Chapter 7 And all I Needed was a Call that Never Came

Time is painfully slow when there's no way to mark its passage. Their captors aren't using the lights to simulate day and night, rather to keep their captives confused and on edge, by turning them on and off for different intervals. Leonard chooses to count the days by when their meals arrive. They get a thick mush at what Leonard's dubbed morning and some sort of pressed meat with something resembling bread at dinner. He's going to make Jim buy him an extravagant dinner every night of shore leave for every day he has to stomach this swill. So far he has six meals coming to him. And Jim better not forget the peach cobbler for dessert.

Day dreaming about improbable vacations is far better than his current company. Xanders hasn't breathed a word since Leonard convinced her to let go of Clark's body. He'd be concerned but there isn't a hell of a lot he can do given the circumstances and she's at least attempting to eat breakfast. Clark just stares accusingly at Leonard with his dead eyes from the corner Leonard placed the body; their captors unwilling to burden themselves with disposing of a corpse.

The girl is as much of a conversationalist as Xanders is. She cowers in one corner like a timid mouse, watching everything Leonard does with great hesitation. Leonard's fine to give her her space but it'd be nice to have a name for the face. The biggest interaction they've had is the rare occasion Leonard can coax her out of her corner with the promise of a piece of bread in an outstretched hand, like trying to feed a squirrel.

It leaves moral solely in Leonard's hands. Who is he kidding, he's no cheerleader. He misses Jim, who always has the right thing to say in these situations- or at least something to say to drive back the haunting lonely silence. He'd even settle for Spock's technical babble, Sulu's botany revelations or Chekov's exaggerated history lessons right now. All things that are getting further and further away with each passing day the Enterprise doesn't show up to rescue them.

They're still alive; Leonard has to hold on to that. He adds perspective to his list of things at his disposal and vows not to lose it. As long as they're breathing, Jim can find them; he can see his little girl again.

Day eight brings something new to Leonard's routine. Breakfast never comes and there seems to be more guards patrolling around the over head walkway. Leonard wonders how many cells they watch over and prays there aren't other members of the away team tucked away in them. Leonard's never been that luck and thus isn't overly hopeful. The ship also drops out of warp. It's not like there's a huge difference in the feeling of a ship as it travels from warp to impulse but when all you can do is sit there and stare at rusted walls, you notice the subtle change.

The door to the cell opens and two guards storm in with weapons drawn shouting in their native language. Leonard slowly rises to his feet with his hands raised in the air. "We don't have our translators anymore," he says slowly, careful to enunciate, like it will make a difference. Their captor were nice enough to take everything from them except the clothes on their backs. It's left them at a deadly disadvantage. "We can't understand you."

It's apparently the wrong thing to say, because one of the guards takes an aggressive step forward, screaming louder and jabbing his weapon towards them for emphasis. Their lack of comprehension doesn't seem to concern him considering the point is rather universal.

"We need our translators," insists Leonard, getting clocked in the head for his trouble. The impact of the hard metal butt of the weapon against his temple sends him crashing to ground.

The guard continues to yell, pointing towards the young girl who's scurried out of her corner to kneel on the ground in front of the other guard with her forehead pressed to the ground and her hands splayed above her head forming a triangle. The angry guard points towards the girl, raising his gun to hit Leonard again.

"Alright," snaps Leonard, "we get the point." Clearly they want them to follow the girl's lead. "Evelyn," says Leonard, nodding his head towards their example. He waits until Xanders has folded herself on the floor before he complies himself.

The guards use the submissive positions as an opportunity to shackle their hands and feet. At least they're nice enough to roughly pick the prisoners up and place them on their feet since the binds would make it almost impossible to accomplish alone. From there Leonard and company are marched out of their cell into a humid hallway, falling in line with other prisoners being marched out of their cells.

There are all sorts of species present; most Leonard can identify, some he cannot. Through the crowds of people he's able to zero in on the unmistakable red, blue and gold uniform tops of his people. Leonard breathes a sigh of relief. If they're walking they're alive and if others from the away team have to be here, at least they're alive.

The Enterprise captives all get corralled together, ushered down a long narrow hallway away from the crowded docking ring. No one speaks under the watchful eye of the guards but they share poignant glances between each other, filled with relief, exhaustion, terror and fear.

It doesn't take the universal translator to decipher the harsh shove from one the of guards- get in line, single file. Leonard capitulates because this is hardly the place or reason to start a fight. There's a group ahead of them, not a speices Leonard recognizes but they're all dressed the same so they must be another crew that fell victim too. Leonard watches as they're ushered through a series of scanners before being led out of the room.

"Blue shirt," says one of the guards, pushing Leonard forward onto the shiny glass floor of the scanner.

"Science or medical, might be of use," the translator chirps for the tech running the machine as he types in his notes on his PADD.

"Doctor," Leonard corrects as the scan begins. "CMO to be precise." It's more than just a boast about all his years of hard work and dedication, it's a clear and precise target that he is the highest ranking officer among his people here. Whatever these slavers' plans are, they start with Leonard.

The officer heeds Leonard little attention, focusing on the read out instead. "Healthy middle aged male," he reports, documenting the information.

Leonard could have told them that if anybody bothered to ask. He's not sure if his evaluation is in his favour or not, but it gets him yanked off of the scanner and shoved to the left side of the room where another officer is waiting with a long needle looking device in hand. Leonard's escort pushes him down onto an examination chair and holds his head in place. The officer jabs the device against Leonard's neck with a sharp prick and a rush of cold crawling under his skin. Leonard lifts his chained hands to rub at the sore spot. "Where'd you learn to practice medicine?" he bitches, while carefully watching the rest of his team make their way through the line. "You obviously missed the lesson on bedside manner."

Caroline Chen is next up on the scanner, looking shell shocked and a little green. Considering young Clark's fate, Leonard is relieved at her status.

"Also medical or science," reports the tech.

"She's a nurse," says Leonard, keeping an eye on Chen as they take a blood sample from him. If having medical training is seen as useful, then Leonard's damn well going to exult his team's virtues. Valuable or being problematic; If they're seen as a threat there won't be a reason to keep them alive and they all need to be alive when rescue arrives.

"Young female," notes the tech as the guard seizes the opportunity to slide his hand under her skirt as he moves her forward off the scanner.

"Hey!" barks Leonard, trying to take a step back towards the scanner to instil the lessons about how to treat a lady and keeping one's hands to themselves that these cretins' mothers never taught them.

The move earns Leonard a quick but effective blow to the head with the blunt end of a phaser rifle. The blow sends him to his knees, the room spinning and sound echoing as his head protests. He's on his way to a concussion if he hasn't earned one already.

"Doctor McCoy!" shouts John Brite, trying desperately to shove off his guards and aid Leonard.

Leonard raises his hands to halt Brite's efforts before the young engineer receives the same treatment. "It's fine Ensign," he says, getting to his feet awkwardly; the shackles limiting his uncoordinated movements. It's not; nothing about their situation is fine, but he doesn't need anyone getting hurt on his behalf. Apparently in Jim's absence, Leonard is more than willing to take on the roll of group punching bag. After they're rescued, he'll conduct a study on just how many brain cells are compromised compared to one's level of command because he's certainly not going to tell Jim he understands the compulsion to take the brunt of things to protect his subordinates. Jim doesn't need that kind of endorsement for the stupid stunts the kid pulls.

The guard grabs Leonard and shoves him further down the line to the next station; the rough handling doing nothing for his spinning head.

Brite is shoved onto the scanner. "Red shirt."

"Security or engineering. Could be dangerous or good for manual labour. Possible neutralization," notes the tech, before signalling the guard to haul Brite to the right side of the room

"He's an engineer," pants Leonard. "He's not a threat, he fixes things."

"Silence," sneers the Orion towering over Leonard. He lifts his phaser rifle to emphasise his threat.

"Take him away," says the tech, waving a dismissive hand in Brite's direction.

Panic starts to rise in Leonard. They have to stay together. Being separated could make them harder to find. Being separated means they can't look out for one another. They've already lost Clark, they can't lose anyone else.

"We're Starfleet officers, you can't…" protests Leonard. The guard backhands him hard enough he cuts his cheek on his teeth, filling his mouth with blood. Leonard got the point the first time, but sometimes his mouth has other ideas. So much for not being more trouble than he's worth.

"You are nothing now. You're only purpose is to please and serve your masters, either with service, labour or pleasures of the flash," snaps the tech running the operation.

Leonard sees the way the guards are eyeing Chen. "We won't," states Leonard simply in a low neutral tone. "There's still time to set us down on a planet somewhere and save yourselves a lot of effort." Not to mention an irate Captain with the backing of one of the best ships in the fleet.

"You will. They all do in the end," the tech corrects with a sickening smile as Leonard's hit with a bolt of electricity that brings him to his knees and the cold but welcoming embrace of darkness.

Jim thought losing Leonard was the hardest thing he'd go through. Getting him back broken, was harder. Explaining things to Joanna- even more so. Sitting in the observation room of Leonard's physical therapy session with Joanna as she sees just what those slavers left of her father for the first time- currently in first place. Jim's re-evaluating his definition of agony.

He wonders how much she actually knows; she's Leonard's daughter after all. Jim's picked up a few medical things from Leonard in the short time they've been friends. Can she tell that he's calm and docile during this session from the constant sedation that's marked by his glassy eyes and general listlessness. Does she know it's preferable to the screaming and panicking in a corner? Jim's had concerns about the liberal use of drugs, but today he's grateful for it.

Joanna took his hand about a minute after they sat down; just loosely entwined her small fingers with Jim's. She squeezes harder though as Leonard fumbles the small red ball. It bounces off the table in small little hops until it gets to the edge where the firm rubber takes its defining plunge, smacking the floor with a muted thud, instead of back to the therapist. It bounces along its new larger space, each hop getting smaller until it slowly rolls its way to the corner to rebound a few times against the wall before lying dead.

Leonard doesn't lift his head but he watches the ball out of the corner of his eye. It lays there, discarded and useless as the man dressed in pristine white plucks a shiny blue ball from his pocket and pushes it across the table to rest against Leonard's curled hand.

"His hand shakes," says Joanna, never taking her eyes off of her father. "It never used to shake."

"No," agrees Jim. Leonard had the steadiest hands in the fleet, the hands of a gifted surgeon. Now they shake and fumble like an old man unable to perform the simple task of rolling a ball back to his therapist.

"Maybe he would do better if he used his right hand," she says letting her head fall against Jim's shoulder.

Jim's brow creases. "What do you mean?"

"Daddy's right handed, like me. Mommy's the one who's left handed."

Jim wants to say Leonard's ambidextrous, requiring proficiency with both hands but as he thinks about it, outside of medical, Leonard is right handed. Except ever since his return, Leonard has been keeping his right hand curled and tucked close to his body. Every session Jim's watched, Leonard attempts the tasks with his left hand. He didn't really pay it any attention; since the therapists never prompt which hand to use, Jim just assumed like most people, Leonard would comply with his dominant hand. He plans on going over the medical evaluations tonight with a fine toothed comb. "I'll mention it next time."

Joanna sits quietly for awhile before asking, "Can we go in and talk to him?"

Jim licks his lips. Rock, meet an even harder place. He doesn't know if what they're doing now is even advisable for Joanna; walking in that room is a whole other ballgame. Leonard hasn't demonstrated any violent tendencies beyond fight or flight. Joanna is probably the least threatening out of everyone but after what happened with the Orion girl from the ship… Jim doesn't want to have to add Joanna watching Jim stun her father in front of her to his list of difficult decisions.

"He isn't really up to talking to people right now. There are a lot of new faces and it confuses him. But I promise when he gets settled, we can absolutely spend some time with him." Leonard actually hasn't said anything at all. He's been mute except incoherent whimpers and screams. A speech therapist is scheduled in Leonard's future but medical isn't exactly confident it will make a difference.

"You mean he's going to get to come home soon?" asks Joanna with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Jim chooses his words carefully. He's dropped enough bombs, he has to be subtle about this. "Your Dad's going to leave the hospital but he can't live in his home anymore. He can't be left alone there."

"Of course not. He'll live with you. You always take care of Daddy," says Joanna with all the certainty that the sun will rise in the East.

"It doesn't work like that, Jo."

"Why not? Where else will he live? Are you going to send him away?"

Leonard never warned Jim that those big sad green eyes could be so deadly. "He needs a place that has special nurses and doctors around and people to keep an eye on him. I'm working really hard to find the best place possible," he promises, even though he's been coming up empty so far. "I'm going to make sure you can visit your Daddy."

Jim's embarrassed at the rush of relief that floods him as he sees Jocelyn step off the shuttle onto the platform. It's not even like Joanna's a bad kid or a handful like Jim was at that age, it's just overwhelming to be responsible for someone that young and that important to his best friend. Jim doubts he's cut out for this long term and still can't figure out what Leonard was thinking. There's a dozen people on the Enterprise alone that would be better suited for this responsibility.

Jocelyn covers half the platform before catching sight of them, Joanna waving excitedly. She stops, waving her daughter over as she taps her foot in expectation.

Jim thought he would be subjected to a complete interrogation of the last four days but Joanna's report will probably be more revealing than anything Jim could attest to. There's a selfish part of him that wants to be found unfit, for Jocelyn to win the battle over a sweet little girl that can't possibly benefit from Jim's influence. Jim's not sure he'd be able to bring himself to look Leonard in the eye if he didn't pursue this with everything he has. Leonard may not even know he has a daughter anymore but Jim can't look at the man they brought back as anything other than his best friend.

Then there's another part that's been relieved to have Joanna around, not only for the distraction but because it's like having a little piece of Leonard back. It's also nice to be around another soul that understands, that feels the enormity of the loss in their soul the way that Jim does.

Joanna let's go of Jim's hand and he's amazed at how empty it feel.

"Thank you for having me, Uncle Jim," she says taking her backpack from Jim's other hand. The rest of her assorted luggage, this time less meticulously packed, is already loaded into baggage claim for her and Jocelyn's trip back to Georgia. "You'll probably want this back," she adds softly, in a sullen tone as she holds out Leonard's communicator.

Jim wraps his hands around hers as he kneels down in front of her. Gently he closes her fingers around the device. "Why don't you hold onto that for awhile," he suggests. It's probably not the best parenting move considering the trouble she's already found by keeping it, but Jim's never been the conventional type. Besides, giving Joanna a communicator, Leonard's to boot, without Jocelyn's approval is a little bit thrilling in an all hands on deck, red alert, kind of way. "If you need to get a hold of me you have a way. But that's all you use it for. No more breaking into secure files or pulling records, got it?" he adds tapping Joanna gently on the tip of her nose. "Just because you can doesn't mean you should."

"Okay," Joanna agrees with a big bright smile that makes all the stars in the night sky jealous. "I promise." She gives Jim a brief hug before running off to greet her mother.

Jim stands there and watches them leave. Then stands there a little longer. Home, which seems unappealing to start with, feels even lonelier now that Joanna won't be there. That leaves going to the hospital. Armed with his first lessons from Thai, Jim feels hesitant to walk in there and actually implement them.

Jim quietly stands beside Christine at the observation window overlooking one of the therapy rooms. Leonard doesn't have a session; the nurses bring him there for his meals. Leonard can't really navigate the ward dining hall and it's easier to clean up any messes here than in his room. Plus, Leonard's poor coordination makes using utensils difficult requiring a staff member to practically feed him. Except for tonight, where Leonard appears to be alone staring at his plate of dry cereal pieces that are at least manageable finger food.

"How was Joanna's visit?" asks Christine.

Jim doesn't have to look at Christine to know how tired she is. He can hear it in the tight restraint in her normally melodic voice. Besides him, Christine has been at Leonard's side the most, helping whenever possible in her spare time. Jim's thought about speaking to Pike about transferring Christine to Starfleet medical, giving her a position here so she doesn't have to pull duty shifts and then volunteer her time here. It's not his place to make that decision though and Christine's never asked about it. When the Enterprise leaves on its next mission, she'll go with it and Jim can't bring himself to clip those silver wings of freedom that comes with knowing there's an easy out from having to sit here and watch Leonard like this. Jim's actually a little envious of that option.

"It was good. She's gotten big," replies Jim.

"They do grow up fast. Probably faster than most considering."

Jim can't argue that. There's a certain weight that befalls kids when a parent dies. Even Jim who was barely a minute old when his father died in the line of duty feels it every moment of his life.

Leonard just sits at his table staring at the plate of cereal, never moving to touch any or noticing the audience of two gathered to watch him from up high.

"Has he eaten anything?" Jim asks after a couple of minutes.

Christine shakes her head. "No. He just stares at the plate. It's such a fight to feed him they thought he might do better if it was something he could eat on his own. I don't know if he just doesn't like it or doesn't know what to do with it."

Jim lets out a long breath. "Okay." He reaches out and places his hand on Christine's shoulder. "You should go home and get some sleep. I've got it from here."

Christine looks hesitant, shifting from foot to foot. Leaving always feels like giving up. Maybe that extra five minutes might make the difference between another bad day and a breakthrough? Professionally she knows it won't but when it's someone you care about and not just a patient, it gets harder to tell. "Alright, but I'll stop by tomorrow before my shift."

Jim slowly enters careful to limit the noise he makes as he sits down across from Leonard. "Hey, Leonard McCoy," he says softly. The words get tangled on his tongue; he can't remember ever really using Leonard's full name and certainly not in such a private setting. Bones just doesn't seem appropriate anymore, like Jim's trying to summon a ghost he's told will never appear. Thai suggested if Jim wanted to get away from always calling him McCoy, which feels just as foreign away from uniforms and the ship, Jim should pad it together with Leonard and slowly wean McCoy out of usage. "You going to eat that?"

Leonard just continues to stare at the plate like it will grow legs and run away if he blinks.

Jim chews on his lip. His stomach is turning and his blood is thrumming under his skin so bad his hands might start shaking. "Tappa I, McCoy," barks Jim as sternly as any Admiral set to dress him down. He's practiced the words, repeating them endlessly in the mirror; this is the first time they've come out convincingly though.

Leonard instantly straightens, glancing briefly at Jim in disbelief before rapidly fumbling cereal pieces into his mouth. More end up stuck to his left hand and on the floor, then actually make it into his mouth but he's eating- on his own.

Jim feels empty, like the simple command for Leonard to eat, hollowed him out, leaving a shell to watch the results. He provoked the desired effect but the words and tone to do it make him feel dirty. He gently pushes the glass of water closer to Leonard. "You should drink."

Leonard releases his current fist full of cereal, letting it fall to the table and reaches for the glass.

Jim's quick to grab Leonard's hand, gently but firm enough to pin it to the table. "With your right hand," he suggests, nodding towards the hand Leonard is keeping tucked under the table. "That one," he reinforces, pointing to clarify his direction.

Leonard frowns, like it's Jim that's being exceptionally difficult through all of this. Slowly he raises his right hand above the table. It shakes even more than his left hand does. He makes it about an inch away from the cup before letting his hand fall onto the table. With a gurgling grunt, he rips his left hand free of Jim's grip and makes a grab for the cup.

Leonard's fingers don't spread wide enough to capture the cup properly, colliding with the side and sending it wobbling along the bottom edge until it tips over spreading its contents across the table. The water drenches his sleeve and worse, spreads out across the table until it runs over the edge and into Jim's lap.

The reaction is instantaneous.

"Shit," says Jim as a cupful of cold water splashes into his lap, pushing his chair away from the table to try and escape the bulk of it.

Leonard seizes the opportunity to yank his left hand back with a guttural yelp. The motion knocks the plate to the floor- yet another mistake. With Jim momentarily distracted wiping at the water soaking his pants, Leonard dives under the table out of the line of fire hugging his knees to his chest to make the smallest target possible.

Jim huffs in frustration, frantically wiping at the water before it has a chance to soak into the material. When he looks up there's a Jackson Pollock of wet cereal spread across the table and no Leonard. He can hear Leonard's shaky breaths come from under the table. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. Shit indeed.

"Len- McCoy," pleads Jim, "can you come out?" He squats down near the table but not so close as to make Leonard feel cornered.

It takes a moment for Leonard to remember himself. He's displeased one of these masters. All he can do is hope they're benevolent enough to forgive his trespass by offering himself up. In an action that's as familiar as breathing he rolls onto his knees, leaning over until his forehead rests on the ground. He raises his arms, bending at the elbow to form a perfect triangle around his head, index fingers forming the point. His thumbs extend out meeting to form a smaller triangle just like his original master who was so gracious enough to teach him. Leonard was a poor student then but through dedication and unrelenting instruction he was made into the perfect servant. Hopefully he can regain that status here- if they would just tell him what they want.

"No we're not doing that," sighs Jim as he watches Leonard fold into the expected bowing position. This isn't an Orion slave compound and Jim isn't a task master. He needs Leonard to understand that most of all- this isn't that hell hole and Leonard will never be there again.

A high pitched whine answers Jim but Leonard doesn't move. "Okay," says Jim, more to himself than Leonard. He sits down cross-legged, clenching his teeth as his wet pants pull and rub tightly against his skin.

Leonard lifts his head slightly, just enough to steal a weary peek out from under his shaggy limp bangs but not so much as to break form.

"You're not in trouble," starts Jim. "That was completely my fault. Joanna just raised an interesting point and I wanted to see if …" Jim's voice falters as he realizes Leonard's raised his head slightly at the mention of Joanna. Eyes glued on Leonard to gage his reaction, Jim continues, hoping it's not a fluke. "Joanna stayed with me this weekend. Four whole days and she didn't get sick once. You'd be proud."

Leonard doesn't display anymore of a reaction but he watches Jim a bit more intently as he talks about Joanna.

"Jo's doing good I think. Grown about a foot in the last year. She misses you though. I'd like to bring her by once we find some place to get you more permanently settled." Silence is the only response but Jim's grown accustomed to it. It's another dagger in the heart. Just when he needs Leonard's council the most, it's been stolen from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you. No one here is. And I promise I won't let anyone harm you again," whispers Jim, because it needs to be said, even if Leonard can't understand. He extends his hand out toward Leonard. "What do you say we get you cleaned up?"

Punishment is usually swift and quick. Waiting usually means that whatever is coming is going to be far worse than anything issued before. Leonard tries to follow the rules but the familiar ones don't seem to apply to these people and they aren't good at conveying what they do expect but when they do, it conflicts with what his first master taught him. This new master seems content to wait but that could just given him time to think of something worse to teach Leonard what is expected here.

Waiting's never been helpful, so Leonard crawls out from under the table. Maybe someone will finally make it clear what they want from him. Then he'll know what to do again to keep everyone happy.

Jim takes Leonard by the elbow to help him to his feet without banging is head on the table, but lets go as Leonard flinches violently, pulling his arms and head in tight against his chest. Leonard stays still, extremities pulled in close like a dying spider with the soft yet ragged breaths that send sharp icicles plunging through Jim's heart. Jim's had people envy him, pity him, loath him, use him, been leery of him, lust after him and maybe even actually love him but no one's ever been genuinely afraid of him before. Jim tries to imagine what it's like to never feel safe, even at home with the friends he surrounds himself with and comes up woefully short of understanding.

Painfully slow seems to be the only setting that works with Leonard, so Jim waits. It gives Jim an excruciating amount of time to think and get lost in his own condemnation over the last year but it's not about him. Eventually Leonard loosens, until his arms are resting at his side as he steals brief glances at Jim from under the rough edge of his bangs. Cautiously, he starts to move forward on his knees.

Careful to keep his hands safely away, Jim directs Leonard to sit on the chair. There's bits of cereal and wet patches all over Leonard's shirt. "I'm just going to…" says Jim as he slowly begins picking off clumps and setting them in a pile on the table.

Leonard holds his breath every time Jim makes contact with his shirt only letting it out when Jim's hand is safely over the table. He's used to pain, pain is the ultimate sign that a master values their slave; that they're willing to coach their slave through their trespasses to be the best servant one can be. This master makes no moves to inflict pain. If anything his touch is exquisitely gentle almost loving without having been earned. Leonard doesn't know what he's done that's made him unworthy to these people that they think he can't be of value anymore.

Jim holds his breath too, just waiting for the next panicked reaction from Leonard. His fingers almost tremble in anticipation of it as he picks off all the crumbs. There isn't really anything to try and soak up the water but if his pants are any indication, being in wet clothes isn't exactly comfortable. Jim starts to roll up Leonard's right sleeve to try and wring out some of the water to help it dry faster. His hands still as his brain tries to make sense of what he's seeing.

As he peels back the wet fabric patches of skin give off an iridescent glow. "What the hell?" says Jim, rolling Leonard's sleeve up faster. The patches appear to form an intricate pattern of lines and shapes extending from Leonard's wrist all the way up his arm. The glow fades mere seconds after the skin is freed from the fabric returning to its normal flesh tone but now that Jim knows where to look he can see the subtle difference between the marked and unmarked skin. The marked skin seems lighter, like a vein of pale blue pearl running underneath the flesh. The design runs under Leonard's shirt disappearing far past his shoulder.

Jim checks Leonard's other arm but can't seem to find any sign of the same subtle marks, glowing or otherwise. "What the hell did they do to you?" Jim breathes.