bode well for their interviews. 

After a busy morning organizing new equipment at the 126 and directing movers and lighting engineers, Owen, TK, and Evan sat down at their folding table again, ready to tackle the last of the potential firefighters. 

Three hours in, Evan was glad they’d already found a handful of people they liked for the squad. The first interviewee was promising, but the last two they had were a bust, both with cocky attitudes and an obvious desire to be in charge. Owen escorted each of them out with a smile but made a definite “No” sign after the last two had walked out. 

Finally, their last candidate, Paul Strickland, sat before them. 

Evan had observed him as he waited outside the firehouse before entering for his interview. His eyes seemed to wander over every face, every surface, seeing Evan could only imagine what. Strickland struck him as the kind of person who noticed what other people didn’t. It made it easier for Evan to understand how the man was able to identify the perpetrator in the video TK had them currently reviewing. 

“How’d you know he was the arsonist, and he had a gun?” Owen questioned. 

Strickland maintained a relaxed air about him, not giving too much away. “Got lucky,” he said, uncrossing his arms and shrugging. 

“Yeah, lucky, my ass,” Owen replied with obvious disbelief. He leaned forward in his chair, while TK turned off the video. “You got a stack full of Life Saving Commendations, which tells me you have a gift for threat assessment. Would you say that has anything to do with you being trans?”

Evan would always hand it to his uncle: he never wasted time getting straight to the point. Owen was also never the type to ignore the way a person’s life experiences could impact their behavior or skill set. It was apparent to Evan that Owen wanted to know what Paul Strickland thought about his own skills and what he could bring to the 126. 

“Growing up the way I did, there was a lot of folks who wanted to hurt me, so I guess I learned to figure out who they were before they figured out who I was,” he responded matter-of-factly, widening his eyes a bit as he did so.

As unfortunate as it was for Paul, for anyone who was different, to grow up with so many constant threats, Evan couldn’t help but be impressed by his simple, calculated logic. See the threats before they see you; the hunted becoming the hunter. Okay, enough with the idioms and metaphors, he thought to himself. He realized while he was zoning out, Uncle Owen had cut to the chase again. 

“This crew is going to be responsible for answering a variety of calls throughout this city. As you can imagine, not all of those scenes are going to be easily resolved or always one hundred percent safe. I could use someone with your insight and skills on this squad. How would you feel about relocating to Austin?”

Paul leaned forward in his chair and shook his head lightly. “Thanks, Cap, but I transitioned on the job in Chicago, and that was hard enough. I don’t want to imagine what things are gonna be like down in Texas.”

When Paul started to rise from his chair to leave the station, Evan couldn’t help the grim expression that crossed his face. He realized that not getting Paul at the 126 could be a huge loss for them, and not just from a work standpoint. Paul didn’t just bring a penchant for threat assessment to the table; he brought a resilience that most people spent a lifetime trying to develop. It was a skill that Evan had never fully managed in a way that he thought he needed to—especially after everything in LA. 

Paul would be a great firefighter and coworker, sure, but Evan couldn’t ignore the way Paul was a representation of exactly what Austin needed after losing so many firefighters. It sounded like he’d faced years of obstacles, decades of fighting for who he was, and Evan could only imagine the strength required to overcome such adversity. It was a strength Austin and the 126 needed, even if it came to them in a manner—or person—they wouldn’t be expecting. 

“You know, somewhere in this town right now is a kid who is just like you were. Feeling scared, hopeless,” Evan said, looking Paul in the eye, halting the man from leaving. He tried to convey how much Paul could do for the 126, what he could bring to the people of Austin—simply by being himself.  

Evan looked at his uncle, willing him to continue. Luckily, Owen seemed to know exactly where Evan had been going. “I’d like you to show him, or her, or they, it’s okay to be who you are.” As usual, his uncle knew exactly what to say, but seemed to also sense getting Paul Strickland to sign onto the 126 would take a bit more than pretty words. Owen put a hand to the side of his mouth, and, with a cheeky smile, loudly whispered, “And I’ll double your salary.” 

Whatever Paul Strickland had intended when he started to leave seemed to have changed rather abruptly. Whether it was Owen’s encouragement or the promise of a better salary, Evan didn’t know or care. All he knew was that, with a raise of an eyebrow, Paul’s mind seemed to change. 

Paul turned and casually walked back to the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Cap,” he said, sticking out a hand to shake. Owen, TK, and Evan all rose from their seats and shook Paul’s hand. 

“Good to have you on board, Strickland,” Evan replied with a smile.

A little while later, after his uncle gave Paul the same rundown as Marjan regarding transferring and moving expenses and the newest recruit had taken his leave, Owen, TK, and Evan sat down at the table to finalize the firehouse team.

“That was quite a Hail Mary there with the doubling of the salary, Uncle Owen. Is Radford gonna go for that?” Evan asked, while he organized the resumes into piles. 

“Actually, Ev, Radford had already given me approval to double all of the new team member’s salaries—within reason—if that’s what it took to get them. Strickland was just the only one I had to say it out loud for. But, considering some of these people are making some pretty big changes to come here, I’d say a doubled salary for everyone is only fair. Wouldn’t you?” His Uncle laughed cheekily and sent his nephew a cavalier wink before entering some notes on his computer. 

“Alright, you two, enough messing around. Let’s finish this; we still have all those uniforms to finish organizing and the first truck is being delivered today,” TK reminded them, grabbing the “Maybe” resume pile from Evan to pass to his father.

“He’s right, Uncle Owen. And don’t forget, you’ve gotta let the contractor know whose office is whose upstairs, so they can lay out the walls correctly.” 

“Okay, boys,” Owen said, putting aside his laptop and taking the resumes from TK. “So, here’s what I’m thinking. Shift A will consist of you boys, Chavez, Marwani, and Strickland. Shift B will be Danvers, Fonseca, Lafayette, Mori, Ramos, and Stacker.” 

Evan had been taking the resumes as Owen handed them to him and making separate shift piles. But his uncle’s list gave him pause. “Hang on, Uncle Owen, that’s only five firefighters for Shift A and six for B. The count is off.” 

“I know that, Ev, and it might be uneven for a bit. I have a possible sixth person for your shift, but there’s someone I need to talk to before I figure out who’s filling the spot.” 

“Okay…” TK said, drawing out his response. “Like that wasn’t cryptic, Dad.” 

“Don’t worry about this one, son,” Owen said, patting TK on the back. “This is one thing that Captain Strand has to handle without the Wonder Boys backing him up.” 

TK and Evan both groaned at Owen’s use of their old nickname—given to them by the members of the 252 when they were growing up and obsessed with the idea of following their fathers’ footsteps. “Seriously, Uncle Owen?” 

Owen laughed at his jest when the rumble of engines interrupted their banter. The three of them looked up and saw the new fire truck had arrived and another truck delivering kitchen equipment had showed up as well. 

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Owen said, falling into Captain mode. “TK, you handle the truck; let them know which bay is safer to park it in for now and get the rundown on its specs. Evan, you let the team in the kitchen know which appliance goes where. They’ve got a few plans lying around everywhere so they shouldn’t need too much direction with that, but you never know. I’ll go handle the offices upstairs.” 

TK and Evan both nodded and started to head off on their individual tasks. Owen also let them know if he needed to sign for anything to just come find him to take care of it. The boys also agreed to get the uniforms and smaller equipment organized after they’d finished their other tasks. 

By the end of the day, the kitchen was finished, and large drop cloths shielded it from the rest of the construction work still ongoing. Most of the station’s new lighting fixtures were installed in the main truck bay, a new staircase to the second floor was nearly finished, and the bunkroom was done. Most of the work remaining involved updating the bathroom, completing Owen and the Paramedic Captain’s offices, and installing the last of the storage and furniture pieces. 

The three men left the station pleased with all they accomplished and eager to really start working. After cleaning up back at the hotel and grabbing a quick dinner, they all spent the evening relaxing. TK and Owen discussed potential therapists and upcoming NA meetings, and Evan took some time to call Maddie to give her an update.

She seemed pleased with him and excited about all the ongoing work he and the Strands had been doing, asking questions and expressing her delight at how much input Owen had afforded him. A small part of Evan couldn’t help but find it frustrating how interested Maddie was in his life now that he wasn’t in the same time zone, when she had all but ignored him months earlier. But he told that part of himself to get over it, that he was moving on from those feelings, and that it hadn’t been all on Maddie. 

When the two of them hung up—once again, with no mention of anyone at the 118–Evan told himself it would probably be in his interest to find a therapist to speak to as well. TK wasn’t the only one who came to Texas to start fresh, and Evan knew his own recovery probably wouldn’t succeed without a bit of extra input. 

When they all had eventually turned in for the evening, Evan resolved to talk to Owen soon about working with one of the AFD’s department therapists. He wanted to start his tenure with the AFD on the right foot, with both his new crew and himself, and he figured talking to a professional was a good way to do that.