Special Agent Jase Davidson walked through Saint Pancras station. He blended perfectly into the crowd of London businessmen and women in the evening commute. But while they were all focused on their newspapers, iPhones, and coffees, he was carefully scanning the station. He had studied the blueprints multiple times, but there was no substitute for seeing it all in person. He needed to know all possible exits, hiding places, security weaknesses.

Instead of heading for the exit, he broke off from the crowd and headed away from the Underground platforms to the regular trains. His forged ticket fooled the guard to let him through the gate, and he stood at one of the empty platforms, presumably waiting for the next train.

A tiny part of him relaxed as all the pieces of his plan – and multiple backup plans – settled into place perfectly. When the train arrived, he stepped into the crowd leaving it and headed back towards the gate.

He came to a dead stop and quickly moved out of the flow of foot traffic. He stared across the platform at a conductor.

Jase knew he recognized the blond man, but he came up completely empty for a name. He subtly removed his mobile from his pocket and snapped a picture. He then merged back into the crowd and left the station. He walked back to his hotel room and made sure the room was secure before firing up his laptop. He easily hacked into the records of the train company and looked through their personnel until he found the man he was looking for: James T. Kirk. American, 25.

Within minutes, Jase had pulled up Kirk's driver's licenses in the UK and the US, passport, his criminal record, and his job history. He frowned. By all accounts, Jase had never run into the man before. Nothing about any of the records seemed to be forged. It was slightly unusual that the guy had moved around a lot in the past two years.

But Jase was never wrong; the guy had been familiar. Something wasn't right. And why am I suddenly craving Chinese food?

A video abruptly popped up on his screen. "Agent Davidson."

Jase nodded. "Agent Sulu."

"We noticed that you've been doing some off-mission research. Is there a problem?"

Jase hesitated for a second. "I noticed a man at the train station today; I would swear that I recognized him, but I can't find any evidence of it. Is there anything I should know?"

"He's not relevant to the mission. Ignore him."

"But I know that I –"

"You're mistaken. Stay focused, Davidson."

Jase held back a sigh. "Understood."

The video disappeared from his screen along with all the information he had pulled up on James Kirk.

Jase shook his head and began his final preparations for the next day.

Jim sighed as he pulled into the car park. He had another long night ahead of him, conducting the sleeper train up to Edinburgh. Even though Chekov kept feeding him any clues he found, Jim was starting to lose hope after two years of hunting.

Chekov had contacted him to explain what had happened, and how he wanted to make amends for his role in it. So, he and Jim began to work together to hunt for Bones. The kid was a genius, no doubt about it. He was able to hack into secret government files, places that agents had been assigned to. And he could get Jim the paperwork he needed to live and work anywhere. London was just another city on the list for Jim. He hoped fervently that it wouldn't be a dead end, but Chekov hadn't contacted him in a few days.

Damn it, Bones. Where the hell are you?

The backdoor to his car opened, and someone got in. He didn't have time to move before he felt cold metal against his neck.

"Keep your hands on the wheel," an American voice growled at him. "And keep facing forward."

Jim took a deep breath and held still. Part of him was almost glad; he had to be close to the trail if someone was threatening him.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"I just work here, man," Jim answered easily.

"Don't play with me. I know you, James Kirk. I know your face, but I don't know why. And I've got an important engagement tonight, so I can't afford to be distracted. Tell me who you are, and who you work for."

"Well, you already know my name. And I work for the rail. I don't know anything –"

"Bullshit."

Jim frowned, and his hands grew slightly slick on the steering wheel; this wasn't like any of the threats he had gotten before. "I don't know what else you want from me. I'm looking for a friend of mine." His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, but he couldn't get a clear look at the man behind him.

"A friend?"

Jim swallowed. "Yeah. Leonard McCoy. He was kidnapped by the United States government. My search led me here; I just work the rail to pay the bills."

There was a dark chuckle behind him. "Sounds like you like your conspiracy theories, kid."

"Whatever. I'm not armed, so are you gonna stop pointing that thing at me or –"

The window beside Jim exploded, and he ducked, trying to shield his face from the shards. Gunfire rang out, echoing in the car park.

"Fuck! Are you hit?"

Blood dripped into Jim's eyes as he felt something tugging on his seatbelt. "Wha – no, I'm …"

"Move over."

Jim's reactions felt sluggish as he was forcefully pushed into the passenger's seat. He felt a sharp prick in his arm and moaned.

"Shit. They dosed you. Hang on, kid."

Jim felt a little nauseous as the car lurched and veered. More gunfire erupted, closer this time. The stranger was shooting out the broken window. Jim clumsily wiped the blood from his brow and squinted. His observations were abruptly halted when the stranger gripped his neck and pushed him towards the floor.

"Stay down!"

Jim struggled to keep his breathing even as they sped on. He heard the window next to him shatter – outwards this time – and more gunshots. The car skidded to a stop and then sped off. Fresh air blew in through the open windows as Jim's vision started to darken.

"Kid, you with me? Kirk, can you hear me?"

"Bones …" Jim moaned as the floor of his car faded to black.

Jase pulled into the parking space behind the abandoned restaurant before gathering Kirk into his arms and carrying him inside. On any mission, he had at least a dozen safe houses all over the city, stocked with medical supplies, food, and weapons in case anything went south.

And boy, had it ever gone south.

I never should've done this, he scowled as he laid Jim on the metal counter in the kitchen. This is what happens when you go off-mission.

But his curiosity about Kirk had been piqued. He had wanted answers.

He carefully brushed the broken glass off of Kirk's clothes with gloved hands before grabbing surgical scissors and cutting his shirts off efficiently. The kid's chest, arms, and face were a mess of lacerations. None of them looked too serious. Jase was glad he had his medical training to fall back on.

He felt Kirk's pulse and confirmed that the dart he had pulled from him had been nothing more sinister than a sedative. He shucked his black overcoat, jacket, tie, leather gloves, and button down shirt before washing his hands carefully and snapping on latex gloves. He pulled out the appropriate tools and worked on carefully picking the glass out of Kirk. Hopefully, the sedative would keep him out for the duration.

A half hour later, he had cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged all but the worst of the cuts. The one on his chest needed stitches.

Kirk groaned.

Jase reached into his jacket and pulled out his handcuffs, snapping one around Kirk's left hand, and the other to the leg of the table. Never hurt to be cautious.

Kirk groaned again, and his brilliant blue eyes blinked open before widening almost comically. "Bones? Bones!"

Jase blinked. "What?"

"Bones, I can't believe I found you! I –" He frowned as he noticed his cuffed wrist. "What the hell, man? What's going on?"

"You … know me?" Jase ventured. Between conspiracy theories and spouting random words, he was starting to worry about the kid's sanity.

"Bones, you don't … you don't know who I am?" Kirk seemed to deflate a little and sagged back against the table.

"I know who you are, but I've never met you," Jase clarified.

"Shit," Kirk swore.

"I need to stitch you up. I got all of the glass out, and none of the cuts are that bad. But the one on your chest needs stitches."

"I didn't recognize your voice before; your accent's gone."

Jase shook his head and reached for the syringe of anesthetic. He stopped before injecting it.

Kirk looked up at him. "What?"

"You're … allergic." He stared at the syringe as if he had never seen it before. "How … how do I know that?"

"Because you know me, Bones."

"No, I don't!" Jase snapped. "And that's not my name!"

Kirk merely raised an eyebrow. "Then how did you know I'm allergic?"

Jase scowled and set aside the syringe of benzocaine. He rummaged around until he found a tube of topical lidocaine. "This won't be quite as good. Sorry about that."

"I'll manage," Kirk answered.

Jase tried to focus on the pale, muscled skin under his gloved hand as he worked. Then he realized that was almost as distracting.

"You know, the first time we met, you were stitching me up within a few hours. Guy came at me with a knife in a bar fight. After I stumbled home, you patched me up."

Jase shook his head. "If that had happened, I would remember. Stop trying to trick me."

"I'm not, Bo –"

"Jase. My name's Jase Davidson."

Kirk was quiet for a minute. "Call me Jim."

Jase picked up the scissors and cut off the tail of the thread.

Kirk pulled restlessly against the cuff. "I'm not going anywhere. Let me go?"

"No," Jase answered firmly. "I don't trust you." And yet, he had already jeopardized his entire career for the guy. He tried not to think about it; there had to be a way to put it all back together.

"Who was shooting at us?"

Jase shook his head as he wiped up any remaining blood from Kirk's skin. "I don't know yet. But I'll find out." He paused. "Is anyone after you?"

Kirk shrugged his right shoulder. "I get threatened sometimes, when I'm investigating. And one time, they grabbed me and … look, this is complicated." He eyed the holster and gun Jase was wearing over his white tank top. "So, you work for the government, right?"

Jase glared. "You don't need to know."

Kirk glared right back. "Hey, I'm the one they were shooting at and drugging. I think I have a right to know!"

Jase turned away as his mobile rang. "Davidson."

"Agent, there's been a misunderstanding. Are you still with Kirk?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"We were attempting to take him into custody. The agents didn't realize that you were in the vehicle. They're traveling to your location and will retrieve him. You can still make the train tonight."

Jase looked down at Kirk. "Ma'am, why is Kirk being detained?"

"That's not your mission, Davidson. You don't need to know."

"He says he knows me."

"He's delusional. Don't believe a word he says."

Kirk frowned. "She's telling you not to believe me, right? Jase, you need to listen to me. They've been lying to you. Your whole life is a lie!"

"Ma'am, I recognized Kirk. I know him from somewhere, but I can't find it in his file."

"Davidson, we're done here. Have Kirk ready for transport." The line went dead.

"Listen to me! You're Leonard McCoy. That's your real name. The government kidnapped you and brainwashed you. Whatever they told you about your past, it's not real. Was that Uhura?"

Jase's eyes widened as he set down the phone. "How did you –"

"I'm telling you the truth." He reached out and grabbed Jase's hand. "Please, believe me. They're coming, right? They're trying to separate us, because they don't want you to remember."

Jase pulled away. "Shut up."

"This isn't what you want! You're a doctor; you don't kill people. Do you ever feel like you were meant for something better than this?"

Jase froze, letting Jim's words sink in. He wasn't sure he trusted the kid, and it would definitely tank his career … but he needed answers. He tossed his phone into the trash before leaning down and unlocking the cuffs. "Damn it. Come on. We need to move. Now."

Jim grinned. "You won't regret this Bo – Jase."

Jase rolled his eyes and threw him a clean t-shirt. "I already do."

Jim let Bones – Jase, for now – drag him out of the restaurant and over to the nearest parked car. Jase pulled him out of sight and motioned for him to stay put. Jim was impressed as he watched Jase break into and hotwire the car in record time.

They both got into the car, and Jase took off like a bat out of hell.

Jim heard a click and noticed that Jase was keeping a small pistol aimed at him as he drove.

"Hey, look. Whatever else is happening, I don't want to hurt you. You don't need to –"

"I don't trust you, Kirk."

Jim sighed. "Where are your cuffs?"

Jase raised an eyebrow at him.

"You might need both hands. Give me your cuffs. I'm trying to get you to trust me."

After a moment, Jase holstered the gun, dug the cuffs out of his pocket and threw them to Jim.

Jim took them and locked his wrists together in front of him. "That better?"

Jase grunted in reply, driving them swiftly through the back alleys of London.

"I have proof, you know. I can show you what I've been working on."

"If we go back to your place, they'll be all over us."

Jim shook his head. "No, it's at Paddington station in a locker. I've got everything important there."

Jase huffed. "This whole thing's risky."

Jim grinned at him. "Hey, it wouldn't be fun otherwise, right?" When Jase didn't reply, he added, "Don't you want to know who you really are? An answer for all those little things that just don't add up? Like how you know my allergies, and I know that you hate to fly?"

Jase's gaze snapped over to him briefly. "You've been spying on me."

"Listen to yourself. Even if I had, how would I know that? I'm sure you don't show it. Also, you're a good enough operative to know when someone's following you."

He watched Jase turning over that information and wished he could just reach out and touch him. Nearly two and a half years was a long time.

"So … how do you know me?"

"We're friends."

"Just friends? You turned your whole life upside down looking for me."

"Okay, we're a little more than friends, but I didn't want to freak you out."

"How long did we know each other?"

"About six months."

"That's it?"

"It was enough," Jim said, a touch defensively.

"Then what happened?"

"You were moving from Georgia to Pennsylvania. I got a weird text message from you and then nothing. You were gone, as was all your stuff. But no moving company in the area did it. I looked everywhere; I got the police involved – nothing."

"How'd you know I didn't just run?"

"Because you wouldn't do that. And I was proved right. Two months later, I got grabbed by your friend Uhura. She told me – and showed me – what they had turned you into. Said they basically brainwashed you into a new person. Then they dropped me on my ass and threatened me if I kept looking. I stopped until I was sure they weren't watching anymore."

"It just doesn't … this doesn't make any damn sense. Are you sure you don't have me confused with someone else?"

"I'm positive. You're Leonard McCoy."

Jase was silent for a moment. "Then why do you call me Bones?"

"Because you're a doctor. And when I met you, you were newly divorced and said that all your ex had left you was your bones."

Jase jammed on the brakes, clutching his head in his hands.

"Jase?"

Jase groaned. "Nngh … my head – it's killing me."

Jim tried to stay calm. "Okay, try to just breathe. It might be that you're fighting whatever they used to brainwash you."

"J-J-Jocelyn … why is – who's that?"

Jim's heart started to pound. "That's your ex-wife's name. What else can you remember?"

"Your cut … the one I stitched up … it was over your eyebrow."

"Yes! See, you're remembering!"

Jase straightened up and shook his head. "No. It's not proof. You could just be telling me what I want to hear."

Jim swallowed hard. "I'd show you the scar, but you were too good. Okay, then let's go to the station and get the proof."

Jase nodded and avoided looking at Jim as they drove off.

"It's not good, ma'am. Davidson escaped with Kirk," Sulu reported.

"Has he remembered?"

"Hard to tell. But it seems likely that Kirk will try. What are the odds he'll succeed?"

"Uncertain." She sighed. "I should have called off his recruitment once we found about the new emotional attachment. Well, we're in too deep now. If we can salvage Davidson, we've got to try. Find them. I'll inform Pike."

Sulu didn't envy her. "Yes, ma'am."

Jase pulled into a parking spot and looked around. "Looks clear."

"Good. Uncuff me, and we'll get the stuff out of the locker."

Jase shook his head. "You're staying here. I can't easily protect you out there if we run into trouble." He got out of the car and reached back in, yanking Jim over to the driver's seat. He ignored his protests as he re-cuffed him to the steering wheel.

"You can't leave me here like this! Now I'm helpless! What am I supposed to if someone finds me?"

"Does anyone know about the locker?"

"No."

"Then they shouldn't be looking here yet. Tell me where the locker is. Do you have the key?"

Jim nodded and told him where to find the locker. "Key's in my pocket. I always keep it handy."

Jase reached down and fished in the pocket of Jim's jeans and firmly ignored the leer on the kid's face. "There's nothing there."

Jim smirked. "Other pocket."

Jase growled and searched the other pocket until his fingers closed around the small key.

"Was it good for you, Agent?"

Jase ignored him and slammed the car door shut, stomping off towards the station. He tried to push the feelings out of his mind – exasperation, excitement, lust … and something else startlingly familiar.

Jim squirmed impatiently. When it was clear that he couldn't get out of the cuffs, he tried to figure out if he could get the steering wheel off; he didn't want them to grab Bones again now that he finally had him back. He managed to find the bolts, but he would need tools to unscrew them.

He sat back; he was stuck. And I have to piss. Perfect.

Still, it was a minor inconvenience compared to finally finding Bones after all these years. I just hope I can get him back. All of him. He winced and looked down at the spot of blood on his shirt. Shit. Bones will kill me if I messed up his work.

Jim forced himself to relax, feeling the faint sting leftover from his wounds. It was probably a good thing that Bones had gone in alone. All of the cuts all over his face and arms probably would have drawn unwanted attention.

Jase tried to stay calm as he sorted through the papers and photos in the locker. He had pulled out picture after picture of himself with Jim. None of it felt familiar. It could have been photoshopped. Then he came across one picture of himself that Jim had obviously taken. He froze, staring at the face that had been circled in red in the background.

"Sulu?" he whispered.

Jase dropped everything as white hot pain ripped through his head. He clung onto the lockers to stay upright and forced himself to take a deep breath instead of vomiting.

"Jim, do you ever get the feeling that someone's watchin' you?"

Jim laughed easily. "Well, I get stalked by pretty girls from time to time." His smile faded. "Oh, you were serious. Bones, is everything okay?"

He forced an uneasy smile. "I think so. I'm probably just paranoid."

Jase shook his head as the locker in front of him came back into focus. It was starting to come back. He realized his hands were shaking as he gathered up everything from the locker and stuffed it into a plastic bag. Jim wasn't lying, he thought. There is something wrong with me. And Sulu and Uhura know about it.

He shut the locker and started walking back to the car park. He suddenly wanted to see Jim, be close to him.

I have to be careful, he told himself. I can't trust anyone. But … if Jim is telling the truth, the Agency will do anything to keep him away from me and keep me from learning the truth.

He quickened his pace and felt a measure of relief when he spotted blond hair in the stolen car. Jim grinned at him as his eyes took in the bag in his hand, and he realized after a moment that he was smiling back.

He unlocked the driver's door, leaned down, and kissed Jim's full mouth.

Jim made a noise of surprise but kissed back eagerly.

And it felt so right, the way they fit together, breathed together.

Jase pulled back, so he could look into those bright blue eyes that had gone slightly hazy.

"Bones …"

The moment was lost; Jase couldn't remember when Jim had christened him that, or when they had met. He shook his head. "I don't … I don't remember. I just …"

The handcuffs clacked as Jim moved reflexively to touch him but couldn't. "It's okay. Just take it slow. Things'll probably come back in bits and pieces. Don't force it."

Jase leaned down and unlocked the cuffs, and Jim climbed back over to the passenger's seat. He handed Jim the bag of pictures and papers and then got into the driver's seat. "It's late. I've got a place we can go."

Jim held out his wrists.

Jase shook his head. "I don't remember everything, but I trust you enough not to kill me."

Jim grinned. "All right. Let's go with that."

Jim's eyebrows went shooting up as he followed Jase into a swank hotel. "Nice."

Jase grunted in response, using a keycard to call the lift.

"Guess being a spy has its perks," Jim said, looking all around.

"Keep it down," Jase murmured. "Those cuts on your face draw enough attention."

Jim rolled his eyes as the lift doors opened. "Seriously? There's no one around." He looked nervously at the camera inside the lift. "Um, so I take it your bosses don't know where this place is?"

"The fewer people know where you are, the safer you are," Jase answered as he pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. "No one's following us yet. I'd be able to tell."

"And if they do?"

Jase shrugged. "We run like hell."

"Are we marked as traitors? Terrorists?"

Jase shook his head. "No one knows about this organization. Technically, I don't exist. So, at least we don't have to worry about Interpol trying to track us down." The lift came to a stop, and the doors opened smoothly.

Jim felt out of place in his borrowed t-shirt, wrinkled pants, and bloodied face. Luckily, no one was in the pristine hallway with its cream carpets and gilded mirrors. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when they finally stepped inside the suite. It was spacious with expensive furniture and a stunning view of the city.

Jase ignored Jim's gawking, picked up the phone, and ordered room service. He put down the phone with a puzzled look on his face.

"Everything okay?" Jim asked.

Jase nodded. "It's just … you're allergic to dairy. And walnuts."

Jim smiled in response. "Yeah."

"I keep remembering random things," Jase said, going to a cupboard and pulling out a handle of bourbon. "It's strange … like they don't quite fit into my life."

Jim stepped closer. "We'll figure it out. Can you remember anything else? What about your childhood?"

"I remember … it all seems so distant." He poured the bourbon into a glass and sipped it. "For all I know, those bastards took my whole past and rewrote it." Jase poured more bourbon.

Jim put his hand on top of the glass. "Maybe you shouldn't have more to drink while we're working on this." He kept his tone gentle; he was worried that Jase/Bones was going to snap at any moment. He had no idea what they had actually done to him to make him "forget."

Jase nodded and shoved the glass aside, pacing in front of the large window.

"Let's try working backwards," Jim suggested. "What were you doing when you saw me?"

Jase spared a moment to glare at him. "That's classified."

"So, you were on a mission."

"Listen, I remember the past two years absolutely clearly. All my missions, training, everything. They train us to remember everything."

"How did they recruit you?"

"Sulu approached me."

"Where?" Jim was relentless. He hoped that if he poked enough holes in the "constructed" memories, they would start to fall apart.

"At … a restaurant? No … wait. A bar."

"Where?"

"Los Angeles."

"How'd he find you?"

"He said they had been watching me."

"Well, that part's true."

Jase paced restlessly. "So the rest of it isn't? I mean, I saw fucking Sulu in the background of one of those pictures. What the hell happened, Jim?"

"Take it easy. I'm trying to figure out what lies they fed you, so we can –"

"No. I want to know what really happened. Tell me."

Jim sighed. "Let's try this. You tell me your version of your story. Then I'll tell you mine."

Jase nodded and sat down at the large desk, pulling out his laptop.

Jim's eyes widened at how quickly he accessed information. He came to stand right behind the chair and stared at the screen.

A birth certificate popped up. "Starting at the beginning. Jason Davidson born 1981 in Danbury, Connecticut to Robert and Elizabeth Davidson." He pulled up what looked to be yearbook photos but then stopped and went back to the birth certificate.

"What's wrong?" Jim asked.

Jase leaned forward and stared at the screen. "This has been altered. See? Look at the way those lines don't quite match up …" He zoomed in to look at the individual pixels. "Damn it, I know how to do this shit. And someone did it to me!"

"Jase –"

He shook his head and started madly clicking through yearbook photos, school records, and medical records. "Goddamnit! Jim, there's no story to tell here, because these are all fake!"

"Can you remember your childhood?"

"Faintly … like … everything's just snapshots."

"What did the kitchen smell like in your childhood home?"

Jase finally turned to face him. "What?"

"What was your favorite dish your mom or dad used to make? What did it smell like? Tell me something I wouldn't be able to find in a picture."

"I … I don't know. Good God, I can't even remember what I liked to do as a kid … what color my bike was …"

"Okay, just try to stay calm –"

"Damn it, I'm not going to stay calm! My whole life is a lie!" He stood up and resumed pacing in front of the window. "Everything's falling apart … there are so many gaps in my memory."

"I don't imagine you've had a lot of time to stop and think about it. That's how their program works. You don't examine your life; you just accept it."

Jase stood still. "How do I know you're gonna tell me the truth, Jim?"

Jim filed through his papers and handed one to Jase. "Here, this is a notarized copy of your real birth certificate."

Jase took it and studied it. "Leonard McCoy. What the hell kind of middle name is Horatio?"

Jim chuckled. "It's a good, Shakespearean name. Besides, I've got you beat."

"Tiberius."

Jim blinked. "You remember –"

"No. I read it when I looked up your info." He handed the paper back to Jim. "It looks authentic, but I can't remember my parents."

"Okay, one thing at a time. Let's try something a little different." Jim sifted through the pile and produced a Ziploc bag with a thin square inside it. He handed it to Jase.

"What's that?"

"Open it up, and you tell me."

Jase examined the square. "Fabric. Looks like a piece of a quilt."

"Open it and inhale."

Jase raised an eyebrow.

"Smell is the strongest sense tied to memory." Jim held his breath as he watched Jase open the bag and take out the square of fabric, turned it over a few times and then held it close and sniffed carefully.

Jase's hazel eyes slipped closed. "Gram …"

Yes, Jim thought, slowly letting out the breath he was holding.

When the man across from him opened his eyes and glared, it wasn't Jase. It was Bones with a look Jim knew all too well. "Did you take scissors to my Gram's quilt, Jim?"

Southern drawl and all, Jim thought smugly. "Your mother allowed me to take one square when I explained the situation – or tried to. I managed to convince them that this would help, and I was right."

Jase shook his head. "What the hell? I …" He dropped the fabric and took a few wobbly steps backwards.

Jim leapt forward. "Whoa, hang on –"

Jase's eyes flashed, and he shoved Jim back. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Jim stepped back and held up his hands. "Okay, take it easy. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to help."

Jase backed up against the window, holding both arms out in front of him. "Stay back!"

"I am," Jim said steadily. "I'll do whatever you want. Just … take it easy. I can't imagine what you're going through right now, but I only want to help you."

Jase let his hands drop a bit but remained firmly pressed back against the glass. "It's … trickling … like my memories were frozen, and they're startin' to thaw."

Jim tried not to smile at the Southern drawl creeping back into his voice. "Try to just let it happen. Don't force it; don't fight it."

"But … there's something else too. Whatever they programmed me to do … it's telling me to run."

"And go where?"

"Back to them. Like I'm … broken or sick and need them to fix it." He slowly slid down the window until he was sitting on the floor.

Jim crouched in front of him. "You're in control here. You don't have to do what they want you to. They kidnapped you and brainwashed you, and we're gonna fix it."

They both looked up at the knock on the door.

"That'll be room service. I'll get it."

"No," Jase said, standing and going to the door. "Stay back. Just in case." He motioned Jim to stay out of sight before answering the door and accepting the tray of food.

Jim's mouth watered at the smell since he hadn't eaten all day. He followed Jase as he set the tray down on the desk and started uncovering things. He paused before stuffing a role into his mouth. "Keep talking. Keep telling me what's going on."

Jase left the food untouched and sat down on the bed, running his hands through his hair. "Is it real, Jim? All these things I'm remembering?"

Jim swallowed. "Yeah. It's real." He picked up the other half of his roll and a stack of pictures from the desk. He sat down carefully next to Jase and handed him the pile. "Just go through them slowly. Don't panic if something doesn't look familiar."

Jase nodded and accepted the pictures. The first one was of Bones sitting at the window, sipping coffee. Jase squinted at it. "That … that's your place. In Allentown."

Jim grinned. "Yup. And ask me anything you want. I mean, it's probably better if you remember it yourself, but –"

"I … I told you off for snappin' pictures of me like a damn paparazzi."

"It was worth it. It's a good picture."

Jase continued going slowly through the pictures and was able to remember where most of them had been taken. Weekend trips, Jim's visits to Atlanta, random pictures Jim would take during the day and send to Bones on his phone.

"I complained that you were interruptin' my day," Jase said slowly, his drawl increasing. "But … I didn't – I liked it. It was nice to know … you were thinkin' about me."

Jim wanted to hug him. "I never stopped thinking about you. That's why I kept searching for you."

When they had finished the pile of pictures, Jim brought plates over to the bed, and they ate in silence.

Jim was just eating his last French fry, when Bones commented, "I remember them taking me."

Jim nearly choked on said fry but managed to get it down as Bones thumped him on the back. "What happened?"

"I thought they were the movers; they had a van and everything. Then they grabbed me and drugged me. I don't know where they took me. But Uhura and Sulu were there, and they told me what was going to happen. I tried to refuse, but they ignored me." He stood, hands clenching to fists. "And then they fucking erased my life!"

Jim got to his feet. "I know, Bones. But we can go public –"

"We can't. They've got contingencies for that. They'll just reprogram me and dump you in a mental institution."

"Okay. So, we run. We keep moving. We don't let them find us." Slowly, he reached out and closed his fingers around Bones's wrist. "I'm not gonna lose you again."

Bones turned to face him. "Jim … are you sure? Do you know what you'd be giving up?"

Jim chuckled. "Don't you see, Bones? I already did. You read my file. I packed up my life and went hunting for you."

"You said they tried to stop you."

Jim nodded. "They showed me what they'd done to you; thought it might give me closure."

Bones gripped Jim's hand and pulled him closer. "They hurt you?"

Jim shrugged. "I've had worse."

"I could have killed you. Sitting in that car at the station. I had no idea who you were, or why you were familiar. Jesus, Jim, I had a loaded gun to your head."

Jim touched his fingertips to Bones's chin. "You were still in there, Bones. You wouldn't have shot me."

"How can you be so damn sure?"

Jim smirked. "I know."

"You don't know what they did to me. Hell, I don't know what they did to me."

"But I know you." He closed the gap between them and kissed him.

Bones went still for a moment before his hands drifted up Jim's arms, pulling him closer.

Jim pulled back a little. "How does that feel? Familiar?"

A small smile touched Bones's mouth. "New and familiar at the same time."

Jim grinned back. "Well, take all the time you want to 'remember,' Bones. I've been waiting two years just to see you again."

Leonard knew that Jim probably hadn't expected to be taken at his word. But Leonard was nothing if not methodical. He pushed Jim back onto the bed and kissed him again, letting just his fingertips skim down Jim's chest and under the hem of his shirt. He knew the idea was ridiculous, but it felt like he could actually feel synapses firing and making connections at every bit of skin he touched.

Jim made a soft purr of pleasure, moving to pull up his shirt.

Leonard shook his head and gently pushed Jim's hands away. He let his own hands wander over Jim's shirt, marveling at how familiar it did feel, and how he was starting to remember how it felt underneath the shirt, too. His fingers trembled slightly, as they stroked the sensitive spot on Jim's neck. "I can't remember it all, Jim. Some things are still … gone."

Jim's eyes fluttered open. "It's okay, Bones. Just take it one thing at a time."

Leonard nodded and leaned down to replace his fingers with his mouth, gently kissing at first and then sucking and licking until Jim arched and squirmed underneath him, moaning.

"Unh … you remember that I see," he gasped.

Leonard chuckled in the back of his throat, letting his fingers move back down to the hem of Jim's shirt and pulling it up. He detached his mouth from Jim's skin long enough to get the shirt off. He was about to settle himself back against Jim's neck, but Jim held stopped him and started pushing the rumpled white button-down off his shoulders. His eyes closed, and he shivered when Jim's fingertips drifted over his collarbone.

"I remember, too, Bones," Jim said.

Leonard could hear the smirk in his voice. He shied away when Jim touched the holster. He fought down the instinct to draw his gun and push Jim back.

"Bones?"

"Sorry –"

"No, don't be. Just tell me what you need, babe."

Leonard opened his eyes and gently pulled Jim's hands away before sitting up and unbuckling his holster. He emptied the magazine from the gun and checked the chamber before setting it all aside. "They're still – I'm still what they made me, Jim. I'm dangerous."

Jim sat up, wrapping his arms around his neck. "I don't care. We'll figure it out."

Thought blanked out when Jim kissed him ferociously, nipping at his lips and jaw, hands massaging his hips possessively. "Told you – not gonna lose you again. You're still Bones. They couldn't destroy that."

Leonard's arms wrapped around Jim's back, holding him close. The warning bells in his head quieted a bit as the memories of being with Jim drifted back to him. Little snatches of sounds, smells, tastes, and touches – Jim's terrible morning breath, his talented tongue on Leonard's cock, the taste of sweat that would pool around Jim's collarbone as they made love.

He wanted it all back.

Jim gave a short squawk as Leonard shoved him back down onto the bed and started undoing his jeans. "Bones –"

"Shut up, Jim." He covered those plush lips with his own as he shoved Jim's jeans and boxers down. Jim obliged him by kicking them the rest of the way off while Leonard sat up quickly and unbuckled his belt.

"Don't suppose spies carry lube in their back pockets," Jim teased as Leonard stood and stepped out of his pants and briefs.

"Nope. But I've got some other ideas." He shoved Jim back down and swallowed his erect cock in one go. Leonard moaned around it; none of this was strange or foreign to him. It was all real. This was his life. His lover. His Jim. He wrenched mewling sounds from Jim as he worked his shaft up and down with his lips and tongue. He pulled back and teased the slit with his tongue and bottom lip.

"FUCK! Bones!" Jim yelled.

Leonard grinned and leaned up to kiss him soundly. He gasped into Jim's mouth as a hot hand circled his length. Jim stroked him a few times and then gently urged Leonard forward, taking both their cocks in hand. Leonard groaned as he quickly became coated with his own saliva as Jim pumped them both. "Jim … fuck – how could I –"

"Shut up, Bones." Jim pulled him back down for a kiss. Leonard felt the heat coiled in his belly rapidly unraveling. He wrapped his hand around Jim's as they came together, spurting all over their fingers.

Leonard groaned and slowly lowered himself onto the bed beside Jim.

"That feel familiar at all?" Jim asked, licking their fingers. "Remember me now?"

"I remember you, Jim," Leonard answered with a wry smile. "How could I forget?"

To be continued ...