Trouble Don't (File Two of The First Responders Files)

As first responders flock to their brethren in the hospital, TK is visited by a familiar face and Owen is left to his own devices to help Elena and her people . . . but he won't be alone for long.

Enjoy "Shock and Thaw!"

***

"Find a guy in the snow, you don't think to frisk him," Owen muttered, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"We frisked you," Elena shrugged.

Owen gave her a surprised look, then turned to the man he saved. He thought he heard the name Manuel mentioned as he ranted in Spanish into his radio, which only gave him static in return. "Hey, pal?" he coughed. "I don't think you're gonna get much reception on that for quite a while. You know what I mean?" Manuel growled at him and pointed his gun at him before speaking into his radio again. "I know, you're pissed about that whole hot poker thing, I totally get it," Owen nodded. "But look, what you have going on here . . . that's between you and them. Not my problemo." Elena gave him a surprised look, and Owen took a twenty-dollar bill from his jacket, hoping to keep the charade up. "I'm gonna make a little donation to your health fund and be on my way. You can keep the blanket. I was never here, I never saw anything."

Manuel frowned, and one of the refugees behind him muttered in Spanish with Elena replying. Manuel took a cautious step forward, then he reached for the money. Owen grabbed his arm, spun, and twisted, and a snap echoed in the air. Manuel screamed in pain, and Owen kicked the other man's legs out from under him. Manuel fell to his knees, and with a sharp head butt, Owen knocked him on the ground. As Manuel whimpered on the ground, gun and radio abandoned, Owen winced and held his now-bleeding forehead. "Elena, would you get me a rope, please?" he asked.

Elena rushed to grab a rope from the wall and hand it to him. "You're a really good actor, Owen," she complimented.

"Thanks," Owen sighed as he tied up Manuel. "Intro to Undercover 101. Now I know why Liv and Elliot thought it was good for me to know." The static on Manuel's radio abruptly cleared, and Elena paled as she listened to the Spanish rattled off. "What are they saying?" Owen asked.

"They're coming for us," Elena swallowed hard. "They know where we are."

***

Dishes clattering in the kitchen made TK's eyes open, and he sat up in bed and looked towards the door in confusion. He had gone to bed with the house empty . . . so who was in the house with him?

He lightly jogged down the steps and heard annoyed muttering, and he cautiously peered into the kitchen to see the top of a grey-haired head searching through cabinets. "Hello?" he asked.

The opening and shutting of cabinets stopped, then the intruder turned around and folded his arms, giving TK a stern look. "Has your father ever learned how to keep things organized?" he griped.

TK's jaw dropped. He would know that snark and those glasses anywhere. "Uncle Munch?" he sputtered.

"Oh, good, at least one head in this household is working," Munch snorted. "Help me out here, kid. Didn't he have some slow tea infuser or something? Looks like an otter? I can't find it anywhere."

"Uh . . . " TK cleared his throat and shook his head, still working to wrap his head around the thought of John Munch in his house. "It was a sloth. It was Mom's."

"Ah," Munch nodded. "I wondered why Owen would have such a tacky thing in his kitchen."

"Well, he doesn't anymore. Buttercup ate it."