Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or its characters. I make no profit from this work of fiction.

There were days when Pavel Chekov regretted working for the government. His advanced algorithms had been used to improve the search parameters for a project that was kept well away from the public eye. Pavel and his team were looking for new candidates for the program, and they had had great results.

Pavel knew that he should be proud of the work they were doing to bring new men and women into an organization that was literally fighting crime and corruption all over the world.

But some days, it just made him sick to his stomach.

Pavel's job had not been to design a program to search for perfect soldiers; it was designed to hunt for sharp, intelligent people who had hit a low in their lives. Who were vulnerable and would cling to any rope that you threw them. These weren't just people that had lost their jobs; they were people that had lost their lives. It was hard for Chekov not to get depressed by all the negativity he encountered day in and day out.

He sighed as one of the team members under him sent a new profile for him to review. There were three levels of assessment: first, his search algorithms rooted out possible candidates; then two separate teams would weed out any that seemed like they could become unstable or were ill-suited to the physical demands of a spy. The final decision about whether or not to recruit them was not up to Chekov; that was left up to Uhura and her team.

He scanned the information on his screen: Leonard Horatio McCoy. Disgraced doctor from Georgia. Recently lost his father and about to lose his wife in a messy divorce. Medical license suspended, since there was an investigation into whether or not he had helped his father die. Chekov sighed. Just the kind of person they were looking for: smart, vulnerable, and willing to take a life. After reviewing his history a little further, Chekov marked the file as approved and sent it on his way.

He stretched and glanced out the window over the D.C. skyline, recalling one of the first recruits he had helped bring in: Hikaru Sulu.

Agent Sulu watched with a critical eye as Doctor Leonard McCoy left the courthouse, shrugging off his lawyer and making a beeline for his car. His now ex-wife, on the other hand, was chatting amiably with her lawyer – even smiling.

Sulu brought the binoculars up to his eyes and watched McCoy rage and slam his hands against the steering wheel. The divorce had been a bloodbath. McCoy had been left with almost nothing. After a minute, he sped out of the parking lot.

Sulu found him easily later that night, drinking at his favorite bar. He knew the look in those hazel eyes so well. He had been observing McCoy for months; he knew his habits, his moods. He had seen his marriage dissolve after the death of his father; it was like watching train wreck. But there's always hope, he reminded himself. Out of tragedy can come success. Sulu left the dark bar and stepped outside to place a call. The phone was answered almost before it had a chance to ring.

"Uhura. You have a report on McCoy?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's perfect."

"Excellent. We could use a doctor. They take well to learning how to take people apart or patch them back up when needed. Give him a few more weeks to drown his troubles. The less we have to wean him off the bottle, the better. Then start the recruitment process."

"Understood." Sulu hung up and went back inside; he scanned around quickly, alarmed. McCoy was gone.

Jim Kirk was on his way out rail yard when he caught sight of something strange. In his six months working on the rail, he had never actually seen a freight hopper. He was almost excited as he saw a man stumble out of one the cars.

He frowned as the man lurched alarmingly and then vomited on the ground.

"Hey! You all right?" Jim called, heading towards him. Idiot doesn't know what he got himself into, he thought. The hopper struggled back to his feet, still swaying. Jim could smell the alcohol on him. His hand itched for his radio; the guy might need an ambulance. He landed against the boxcar, wheezing unevenly. Jim jogged the last few steps. "You okay?"

The guy jerked, spinning to face Jim and tilting dangerously.

Jim instinctively reached out a hand to steady him by his shoulder. "Take it easy. You all right?"

The man stared at him with wild, bloodshot eyes. "Do I look all right to you, kid?" His voice was rough as he gestured to his rumpled clothing. His hair was a greasy mess – bits sticking up here and there. Jim blinked – despite his disheveled state, the guy was gorgeous – full, plush lips, gorgeous olive skin, and amazing hazel eyes.

He shook his head slightly to get back to the topic at hand. "Do you need an ambulance? Are you hurt?"

The man pulled out of Jim's grasp. "I don't need a doctor, damn it, I am a doctor."

Jim felt the beginnings of a smile pulling at his mouth. "Okay, Doc. Do you know where you are?"

The doctor squinted, looking around the rail yard in obvious confusion. "No."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

The stranger scratched a hand through his stubble. "Was at a bar. Can't remember much after that."

"What day was that? Where were you?"

"Yesterday, damn it! Tuesday – no Wednesday night."

"Where?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "You're awfully nosy."

Jim chuckled. "Hey, I'm being nice here. I should call the bull and have you arrested for hoppin' a freight train."

The doctor's eyes widened, and he backed away from the train as if seeing it for the first time. "What? No, I – "

"Relax. I've hopped more than a few rails in my life."

"But … I didn't mean to. I can't remember …"

"Listen, let's get you out of here and cleaned up. Then we'll see if your memory comes back, all right?" It wasn't like Jim had any other major plans before his next shift. "Have you ever blacked out before?"

The doctor grabbed onto Jim's jacket with both hands. "Where am I?"

Jim held onto his arms to keep him upright. "Allentown, Pennsylvania."

For a minute, it looked like the doctor couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. "I may throw up on you."

"What do you mean you lost him?" Uhura hissed into Sulu's ear.

"Just that, ma'am. When I returned to the bar after we spoke, he was gone. He never made it back to his apartment. I've searched all around the city all night."

Uhura sighed. He could practically hear her pulling herself back together. "I'll have Chekov look into the law enforcement records. Check in with the morgues."

"I've already looked into both –"

"Well, keep looking. Find him."

"Yes, ma'am."

It took some convincing, but Jim had finally gotten Doctor Leonard McCoy to let him drag him back to his apartment. He needed some place to sleep off the alcohol, but he didn't need to go to the hospital. Jim didn't want to just leave him at the station while he figured out how to get back home. It had taken almost until they stepped into the doorway before Jim got a name. What Jim had gathered, however, was that McCoy was from Georgia, was newly divorced and extremely bitter about it. He'd been drowning his hatred for his ex-wife and must have stumbled onto the train after his bender. Jim had promptly christened the doctor "Bones" when Leonard had stated that was all he had left.

The ranting didn't even let up when Jim helped him into the bathroom and methodically pulled off his filthy clothes – two sweaters, a button-down shirt, muddy jeans, mismatching socks, and unidentifiable loafers. Standing there, in only his boxers, McCoy just kept right on ranting. He was cursing his ex-wife and her family up one side and down the other.

Jim mentally shrugged and turned on the shower; there was no way he was letting a total stranger covered in that much travel dirt sleep on his couch. He saw Bones sway again out of the corner of his eye and quickly caught him, sitting him on the toilet instead.

The ranting seemed to be going in circles, Jim noted as he peeled off his own clothing. When he was naked, Bones finally fell silent.

"What the hell are you doing, kid?"

"I told you it's Jim, not kid. Jim Kirk. And I'm getting you cleaned up, like I promised." He helped Bones back to his feet and quickly pulled off his boxers. He was surprised that McCoy didn't fight him as he managed to get both of them in the shower and immediately started scrubbing down the doctor. He couldn't help but notice the smooth, tan skin as it was freed from the layers of dirt. The former Mrs. McCoy had let one fine specimen of a man go.

When Jim let go of him to reach for the shampoo, McCoy slumped forward.

"Whoa!" Jim caught him again and shook him gently. "Bones! C'mon, Bones, stay awake for just a bit longer."

McCoy shook his head. "Y'talk too much."

Jim laughed as he managed to reach the shampoo and balance Bones against his shoulder. "If you weren't drunk off your ass, you'd realize how hilarious that sounds right now." He washed McCoy's dark hair twice, scrubbing hard against the scalp to get out all the dirt.

Bones made an indistinct noise against Jim's skin when he finally turned the water off.

"C'mon, Bones, just let me get you dry. Then you can sleep it off."

"Sleep?"

"Yeah. In just a bit. Come on."

Leonard awoke slowly with a groan. He cracked his eyes open and tried to make sense of the unfamiliar living room in the dim light. Where the hell am I?

Pain lanced through his temples, and he quickly closed his eyes and breathed deeply to fight off the nausea.

Sound exploded in the small room as the door burst open, and a figure stumbled inside.

Leonard sat up. "Who the hell are you?"

A light flicked on, and a tall blond man with blood running down his face grinned at him. "Bones! You're awake!"

Memories began to flicker in Leonard's mind. "Jim?" he ventured.

"Got it in one," Jim said, heading towards the bathroom.

Leonard pushed himself to his feet and stumbled after him. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Hit on the wrong girl, apparently," Jim answered. "Gave as good as I got, though. And I was outnumbered."

"Don't sound so damn proud," Leonard growled.

In the light of the bathroom, bruises became visible on Jim's face. He dabbed at a cut just above his eyebrow.

"Let me look at that," Leonard said.

Jim shrugged. "I'm fine. I've had worse."

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor. Let me do my job. Sit down!"

Jim sighed dramatically and sat on the toilet. "Fine."

Leonard took the washcloth and gently dabbed at the blood until he could see the cut clearly. "That needs stitches."

Jim shook his head. "Forget it. I'm not going to the ER for this."

"It'll scar if you don't. Trust me. If I had the tools, I'd do it myself."

"Hold that thought." Jim said, pressing the cloth to the wound and rummaging around in the cabinet. He pulled out a first aid kit.

Leonard rolled his eyes and sighed explosively. "Damn it, Jim, that won't –" His rant died as Jim opened the box; this was no ordinary first aid kit.

"My old roomie was an EMT. He also liked to camp, so he kept himself stocked for all kinds of emergencies. Sometimes I'd call him Commander Apocalypse," Jim explained with a grin.

Leonard looked over the supplies and nodded. "I think I can work with this."

"Go for it. I trust ya. Not sure why, given that we just met and the circumstances therein." He shrugged. "Either there's just something about you, or I'm way more drunk that I think I am, Bones."

Leonard growled as he washed his hands. "Stop callin' me that."

"Come on, considering how and where I found you, there are a lot less flattering names I could come up with." Jim chuckled.

Leonard nodded thoughtfully, wincing as his headache came back with a vengeance.

"You sure you're up for this, Bones? You sober?"

"More sober than you. Now hold still."

A half hour later, Jim's wound had been dressed to Leonard's satisfaction.

They had returned to the living room and flopped on the couch, sucking down a bottle of water each. Jim also had an icepack to his cheek, which Leonard had wrapped in a towel for him.

"You remember anything yet?" Jim asked.

"All I can remember is drinkin' my troubles away at Murphy's. I think I faintly remember stumblin' out of there. Got the feelin' someone was watchin' me. Then I … must have somehow stumbled into that train."

Jim chuckled. "Well, better in it than in front of it."

Leonard gave a small smile. "Yeah." He shook his head. "Thank you for … you know …"

"Not calling the bull? Keeping you out of jail?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you stitched me up, so I think that makes us even, Bones. You're welcome to crash here until you head back home."

Leonard sighed, rubbing a hang over his face. "Home to what?"

Jim raised an eyebrow. "You may not have the best bedside manner, but I bet your patients miss you just the same."

"Been temporarily suspended." He sighed again and took another gulp of water. "Sorry. Shouldn't dump this on you."

"I think I'm kind of immune after you ranted at me earlier."

Leonard looked away. "Lord, what did I say?"

Jim shrugged. "Just mostly ranted about your wife and stuff. Sounds like you really got hosed."

Leonard laughed. "Yeah, that's about right. Well, when this is is all over, I've still got my position at the hospital, when I go back to it."

Jim nudged his knee. "You could go anywhere, though. There are hospitals all over the country. No rule saying you need to stay where you've got so many bad memories."

"Do you make this much sense when you're sober?"

Jim laughed. "I try, Bones. I try."

"Sulu here."

"We've got McCoy," Uhura told him. "He just used his credit card to book a train back to Georgia."

"Where is he?"

"Pennsylvania."

"What?"

"Not sure how he got there; it's possible he hopped a train. He might be a bit more impulsive than his profile showed. Keep a close eye on him when he gets back. We need to make sure he's what we need."

"Yes, ma'am."

When McCoy returned to Georgia a few days later, it didn't seem that much had changed. He was starting to drink less and seemed to spend more time on his computer. Other than that, Sulu didn't observe any changes. About a week after McCoy came back, Sulu was temporarily pulled from his assignment to help out with a "situation." He quickly filed his observations and marked the case as "go for recruitment" before shipping out.

When he returned six months later, the situation had definitely changed.

Leonard clicked the button to send the call through on his screen. Ah, Skype, the way of the future, he thought. Then snorted. Something like that.

Still, it did give him a chance to see Jim between visits. He loved starting into those blue eyes and recalling exactly how they looked when he made Jim cry out in ecstasy. It was a sweet sort of torture, being able to see the skin that he had kissed and licked – but not touch.

"Bones!" Jim's voice boomed through Leonard's computer speakers. His face appeared a second later, and he waved eagerly.

"Yeah, yeah, Jim, I see you," Leonard answered. Jim had talked him into using a webcam about a month into their relationship.

"Are those boxes I see behind you? You all packed?"

Leonard couldn't help the little smile that played at his lips. "Yep. Pretty much. Movers are coming in two days."

"You living on takeout until then?"

Leonard chuckled. "Yeah. The kitchen's full of boxes, and the pots and pans are packed."

"I'm really looking forward to having you closer, Bones. I can't wait." Jim waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Leonard rolled his eyes even though he was glad that Jim had talked him into making a fresh start. "Someone's gotta keep you out of trouble, kid."

"And someone's gotta remind you that a little trouble keeps life interesting." Jim frowned. "You okay, Bones?"

Leonard nearly sighed. The kid was getting damn good at reading him, even via webcam. "You remember when I said it used to feel like someone was watchin' me?"

"Yeah?"

"I haven't felt it months, but … I definitely felt it today."

Jim's frown deepened. "Bones, I think I should come down –"

Leonard shook his head. "I'm sure it's nothing. It's just two more days; I'll be fine."

"When did it happen?"

"When I went out today to buy some last minute things. It just felt like someone was followin' me." He shivered and tried to turn it into a shrug. "Like I said, it's probably nothing."

"Bones, I don't like this. I think I should –"

"You'd have to take more time off work. Don't," Leonard answered swiftly. "It's not that I don't wanna see you, darlin'. I'd just rather not make a fuss over nothing."

Jim bit his lip. "Well … if you're sure."

Leonard managed a smile. "I'm sure. If it gets any worse, I'll text you. I promise."

Jim nodded. "Okay, Bones."

"Uhura."

"We've got a serious problem with McCoy."

"Explain."

"Looks like that little trip he took to Pennsylvania had a lasting effect. He's in a relationship, and he's moving."

"Moving?"

"Boxes packed and everything. And the relationship is serious. They talk at least twice a day, and it seems that they have been visiting each other often. We need to abort; this won't end well."

"It's too late for that, Agent. Where's the girl now?"

"Not a girl. James Kirk. He's in Pennsylvania right now. They probably met when McCoy hopped that train."

"I'll tell the extraction team to move in. Kirk will think McCoy got cold feet."

"Ma'am –"

"I know this is not your fault, Agent. We were spread too thin to keep a close eye on McCoy these past few months. But the recruitment team is ready to go; I can't cancel this now. Everything's in motion."

Sulu held back a sigh. "Yes, ma'am."

"Standby to assist the extraction team if needed."

"Understood."

Jim was pouring himself a cup of coffee when his phone chirped, indicating a text message. He picked it up and smiled as he saw it was from Bones. Then he laughed out loud; the message was total gibberish, as if Bones had mashed his whole hand across the keyboard.

Jim set his mug on the counter and texted back, "LOL. Bones, did you face plant on the keyboard?"

When he didn't get a response, he wondered if the phone had gotten squished somehow while moving all the boxes around.

Jim's stomach was uneasy by the time he finished his coffee and bagel. He picked up his phone and hit the speed dial for Bones.

It rang until the voicemail picked up.

Jim frowned and tried again, with the same result. This time, he left a message, "Hey, Bones, it's me. Got a weird text from you. Just want to make sure everything's okay. Call me."

He told himself to be reasonable; it was moving day, and Bones might not have even heard the phone or been close to it when it rang.

Then again, he was a doctor; he was used to keeping his phone close.

Jim called three more times before he had to leave for work. He knew he was probably being paranoid, but Bones had specifically mentioned that he felt like he was being watched again. Something wasn't right.

"Claremont movers."

"Hi, a friend of mine is moving, and he had an appointment today. I know this sounds a little weird, but I haven't heard from him, and I wanted to make sure everything went okay."

"Sir, that information is confidential –"

"He's my friend; I already know all the confidential information. His name is Leonard McCoy, and he's moving to –"

"Wait, McCoy?"

"Yes."

"McCoy canceled today."

"What? Did he say why?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't have any other information. I just have a note that there was a call early this morning to cancel the appointment. He didn't reschedule."

"Uh … okay. Thanks."

Leonard struggled against the restraints holding him down to the hospital bed, even though he knew this was no hospital.

"Let me out of here!" he shouted. "You can't keep me here!"

His memories of the day so far were fuzzy. He faintly recalled getting jumped and trying to make a grab for his phone. Everything after that was a blur of strange faces, nausea, and car rides.

Finally, the door to his room opened. A petite black woman and an Asian man filed in.

"Who the hell are you? Where am I?" Leonard growled.

"Doctor McCoy, my name is Uhura. You've been recruited by the United States government to participate in an elite program."

"Recruited – what the fuck, I didn't sign up for anything! Let me go!"

"Normally, we try to zero in on intelligent people who have hit a low in their lives; they usually jump on the opportunity to do something useful."

Leonard eyes narrowed at the Asian man. "You've been following me."

"Yes."

"We've been tracking you since the decline of your marriage," Uhura continued. "You fit our requirements perfectly. However, Agent Sulu here was pulled away from your case for the past few months. We were unaware of James Kirk until recently."

Leonard stilled. "Where's Jim? What've you done with him?"

"Nothing, Doctor McCoy. He's not the one we want. You are."

"And I don't get a say in this?"

"As I said, normally, we have subjects much more willing to volunteer for the process. But we have too much invested in you to pull back now. So, no, you don't have a choice. I apologize for that."

Leonard yanked against his bonds. "You can't do this! Jim will look for me!"

"He won't find you," Sulu stated.

"I won't do this! You can't force me to …" Leonard trailed off as medical personnel filed into the room and prepped several syringes. "No … no, you can't. Jim …"

"If it's any comfort, Doctor, you won't remember him when we're done," Sulu said.

Leonard's eyes widened before he fought more viciously against the restraints. "NOO! JIM!"

Jim had taken the rest of the afternoon off work and called every mover in the Atlanta area. When none of them had heard of McCoy, he tried the ones around Allentown. When that failed, he called McCoy's neighbors. They said that movers had appeared and taken the boxes, but they hadn't seen Leonard all day. And the moving vans hadn't had any writing on them.

Jim moved onto family and coworkers next. No one at the hospital had seen Bones since his last day. And none of the family – including his ex-wife – had heard anything out of the ordinary. Then again, Bones wasn't really close to his relatives. Jim booked the next flight down to Georgia.

He sat in the airport, bouncing his leg nervously and dialed Bones again. "Bones, seriously, I'm at the airport. I'm flying down there to find you. I swear to God, if this turns out to be nothing, I'm going to kill you. Please call me."

Pike raised an eyebrow, having glanced at the piece of paper that had just been placed on his desk. "Chekov, is there something you wish to discuss? Or are you just going to resign without explaining anything?"

"It's the most recent recruitment, sir. Doctor McCoy."

"The decision is out of your hands."

"I know zat, sir. But it is my job to monitor the after effects when a candidate is brought it. And –"

"So, you know about Jim Kirk."

"Yes, sir. Vhat ve've done is not right. Ve ripped McCoy out of his life, sir. And I cannot be a part of that. He was taken completely unwillingly."

Pike seemed to consider what the young Russian had said but then changed tracks abruptly. "Is this about Agent Sulu?"

Chekov nearly jumped back in surprise. "No, sir! At least Sulu wanted to be an agent; McCoy vas given no choice. And he still has someone who cares for him."

"The way that you care for Sulu."

Chekov knew he was blushing but held his ground. "He does not need my help, sir. But it is not too late for McCoy. And Kirk."

Pike shook his head. "I'm sorry, Chekov. You know how much money is invested in a single recruit. We simply weren't going to flush it away and start from scratch. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you should leave."

Chekov raised his chin stubbornly. "I vill, sir."

The next two months of Jim's life passed in a blur. He had gone to Georgia and found Bones's apartment completely empty except for his cell phone. No one had any idea who the mysterious "moving company" was. He worked with the police, but the trail went cold quickly. Jim kept at it. He tried to decipher the nonsensical text message for any clues, tried analyzing everything he and Bones had said, especially when he talked about someone following him. He hounded Bones's coworkers until he was banned from the hospital altogether.

When his friend Scotty pointed out that perhaps McCoy had gotten cold feet, Jim told him that even if that were true, he wouldn't leave Jim frantic like this. It was inconceivable. They hadn't been together long, but they had gotten close fast. He knew Bones; knew he wouldn't do this. Especially since Bones used to flip out on him if he hadn't called one evening. He had been so protective – something that Jim had never experienced before. He would never turned the tables and just run.

The police had admitted that the case was a little odd, since all of McCoy's financial records up and vanished. He hadn't gone and closed the accounts – they were literally gone and deleted. In the end, the only other theory Jim was offered was that McCoy was a gifted con artist. But if that was true, what had he been playing at? He hadn't gotten any money or information out of Jim or anyone else he was associated with in Georgia. And all of his school records and family accounts checked out.

Jim was sure he'd been kidnapped by whoever had been following him. And even if it took him years, he was going to figure it out.

Hold on, Bones. I'm coming. I promise.

"Agent Sulu, report."

"Kirk is not giving up. We need to give him something."

"All right. Set up a standard fake death –"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I don't think that will cut it this time. Kirk is smart. Unless he saw the body himself, he wouldn't buy it. He's already got conspiracy theories and –"

"Do you have another suggestion?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think the only way we'll get through to Kirk is to tell him the truth."

There was a long pause. "I hope you have an airtight way to make this work, Agent."

Jim was dragged into a room, fighting all the way. He was held securely by his arms as the blindfold was finally removed. He blinked in the fluorescent light and looked around the strange room. One side of it seemed to be made of glass.

A petite woman in a dark skirt suit stepped in front of him. "Mr. Kirk, welcome."

Jim tried to free himself. "Where the hell am I?"

"My name is Uhura, and I can't disclose your location at this time. By all rights, you shouldn't even be here. But it has been made clear to us that if we don't throw you a bone, you are not going to let this matter rest."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Bones. Where is he?"

"He's completely safe. I assure you. He was selected for an elite and top secret government project. He's been doing extremely well. But this program requires our participants to cut off all contact with anyone from their former life."

"He wouldn't leave me. You took him."

She nodded. "We did. We don't ask for volunteers. But we usually try to pick people who can easily make a clean break. By the time we realized that you were …involved, it was too late to stop the recruitment process."

"So, you're keeping him here against his will. I've been searching for him for months! He didn't sign up for this! Let him go!" Jim pulled against his captors, his work boots scraping uselessly on the cement floor.

"It's not that simple. And if you calm down, I will show you why."

Jim relaxed his stance, and the two men holding him let go and moved back to guard the door. Uhura gestured for Jim to join her at the glass windows.

Jim looked down at what appeared to be the floor of a warehouse. "What is this?"

"This is one part of our training facility."

"What are you training him for?"

"You'll see."

Jim practically pressed himself up to the angled glass when Bones finally stepped into view. He was dressed like one of them: dark suit, white button down, and tie. He was also aiming a pistol out of front of him with both hands, moving forward slowly.

"What the hell?" Jim gasped. "He told me he could handle a rifle, but he's not comfortable with -"

Two thugs rushed around the corner, and Bones shot them efficiently. He barely blinked.

Jim felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. "Are they dead?"

She shook her head. "The gun is loaded with rubber bullets, and the targets wear protective gear."

"What have you done to him?"

"Reprogrammed him. We're making new soldiers."

Jim laughed unsteadily. "Are you kidding me? Have you ever watched a sci-fi movie in your life?" He thumped a fist against the glass as he turned to face her. "Bones wouldn't want this. He's a doctor, for God's sake. Take it out and change him back."

"Mr. Kirk, the reason we brought you here was to show you that Leonard McCoy is safe and in good hands. You can now stop searching for him."

"Are you listening to me? He wouldn't want to do this! Did you even ask?"

"If you attempt to bring this to the media or continue your search efforts, there will be severe consequences for you, your family, and McCoy's family. We don't usually do this, Mr. Kirk. We brought you here for closure."

"I want to see him."

"He won't remember you."

Jim lunged at her, but the guards were too quick.

"I know it's probably the last thing on your mind, but you should be grateful," Uhura said calmly as he struggled. "Most people who have a loved one go missing never find out what happened. Now you know. Good luck moving on with your life."

"NO!" Jim screamed, straining to get free. "BONES! LET HIM GO!"

"Take him back home," Uhura said softly.

It was another two months before Jim finally got the feeling that he was no longer being watched. Though he was furious with what had happened, he had reined in his investigations. It was the hardest thing he had ever done. It felt like admitting defeat – at least temporarily. He had packed away everything he had been working on into a box and tried to stop running clues in his brain.

It didn't matter that they made him stop looking; everything reminded Jim of Bones anyway. Going to work reminded him of how they met, and the times they had taken trains back and forth between their homes.

He could see Bones in his dreams, sitting on his windowsill drinking coffee until Jim would drag him down to the couch for proper morning snuggling.

Their unlikely friendship had grown until Bones returned to Georgia. Jim immediately realized how much he missed McCoy, and they had started e-mailing and texting often. When Jim announced that he would be in Atlanta, sparks had flown when they saw each other again. Bones's bitterness had dissolved enough to let something fragile grow between them.

The next few months, they talked every day, on the phone and via webcam.

Now, it was all gone.

And Jim would be damned if he would let the government steal his Bones. His cell phone rang; he puzzled over the unfamiliar number before answering. "Kirk here."

"Mr. Kirk, my name is Pavel Chekov. And I vould like to help you find Doctor McCoy."

To be continued ...