Chapter Ten

Graham's parents had been in France for the last two months and would be there for another week, so Pierce's crew had been using his house as a home base. Graham sat at the kitchen table, one leg bouncing furiously underneath it as he tapped at the laptop in front of him, paging through news articles. Their press coverage increased every day, feeding Pierce's confidence. As if his ego needed any more stroking. Pierce had been on his high horse for days now, ordering them around. Ross seemed happy enough to keep on with Pierce's schemes, but ever since finding out about Mr. Garrett, the great master plan had lost its shine for Graham. He was pretty sure Hannah felt the same way. Every time he saw her, she looked more and more like a scared rabbit.

"So, Ross," Pierce said from his seat at the head of the table, chest puffed up with self-assumed authority, "you're going to get those keys so we can get into the gym to plant the bomb. I'm picking up the last of the supplies tomorrow, and then I can start building it. This bomb will be the best yet."

"Sure thing, Pierce," Ross agreed, tapping out his orders on the iPad in front of him.

"What gym?" Hannah asked.

"We can't get into a cop gym. They're, like, guarded or in the bottom of the station, aren't they?"

"We got into their baseball diamond, didn't we? Anyway, we're not going after a cop gym. We're planting it at the Y on Druid Hill," Pierce said.

"The Y?" Hannah's voice edged up. "I thought we were only blowing up places with cops. That we weren't going to go after regular people. The mall was bad enough."

"The mall was our best hit yet! And it was because there were civilians there. And the press. The pigs are more likely to fuck things up if they're showing off for the fucking media," Pierce snapped. "Besides, the web site says the gym is closed for renovation. No one will get hurt that doesn't deserve it."

Hannah looked down, frowning faintly as she poked at one of the bank bags in front of her.

"They raised over a million dollars to build that new gym," Pierce said, sounding far too pleased with himself. Graham didn't know why. The Y was a charity, wasn't it? It wasn't like blowing up some million-dollar store. Didn't the other bombs do enough damage?

"Why do we need a better bomb?" Graham couldn't help but ask. "The others didn't do enough damage?"

"No, they didn't," Pierce said flatly.

"A bomb is a bomb, isn't it?" Hannah asked tentatively. "It's just supposed to keep them away from the banks."

Pierce smacked his hand on the tabletop, and Hannah cringed. "It needs to be a better bomb because I said so."

Graham's stomach began to roil. He hoped that Mr. Garrett had found that note by now. It was okay, robbing banks. It was kind of cool, kind of badass, and fuck the banks anyway. It's not like they ever did anything good for anyone. He had heard his dad grumbling about all the money they'd lost when... well, Graham didn't really understand that part, and half of it had to do with politics anyway and who cared about that, but it had been fun, going after something everyone seemed to think was so big and powerful. Plus, if they got enough money Graham could quit his crappy restaurant job his father had made him get to teach him "fiscal responsibility."

But Pierce was getting scary. It wasn't about the money to him anymore, and Graham didn't know when—or if—he'd stop. They'd been lucky more people hadn't been hurt at the mall.

"Pierce, we're really hurting people—"

"Just the fucking cops!" Pierce yelled.

"So which one are we hitting next?" Ross asked, looking so eager that the acid started inching up through Graham's gullet.

"‘We' aren't," Pierce said with a smug smile. "Hannah is."

Hannah went totally white. "What? Me?"

"It's about time you did something besides making phone calls," Pierce ordered. "Time to earn your part of the take. You're going to rob the bank this time."

"B-b-but I don't know how!" Hannah wailed, wringing her hands.

"Suck it up, Hannah," Pierce said harshly. "You want your money so you can get away from Stepmommy Dearest, you'll do what I tell you. You hear me?"

"Yes," Hannah mewled, slumping in on herself.

"So what are we doing while Hannah's hitting the bank?" Ross asked.

"Graham's going to have the car nearby to get Hannah when she comes out. You and I are going to take care of those two piece of shit pigs who called us out on TV," Pierce said with such relish that Graham had to swallow hard on his gorge.

"Do you know who they are yet?"

"The loudmouth's name is Grady. I can't find his address, but I'm going to follow him home from the FBI one day."

"Why didn't you just take care of him when you had him in the car that time?" Ross asked.

Pierce's face reddened. He'd talked a lot of talk, but Graham had seen the size of the FBI agent. He knew exactly why Pierce hadn't "taken care" of him. Agent Grady would tear Pierce's arms off like a pit bull playing with a kitten.

"I want to make him suffer first!" Pierce shouted.

Ross raised his hands in a placating gesture, and suddenly Pierce was fine again.

"So Graham, you have to find a getaway car."

"We can use that kickass truck," Ross suggested.

"That Fed won't be needing it," Pierce said smugly, pulling out a ring of keys and twirling it on his finger.

"I'm not driving a truck you stole from a Fed!" Graham said, feeling his stomach flip unpleasantly.

"Then you better come up with something of your own," Pierce snapped. "You don't like the truck, then I'll drive it. I've already replaced the plate."

Graham slumped down into his chair under the sense of impending doom that hung in the air.

Pierce stood up and leaned over, planting his hands on top of the mess of schematics and maps. "We keep going. No one's getting hurt who doesn't deserve it." He reached out to the middle of the kitchen table and plucked up the pink ceramic piggy bank he'd set there the day he first laid out his plans. "We're gonna split this city wide open," he said, smirking before deliberately dropping the pig to the table and watching it crack right through the middle.

"Ty, you need a break," Zane said as he walked slowly into the living room. He was almost certain Ty was in the kitchen on the other side of the bar. He'd heard glass bottles clanking in the refrigerator.

It wasn't even the weekend yet, and Zane knew the babysitter role had to be chafing. While Ty had been good as gold in the two days since moving Zane to his row house, it couldn't last much longer. Zane didn't want it to last; it was starting to freak him out. He almost wanted to pick a fight just to hear Ty rant so it would vault him back out of The Twilight Zone.

"What?" Ty asked in a muffled voice, as if he was kneeling below the level of the kitchen counter.

Zane frowned as he reached out in front of him, certain the bar should be there. "I said you need a break. What are you doing? You sound like you're in a hole."

He felt more than heard Ty stand quickly, right in front of him.

"Nothing."

Zane tipped his head to the side, trying to remember what Ty kept in the cabinets under the bar. He didn't believe Ty for an instant, but since he couldn't hear anything ticking, he let it go. "Nothing," he stated. "Yeah, that's the problem. You need a break," he stated for the third time.

"I wasn't doing anything," Ty insisted in his most innocent voice. It turned more suspicious as he kept talking. "A break from what?"

Now Zane was sure he didn't want to know what Ty had been doing. "A break from your babysitting duties."

"Oh," Ty said with a huff. "Why do you say that? I haven't set fire to anything lately."

Normally, Zane would just give Ty a look, deeming the just- spoken words bullshit. But since he couldn't see Ty to focus on him, that wasn't going to work. "But you have the matches in hand," Zane said knowingly.

Ty cleared his throat. "What would you suggest, then, since you can't be left to your own incompetent devices?"

"I think I can manage for a while," Zane said seriously. "Go out. Do something. You've been fluttering like your mom. Not that I don't enjoy it, but I can hear you twitching."

"Fluttering like my mom?" Ty repeated with special emphasis on the words that insulted him, meaning all of them. Zane heard him throw something that flopped like heavy paper onto the counter. "You are an ungrateful jackass," Ty said slowly.

"Ty, I don't think I could be more grateful. I just don't want you to resent helping me."

"You told me I flutter like my mom!"

"To me, that's a hell of a compliment. It means you care enough to stick around and take care of me even when it's driving you crazy," Zane tried to explain. This wasn't how he'd expected Ty to react. He'd figured Ty would have been off like a shot. Not in a bad way, just in a golden-retriever-shut-up-in-the-house-way-too-fucking-long way.

Ty snorted like a bull, and even though Zane couldn't see him, he instinctively knew Ty's head was down. "Well, what about you?" Ty countered, his voice obstinate. "You feeling the need to climb out the window too?"

"Absolutely. But the overwhelming fear of free fall is a definite deterrent," Zane replied, setting both hands on the bar as he shifted his weight. "So I'm sticking with iTunes on the couch for now. You can download a new book for me. That'll keep me amused for hours."

Ty hummed unhappily. "I don't like the idea of leaving you alone. And not just because you could catch a toe on the carpet and go plummeting down the steps."

"You don't have carpet on the steps."

"Not the point."

"We have to try it sometime," Zane said quietly. "As much as the idea appeals, you can't be within shouting distance forever."

"You getting tired of me?" Ty posed in the same tone.

"No." Zane also had a more florid answer, but he didn't think making Ty guffaw would really help this discussion. He'd be a happy man if he had Ty within arm's reach at all times.

"Okay. So. A couple days apart so we don't kill each other, is that what we're talking about?" Ty asked as he started moving around behind the counter.

Zane hadn't really been thinking in terms of days. He'd simply been hoping to get Ty out of the house for a couple of hours. He really had no idea how he'd cope by himself for days, but to keep Ty from fraying around the edges, he'd get through it. "Sure," he tried to answer confidently.

"I'm not comfortable with you being alone, Zane," Ty told him with the sort of blunt honesty for which most people disliked him. "So give me an alternative, or killing each other is what we've got."

Zane turned in place as Ty moved past him, and he kept his hands behind him, gripping the edge of the bar. "I could hire a nurse to sit here and read to me," he offered, hoping for a laugh.

"Sponge baths are a no. Even I have my limits as to what I'll let you get away with," Ty muttered irritably. He might or might not have been joking, but it was the second time he'd alluded to the concept of jealousy on his part in the last week, and Zane felt a mild wave of surprise. Ty went on talking as if he'd never touched the subject. "We could call in reinforcements. Maybe Deacon could come down for a few days, get your head on straight again."

"I like Deuce, but I don't need a shrink for this. Anyone in their right mind would be scared out of it in this situation," Zane pointed out, trying to keep his calm. Both of them yelling would end with either slamming doors or a furious fuck, neither of which would resolve the problem for any longer than an hour. He could feel Ty pacing around the small dining area that divided the lower level of the row house. The image of a caged tiger came to mind.

"Then how about this, Zane? Either come up with a viable alternative or fucking stop telling me I need a break!" Ty growled at him dangerously as he moved into the living room. "How about I call Shannon back? She offered to come stay with you, and Elaina—" A sudden pounding on the front door interrupted him and made Zane jump.

"Hold that thought," Ty grumbled. Zane heard him draw a gun from somewhere and head for the door.

In a solitary moment of optimism, Ty allowed himself to hope it was one of the field agents working the case at the door, standing on the front stoop, having magically found Zane's keys, explaining it had all been a mistake and Zane was safe.

He peered through the peephole and cursed emphatically when he saw who really stood out there. Four men, all with identical duffel bags in various stages of wear and tear, all peering down the street at the inconspicuous FBI sedan that civilians shouldn't have been able to spot parked a block away from Ty's door.

Marine Force Recon Team Sidewinder. All four of them. As soon as he laid eyes on them, he knew why they were there.

"Shit, shit, shit," Ty muttered as he flipped the deadbolt and pulled open the door. They all turned to look at him with smiles, but he stood in the doorway with his mouth open, ready to offer an apology. He must have looked more surprised than he thought, though, because Nick O'Flaherty rolled his eyes and groaned.

"You forgot," he said accusingly.

"Yes," Ty admitted immediately. The other three men groaned as well and began a running commentary worthy of any peanut gallery.

Ty looked to Nick and shrugged helplessly. Nick was nearly his height, with dark reddish-blond hair and every earmark of a sturdy Irishman from Boston. His eyes were bright green and usually filled with the same sort of mischief as Ty's. He was a kindred spirit in every sense of the word. They'd shared a seat on the bus to Parris Island and risen through the ranks together. Nick was, for all intents and purposes, Ty's best and oldest friend.

"It's been a hell of a week," Ty tried to explain.

"Who is it?" Zane asked curiously from behind him.

Ty turned sideways to look back at him, giving the four men on the stoop a clear view of his partner.

"Uh... guys, this is Zane Garrett, my partner," he said as he tried to decide how best to handle the sudden overflow of guests, especially when four of them were going to be irritated as hell. He looked back at them. "Stop loitering in my front door and get your asses in here."

They filed in obediently, and with six big men standing in the living room, the house was suddenly very small. As soon as Ty shut the door, he gestured at Zane again. "He lost his vision in an explosion a few days ago. He's staying with me until he gets it back or we catch the guy. Zane, this is... my Recon team."

"What remains of it, anyway. Team Sidewinder, at your service," Nick provided with more than a hint of pride.

Zane stayed in place at the foot of the stairs, hands in his pockets. "A surprise visit from the whole team?" His voice was a little flat, and Ty knew he had to be uncomfortable.

"Not technically a surprise," Nick answered before Ty could open his mouth.

Ty cleared his throat. "I forgot," he said again, for Zane's benefit and theirs. "Zane, this is Nick O'Flaherty. Boston accent. Owen Johns, upstate New York. Kelly Abbott, Colorado. And Digger, deep Bayou." His name was actually Duruand Garrigou, but since none of them had ever been able to pronounce his name to his satisfaction, he'd been Digger since he'd joined the team.

They each offered mumbled hellos in turn, looking at Ty oddly as they did so.

After a short awkward silence, Zane spoke up. "So there's a planned something going on? The thing you forgot?" he prompted Ty.

Ty held his breath, looking from Zane to the other four uncomfortably. They all looked at him expectantly. "I'm sorry!" he finally blurted. "It's been a rough week, okay? They blew up my Bronco, then they blew up my partner, and I got a little distracted."

Kelly and Digger looked at each other pointedly. "Revenge kick," Kelly decided.

"No doubt," Digger agreed.

Ty gave them both a disgusted grunt.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Nick offered easily. He looked over at Zane. "We'd planned to go out in the woods and play some paintball this weekend," he explained for Zane's benefit. "We do it every few months. It was Grady's turn to host."

"Sounds fun," Zane said, a little more energy in his voice this time. He must have been listening to who was standing where, because he turned his head toward Ty. "You should go."

"We just had this conversation, Garrett," Ty said in frustration. "I'm not leaving you alone until you can see or they've caught the bomber."

"This sounds pretty heavy," Nick commented drily.

"Welcome to my fucking life," Ty snapped. Nick merely laughed at him.

"We don't have to go anywhere. If we stick around Grady, we can probably shoot real guns eventually," Kelly offered as he sat down on the couch behind him. He had been their Navy corpsman, the medical officer. He'd gone through the same training they had and then some. He was slim and wiry, with unremarkable brown hair and eyes a variable color between blue and gray. His manner was unassuming and affable, but he was the only member of their six-man team who'd been undefeated in sparring matches. He was hell on wheels with or without a weapon.

"I flew from fucking San Diego. I'm shooting something," Owen announced irritably.

"I hear that," Zane muttered. "Look. They changed the locks at my place. I can go there. I know my way around better there anyway." He was sounding sensible, in front of witnesses, and Ty wanted to throttle him for it. "You can visit with them and come check on me in the evenings if you want." Zane gave him a ghost of a smile. "I'll have dinner delivered."

"Were you two the targets?" Nick asked.

"No," Ty answered curtly, still glaring at Zane.

"Maybe," Zane corrected.

"It's possible," Ty granted reluctantly. "Look, I can't leave town right now. A bomber's targeting municipal and federal law enforcement and rescue crews, banks are being robbed all over the place, the city's going nuts—"

"Well, aren't you Mr. Doom and Gloom," Digger observed with a smirk. He was a good-looking man, his skin so dark that they'd never had to paint him with grease oil on a mission to hide him in the dark. His accent was deep Louisiana, which meant half the time he wasn't coherent and the other half he was bitching at them for not answering his questions.

"Anything we can do to help?" Nick offered as the others settled onto the couch together. They reminded Ty of the no-evil monkeys, lined up in a row. He frowned at them suspiciously.

"Please take him out of the house for at least a few hours and make him burn off some energy," Zane said immediately. "I can hear him bouncing. Go down to Fell's Point or something nearby."

"You'll be bouncing down the stairs, traitor," Ty snapped.

"Okay, then!" Nick said with a laugh. He stepped up and put his arm over Ty's shoulders as if to restrain him. "We'll pass on paintball and just bum around the city for a few days. In case you need us," he said to Ty. The others nodded and murmured in agreement.

"Usually end up with paintball welts on my nads anyway," Owen grumbled as he examined his fingernails with a frown.

"That's 'cause you always bend over and try to kiss your ass goodbye," Kelly told him sensibly. Ty rolled his eyes.

Nick spoke over them, ignoring the running commentary from the couch. "Garrett, why don't you come with us to dinner? We wouldn't mind getting to know Ty's partner, especially since he's gone this long without trading you in or hitting you."

Zane smiled for the first time since the guys had come in. "Well, you're half right." He shrugged. "I'm game. We haven't eaten yet."

"Great!" Nick said as he looked at Ty triumphantly. "We've never met one of Ty's partners. We were starting to think they were just a myth."

The Greene Turtle Sports Bar & Grille attracted a busy crowd in the evenings. It was a popular hangout in Fell's Point, located along the cobblestone roads that lined the harbor, its tables inside and outside always full and busy with a mix of locals and tourists. It took several minutes of waiting before the team plus one could get a table big enough for all of them to spread out. Nick knew it wasn't Ty's favorite hangout. He always took them a few streets over, to a hole-in-the-wall bar called One-Eyed Mike's. He must have brought them here out of consideration for Zane's blindness.

Nick watched as Ty walked Zane in, staying close, holding his elbow. This Zane Garrett seemed to trust Ty a hell of a lot. He hadn't questioned Ty's instructions even once as they walked the few blocks here and wound through the crowd to a table near the TVs in the back. Ty got him seated in the corner where people wouldn't bump into him and thumped down in a chair beside him.

When Ty finally got settled and glanced toward Nick, Nick gave him a questioning look and nodded his head toward Zane. Ty shrugged easily, letting the unspoken question slide off his shoulders in a way only Ty could. Nick was going to have to get his old friend alone soon and interrogate him.

Until then, he slid into the seat next to Ty, leaning over him to look at Zane. "So give us the story," he told them both. "Zane, we need a new supply of embarrassing Grady tales."

Zane grinned, though his eyes remained downcast. He set one hand on the table in front of him, closing his hand around the edge. "Well, there was this time at the Chinese laundry—"

"No," Ty broke in urgently. He raised his hand to call the waitress over, ordering five drinks by holding up five long fingers and then twirling his index finger around the table. Nick's eyes followed the motion, then moved to look at Ty. He looked worn out, not as apt to go spinning toward the ceiling as the Ty Grady Nick knew so well.

"There's six of us, man," Owen interrupted. "Who's not drinking?"

"That would be me," Zane said.

"Forgive me for stating the obvious, but you don't appear to be the designated-driver type right now," Kelly said wryly.

Ty nudged Nick's elbow, and when Nick glanced at him, Ty put his thumb and index finger out like he was holding a shot glass and tipped it toward his mouth. Nick nodded in understanding.

"A drink is the last thing I need right now," Zane said as he leaned back in his chair.

Nick clucked his tongue. So Ty's partner was an alcoholic. That was uncomfortable. He searched for something to say, watching his companions closely. Zane seemed okay with the topic, but Ty's shoulders had tensed, and he was looking at the table devotedly. Nick knew the posture well, had seen Ty assume it many times. He was preparing to defend a friend.

"So," Nick drew out, "Chinese laundry, huh?"

Zane rapped his knuckles on the table. "Three guys and a dog walk into a Chinese laundry—" he started, phrasing it like a joke.

"Dude," Ty interrupted again. "I told them before we went in: that dog was eyeing me funny!"

Nick chuckled as the others started in on Ty. Nick waited until Ty turned his head to look at him, meeting his hazel eyes, then reached out and patted his shoulder consolingly. Only the two of them and the man who'd debriefed them knew why Ty didn't favor dogs.

Zane continued with the story, telling it well and drawing chuckles from the guys and a dirty look from Ty. It was funny as hell, really, and Nick could imagine Ty and a dog both ending up in a vat of suds and fighting over who could scramble out first. Of course, the dog had won. Digger launched into another story right after, and the laughter continued. When drinks were delivered, the waitress brought a Coke, too, and she moved to scoot around the table to put it in front of Zane.

"Thank you, darlin'," Ty drawled. She winked at him and let her hand rest on Zane's arm as she moved away. Zane lifted his head and sent a smile in that direction. Obviously, they came here a lot. Nick watched Ty for a minute longer. Ty rarely went drinking with his co- workers. Zane Garrett was obviously his friend, and a close one at that.

Zane set his hand on the table and shifted it slightly. He didn't even say anything. Ty continued talking to Digger as he moved the glass of Coke against Zane's fingers. The corner of Zane's mouth quirked up as he picked up the drink.

Nick was surprised to find that Ty and Zane reminded him of Ty and... him. He was also surprised by the spike of jealousy. Knowing he could watch Zane without being seen as long as Ty was occupied, Nick observed him for a while longer. He was a good-looking guy, perhaps five years older than Ty and himself, maybe more. He had his head cocked to one side, the one ear turned toward Ty, and a small smile played on his lips as Ty talked about something there was no way Zane knew anything about, since it was an old line from their Recon days.

It had to feel good to be included, being blind and lost. He glanced at Ty and wondered if Ty had gone through the "it could have been me" panic. The Ty he knew wouldn't tolerate the darkness—or the helplessness—well at all, whereas Zane, by all appearances, seemed subdued but in fairly good spirits. At least Nick hoped this was subdued. He couldn't imagine Ty staying with a stick-up-his-ass partner for long.

Nick was lost in thought when he realized Ty had leaned toward him and asked him something. He cleared his throat, looking at Ty with wide eyes. "What?"

"Are you okay?" Ty asked incredulously. "Because Owen's been bitching about the Sox for a solid five minutes, and you ain't drawn down on him yet."

"I left my gun at your place," Nick answered defensively. He set his empty bottle on the table and took Ty's out of his hand. Ty didn't even protest, just held up his hand to order another round.

"Are we for or against the Red Sox?" Zane asked curiously. He had leaned an elbow on the table and shifted forward, head still tipped toward Ty.

A round of jeers came from the others, and Nick had to close his eyes and wave Zane off. "School him."

"O is from Boston," Ty explained to Zane, pointing at Nick. "It's Red Sox or die unless you can prove a deep affiliation with another club or provide a compelling reason to hate the designated hitter. Or kick his ass."

"Preach it, baby," Nick said happily, giving Ty a closed fist in the air.

"Owen is, however, a Yankees fan, and they both carried extra ammunition on missions for ‘accidents'," Ty went on, using his fingers to accentuate the sarcasm.

"I grew up watching ballgames in Arlington," Zane said, sounding greatly amused. "Affiliation doesn't get any deeper than being born and bred Texan."

"Rangers, huh?" Nick said, rolling the word around as if giving them thought. "Sure, I guess they're harmless enough."

Owen gave them both a raspberry.

Ty groaned softly and raised his hand to stop them. "Can we avoid this tonight?"

"Grady's become a pacifist," Digger observed, clearly disapproving.

"He just lost his balls, is all," Owen corrected.

"Don't you remember holding them for me?" Ty asked him without skipping a beat.

"The Rangers are actually looking good this season," Zane said. He was looking up, and though his eyes were unfocused, he had the look about him of someone deliberately feeding the fire. Nick liked that in a man.

"God, Zane, please," Ty tried. Nick reached out and slid his arm around Ty's shoulders, squeezing his arm hard. He wouldn't start a baseball-induced brawl in the middle of dinner. Again.

Zane smiled and laughed, and it sounded real, not put on. Nick thought Zane might not be too bad a guy, if he enjoyed getting a rise out of Ty as much as the rest of the team did. But Ty didn't react to Zane's ribbing the same way he reacted to theirs. He didn't growl or bring out that rapier wit Nick knew was so deft. He merely looked sideways at Zane and huffed, then went back to his bottle of beer.

Interesting.

After four more rounds of beer, some appetizers, several stories, and a lot of friendly squabbling, Digger stopped the pretty waitress to ask where the best place to leave his shoes was.

"Oh God, here we go," Owen muttered.

"What's going on?" Zane asked, directing the question toward Ty.

Ty just shook his head. He was leaning back on his bar stool, propped against the wall behind him. He rubbed at his eyes as if the beer was having its way with him, which was unusual in Nick's vast experience. He must have really been working hard if he couldn't make it past half a dozen rounds. He had obviously forgotten that Zane couldn't see him.

"They don't intend to go home tonight, Zane," Nick answered for him.

"What's your name, baby girl?" Digger asked the waitress.

She was smiling, taking the attention of a table of drunken idiots fairly well. "Caroline. Do we need another round, or are we done for the night?"

Ty made a pained sound as soon as she told them her name, and Nick began to grin.

Zane turned his head, apparently trying to follow the conversation. "Which one is Caroline?" he asked Ty.

"Blonde, smells like sandalwood," Ty answered. Zane nodded.

Yeah. They came here a lot. Nick elbowed Ty in the ribs, and Ty folded up and grunted at him as he set his beer on the table. But he was already grinning, so Nick knew they were going to get him to do it. After six beers, convincing Ty to sing was easy as pie. After ten, it was getting him to stop that was the problem.

Across the table, Kelly and Owen were already providing the melody by humming and drumming their fingers on the table. Caroline narrowed her eyes at them but was still smiling.

"What's all this about?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm so sorry," Ty told her, smiling even as he apologized. "Please don't ban us after this."

Nick kicked back his stool and stood before Ty could stop him, and he began to sing the first few lines to "Sweet Caroline," the song that Fenway Park in Boston had made its unofficial anthem. Nick had an okay singing voice, enough that people didn't complain when he started.

Zane looked like he was torn between laughing and frowning.

"Ty . . .?"

Ty glanced sideways at him but didn't answer. Instead he held his beer bottle up as if toasting the poor laughing waitress, and he joined Nick as soon as they reached the chorus. The sound of Ty's pure, beautiful singing voice never failed to send shivers up and down Nick's spine.

Caroline blushed prettily and laughed, looking around the bar with her hand over her mouth as they serenaded her, and a lot of the conversation around them died down as people watched, agape.

And then the inevitable happened. Nearly the entire bar joined in. But nothing could drown out Ty's voice from Nick's ear. He put his arm around his oldest and dearest friend as they sang, trying not to think about why a melancholy feeling was settling in his chest.

Zane pulled on the old T-shirt and sweats before feeling his way along the edge of the bed. It was Ty's room, and he was more than a little uncertain if he should stay there or go up to the futon in the third- floor guestroom. Ty hadn't said anything about any of the guys staying over, but they were his friends. An invitation to stay might be assumed. And Zane certainly knew it wouldn't go over well if they saw him sleeping in Ty's bed. There was only so much that could be explained away as "helping" your blinded partner. Zane huffed and rubbed his hands over his face.

He slowly walked toward the bathroom door on the staircase landing, trailing his fingers along the wall. Bare feet touched cold tile, eliciting a wince, and Zane was about to close the bathroom door when he heard Ty's voice. He could pick it out anywhere.

"I can't believe you made me do that," he was saying, his voice a low, hoarse groan, the type that came with either too much alcohol or when Zane was about to get laid. "I'll never be able to go back there again."

"I can't believe you don't still sing, man. What a fucking waste." That was the Boston accent. Nick. When Zane had stood near him, Nick's voice hadn't been quite at ear level, so Nick was shorter than six five, but Zane had nothing else to work with besides the very few details Ty had shared in the course of conversation.

"Leave him the fuck alone, O. It's his God-given talent, he can waste it if he wants to," one of the others said. Kelly, perhaps. Zane wasn't sure he could tell Owen and Kelly apart. The accents were both unremarkable.

"Cab's here," Digger announced, the words barely discernible. He'd probably been standing by the window, but the deep drawl and heavy accent of his voice was unmistakably Cajun.

Ty's answer was lost in the sounds of movement and the front door complaining as it was swung open. Zane frowned and stepped out of the bathroom, moving closer to the stairs. Yeah, eavesdroppers never heard anything good about themselves, but Zane figured he'd be better off knowing which room to go sleep in.

There was a lot of shuffling and movement, saying goodbye, see you later, who's got the cab fare, shut the hell up before I duct tape your tongue to your nose. Fairly typical for the type of people Zane expected to be Ty's friends. After it all died down and the door closed, there was a stretch of silence.

Then Ty cleared his throat. "Water? Beer?"

"Yeah, beer," Nick answered as they both moved past the base of the stairs into the kitchen. So Nick apparently was staying.

Zane frowned, again trying to decide what to do. Listening to Ty talk to an old friend while sitting there with them was one thing. Skulking at the top of the stairs was another. He'd catch certain hell from Ty if he were caught, and that was enough to have Zane moving back toward the bathroom, albeit reluctantly.

"You look like hell, man," he heard Nick say. His tone of voice now, when they were away from the others, was different somehow. More serious and sincere, less teasing. Zane hesitated to call it intimate.

Ty didn't respond to the observation with a smart-ass remark or try to deflect it. He didn't respond verbally at all, not that Zane could hear. Zane stood at the bathroom door, gripping the doorjamb, wondering if Ty would admit to Nick what he'd tried to deny to Zane, that he was exhausted, scared, stressed, and uncertain.

Ty finally just laughed softly.

"Are you sleeping?" Nick asked. It was the same question Ty always asked Zane when he knew the answer already.

"Some. I know I look like warmed-over crap, man. I feel like it too," Ty answered, his voice hoarse but managing to sound flippant anyway. "It's fine. You didn't stay because Owen kicks in his sleep. Or to ask me about my sleep."

"No," Nick admitted readily. "You two work well together?"

"Zane?" Ty asked. He laughed again. "You wouldn't think so from the outside, would you?"

"He doesn't appear the type you usually get on board with, no. He sort of reminds me of that DOD guy—what was his name?"

"Pike?" Ty responded, uncertainty lacing his voice.

"Yeah! Ramrod straight, Ray-Bans, always holding a file."

"No, man, Pike was an officious dick. Zane's a good guy. He's stellar. I trust him."

"Good," Nick said, so softly Zane almost didn't hear it. He was silent for almost a minute, then added, "Was Pike the one we hung over the railing?"

Ty burst into laughter, the sound clear as a bell as it reached Zane's ears. Nick's laughter joined it. "Oh God, that was funny," Ty murmured contentedly. "The screams."

"Almost got the brig for it."

"Worth it," Ty acknowledged.

There was another long silence, almost enough for Zane to retreat to the bathroom again. But Nick's next question, seemingly out of nowhere, arrested his retreat.

"You still dreaming?" Nick asked, his voice lowered reverently like that of a man in church. Or a man with a secret.

Ty remained silent for several heartbeats. "Mostly it's just the desert," he finally answered, sounding somewhat troubled. "But it's not bad, I'm just there. Don't know which way is up, which way is safety, which way goes... back. I wake up tasting sand instead of blood, now. They're not like they used to be."

Zane was intimately familiar with the results of some of Ty's dreams and nightmares, and he knew about the desert. He snorted softly. He'd never asked Ty to tell him, and Ty had never offered. "Don't know which way is up" described his own situation pretty damn well right now. Lost. Lost in the dark instead of the sand. Maybe Ty really did understand, just a little bit.

He knew Ty and Nick had been close, very close, close born of blood and beer and sweat and tears and all of that clichéd Band of Brothers shit that really was true. Zane just wondered if they were still that close and how it was possible he didn't know about it after practically living in Ty's pocket for almost half a year.

"How about you?" Ty asked. "You still dream?"

"Every once in a while," Nick answered. He sounded almost haunted. "I still wake up screaming your name, man. Just like you never came back."

"But I did," Ty answered calmly.

Zane heard Nick snort. "And I dream about that damn table."

"Me too," Ty admitted, the whispered words painful and drawn. Shifting uncomfortably, Zane laid his cheek against the cool wood of the doorframe. Something had happened to them, to Ty and Nick, something like how New York City and a serial killer had happened to Ty and Zane. Something horrible enough to make Ty sound like that when he spoke of it.

The silence below felt heavy with the past, and Zane's mind strayed toward painful memories of his own before Nick pulled his attention back.

"Anyone but you, man, and I'd have died out there," Nick said, his voice harsh and laid bare.

"We both would have," Ty responded, his voice calm again, in stark contrast. "It's back there, Nick. Stay right here." Zane heard his knuckles rap the wooden table. "Come on," he finally said gently, and Zane heard a chair being pushed back against the hardwood floor. "You can take the pullout. I'll bunk with Garrett."

"Hey, Ty? I may be drunk and I may be Irish, but I'm not stupid," Nick drawled, letting the words run into each other almost insolently. "I remember what on the brink looked like, and it had your eyes."

Zane opened his eyes even though it was to complete darkness. He ought to get into the bedroom now while he had the chance, ought to at least shut the bathroom door, ought to know better... but on the brink... of what?

"Talk to me, Grady," Nick urged, and after a moment of silence, he added, "I mean, Jesus, after what we've been through, if you can't tell me, who can you tell?"

"There's nothing wrong, O," Ty insisted, his voice remarkably calm and honest. "I promise."

"Okay," Nick murmured, giving in and sounding unhappy about it.

Zane could hear Ty moving, steps slow and measured and not nearly as quiet as when he was sober. "Good night," Ty said to Nick, the tone of the words effectively saying "don't ask me again."

Zane stepped inside the bathroom and pushed the door shut with a quiet snick, figuring Ty would be on his way up the stairs. Better for him to come out of the bathroom and be told where to sleep rather than picking the wrong place to be. He leaned back against the closed door, wondering about the tone of Ty's voice. He sighed, wishing he hadn't listened. He hadn't heard anything inappropriate. In fact, he'd heard Ty say some pretty damn nice things about him. But it just raised more questions he couldn't get answers to. Shaking his head, he turned in place and reopened the door.

The impact with Ty's body was almost immediate. Ty whuffed and wrapped his arms around Zane to catch his balance. "Slow down, Hoss," Ty murmured. Zane could sense a smile there, but there was also lingering discomfort or annoyance. And a lot of beer on his breath. "You going up?"

"I... I wasn't sure where to go," Zane mumbled, not knowing if Nick was right there or not.

Ty's hands came up to cover his cheeks, fingers pressed against the beard growing in after five days without shaving. He could feel Ty's breath on his neck as he whispered, "I know I smell like beer. But I'd rather have you in my bed tonight than the Irish."

Zane shivered. No Nick, then. "You smell like you, mostly," he said.

Ty kissed him without another word. It was a quick, almost furtive kiss, but there was heat behind it, too, and the sour tang of the beer was fainter on Ty's lips than Zane had expected. The steps below creaked, and Ty pulled away from him and gave his shoulders a turn, heading him in the general direction of the bedroom. A moment later Nick was murmuring goodnight to them both as he passed on to the third-floor stairs, and Ty shut the door to his bedroom behind them.

"Won't he think this is weird?" Zane asked, keeping his voice down.

"There's only two beds in the house. He usually sleeps with me, the others fight over the couches. I told him you needed to be within stumbling distance of the bathroom, less stairs." Ty's hand found its way to Zane's lower back. "Would you rather he sleep here and you go upstairs?"

"Hell no," Zane swore under his breath. "It's just... he's your friend and all. A Marine. I didn't know if you had... in the past... does he know that you..." Zane paused for a breath. "Never mind. I'm tired and you're drunk. Time to sleep."

"Are you asking if Nick and I have fucked?" Ty asked, plowing through all the gentle euphemisms he could have used, getting right to the point.

Something inside Zane curled awkwardly, and he flinched, aware of being silent for too long. "I actually hadn't gotten that far in thinking about the ‘friends through thick and thin.' More along the lines of would he have any reason to think we might be more than work partners." But now he also wanted to know the answer to the question Ty had thrown out there.

"If you're uncomfortable, I can sleep on the couch," Ty offered, voice low and soothing, just like it had been for most of Zane's blindness. It was the same tone he'd adopted with Nick, telling him to stay in the present instead of dwelling on trauma of the past. Zane had never consciously noticed Ty had that ability, to calm and reassure with his voice, or even that he'd been doing it to him all week, until now. Zane remembered abruptly that Ty did have a degree in psychology, and he wondered if he was really that easily manipulated. Although Ty wouldn't even have to try, not really.

Zane frowned. "No. No, I'm not uncomfortable." He wasn't sure he could explain this well enough to get through the filter of beer, stress, and exhaustion. "He doesn't know about us, right? I'm just trying to be careful."

"He doesn't know," Ty affirmed. Zane could hear the rustle of clothing as Ty got undressed.

He'd never actually answered the other question. Zane didn't feel right asking, though he knew it would bother him now. He took a steadying breath, pulled his T-shirt over his head, and dropped it to the floor. He made it to the bed and under the covers, leaving on his sweats. A moment later Ty crawled in next to him, his skin warm against Zane's, the smell of the bar just faint enough to be slightly arousing instead of nauseating.

Ty pulled him close and kissed him carefully. "He's never been anything more than my best friend, Zane," he whispered. "Stop worrying."

Zane didn't realize he'd tensed up until he relaxed after Ty's words, and he set his forehead against Ty's with another sigh. "You know me pretty well, huh."

"Not as well as I'd like," Ty replied, voice barely there. He kissed Zane again, letting his lips drag across Zane's. Then he sighed heavily and rolled onto his back, his movements restless and slightly inebriated. Zane let him sprawl, knowing that trying to hold onto Ty in this state would just make him squirm more.

He was fairly confident there wasn't anything he wouldn't tell Ty, besides some few select experiences better left buried. But it was a discussion they'd had before, and Zane didn't expect a reply, so he turned away and onto his side, pulling the pillow up against his chest.

A moment later Ty tossed an arm and a leg over him, snuggling up to him like Zane was his pillow. He nuzzled his face into the back of Zane's neck, pressing his hips against him. Zane could tell from the way Ty touched him, the way he couldn't quite keep still, that if Nick hadn't been in the house, they would already be fucking.

Awareness and arousal ripped through Zane like lightning. It was a toss-up whether they'd be able to do it quietly, especially with Ty drunk.

Ty made a frustrated grumbling sound, obviously thinking along the same lines. "Give him a few minutes to go to sleep," he told Zane. His hand slid down Zane's body, strong fingers gripping Zane's hip to pull him back against him.

Zane closed his eyes and smiled, reaching to take Ty's hand in his. "You saying your Recon buddy upstairs sleeps like a baby?"

Ty pushed himself up on one elbow, his knee sliding up Zane's inner thigh. Zane could feel Ty hardening against him, and his own body responded accordingly. It was wild having sex with Ty when all his senses were working. But when he had to rely on the others to make up for what he couldn't see, Zane found that he responded faster than usual. Especially smell: the heady cachets of forbidden beer, forsaken cigarettes, and Old Spice, natural earthy musk layered just underneath that, they all combined with the scent of sweat on Ty's skin, and every time Zane caught a whiff, it went right to his gut.

Ty shifted away and pushed Zane onto his back before moving to cover him, muscles tensed and fingers dragging over Zane's skin. The sound of Ty's breathing, slow and careful, filled Zane's ears.

Zane exhaled carefully. Fuck, how he wanted Ty right now. He wondered distantly if he'd ever get enough of him.

Ty's hands moved to cup his face. "Shh," he requested quietly. Then he lowered his head and licked at Zane's lips. Zane hummed a negative and parted his lips, inviting a kiss as he nipped at Ty's tongue. Ty propped himself up on his elbows and ran his fingers over Zane's hair, holding his head still as he kissed Zane hungrily. The moan deep in Zane's throat surprised him.

"Am I going to have to gag you?" Ty asked in a gruff voice as he began kissing down the line of Zane's jaw.

"I'll be quieter than the bed," Zane murmured, pointing to the headboard against the wall. He almost laughed as he suddenly remembered the last time they'd done something like this—in Ty's childhood bedroom at his parents' home in Bluefield, West Virginia.

Ty began making his way down Zane's body instead of commenting, kissing and nipping at sensitive parts. Zane stiffened for a moment, wishing he could see. Damn, he loved to watch Ty do this! Ty pushed his sweats down, fighting against the sheets and the mattress to do it. Zane instinctively moved his hands to slide them into Ty's short hair as he breathed, "Oh fuck..."

Ty hummed cheekily, kissing at Zane's hip as he slid his hands under the backs of Zane's thighs. Zane laughed weakly and shivered all over just thinking about what was coming. Without a word of warning, Ty ducked his head and took Zane's cock into his mouth, running his tongue around the head and sucking.

Zane hissed, hips snapping up toward the wet heat of Ty's mouth. His fingers clenched in Ty's hair for a moment until he made himself relax. When Ty started sucking, Zane actually whimpered. Ty hummed again in response to the pitiful sounds.

Zane didn't necessarily enjoy sex with Ty more when Ty was drunk, but it definitely changed the game. Ty was looser, more apt to be rough and manhandle him, more likely to do things to Zane that Zane would have to Google to know what to call them. He couldn't form enough coherent thought to even think about objecting to this tonight, with company in the house.

Ty hummed again, rising up onto his hands and knees and tugging Zane further down the bed in an animal display of possessiveness. Zane scrabbled a little on the sheets—the first pull of Ty's hands sent a blast of pure hot desire through him.

Zane swallowed, breaths already coming fast. He had no idea what to anticipate from his lover, and he realized the uncertainty was fueling the fire. Great, another kink he didn't need.

But damn, he wanted this. Even better, Ty wanted this, wanted him, even blind, and the unadulterated joy Zane derived from that thought was overwhelming. He reached up to cup Ty's cheek, kissing him for all he was worth. Ty responded to his desire, and he supported his weight with one hand, practically devouring Zane as he slipped his other hand between Zane's legs.

Zane clutched at Ty's shoulders and moaned under the onslaught of Ty's sinful mouth. His hips rocked helplessly, and he gasped when he felt the first touch of Ty's fingers.

"Shhh," Ty urged as he pushed one slick finger into Zane's grasping body. Zane bit his bottom lip and his eyes rolled back as he huffed and then relaxed, although his hands clenched in the sheets.

Ty kissed him harder, rocking into him demandingly as he curled his finger inside him. Zane cried out into his mouth and jerked as Ty stroked just right after a few tries. Then he was moving thoughtlessly, lifting up against Ty's body and hand insistently, physically begging for more. Ty hummed in approval and continued to move his finger inside him. Soon he had added another and was sucking at the tender skin under Zane's ear.

Zane couldn't help but arch his back as the tingling turned to taut thrumming that echoed through his body, and he gasped out soft sounds of pleasure and encouragement, turned wanton by Ty's mouth and hands. A long finger rubbed him just right again, and Zane bit off another cry. "Ty... oh fuck," he choked out.

"You want it?" Ty asked in a rough, harsh voice as Zane writhed beneath him.

"Yes, fuck yes," Zane begged.

Ty moved ever so slowly as he removed his fingers and stole another, slower kiss. Zane sighed longingly against Ty's lips and shifted his legs, pulling up his knees. "Want to feel you, baby," he whispered, sucking Ty's lower lip between his teeth and worrying at it. Ty gave a low growl and complied, pushing against Zane and rocking just inside him.

Gritting his teeth for a moment and squeezing his eyes shut, Zane moaned as the stretch of Ty's cock just inside him started out feeling full and reached the edge of painful, and he arched his back against it, sucking in a breath that made him shiver all over. Ty curled his back and bent to kiss him, letting his body provide the friction that would edge the pain over into pleasure.

The slow, calming kiss did the trick, and Zane relaxed, the even rocking turning the sharp digging into a dull push and heat that bloomed into pleasure. He moaned soundlessly as he tried moving against Ty. Gently, for now. The twisting hunger was still there, only temporarily banked by the transitory pain. Ty groaned against Zane's lips, pushing into him and shuddering as pleasure rippled through them. He murmured nonsense and slid his hand under Zane's hips to lift him higher.

"Yes, oh yes," Zane hissed, raising his hands above his head to grasp the tangled quilt, curling his fingers through it. Ty buried his face against Zane's neck and began to rock his hips steadily, cock sliding with the bare amount of slick Ty had used, and he breathed open- mouthed against Zane's skin.

Zane's exhales shook, and he lowered one arm to curl around Ty and hold him close as they moved together. It was hot and smooth and mind-blowing, the slow slide something entirely different than hot, pounding thrusts.

"God, you feel good," Ty murmured, his movements becoming jerky and almost tortured, the need in them straining what little control Zane had.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Zane gasped, raising one leg to wrap it over the back of Ty's thigh. He bit his own lip as he felt the tension in his gut threaten to explode. "Ty, I'm gonna lose it," he whispered shakily.

"Do it," Ty urged, either not caring if Nick heard them or forgetting the need for silence.

"Oh hell," Zane ground out, his entire body straining and tensing for another too-short minute until he threw back his head, jaw clenched to hold back a sharp yell. He clenched his fingers in the quilt and flinched with each shot of come against Ty's belly and chest. Finally he couldn't hold back a broken, half-smothered cry of mindless pleasure.

"Zane," Ty breathed pleadingly as he pushed harder into him.

As his body continued to squeeze convulsively around Ty, Zane moved both hands to clasp his face, wishing he could see Ty's passion- glazed eyes. "Baby," he rasped before kissing him like there would be no tomorrow. Ty groaned into his mouth, nails digging into the back of Zane's thigh.

"C'mon... fuck me," Zane ordered against Ty's ear in between harsh breaths.

"God," Ty groaned, shuddering again and starting to slam into Zane mercilessly. Choking off a throaty cry, Zane curled around him as the thrusts reverberated through him, feeding the fire still crackling in him. Zane distantly heard the creak of the heavy bedframe.

The shudder through Ty's body and the sounds escaping from his lips told Zane when Ty climaxed, and Zane held even tighter to his lover, chest still heaving. He knew already he'd be feeling Ty for some time tomorrow. Just the thought made his cock twitch in a useless plea for more.

Ty panted above him, hands digging into Zane's hips as he physically wavered. He started to pull out of Zane slowly, gasping at what had to be overstimulation, and he kissed Zane roughly as he did so. The mash of their lips and teeth was enough to draw another whimper from Zane. It was both pleasurable and painful. His low gasp grew into a long groan as Ty slid out, leaving behind an aching hollowness.

Ty crawled up Zane's body to kiss him again, slow and languid, before flopping over to his side with a groan to lie next to him, replete and sweaty. Left gasping, Zane squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like he'd lost his mind while erratic jolts of sensation continued to shoot through him.

"Why don't you go get us a towel, huh?" Ty teased in the darkness.

Zane quietly shushed him, soaking in the aftermath of the major explosion. Damn. When had Ty last fucked him so well? He bit his lip and pressed his cheek against the sheet, relaxing that last little bit and just breathing. It still terrified him, the way Ty could make him feel, the way need could become utter desperation.

"Hmph." Ty moved, bouncing the mattress as he rolled away and flattened out in what had to be a sulk.

The disgruntled sound made Zane smile. He sat up and scooted over, right up against Ty, hands on him to find him. Zane leaned over and kissed the corner of Ty's mouth.

"Better," Ty purred as he turned his head into it.

Zane smiled wryly and leaned over again, this time pressing his lips to the very corner of Ty's eye, then nuzzling at his temple. With a sigh, he lay back down and rolled to his side, and Ty followed to wrap around him from behind like it was choreographed. If they stayed like that long enough, their bodies pressed together, the smell of sex permeating the sheets, Zane knew they'd be fucking again.

Not that he was complaining.

But he heard Ty exhale contentedly, and in mere seconds Ty's breathing evened out, his body relaxed, and he fell asleep with Zane neatly folded up in his arms.

Before drifting off himself, Zane lay there, consciously savoring the embrace and idly entertaining thoughts of how he was more than happy to be right there in Ty's arms, every night.