Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

short,” Burns told him solemnly. “Have you been following the Tri-State murders?"
    "No,” Ty answered immediately.
    "Good. Get in here. One hour."
    "What?"
    "And don't come in smelling like beer and cheap cigars!” Burns chastised before hanging up.
    * * * *
    Zane let the bike coast as he pulled up at the gate to the Bureau parking lot. He showed his badge and was waved through, although he got a couple of odd looks. He hadn't bothered to dress up, just bringing the basics in the saddlebags on his bike. And the leather, of course, since he was riding. His favorite jacket had that gash in the arm from last night, but he wouldn't give it up. He parked the bike in the garage and pulled his leg over, boot hitting the pavement with a clunk. He pulled off the helmet and ran a hand through his overgrown hair. He left the helmet on the bike and stalked toward the building.
    The receptionist blinked at him as he entered the Assistant Director's office. “They're ... waiting for you,” she stuttered at him.
    Zane offered her a rakish grin before reaching for the knob to open the door.
    "And I can assure you the cigars are not cheap,” a voice was saying conversationally on the other side of the door. “The beer is,” the man added, “but never the cigars."
    "I don't need to know about those cigars,” Burns responded in a tired voice.
    Zane stopped just inside, having caught words in a voice he knew he'd never forget. Instead of focusing on Burns, who looked up at him, Zane focused on the back of the man who sat across from the Assistant Director.
    "Garrett. Nice of you to join us. Over half an hour late,” Burns greeted, but he didn't sound too perturbed.
    Ty stiffened in the chair and went still. Slowly, he turned his head to look back at Zane, and the stunned reaction was too instantaneous to conceal.
    Zane swallowed hard, looking over Ty's face. He looked ... good. Really good. Finally, he found the nerve to speak. “Hello, Grady.” The words came out still tinged by an accent.
    "Garrett,” Ty greeted in shock as he stood uncertainly. He turned to Burns and asked, “What is this?"
    Zane tore his eyes away from Ty and looked to Burns.
    "Despite how your last collaboration ended, we need you two in New York again,” Burns answered. His smile faded. “The killer went quiet, without showing so much as a shadow, for about three months after you two were removed from the case. As if he ... missed you,” he told them with an odd uncertainty. “Until two weeks ago. Since then there has been one more murder, and two days ago, the two agents we had on the case were seriously injured in a gas line explosion."
    "You're putting us back on the Tri-State case?” Ty blurted in shock. “Together?"
    The Assistant Director nodded. “In a way,” he answered vaguely. “You two are the only ones left who've worked the case at all and are around to tell about it. The others might not make it.” He sighed. “And I know it's important to you both. For many reasons,” he added quietly with a glance at Ty.
    Zane took a few steps toward Burns’ desk. “Are we gonna be handcuffed like last time?"
    "Handcuffed?” Burns asked in confusion. “What you two do on your own time is none of the Bureau's concern,” he added with a wink at Ty, who rolled his eyes and sat back down slowly.
    "Very funny,” Zane said flatly. He'd just ridden over fifteen hours on a motorcycle to get there and he wasn't amused. No matter how much he jumped inside at the chance to see Ty again, Zane knew they'd be walking right back into an uncontrolled fire that could too easily torch them both—but it was the best news he had heard in months. “We had a tail up our asses and too many people looking over our shoulders. It didn't stop that bastard from tracking us down somewhere else.” Zane's words were clipped and run together, blending his accents. He glanced to Ty, trying to get some feel for him after four months apart.
    Ty sat silently, head slightly bowed and body completely still as he watched Burns from under lowered brows. There was no nervous bouncing of his knee or jittery twitching like there had always been before when he was forced to sit still. He was also clean-shaven, and his hair was still closely cropped. The only remnant of his previous wardrobe was the slightly wrinkled white dress shirt he wore beneath his suit coat, untucked and unbuttoned at the collar. He stared at Burns emotionlessly, none of the usual fire in his eyes