Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

be blamed,” he muttered under his breath while he walked to the door and out of the lab. A few beers with dinner wouldn't even register on a Breathalyzer with his body mass and would go a long way to new brainstorms, but he didn't dare. That didn't mean he didn't dream otherwise, though.
    "You've never been a field agent before, have you?” Ty asked with disdain, calling out the question as he remained at the table, staring at the files and crime-scene photos.
    Zane stopped at the door, taking a moment to order his thoughts and push away the ghosts of his constant nightmares. “A drink now and then is not going to end the world. I'm guessing that you came from deep cover, which means you were always looking over your shoulder, living the part every minute, knowing one mistake would send you to the morgue.” Zane knew the situation very well. “While it's admirable, and arguably the most difficult job the Bureau does, you're going to have to figure out how to downshift, or the people we work with are going to strangle you. You can't work around the clock and stay sharp enough to crunch this much data and get inside a madman's head."
    Ty tore his eyes away from the papers again and looked up at Zane seriously. “You think those boys down in the morgue downshifted before he killed ‘em?” he asked flatly.
    "I think they were locked down as securely as they could get, with no reason to think they'd be found, much less attacked. Which means one of two things,” Zane responded, brown eyes hard and unflinching. “They'd either already screwed up and exposed themselves or someone who knew where they were gave them up, either by mistake or not. Either way, letting down their guard made no difference. They were already dead."
    Ty just shook his head and snorted derisively. He knew he was damned if he was going to let himself be shot in the chest as he slept. You never thought you were safe. Feeling safe got you killed.
    Zane could almost see the tension pouring off Ty in waves. “Are you going to the hotel or are you planning on staying here all day?” he asked.
    "I'm going to a hotel,” Ty answered as he stood and gathered his coat and satchel. “A different hotel. And you're coming with me."
    Zane simply leveled a gaze at him, waiting for explanation. It was the first time the other man had even remotely indicated that he wanted Zane anywhere around him.
    "I don't plan on losing another agent to this shit, got it?” Ty responded sharply as he stuffed several of the files in his bag and glared back at Zane. “Even if it is you."
    Zane supposed he should feel all warm and fuzzy about Ty at least not wanting him gruesomely murdered and left to bleed out in his shower or something. Somehow, the sentiment didn't really inspire much camaraderie, though. “So where are we going?"
    "Holiday Inn, man,” Ty answered. “If I'm footin’ the bill, I ain't paying no damn five hundred bucks a night."
    Zane shrugged. A room was a room. He'd stayed in better and he'd stayed in worse. He followed Ty out of the lab and back down the hall to the elevator. “And then?” He wanted to know if Ty's sudden concern for his well-being included staying in close proximity; he'd planned to come back after dinner to study the maps and evidence notes.
    Ty shrugged as he punched the elevator button. “Then we see what's brewing,” he answered carelessly.
    Zane looked over at his partner in exasperation. First, complete and total focus on the case, a case that wasn't even their main focus, and now, this. “Do you do anything like a normal person?” he asked, although the question was wholly rhetorical. And not at all complimentary.
    Ty turned around and looked at him in slight surprise once they were in the elevator. “Only the fun things,” he answered finally after a moment of looking at him thoughtfully.
    "Fun things,” Zane echoed, not looking away from Ty once he was pinned by the man's hazel eyes.
    "You remember those, don't you?” Ty questioned with a smirk as he let his eyes travel up and down Zane thoughtfully. “Maybe you don't,” he decided with a sigh.
    Zane knew with absolute certainty that he did not want this conversation to continue. “How many strikes have I got left?” he asked abruptly. He knew Ty had been taking his measure, in more ways than one.
    "None,” Ty answered immediately, though he was somewhat surprised Zane even knew to ask the question.
    A ghost of a self-deprecating smile crossed Zane's