Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

something other than the occasional flyby as they passed each other by while working. He had to try to ignore the twang he felt at the thought of leaving his hard-earned and well-loved job behind.
    "Just say the word,” he said thickly.
    Ty closed his eyes, his fingers tightening in Zane's hair. He was proposing they both give up a job they loved, give up everything either of them knew. “We can open up a flower shop and sell black-market orchids from the back,” he offered with a slight hitch in his voice.
    Zane smiled at the flash of humor, though he knew it was Ty's defense mechanism. “Just say the word,” he repeated quietly, though he knew Ty never would, and he wondered what he himself would do if it ever came to that. “Go on. Go, while I'm too drugged to stop you."
    "Even if I quit now, I couldn't stay here,” Ty responded almost defensively, as if trying to convince himself to go. “I couldn't stay with you."
    Calm in the face of Ty's struggle, Zane nodded. “You're right,” he said evenly.
    Ty moved quickly and pressed a kiss to Zane's lips. “Be careful, Zane,” he breathed, then stood and swiftly walked away from the hospital bed, not looking back as he disappeared through the door.
    * * * *
    The motorcycle sped along Interstate 35 under the bright sunlight, skillfully handled by the rider in brown leather and a full-face helmet. The bike moved steadily through the thin traffic. The rider reached out and thumbed a button when the headphone in his helmet beeped for a phone call.
    "Garrett,” he shouted over the roar of the engine.
    "Special Agent Garrett."
    Zane blinked and looked from side to side as he gunned the bike to speed up. “What do you want, Burns? I'm on vacation."
    "Yes, I know. Five months of Miami earns you three weeks of vacation. How are you, Zane?"
    Even more surprised to be called by name, Zane tilted his head. “I'm good,” he answered cautiously.
    "Where are you, pray tell?"
    "Home,” Zane answered slowly.
    "How is Texas? Sunny?” Burns asked politely.
    "No, we're in the middle of a blizzard,” Zane deadpanned.
    "Well, your wit is still as sharp as a broken toothpick,” Burns said with a sigh. “Vacation is over in four days. I want you here in DC on the fifth."
    Zane pressed his lips together as he guided the bike off the interstate onto a lesser highway. “You're the boss,” he finally said.
    "You're not going back to Miami,” Burns said placatingly.
    "Miami's a cesspool,” Zane muttered, unconsciously repeating a sentiment said to him what seemed like years ago.
    "Be here in five days. The Bureau will pay for transport, if you like. Get your head wrapped around the idea of a few easy assignments and a new partner while you're at it,” Burns instructed.
    Zane's gut clenched painfully. “I've told you. I don't want a new partner. What happened to my old partner?"
    Burns usually blithely ignored him when he asked about Ty, but now he cleared his throat and said, “That's classified. See you in five days, Special Agent Garrett.” And the Assistant Director hung up.
    Zane had to force himself to pay attention to traffic as his stomach roiled. He didn't want another partner. He only wanted Ty.
    God. Ty. Almost six months had passed, and not a word. Not a message. Nothing but blind hope to keep him going. Work made it easier to forget. But after the second time being injured in Miami this past tour, Zane snapped out of the dangerous, depressive funk and figured out he had better listen to Ty's request for him to be careful or he'd cut his chances of seeing him again to nil. He put in the vacation and transfer requests, and for the first time in five years, went home to Texas.
    The last three weeks had been full of memories; old and new, good and bad. Ty was always there, on the edge of his periphery, and Zane felt like a part of himself was missing. What were the chances Burns would put him back together with Ty? Zane figured on absolutely none, and that was optimistic. If Zane had been put back in deep cover, then Ty had to have been as well. That was the other man's specialty, after all, and the classified answer pretty much confirmed it. But he couldn't help hoping. At least Burns might be willing to tell him how to contact Ty when they spoke in five days.
    The bike sped out of the city and into the flats, giving its rider time to think.
    * * * *
    Ty sat at the end of the bar, watching the Orioles get the shit kicked out of them again and drinking a Sam