Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

threatening to drag him under with wanting it.
    Ty clanked around in the bathroom for a few moments before the shower started, and soon he was out again, a towel around his shoulders and running it through his short hair carefully as he watched Zane and moved closer. His entire right side was covered with nasty purpling bruises, and he walked with a slight hitch to his step. “What day is it?” he finally asked with a wince.
    "Friday,” Zane murmured. He was on his back again, arm thrown over his eyes.
    Ty frowned but said nothing in response, instead walking closer to the bed and flopping the towel down on Zane's thighs. “You okay?” he asked.
    Zane lifted his arm. His brow was furrowed as he looked at Ty. “Yeah?” What was Ty asking about? His state of mind? Zane moved his hand to grasp the towel as he looked up at Ty, who was towering over him. God, he was incredible-looking like this—even all beaten up—flushed and soft after a hot shower.
    "You sure?” Ty asked. “I feel like I'm becoming more a hindrance than a help,” he admitted.
    "Not to me,” Zane answered evenly.
    Ty nodded and lowered his head, retrieving his towel from Zane's grasp without another word.
    Zane sat up and peered up at his partner. “How fuzzy are you, still? Do we need to lay low until your brain pulls itself out of the frying pan?” he asked worriedly.
    Ty lowered his head and looked at Zane from under lowered brows. “Things are fuzzy,” he admitted after a moment of honest self-examination. “I remember most of the important things. Mentally I'm okay. Physically, not so much. I think if we were in a fight tonight I'd be a liability,” he added with a wince as he bowed his head again.
    "Then we'll stay in and take it easy. I do want to make a few phone calls and go pick up our stuff, get those personnel files to Henninger. Right now, that's our only lead. Other than that, we're sadly lacking in choices to pursue on the case. I hate to say it ... it's going to take another killing—and some lucky evidence—to give us a break."
    "Maybe if we weren't ducking and covering every other day we'd have made more progress,” Ty muttered sulkily as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Where are the files again?"
    "At the other room,” Zane answered evenly, trying not to show how worrying it was that Ty was having trouble remembering. “I'll run out and pick them up, get us some food other than room service and some snacks, and head back this way,” he continued nonchalantly.
    Ty looked up at him, something like hurt resentment in his eyes. “What about Henninger? Can you call him to go with you?” he finally asked resignedly.
    Zane turned his chin and looked at him evenly. “I'd rather have you there. But yeah, I can call him."
    Ty merely looked up at him blankly, his façade from the first several days slowly returning. Zane's lips twitched ruefully. There was “his” Ty. It was something like protective armor. If Ty was feeling threatened, he turned into that man. Zane stood and walked out to the front room to call Henninger. At least this Ty he knew how to handle. The other, softer man threw him totally. But oddly, Zane's chest hurt. It was something he had said that made that newer man disappear again.
    "I'll go with you if you trust me to,” came a soft call from the bedroom.
    Torn, Zane held the cell in one hand. The past day and a half, Ty had threatened him with bodily harm if he went back to the Holiday Inn without him—something Zane had first thought was disdain for his abilities, but later discovered was concern. Now, Ty was acting like Zane was the one who was sitting in judgment over his abilities. Sliding the phone into his pocket, Zane walked back to the bedroom door.
    "You know I'm not all here,” Ty said to him flatly as he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped between his knees.
    "Even not all here, you're better than I am,” Zane said conversationally. “It's up to you to believe me or not.” Ty was Recon. A goddamn Marine. A top undercover agent. Survival was ingrained in his instincts and reflexes, things that just didn't come naturally to Zane.
    Ty jerked his head slightly and looked up at Zane appraisingly. “Give me a minute to get dressed, then,” he finally muttered.
    Zane nodded and walked to the dressing table where he'd set out their guns and started adjusting his holster. Ty dressed slowly, quietly dreading another attack of dizziness or nausea. Finally, he looked