Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

stretched.
    "Moody?” Zane's face scrunched. “I was sort of thinking about the last time I begged for my life and could really have cared less. Just figured if I told you, I'd get the violins treatment again."
    "You were right. And that's not an illegitimate reason, moron,” Ty told him as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed.
    "I was referring to the ‘could really have cared less’ part, actually,” Zane said, closing his eyes and letting his head lean back against the wall.
    Ty sat with his back to Zane, looking at the opposite wall with his head cocked thoughtfully. “Fuck,” he commented with a slight shake of his head.
    Zane opened his eyes and looked at Ty's back. “Maybe later,” he said as he picked up the file folder again. “Told you I was fucked up while we were apart."
    "Why not just let them kill you?” Ty asked. “Why beg at all?"
    "Gut reflex, I guess,” Zane said quietly. “Didn't really think about it, except that there was something I'd miss. Was scared, too. Being shot in the head doesn't appeal too much."
    "It'd be quicker than a lot of other ways,” Ty pointed out as he turned around slightly and met Zane's eyes. “I was always afraid of dying slow,” he said thoughtfully.
    Zane's mouth quirked. “I played that game, too.” He curled his hand into a fist as his fingers started twitching.
    "What game?” Ty asked in confusion.
    "Figuring out what will kill you slow and easy,” Zane said, opening his fist and rubbing his palm against his thigh. “Pain wasn't a consideration."
    Ty stared at him for a long moment. “Why'd you want to go slow?” he finally asked.
    Zane's mouth quirked. “So I could enjoy it."
    Ty raised one expressive eyebrow. He licked his lips and looked away. “My daddy used to mind the mines when I was little,” he said suddenly. “I used to dream that I was stuck down there. I wouldn't mind freezing to death,” he claimed abruptly. “Going numb and then going to sleep. But I think I'd want it quick. I got too much to look back on and regret to want time to ponder it all.” He glanced back at Zane. “Just another thing we don't have in common."
    "Regrets? Maybe. Sometimes I think I deserve all the shit I went through. Did it to myself,” Zane said. He met Ty's eyes. “I would think you wouldn't agree. You don't seem the type to self-flagellate."
    "Let's pretend I don't know what you're talking about,” Ty responded with a ghost of a smile. His regrets were one thing he did not plan on going over with Zane any time soon. Or ever.
    Zane nodded slowly. “All right,” he murmured. It was obviously a topic to avoid. “So you're saying you think I don't have regrets?"
    "No. Just commenting on the fact that you'd rather have time to linger over them at the end,” Ty corrected. “This is a morbid conversation. What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked in a huff as he rubbed his hands through his hair.
    "Me?” Zane asked in disbelief. “I didn't say I wanted to linger over anything. Just that if I have to die, I want to enjoy it.” He shrugged slightly. “You don't have enough focus to ponder much of anything hopped on heroin. That's the allure.” His hand twitched again.
    Ty sighed and looked away again with a shake of his head. “How long ago was it?” he asked tiredly.
    "How long ago was what?"
    "The heroin?” Ty asked curtly as he glanced back over his shoulder.
    "Four and a half, maybe five weeks, I guess,” Zane answered.
    "So I'm to assume it wasn't a constant thing?” Ty asked tightly. “Since you're not screaming in pain from the withdrawal, I mean?"
    Zane stared at him for a long moment. “No, it wasn't constant. It was all I had to cut the pain when I got shot.” His hand went to his abdomen, where Ty knew there was a fresh, barely healing scar. “I know what I can handle."
    Ty examined him for a long time, and then turned his head to face the wall again. He sighed softly. “Okay,” he finally acknowledged quietly. It just wasn't worth the fight it could turn into to continue the conversation, and Ty was getting tired of talking about it.
    "Did you ever use?” Zane asked, curious.
    "Never,” Ty answered immediately.
    "But you drink,” Zane murmured, looking down at his hands, wondering if there was any way he could explain so Ty could have some idea of what it was like to be addicted. “Ever drink too much and still want more?"
    "Every time I drink too much I swear it off for a week,” Ty muttered.
    "But I