9-1-1 one-shots / 9-1-1 lone star/

Title: "Anchored in the Storm: Finding Strength in Family"

The dim lighting of the hospital waiting room seemed to swallow TK whole. The antiseptic scent hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder that this was a place of pain and uncertainty. TK's knuckles were white as he clutched the flimsy plastic chair arms, his gaze fixed on the set of swinging doors that led back to the treatment rooms.
Carlos settled beside him, his presence a warm steady weight. "Hey, they'll let us know as soon as there's any update on your dad," he murmured, his fingers wrapping around TK's in a firm squeeze.
TK nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He couldn't form words. The terror clawing at his chest left him mute. His father, his rock, his guiding light, lay broken and bleeding somewhere behind those doors.
A rustle of fabric heralded the arrival of the rest of the 126. Marjan and Paul exchanged grim glances, their faces etched with worry. Mateo, ever the quiet one, simply clapped a hand on TK's shoulder, his fingers tightening once before he took a seat across from them.
Owen was the last to arrive, his face drawn and pale. "I'm so sorry, TK," he rasped, his voice raw from smoke and emotion. "We did everything we could...he was alive when the paramedics took over..."
TK just nodded again, his vision blurring. The image of his father, of the wreckage, was seared into his brain. He couldn't bear the thought of a world without that booming laugh, that steady presence.
And then Carlos was there, hauling TK into a tight embrace. TK didn't even realize he was crying until his tears soaked into the warm cotton of Carlos' uniform shirt. Great, racking sobs tore from his chest, each one a fresh lance of pain.
Carlos just held him, his own voice a low murmur against TK's ear. The words didn't matter. It was the steady thrum of his voice, the solid weight of his arms, that kept TK anchored amidst the storm.
Eventually, the tears tapered off, leaving TK feeling raw and hollow. He pulled back, swiping at his wet face with a shaky hand. "Sorry," he croaked, his gaze dropping to the damp stain spreading across Carlos' shirt.
Carlos framed his face, his thumbs tracing the tracks of TK's tears. "Never apologize for that," he said, his voice firm. "We're here, TK. We're not going anywhere."
As the weight of those words sank in, TK felt a flicker of gratitude. Maybe he wasn't alone in this after all. Maybe, just maybe, he could lean on his team, his found family, to get through the darkest of days.