Chapter Seven

Zane felt the cab come to a stop. He'd lost track of the twists and turns a while back, and he had no idea if they were at his apartment, Ty's house, or somewhere altogether different. He'd already decided there was no way he'd be saying the words "Are we there yet?"—Ty would go ballistic.

So he sat quietly, face turned toward the window, chin down.

He was wearing scrubs from the hospital; his suit had been trashed. He knew he wasn't bloody, despite the bruises everywhere, so he figured he didn't look too bad.

"We're here," Ty told him. The door on Ty's side opened. "Hold on. I'll come get you," he said before the door slammed shut.

Zane didn't move. He knew this was going to be tough, trying to get around, and he certainly wasn't looking forward to it. He'd barely said a word the whole drive over, just thinking about what he would be facing if he wasn't able to see again. He knew it was too soon to start worrying and planning, but fuck all, he'd only just gotten a bunch of shit in his head straightened out, and now this?

The door at his side opened up, and Ty took his elbow gently. "Watch the curb when you step down. It'll come up fast," he mumbled, sounding as if he was looking down at the ground as he spoke.

Zane turned in the seat and set one foot down. He could feel the soft decline of the curb and shifted his foot a little farther forward before pushing himself out of the seat to stand. Ty got him onto the sidewalk, gave him a pat on the shoulder, then removed his hand from Zane's elbow. Zane heard Ty talking briefly to the cabbie.

Shifting carefully, Zane moved further away from the car and waited. He could tell by the familiar smell of Italian restaurants in Little Italy that they were at his apartment. He also knew which way the front door to the apartment was, but he didn't know how far away it was. And there were steps and a railing and a bench and some broken concrete in the sidewalk and what if it was almost garbage day and there was a trash can at the curb? Zane groaned. His battered brain was channeling Ty.

"Here," Ty said, surprising Zane out of his circling thoughts. Ty took Zane's hand and pressed something into it. "Use that," he instructed as he held Zane's hand around a curved wooden grip.

Zane realized it was the umbrella he kept beside the door to his apartment. He frowned and curled his fingers around the handle, moving it slightly in front of him. It definitely wasn't a cane, but he figured if he moved it in front of him it would hit something before he did. "Good idea," he murmured.

"I know," Ty responded easily, a smile evident in his voice. He took Zane's elbow and turned him. "Take your time, shuffle your feet when you're not certain. If you hesitate or anticipate, you're more liable to trip over nothing," he advised.

Zane grimaced. "Right," he murmured as he took a breath and took a couple steps. He could feel the hard surface under his feet, so at least he was on the walk. Although he felt like a complete idiot, he swung the umbrella carefully in front of him, the end down around his knees. When he hit something metal that clanged, he stopped in surprise, trying to remember what it could be.

"Just the railing," Ty said at his side. "Steps," he added as his grip tightened on Zane's elbow.

Zane still paused. "How far? Step up now?"

"Yes," Ty answered curtly. "Kick out with your toes to find it."

Zane lifted his foot, kicked, finding the front of the step, and then he put his foot on it, somewhat surprised when it worked. He repeated the motion two more times and stopped. "That's all, right?"

"Yep," Ty answered, and he let go of Zane's arm. The sound of the keys in the door followed, and the door squeaked as it opened. Ty took his arm again, but he didn't pull him. "Come on," he instructed. "Don't drag your feet, there's a doorjamb."

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Zane said, following the directions and getting inside without a problem.

"When I was little," Ty answered in a softer voice. "We'll use the umbrella until I can find something better."

Zane frowned again and placed one hand against the wall he knew was to his right side. "No one in your family is blind."

"My great-grandmother. She died when I was fourteen."

Zane nodded and started moving, letting his hand skim along the wall. He knew he had several feet until he got to a bookshelf. He was on the main drag through the apartment. It led to the kitchen in front of him. He was in the living room, and after the bookshelves there was a hallway to the right with four doors: two bedrooms, a closet, and a bathroom. He didn't really have much furniture, so what trouble could he get into?

"At least I know where stuff is in my own house," he murmured as he walked until his hand met the wood of the shelves.

"That's kind of the idea, sport," Ty murmured from somewhere in front of him.

Zane deliberately closed his eyes to visualize the couch and chairs, and then he swept the space in front of him before taking two careful steps to stop right behind the sofa. He trailed his fingers over it as he walked around the side, and with a sigh of relief he sank down onto it.

Ty patted him on the head as soon as he was down, like he would a dog who'd performed a trick correctly. His voice was the only way to tell where he was. He didn't seem to make any other noise when he moved. No footsteps, no swish of clothing, no cracking bones or creaking joints. Nothing. Eerie. Vintage Ty.

"Want food? It's not too late yet," Ty asked as he moved away.

"Yes," Zane said fervently as he lightly batted after Ty's hand. "There was nothing wrong with me and still they wanted to feed me broth and Jell-O."

"Jell-O's good," Ty argued from the kitchen.

"Not when you're starving, it's not," Zane shot back. He kicked off his shoes, making sure to carefully push them under the old coffee table before he stripped off his socks and propped his legs up. He leaned his head against the back of the couch. With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine it was a Sunday afternoon and he was just being lazy instead of it being Monday night after the day from the third ring of hell.

"Well, what do you want?" Ty asked in something close to annoyance. His voice had moved. He was standing right in front of Zane.

Zane twitched in surprise and his eyes flew open. "Christ, Ty," he complained.

"What?" Ty asked defensively. "I'm hungry!"

"It's a good thing I've calmed down recently," Zane told him. "If I'd had my gun, I'd have pulled it."

"What are you talking about?"

Zane shook his head and wiped one hand over his face. "Order deep dish from Isabella's. They should still be open."

Ty pressed a phone into Zane's hand. "Here. I need ibuprofen," he said as his voice trailed away.

"Kitchen cabinet next to the sink," Zane said distractedly as he ran his fingers over the buttons, trying to figure out how to do this. It was easier to do with his eyes closed, even though he couldn't see anyway. After two aborted attempts, he got the number he had memorized into the phone and made the order for delivery.

He could hear Ty banging around and rattling the bottle of ibuprofen. He heard him open and close the refrigerator. Then he stopped making noise again. A few seconds later, Zane heard the pop and hiss of a carbonated drink being opened just a few feet away.

Zane turned his face that way. "You know, I knew you could be scary. I just didn't realize how fucking scary. I didn't hear you move. At all."

"What?" Ty asked in the same distracted, slightly confused tone of voice he'd used earlier. "You want a drink?" he offered belatedly.

"I'll wait for pizza. I said, you're so quiet when you move I didn't hear you at all. Even footfalls in the carpet, and I know how to listen for those things."

"Oh," Ty said abashedly. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Just confirms that you don't even have to think about it." Zane tipped his head, turning an ear toward him. "You going to stand there ‘til the pizza gets here?"

"Thought about it. Kinda hurts to sit," Ty admitted.

"Still hurting a lot from the baseball game?" Zane frowned. "You didn't go into the building and get hurt, did you?"

"Nope," Ty answered as he sat down. The couch beside Zane shifted as he got comfortable.

Zane still frowned, listening to Ty's voice carefully, but there was nothing there to clue him in. "I'd like to know what happened. One moment I was walking through this store to check the storeroom, the next I'm waking up to total black."

"There was an explosion," Ty told him. He grunted heavily, and the next thing Zane knew, Ty's head was resting on his thigh. "About a dozen agents and cops were injured. Six of ours in the hospital. No fatalities, as far as I know."

Zane's frown faded, and he moved his hand to gently settle atop Ty's head, stroking lightly. "You saw it from the truck?"

"Yeah," Ty answered softly. He stretched, set his drink on the table, then settled back against Zane. "You were carried out by a very large fireman named Tank," he informed Zane in amusement.

"Tank?"

"That's the guy who ran me over."

"Oh yeah, met him at the field briefly." Zane slid his fingers down over Ty's cheek. "Got about half an hour on the pizza. Why don't you catch a quick nap?"

"You gonna be okay?" Ty asked him, not even trying to argue.

"I'm staying right here," Zane said, his hand settling on Ty's shoulder so his fingers flickered along Ty's temple through his hair. He felt Ty's arm move, and he imagined Ty was probably putting his forearm over his eyes like he did when he was worn out.

"Wake me if you need anything," Ty mumbled.

"Okay," Zane murmured as he rested his neck a little more comfortably along the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He tuned into Ty's breathing as Ty relaxed, smiling as he felt Ty go to sleep, and after a quiet minute, Zane carefully shifted, pulled out the cell phone a helpful nurse had saved from his suit, and activated the voice command function.

"Call Deuce Grady."

Did you say "Call Deuce Grady"?

"Yes."

Dialing.

Zane took a deep breath and tried to let it out slowly as the phone rang on the other end, somewhere in Philadelphia. Ty didn't even twitch in his lap.

"Hello," Deuce answered after the second ring. There was nothing terse or clipped in the way he answered the phone, just another trait of Deacon Grady's that was wildly unlike his brother.

"Hey, Deuce," Zane managed, pretty happy that his voice came out sounding mostly normal.

"Hey, Zane, how's it going?" Deuce responded easily. Zane swallowed. "Not so great," he admitted.

"What's wrong?" Deuce demanded, his voice losing the laid-back quality and becoming more urgent. "Is Ty hurt? Are you hurt? Why didn't Ty call me to tell me? Is he even conscious? What happened?"

Zane resisted the urge to laugh as he gently petted Ty's hair. "Ty is fine. He's asleep. He wasn't the one hurt this time."

"Oh," Deuce muttered, not sounding at all embarrassed over his outburst. "But you're hurt? Are you okay? What happened?"

"An explosion happened. A surprise one," Zane answered. "I'm okay. Mostly. No limbs missing or anything," he tried to joke.

"A surprise explosion," Deuce repeated slowly. He sounded like he might be writing that down. "Interesting," he drew out under his breath. "As opposed to a not-surprise explosion. And it did what, exactly?"

"Apparently some of the parts in my head got a little scrambled," Zane said awkwardly. "I can't see."

"You can't see what?"

"Anything. I can't see. I'm blind." Zane was pretty proud that his voice didn't shake or break upon saying it out loud like that.

"You've lost your vision," Deuce summarized in a clinical tone, not an ounce of pity or apology. "Is this a permanent thing?" he asked more carefully. He seemed to be wavering between psychiatrist and friend as they spoke.

Several seconds passed before Zane realized he hadn't answered. "They don't know," he murmured, recalling bits and pieces of what the doctors had said.

"I see." Deuce was silent for a long moment. "Let me ask you this, Zane: are you calling because you need a friend or because you need a shrink?"

"I want to talk to you, Deuce, not Dr. Grady," Zane said, knowing he sounded a little plaintive. "I know we've sort of blurred the lines along the way."

"Then let me just say: dude, that sucks," Deuce drew out with feeling.

Zane cracked a grin and laid his hand on Ty's chest so he could feel it rise and fall evenly. "No shit, man."

"Are you with Ty or are you staying alone?"

"We're at my apartment. I know my way around here," Zane said. "I just got out of the hospital. I don't even know what time it is."

Deuce hummed thoughtfully. "Did Ty tell you our great- grandmother Elsie was blind? She had this watch that you could flip up and feel to tell time. Ty might have it. But then, that was twenty years ago. There's also a button on your phone that will do that, I think."

"We've not had much chance to talk. I was really out of it for a while. It's still... sinking in," Zane said slowly. "The panic is starting to creep up on me, and I'm trying to let him sleep a little."

"I can imagine," Deuce said sympathetically. "Doesn't do any good to tell you not to panic, either."

Zane's laugh had a little edge to it. "Right." He blinked several times, resisting the urge to rub at his dry eyes. The doctors had said over and over that it wouldn't help and would probably hurt. But he wasn't sure where the bag from the hospital was, and even if he did know, he wasn't going to wake up Ty to get to it. "This... isn't good," he said, and his voice definitely shook.

"What can I do to help you, Zane?" Deuce asked in a gentle voice.

"I just... not much scares me anymore, you know?" Zane tried to explain. "But this..."

"You don't deal well with uncertainty," Deuce observed almost clinically. "Not many people do. Why does it scare you?"

"I can't work if I'm blind. What am I going to do with myself? I couldn't stand the idea of someone having to—" Zane cut himself off before his voice rose any further. He wouldn't be a charity case. He just couldn't stomach it.

"Take care of you?" Deuce finished for him. "Are those the only reasons? Your job and your pride?"

"No," Zane murmured as he spread his fingers over Ty's chest. "Those aren't the only reasons."

"Spill, Zane," Deuce ordered. "Get it out now."

The words balled up in Zane's throat. He was talking to Ty's brother, for heaven's sake. "I'm afraid," he whispered. "I'm afraid it'll change things."

"What things?" Deuce asked. "Relationship things?"

"Oh yeah," Zane answered in a rush.

"You think my brother will dump you because you're blind,"

Deuce surmised in a troubled voice.

Zane hesitated. "I don't want to think that. It's..." He grasped for a word. "Disloyal."

"Disloyal," Deuce repeated curiously. "To whom? To Ty?"

"Yes, to Ty." Zane frowned. "Who else is there?"

Deuce hummed thoughtfully. "There's you, Zane," he continued after a pause.

"Me?" Zane shook his head as he inhaled deeply and sighed. "I don't follow."

Deuce sighed, long and loud. "If there's one thing my big brother taught me, it's that sometimes you have to look out for number one. Don't worry so much about what he'll do or what he'll think."

Zane sighed. "Well, until just recently I was the only one looking out for me, so I'm kind of used to that part of it."

"Tell me something, Zane," Deuce said in a sly voice. "Is that really the biggest thing you're worried about right now? That Ty might leave you?"

Zane pressed his lips together hard. The tone of Deuce's voice made him a little suspicious. But Deuce was never cruel, even if he did like to tease sometimes. Zane was worried about so many things he couldn't even start to rank them, but Ty—and whether Ty would still want him after such a radical change—really stood out. Zane figured it was a reflection of how much their relationship had developed. The next words were out before he thought them through. "He said he loves me."

"I know he does," Deuce assured him with a laugh. "I'm surprised he told you, but I'm glad he did. So, keeping that in mind, I'll ask you again: is that really the biggest thing you're concerned about?"

Zane closed his eyes, even though it made no difference in the darkness, and really considered the question. What did he really have? His job, and Ty. If it came down to it and he lost his job, he was relatively sure he could flounder his way into something else to do, somehow. But if he lost Ty, Zane just wasn't sure he'd care about anything else. The slight pangs of pain he felt whenever he caught Ty looking at him in a particular way came more often now, and it was starting to make him want things he wasn't sure he could handle. "Damn it," he swore under his breath, hoping Ty really was asleep. "Yes."

"Well, I'd say that's pretty good, then," Deuce said happily. "I mean, as far as problems go. Ty's too stubborn to leave you if he loves you."

Zane let out a groan that reflected both frustration and relief. It helped so much just to hear that. "So I'm stressing over what's probably nothing. Paranoia."

"I wouldn't call it paranoia. More... spinning your mental wheels. I mean, has he given any indication that he might leave now? What's he been doing?"

"He's been great, not that there was anything he could do in the hospital. But he didn't leave me alone," Zane said. "Was there when I woke up, sat with me there, got the doctors to let me leave, and got me home. All that aside, I really don't know what to do with myself. In theory? It's temporary. I could wake up tomorrow just fine. Or it could be permanent. Not one doctor of five could tell me anything more than "We just have to wait and see,'" he muttered, "which was kind of cruel in itself."

"Wait and see. Makes you wonder what they tell deaf people," Deuce muttered. "Oh God, that was horrible. Forget I said that."

"You know how many idioms there are that have something about ‘seeing' or ‘sight' in them?" Zane asked, letting a little waspishness into his voice. He groaned aloud to punctuate the annoyance. He could hear Deuce trying not to laugh. "I'll go nuts if I have to sit around here doing nothing," Zane added. "It's not even day one, and I'm already antsy. And that's with being worried about running into a wall."

"So do something," Deuce suggested. "Who blew you up? Can't you plot revenge or something? Any open cases you can mull over?"

"We were investigating a report of a suspicious package," Zane said as he started thinking over their caseload. "Although I wouldn't be averse to a little plotting. As for cases, it's not like I'm assigned to Financial Crimes, tracing forgers or art thieves through paperwork. Criminal involves more than a little legwork."

"So... why was there a bomb there?" Deuce asked.

Zane shook his head, belatedly remembering he had to speak. "No idea. And I've got no information after being in the hospital. I'm sure Ty will find out what he can while he's at the office."

"No, Zane. I mean, why was there a bomb there? Who called it in? Was it a trap? Think about it. Come up with a theory."

"Yeah, okay. I can do that." He shook his head. "Hey, Deuce?"

"Yeah?" He sounded amused.

"Why are you surprised?" Zane asked, giving into the curiosity niggling at him. "Is it that he told me, or that he feels that way to start with?"

"I knew he was in love with you when we were in West Virginia, Zane. I'm surprised he figured it out. And yeah, I'm surprised as hell that he told you."

Zane barely stopped himself from sitting up and dumping Ty on the floor. "In West Virginia? That was almost four months ago."

"That surprises you?"

"Deuce, if I hadn't been scared out of my fucking mind when he told me, I would have fallen over from the shock," Zane said with some amount of surety.

Deuce began to laugh softly. "And then he shoved you over the edge of a balcony or something, I know. Very romantic." He began to laugh harder.

"It was a three-story drop!" Zane growled in outrage. "I didn't even get a chance to say anything because the ship security guys were waiting for us!"

The laughter trailed off, and the line was silent for a moment. "What would you have said that you can't say now?" Deuce asked, voice neutral.

Zane literally flinched, flashing back to the confusing coil of emotions that had rocked him in that not even two minutes of revelation, jumping, and falling after Ty had said "I love you." But now, he wasn't remembering the literal fall from three decks above a cruise ship swimming pool. He was feeling the echoes of his more recent emotional shock in the stands at a fan-filled softball tournament: The fall wasn't coming. It was already over. He just had to figure out how to find words of his own. The honest words. "I don't know," he got out in a strangled whisper.

Deuce hummed again. "Maybe you should use some of your free time thinking about that. 'Cause if I know my brother, he'll stick with you through just about anything, including going blind. But I don't know how long he'll stick around if he's the only one thinking he's in love."

Zane frowned but had nothing to reply, and they sat there in silence, Zane with his mind buzzing in circles, for almost a full minute before he cleared his throat quietly. "Thanks for the talk, Deuce. I really appreciate it."

"Any time, Zane. You know that," Deuce told him with confidence. "Say hello to my brother, huh?"

"Yeah, I will," Zane agreed, smoothing his palm down over Ty's belly. "Talk to you later." He hit the end-call button out of habit; he didn't need to see the phone to know where it was. "Well," he muttered, "that was full of up and downs, wasn't it?"

Ty grunted as if in answer and fitfully rolled onto his side.

Zane smiled. He did feel better, though after that last bit of conversation, he wasn't sure he should.

When the phone rang, Zane startled and sat up in a rush, his left hand reaching out to fumble for his phone. He hit solid, warm skin, and he paused in place. He was on the wrong side of the bed, and he could tell by the bustle of sound from the street that it wasn't the middle of the night. He still couldn't see. The disappointment and fear welled into his throat.

"Ow, Zane," Ty grunted in a monotone, sleepy voice as Zane pawed at him. He pushed Zane's hand away, and the bed dipped as he rolled over. Zane heard him smack his hand onto the table where the cell phone rang. "Grady," he grunted in answer to the call. He sighed in annoyance. "Now?" he asked whoever was on the other end of the call. "Well, why don't you come here and get it from me like all the other witnesses?" he asked petulantly. "Fine. I'm at Garrett's place."

Then he clicked the phone closed and groaned plaintively, rolling around again. Zane knew him well enough to guess he was burying his head under his pillow in protest.

Zane sighed and lay back down, facing toward Ty, dragging his own pillow under his chest. "Work?" he murmured, wide awake now, although the scare was fading.

"Sort of," Ty mumbled as he lifted up and then rolled out of bed, barely disturbing the mattress. "They want a witness statement from me," he said as his voice trailed off toward the hallway. "They're sending a car."

Zane missed the warmth of Ty's body immediately. He stretched his hand out to rub his fingers across the still-warm fitted sheet. "About the bomb at the baseball field?"

"That and the other. And I've got to go in and find that damn kid and get your keys back."

"Not like I need them," Zane muttered.

"You will soon enough," Ty told him. The water began running soon after.

Zane stood to walk to the bathroom, but his phone's low chime stopped him. He felt his way back to the nightstand and answered with a hint of trepidation. "Zane Garrett."

"Special Agent Garrett, this is Dolores from PR at the Bureau."

"Okay?" Dolores worked for White Strips. He wondered if her boss made her stock floss.

"We've received a large number of requests for interviews, and I wanted to check to see when you thought you might feel up to giving some."

"Giving some... interviews? About what?" Zane slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Some are speaking requests from community leaders who attended the classes you've spoken at recently. But we've also had several requests since the press somehow connected you to the aquarium bomb scare. You're quite the celebrity now," she said cheerfully.

Zane didn't know what to say. "I'll think about it," he said weakly.

"Do you still plan to give your talk at the community class this coming Saturday?"

"Do you know what happened to me yesterday?" Zane asked carefully.

"Yes, and I'm very sorry," she said, her voice softening. "The SAIC said that it's your choice about Saturday. Can you let me know by tomorrow if you're going or not?"

"Yeah, okay," Zane said. He ended the call and set the phone back on the nightstand as he heard the water cut off. Zane felt Ty moving around the small room very shortly after.

"You okay?" Ty said in a low voice, much closer to Zane than he'd expected. Ty patted his shoulder and sidled past him.

Zane reached out just in time for his fingers to drag down the damp skin of Ty's back. "Yeah."

Ty hummed in response, the sound coming from the general direction of the end of Zane's bed. "Have you seen my blue tie?" he asked distractedly.

Zane chuckled before he could help it. He stood up, moving away from the bed. "Ah. Maybe hanging with the other suit in the dry- cleaning bag." They'd gotten into enough messes the past few months that now they each kept a suit or two at each other's place.

Ty grunted and made an apologetic noise. "Sorry. Forgot about the... seeing thing."

"Guess I'll get used to it fast," Zane said as he tried to figure out by listening what Ty was doing. "Did they say how long this would take?"

"Hour or two. Means probably four." There was rustling and the occasional whiff of Old Spice, and Zane figured Ty was putting on clothing, waving his shirt or jacket through the air as he put his arms into the sleeves. "Do you need anything before I go?"

Zane reached out to touch the chest of drawers in front of him. He might as well get dressed if Ty was going to be gone. "No, I don't guess so."

Ty's hands suddenly slid up Zane's sides, moving to hug him as Ty's chest pressed against his back. He was fully clothed—the soft material of Ty's Tom Ford suit was unmistakable. Zane could feel the knot of his tie, the telltale quality of the material. "The blue suit," Zane murmured. Close fit that hugged his shoulders and body, blue wool, silk overcheck, broken herringbone pattern, single-breasted peak lapel. Ty looked incredible in it. As much as Ty loved to dress down—ratty T-shirts and busted-down jeans—he knew how to look good too.

"Yeah?" Ty replied, lips moving against Zane's shoulder.

"Your favorite. You like the material. Pants fit right. Slim fit in the jacket." Zane lifted his hands to touch Ty's and slide up over the suit jacket sleeves to Ty's elbows. "Makes your eyes brighter," he said before really thinking about it.

"Is that so?"

Zane ducked his head, glad Ty was behind him and not looking at his face.

"I don't think anyone at the office is concerned about the brightness of my eyes. Except maybe that fucking PR guy. But thank you, all the same," Ty tacked on slyly.

"Yeah, well," Zane murmured. That wasn't the kind of thing he said to Ty. It just wasn't. "I think I feel like an idiot now."

Ty squeezed him hard. "You feel pretty good to me," he whispered. Then his hands were sliding off Zane and he was stepping away.

Zane swallowed hard as he lost touch with Ty's warmth and had to grasp for something to say. Ty was going to think he'd lost his mind. "I think I'll go back to bed for a little while."

"Might be a good idea." Ty's voice was moving away. "Get some sleep, Garrett. Call me if you need anything."

Zane listened to the front door shut firmly and sat down hard on the edge of the bed. He felt hot and goddamn tingly all over, and it wasn't from anything but what would probably qualify as sweet nothings on the open market. Flopping back on the bed, Zane rolled, pulled Ty's pillow under him, and buried his face in the sheets. It was time to do some serious thinking; he figured he might as well be as comfortable as possible to do it.

"Thanks for coming in, Grady. You weren't injured, right?" Scott Alston asked.

"Like you care," Ty grunted at him. "Let's get this rolling, huh?"

"Don't be a jerk," Alston shot back. "We're all worried about Garrett, and there're others hurt too. Wilkinson's in the hospital with a compound fracture of her right leg, and three others are still there too."

Ty held up both hands in surrender, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry. Sorry."

Alston sighed and sat down. "Yeah, well... it's been a shitty couple of days." He shuffled through some papers. "All right. I need to bend your brain about both bombings, the ballfield and the boutiques."

"We talked about the alliteration, Scott," Ty mumbled, not even managing a smile.

Alston glared at him, then ignored the words. "So far we've found only four agents who were in both places. That includes you and Garrett."

"Who are the other two?" Ty asked as he settled into the seat across from Alston. It was uncomfortable and too low, forcing him to look up at the other man. Classic psychological tactic to make someone being interrogated feel inferior and uncomfortable. Fucking asshole Feds...

"Waller and Carmichael, both from tech ops. They were on the street. As were you, right?"

Ty sighed heavily and nodded. He spent the next hour telling Alston everything he'd done, seen, felt, heard, and thought at both scenes, culminating in a ten-minute rant about his Bronco being melted and who the hell was going to pay to fix an old Bronco that was worth more as evidence than it was on the street and when the hell was he getting his Bronco back exactly?

After Alston managed to quiet him down, Ty was forced to sit there in the uncomfortable chair for another fifteen minutes as Alston got papers together for him to sign. By the time the man returned, Ty was calm again, concentrating on breathing in, breathing out, making the fucking Om sound in his head.

"Okay, Grady," Alston said after Ty was finished running two pens out of ink. "There's good news and... well, other news. What do you want first?"

"Scott, don't make me hurt you," Ty muttered dejectedly.

"You're done here, Ty, no more paperwork," Alston said sympathetically. "But... you're also done for the rest of the week. Mac's orders."

Ty stared at him, not truly surprised but still disgruntled over being benched. But who was he kidding, really? He was mangled from trying to stop a fireman the size of a refrigerator from scoring in a softball game that was basically a PR stunt, his Bronco was smoldering in an evidence yard somewhere, and his partner had been blown up and was helpless at home. Ty didn't want to be here when he needed to be there.

"Yeah, okay," he mumbled, looking down at his hands and picking at the medical tape around his fingers.

"It's not just you, Ty," Alston said, sounding surprisingly reassuring. "We've locked down Waller and Carmichael, too, and, well, you know about Garrett. We know you're a target. Your face has been all over the news. They're still running that sound bite of yours, and those bastards went after your truck. Now we need to figure out if Garrett was a target as well, and we want you off the field of play. You'll also have a skeleton crew checking on you, just in case." He sighed. "I'll call you as soon as we answer some of the metric ton of questions, okay?"

Ty just nodded and stood. "Are we done?" he asked tiredly. "Or am I due for a full rectal exam today too?"

"Go on. You're looking rough, even for you," Alston said. "Nice suit though."

"Shut up."

Alston smiled. "We'll hold down the fort. Let me know how Garrett's doing when you hear from him, would you?"

"Yeah." Ty turned and practically trudged toward the elevators. Intellectually he knew why he was being sent away. It still didn't sit well with him. He wasn't used to being shooed away to safety when things got too hot. He told himself to look at it as some much-needed time off from work to be with his lover, but even that held a sour note. He tried not to think about Zane's sight and when or if it would return. He told himself not to think of anything as he rode the elevator down.

Zen, Ty, Zen.

Zane heard a key in the lock, and the door complained loudly as it was opened. "Honey, I'm home," Ty called out in a less-than-enthusiastic voice.

His eyes closed against the utter darkness, Zane could see it: the battered metal-core door opening and Ty stepping inside from the stoop, short hair ruffled from the cold wind Zane could feel sweeping in behind him, dressed in a dark wool overcoat, that incredible blue suit, holster at his right side, badge clipped on his belt, displayed whenever Ty set his hand on his left hip in a gesture of mild annoyance. From the sound of his voice, Ty was frustrated now, which meant the tie would be askew—if it was still on at all—and first thing, his jacket would be off, maybe even his shirtsleeves rolled up. Ty had long muscled forearms sprinkled with fine dark hair, and surprisingly trim wrists. Zane had more than once closed his hand all the way around one of those wrists. And Ty's fingers were snub-ended but nimble, for all that several were various amounts of crooked from all the breaks.

He wondered if Ty was frowning. It furrowed his forehead, two lines darting between dark eyebrows, and his usually bright hazel eyes would be somewhat shadowed, trending to brown or dark green. When his full lips pressed into a firm line, it caused dimples to appear in his perpetually tanned cheeks. Zane had caught himself several times in the office looking at Ty's mouth. It got his pulse up when Ty chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip.

"Garrett?" Ty said in a flat voice. "You still in there?" He put his hand on Zane's chest, leaning over the back of the couch to do it.

Zane actually startled out of his imagining with a sharp inhale. "Oh, sorry," he said, lifting one hand to cover Ty's. "Are you frowning?"

"What? I am now—what the hell kind of question is that?" Ty muttered as he pulled his hand away.

Zane could hear him continuing to mutter as he moved away.

"You sound frustrated. What happened at the office?"

"Benched," Ty groused. "Didn't tell me shit except that I was to go home until they're sure we're not targets. We'll also have a protection crew tailing us."

Zane frowned and sat up. Ty sounded almost angry. "Hey, come here," he requested quietly. Something heavy, probably Ty's overcoat, flopped onto the back of the couch. He felt Ty's weight on the couch beside him, and soon Ty's hand ran into his hair affectionately, carefully avoiding the small crooked line of stitches along the back of his skull.

Zane relaxed and leaned into the hand, moving his own to bump against and slide up Ty's thigh. It was reassuring, having him this close, and if Zane needed anything right now, it was peace of mind. He turned his head to press his cheek against Ty's palm, and Ty's lips touched his gently. Only bare seconds passed before the hip that leaned against Zane's body began to ding and vibrate, but Ty ignored the cell phone in his pocket in favor of the kiss. It warmed Zane, something so insignificant as Ty choosing him over a cell phone call. Silly, maybe, but he was taking all the feel-good karma he could get at the moment. Wanting to be a little closer, he slid one hand to cup lightly around the back of Ty's neck as he gave under Ty's lips.

Ty sat up after the phone went quiet, running his hand through Zane's hair again as he leaned against him on the edge of the couch. "They gave me the rest of the week off," he announced suddenly. "I'm probably a target. They want me to lay low, not come back ‘til Monday."

"The likelihood of us being targets is really damn small," Zane murmured, rubbing Ty's back with one hand. "Even with the bomb in the Bronco, it was the only car there overnight. Small chance anyone could know it was yours. And down at the shopping complex? We weren't even supposed to be there, really. We got sent last minute to help out. More likely they want you out of their hair."

"Mac doesn't have any hair left. He pulled it all out," Ty muttered unhappily. "I got to check this," he added, and Zane could feel him pulling his phone out of his pocket. Zane relaxed back, keeping his hands on Ty, just for that connection. Despite the encouragement from talking to Deuce, Zane still felt pretty damn pitiful and lost.

Ty snorted at whatever he was reading on his phone, and Zane heard him snap the phone shut a moment later.

"What's up?" Zane asked.

"It's just my buddy Nick," Ty said as he leaned against Zane again. "He's a cop, on the last hour of an eighteen-hour shift, and he's trying to stay awake by driving me fucking crazy."

"So he's the one who texts you all hours of the day and night?" Zane asked as he rubbed at his temple. The raging headache he'd had in the hospital was still hanging on as a dull ache.

"Mostly, yeah. Why, does that bother you?" Ty asked with a hint of concern. He took Zane's hand as he spoke, his fingers rubbing at the base of Zane's thumb until he found the pressure point between the fingers and squeezed hard.

Zane groaned as the headache began to dull. If Ty knew one thing, it was how to use and abuse a pressure point. "No, it doesn't bother me." He scrunched up his nose on purpose. "You haven't texted me since you got caught with your girlfriend," he lamented, but then he ruined it with a little laugh.

"I still owe you for that," Ty told him wryly. He let off on the pressure point just a little, and the throbbing ache in Zane's head began to subside almost to the point of being gone. "You're right here next to me. I don't need to text you."

"Still."

"You want to hear some of the crap he sends me? Then you won't be jealous."

Zane smiled slightly. He suspected Ty kind of liked that he might be jealous. "Sure," he said amiably as he slid his arm between Ty's back and the couch to pull him closer.

Ty shifted around to reach his phone again, and Zane heard him flip it open to find some example texts to read out loud. "The one he sent me on the way home said, at my funeral it'll be your job to throw yourself on my casket and weep.' And the one he just sent me, he says, false alarm, still invincible.' No idea what he was doing that he thought he might die. The one before that was for future reference a lint roller appears to be the best way to get glitter out of a beard."

Zane chuckled. "That's some quality conversation there. Is Nick one of the Recon guys? The one I talked to on the phone in New York?"

"The one you talked to on the phone?" Ty repeated in obvious confusion. "Oh! Yeah, the one that called and cussed me out for getting blown up. Yeah, that was Nick. He was Recon, but he was also with me pretty much from the bus to Parris Island."

"So you two go way back," Zane murmured, lifting his hand to rub Ty's belly through the soft dress shirt. Zane idly wondered what color it was.

"Yeah. Tried to get him to join the Bureau with me and Sanchez, but he was being stubborn and disillusioned with The Man. Went home instead. We sort of fell out of touch for a while, when I was undercover. But ever since New York, he's called or sent me a text almost every day."

"He's not around here, then," Zane concluded. "Else you'd be barhopping with him."

Ty laughed softly. "You have that low an opinion of me, huh? Barhopping," he joked in a warm voice as he leaned more against Zane. "He's in Boston."

Zane grinned. "Would he have gone barmaid hopping with you?"

"He has in the past."

Zane poked at Ty's ribs gently.

Ty flinched and jabbed back at him. "Quit that," he hissed. Zane could feel him rubbing at his ribs as if it had tickled, but he belatedly remembered Ty's run-in with Tank and the bruising his ribcage had taken.

Zane patted Ty's thigh in apology. "That's great, still in touch with a friend from that far back."

"I'm thinking you'd probably hate him," Ty said thoughtfully, and then he laughed. "About as much as you hated me at first."

"And that was a lot," Zane agreed. "He'd probably hate me too."

Ty made a dismissive noise and stood, taking a step away from the couch. "Are you hungry? I'm going to start fidgeting if I don't find something to do soon."

"I could eat," Zane answered, feeling the cool rush in after the warmth of Ty's body disappeared. "There's not much here, though."

"You want to go out?" Ty suggested, his voice so even that Zane couldn't determine Ty's preference from it. Zane had always thought Ty's emotions were easy to read. But obviously all those cues came from his body language. "Might do you some good. You pick. I'll take you there."

"How about Chiapparelli's? The food's really good."

"That the Italian place you're always going to?" Ty asked.

Zane nodded. "They've got a pretty good selection, and you've seen my lunches. The people there are really nice. It's a family business."

"And I guess you'll know the layout since you're there a lot, huh?

Well, you look good enough. Let's go eat."

Zane got up and self-consciously patted his hair after Ty riffled it in passing. He carefully edged along the couch and around it, then took one step to the bookshelf along the wall and touched the books, trailing his fingers along the spines until he reached the shelf with the dish where he left his wallet and keys. "I need a jacket," he said.

"How far is it? Can we walk?" Ty asked.

"Go out the front door, turn right, cross the street, go to the end of the block, turn right, and it's on the right at the end of the block," Zane rattled off.

"All righty, let's go, then," Ty said.