Belonging

Chapter Two

Beck knew it was going to be one of those nights the second the call came through.

"Possible DOA," dispatch had said, voice flat, routine. "Male, unresponsive. Park off—" coordinates rattled off next.

Ambrose had glanced over from the driver's seat. "You're up."

"Yeah, yeah," Beck muttered, already reaching for the radio to confirm.

They didn't run lights at first.

No point not for something that was probably nothing. Or... something they couldn't fix anyway.

It was quiet when they pulled up. Too quiet. The kind of still that made everything feel staged, like they were stepping into something already finished.

The park lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across empty paths and bare trees.

"Over there," Ambrose said, nodding toward a bench tucked off the walkway.

Beck saw him immediately.

Too still.

"Shit," he breathed, already moving.

The guy looked young—mid-twenties, maybe. Curled slightly on the bench like he'd just dozed off for a minute and never bothered to wake back up.

Except

Beck slowed as he got closer, his trained eye catching details one by one.

The split in his lip.

Bruising already forming along his cheekbone.

The way one arm was wrapped tight across his ribs.

"...Yeah, that's not great," Ambrose muttered behind him.

"No," Beck agreed quietly.

He stepped closer, reaching out, fingers pressing lightly against the man's shoulder.

"Hey," he said, firm but not harsh. "Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Beck's jaw tightened. He shifted his hand, giving a slightly stronger shake.

"Hey, come on."

Still nothing.

"Sir? Stay with me, okay? Open your eyes."

For a split second, something cold settled in his chest.

Then

A faint movement.

Barely there.

But there.

"Hold up," Beck said quickly, dropping down beside the bench. "I think yeah. He's breathing."

Ambrose exhaled. "Well, that's a start."

Beck didn't answer. He was already focused, slipping into the rhythm of it.

He pressed two fingers against the guy's neck.

Pulse, there. Weak. Slow.

"Hey," Beck tried again, leaning in slightly. "Come on, don't do that. I need you awake."

The man's face twitched faintly, like the voice was reaching him from somewhere far away.

Beck's hand brushed against his sleeve and he froze.

"Shit."

"What?" Ambrose asked.

"He's freezing."

Not just cold.