Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

slowly.
    The long, even strides didn't stop until Zane was through the gate and back out at the street, flagging down a cab. The first one kept going, and so he kept a sharp eye out. He still felt ill. It had come out of nowhere, the specter of memories five years old that he'd thought were just as buried as his wife.
    Ty jogged to catch up to him as a second cab stopped at Zane's summons. They climbed in and shook off the water, and Ty gave the driver the name of their hotel. He had hoped to see more of the scenes, but he would rather do it alone than like this.
    Five minutes into the ride, Zane finally closed his eyes and relaxed a little. He propped his elbow against the window and rubbed his eyes. God, he hated memories sometimes. They brought back nightmares he didn't want. Frankly, he didn't want the good or the bad, because the good were even worse. He knew Ty wanted to know what was going on, but Zane wasn't sure he could even spit out the words.
    "Whenever you're ready, man,” Ty prodded irritably.
    Zane slanted an equally annoyed glance Ty's way. “Bad memories, okay?” he muttered.
    Ty glared at him from his side of the cab for a moment and then looked away with a long sigh. Obviously there was more to it than that, and Ty found himself annoyed that he even gave a damn. He wouldn't ask again, though.
    After another long silence, Zane gave a quiet sigh. “Becky died this time of year,” Zane said quietly. “Weather's about the same. Fancy graveyard.” He shrugged.
    "Who is Becky?” Ty asked in exasperation.
    Zane kept his eyes focused out the window. “My wife."
    Ty stared at him for a long moment, eyes drifting down to the wedding ring Zane still wore but they'd never talked about, then he looked away without commenting. He pressed his lips together tightly as they rode in silence. “I'm sorry,” he finally offered.
    Nodding slowly, Zane finally said, “Thanks.” It was almost inaudible.
    Ty didn't respond. His immediate reaction was to point out that if Zane had a fucking problem with graveyards he should have said something instead of wasting their time by zoning out in there. He would have been better off leaving Zane at the gate and taking his time. A day ago he would have said it out loud, but now he held his tongue. It was an action he wasn't accustomed to or comfortable with. Forcing himself not to say anything too harsh to the man fueled the resentment Ty felt building.
    A few minutes passed. “Need to go back?” Zane asked neutrally.
    Ty watched the architecture pass by and sighed inaudibly. “We'll see,” he finally answered curtly.
    Zane turned off the portion of himself that felt bad that he'd apparently messed with Ty's work. It just didn't compare to the thoughts and dreams and dying lights that swirled through his mind. He'd need some time to clear those cobwebs away. Then he could get back to work.
    The rest of the taxi ride passed in tense silence.
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Chapter Seven
    Ty was undeniably pissed off, and he spent the rest of the day distracted by it. The more distracted he became with his and Zane's little personal interactions, the angrier he found himself. They had a murderer to find and Ty had the death of a brother to avenge’ he didn't need to be absorbed in this little fling they had started up. And he couldn't even shout at Zane to release the frustration anymore. It didn't seem right after what had happened between them. He wasn't used to being angry without an outlet, and it was wearing him down.
    They had finally returned to Federal Plaza and given their accounts of what had happened with the exploding computer. They were questioned about the bruises both men displayed, and about why they had left the scene when they knew they would have to be questioned. Ty had been forced to put in a call to Dick Burns in order to get the disgruntled investigators off their backs, and they had been sent on their way.
    The rest of the day had been spent at the hotel, combing over files and notes as they searched for a thread.
    It was beginning to rain once more, the drops hitting the hotel window lazily when Ty finally put his work down and rested his elbows on the table. He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned plaintively. “Did we eat lunch?” he asked sulkily.
    "Nope,” Zane answered distractedly. He'd finally managed to sink himself in autopsy reports a couple hours ago, and that subject matter was more than enough to quash any physical urges;