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

Chapter Three

"A dog eating a sloth," Munch rolled his eyes fondly and went back to scouring the cabinets. "Well, good for him. I hated that thing."

TK looked around with a frown. "Hey, uh . . . where's Dad?"

"Owen?" Munch shrugged. "Work, I assume."

"No, he – " TK turned and got sunlight in his eyes. He winced and shielded his eyes with his hand, looking out into the clear sky. "Oh. The storm must have passed." A high-pitched tone sounded in his head, and TK winced, gesturing. "You hear that?"

"Hmm?" Munch looked at him. "Hear what?"

The sound faded, and TK sighed. "Nothing, I guess."

"You firefighters," Munch shook his head as he found a mug and poured tea from the kettle into it. "You hear so much on the job, then you start bringing it home with you."

TK couldn't help but chuckle as the mug was pushed towards him. "Same old Uncle Munch."

"Well, what did you expect, Tyler?" Munch tilted his head. "I'm still in New York. You and your crazy father are the ones who made the move to Austin."

"Yeah, when did you get here?" TK asked.

"Just now," Munch leaned on the counter and looked sternly at him. "There's only so many times I can hear about the Strands' escapades in the hospital before I have to come set you two straight. At least you didn't get shot again." He scoffed and took a sip of his own tea. "You boys should enroll in some kind of rewards program, given how often you're in that wing."

TK blinked. "I was in the hospital?"

Munch tilted his head, looking concerned. "You don't remember?"

"Not really," TK mumbled. "Hey, how's it going in New York?"

"Oh, same old," Munch smirked. "Every time I see the kids, they have their stepparents even more wrapped around their fingers."

"Sonny and Peter haven't married Amanda and Liv," TK snorted.

"Really?" Munch rolled his eyes. "They act like married couples. And I would know, I'm an expert on that." He paused and reconsidered. "Well, then again, I have more exes than your father does . . . maybe not. Anyway!" he pushed his tea away. "I didn't come here to discuss chick flick moments with you, Tyler."

"Did you bring any cookies?" TK asked, looking up at Munch.

"Cookies?" Munch repeated with a snort. "You know I'm not an avid baker."

"But I was the one who got the family recipe," TK grinned. "Even though you hoard the secret ingredient."

"I do, don't I?" Munch nodded thoughtfully. "No, I didn't bring any."

"We can make them!" TK grinned and hopped off his chair, only to grunt and reach for his temples when the trilling returned. "What is that?"

"What's what?" Munch rounded the counter and looked at him in concern.

"You hear that, right?" TK gestured, face twisting in pain.

"Only you can, son," Munch shook his head. "That's how you know to fight."

TK frowned. "Fight who?"

***

The trilling changed to one continuous tone, and Carlos rocketed from his chair as doctors rushed into TK's room. "Start pushing Epi," the head of TK's case, Dr. Patel, ordered. "Get a crash cart in here now!"

"Whoa, whoa, wait," Carlos looked around in confused worry. "What's going on?"

"His heart rate's too slow," Patel answered as she checked TK's monitors. "He's severely bradycardic."