A/N: This is the chapter that started me on the ABC idea, so I was pretty excited to write it. I hope y'all enjoy!

Kidnapping

In all honesty, as he was moved again, McCoy could practically hear himself ranting (lecturing) about the issue.

"There comes a time," he would address the Starfleet medical interns. "Where you will probably be captured."

He almost chuckled to himself picturing the surprise that would ripple across all of their faces. He couldn't see anything else that could distract him from that image.

"I'm talking about ship assignments, the danger that is present, and what it means for someone in your unique position. That is, someone who is licensed to practice medicine. Your skill as a doctor makes you valuable."

He was jostled suddenly and his back hit something hard. "Did you just drop me?" he blurted out on enraged instinct. His captors probably couldn't hear him, muffled as he was through the bag. He heard their clamor of voices before he was hoisted up again.

"So an enemy may capture you and force you to heal them: in that case, you follow the oaths you took. If a life needs saving, you save it. Not only is that why we all chose to study medicine, but it will also help keep you alive longer until rescue comes."

Though his rescuers were taking their sweet time. McCoy figured it'd been 3 or 4 days since he was plucked from his group to save the life of one of the insurgent leaders causing the trouble Starfleet was investigating. A bomb blast had taken out their own medic and forced them in a tight spot.

But the fella was coming along fine. McCoy had predicted a full recovery, as long as they kept up the antibiotic regiment he prescribed. While he sincerely hoped that this sudden change- being bagged and moved- meant they were returning him to his group, he doubted he was really that lucky.

He was dropped again- why did they have to keep doing that- when suddenly the bag opened. He blinked several times to adjust to the light. When the room came into focus he almost groaned.

It was a makeshift laboratory.

"You could be captured to heal the enemy. You could be captured to work for the enemy, developing whatever poisons or remedies they want. And sometimes, you're captured for both reasons."

"So Starfleet was right," he muttered, getting to his feet. "You are developing a bio-weapon." He really didn't like the looks of some of those compounds.

The leader of this faction, whose life he just saved, hobbled towards him on a crutch. "We are not so cruel, Doctor, and we do not expect you to be, either. Our… method… is to foster dependency, but we have yet to succeed in developing the cure."

"Right," McCoy replied dryly. "And so you want me to make heads or tails of it. Tell me: who gets this cure? Your supporters only?"

"Would it not be better to save some lives than lose all of them?" The leader leaned on his crutch as McCoy crossed his arms. "In the event of an accidental containment breach, the cure could still be released to counteract the agent."

Damn. Guy had him there. This was such an unsterile environment with hardly any proper quarantine measures… even an accidentally dropped vial could shatter and release who-knew-what.

The leader stepped closer, misinterpreting his silence. "Or, if you need further incentive, we could inject you first."

"No need for that," McCoy said curtly. He walked towards the lab tables. "If you don't have sterile fields then I'm gonna need gloves."

They gave him some, and then locked him in the lab with a guard at all times. McCoy ignored him; he'd worked under guard before. The threat of their bio-weapon was real, and McCoy was in a position to take it down. Something about its creation seemed… obviously makeshift.

It was a day later when he found a compound that destabilized the weapon, breaking it up into its individually harmless components. Jim and the others still had not appeared. Time was crunching.

"The real danger comes when you are perceived as no longer useful. Remember, you were captured to heal someone or work for them. Once your patient has healed, or died, or your work is complete, then why should your captors keep you around?"

"Well, Doctor?"

"I've made a breakthrough," McCoy explained. He held up his cure. "This destabilizes the bio-compound relatively easily, however it regroups in about 16 hours." There was no way this guy would actually stay for 16 hours to see if he was right or not. "Right now I'm working on figuring out how to keep it separated for good. Cure's no good if it's temporary."

The leader nodded. "It's still farther than our last scientist got. Clearly we picked well."

McCoy bristled but held his tongue. The leader just needed to buy that he needed more time, that he was still useful and not done yet.

"When it gets to that point, then it's your cue to leave."

It worked. McCoy was almost suspicious of how easily the guy trusted him, but, he did save his life despite technically being an enemy. He quickly got busy creating more compounds of the cure and shoved two vials in his pockets.

His guard was short, but stocky. McCoy's fingers were really itching for a hypo full of a sedative, but you make do with what you've got.

He sat down on a stool and started to wheeze.

"What's wrong?" his guard said sharply.

McCoy put a hand on his chest and tried to tug his shirt away from his throat. He made a choking sound.

"Doctor?" There was an edge of fear in the guard's voice… maybe he thought the bio-weapon was released.

McCoy tried to point a shaking finger at an open-top Erlenmeyer's flask. "Cl…co-ver…" He started to sway off the stool.

The guard crossed over and kept him from falling. Propping him up, he stepped towards the table to find something to put on top of the flask.

With the guard's back to him, McCoy sprang into action.

In all honesty, he hadn't given a second thought to a self-defense class he took years ago when he joined Starfleet. It wasn't until after his cordrazine incident when he was told he had taken out Lt. Kyle with some kind of karate/judo chop that he remembered he had even learned how to do that once upon a time. It's amazing how the brain stores knowledge.

And so, having brushed up on his technique, he dealt two quick blows to the guard's back then quickly scooped him up and rested him on the floor. McCoy checked both of his eyes, but they were rolled into the back of his head. He was out.

Grabbing the slimmest stylus from his instruments, he approached the door. Another almost-lost skill from his childhood: confronting locks.* It took him longer than he liked, but the guard thankfully remained unconscious. McCoy heard the click, turned the handle, and slipped out the door.

He wasn't sure if it was a warehouse or a full compound, but it was big, empty-looking, and patrols of insurgents seemed to be scarce. It was also dark… his sense of time was all off, apparently.

Luck was on his side for once- a broken window led him to ducking outside faster than finding the true entrance. He dashed out into the city and started running.

He had no idea where he was, but buildings across every planet eventually have similarities. He almost started laughing when he stumbled across a hospital. A hospital! Bright, busy, and with modern communications.

"Bones!" Jim practically shouted in his ear. "Where are you? Are you alright?"

"I'm in a hospital somewhere on-"

"You're in a HOSPITAL?!"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "I'm a doctor, Jim, it's a natural habitat. I'm okay, but we need to hurry. The insurgents might up their timetable on that bio-weapon now that I'm gone. I've got samples of the cure with me; I've already given one to the doctors here so they can start making more."

"Cure? Insurgents? Bio-weap- okay, Bones, we're on our way to your location. Just sit tight!"

"Hell no. I'll be in the same hospital, but I've got to go assist those doctors. See you when you get here."

*Extrapolated from "Wolf in the Fold". Kirk sends McCoy to go determine if a lock has been picked. McCoy replies that it's too close to tell... which means he has an eye for it. Is he a doctor or a lock-picker?