Bones woke up with a heavy head and a vague recollection of what had happened. Vague, at best. Everything seemed a little fuzzy, and that wasn't improved when he opened his eyes to find his vision wasn't exactly clear either. He squinted and hoped that it would improve, that it was just the way he'd been laying and not aftereffects of whatever drug had been used to knock them out, but he didn't have high hopes.

He sat upright much too quickly when he realized he didn't hear the smartass comments from the Enterprise captain. His head throbbed from the rough reminder that yes, he had been drugged, and it was still in his system. So he was a little more careful when he began looking around the small space for Jim, taking in the details of the nondescript, cold dark red room. He assumed it was some type of native concrete, and desperately hoped there weren't any nasty side effects. He'd heard tell of some species that used radioactive elements in building because they were completely immune, and worse stories of men and women suffering through prolonged exposure.

There was no reason to think too much about it. Either it would happen, or it wouldn't. He wanted to get them out of this place no matter what the situation or elements they used in building. If this was an enemy of Starfleet, Kirk was most certainly in danger. He'd gained quite the reputation for himself, and that made him a perfect target for anyone attempting to strike a blow at the Federation.

If this was just a native people who didn't like intruders, they were still in danger. He wasn't sure why he bothered thinking through things. Clearly he was locked up, and that wasn't how one started friendly conversations.

When his head had stopped pounding, he slowly rose to his feet and took slow, careful steps toward what appeared to be the only opening in the cell. It was a huge door, much taller than the average in human terms, which either meant it was a scare tactic or this race actually was substantially taller than Kirk and Bones. That could go one of two ways, in regards to their escape plan: they would be able to slip into places and escape their captors, or they were hopelessly outmatched. Bones assumed the latter, even though he wanted to be an optimist. It was Kirk's job to counterbalance his realist tendencies.

He took several minutes to examine the door, hoping against hope that there was some way he could get it open, something that had been overlooked by the natives that he could take advantage of. But push, shove, and scrabble for hold as he might, there was no movement at all, no handle or crack he could use. And when he'd figured that out, he let himself start to pace. He assumed that it helped the thought process, because he'd seen so many of the commanding officers do so when they had a problem they had to face. But it didn't help the doctor.

"Damn it, tell me what's going on!" He yelled, his whole body tense as he stared at the door and waited for an answer. None was forthcoming. He paced a few more times, perhaps hoping the magic would start to work, before he sat back down and closed his eyes. No point wasting energy, he was going to need it. He just hoped that Jim was alright, wherever he was.

Kirk blinked several times, assuming his head was still swimming from the allergic reaction. He didn't remember what had happened after that, which was probably problematic, but he had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

Literally, bigger things. The man – he assumed man – was much the same anatomically as humans. The same basic structure, and apparently the same senses. The differences were in the length of the incredibly thin fingers, the size of the eyes, and the height. This guy had to be at least eight feet tall, and that was probably a little short of the truth.

The alien had been there when he'd woken, staring at him as if expecting him to jump up and do something interesting. And after Kirk had blinked fifty times to make sure it wasn't just the reaction getting to him, the stare remained.

He tried to hold off on the smart ass comments, but there was no stopping James Kirk when in an awkward, out-of-his-control situation. "I take it there's no complimentary breakfast, then."

Apparently his speech scared the creature, because it backed away from the captain and his eyes, if it was possible, grew even wider.

"Listen, I'm all for the freaky stuff, but I usually need a date first-"

He stopped speaking when the alien suddenly and very quickly put his face next to Jim's, staring into the very blue eyes that Jim had been secretly proud of his whole life. Mostly because of their ability to pull in the women.

There was a series of clicks, and Jim groaned inwardly. Great. Another alien species that spoke entirely in a series of slightly different clicks. So there was absolutely no hope of communicating. How cliché. How utterly annoying. And how entirely pointless that made any attempt at trying to talk his way out.

"So. Can't tell me your evil plot then. Disappointing."

After a few more moments of being entirely too close to the alien, because he backed up and looked at an alien almost identical except in eye color standing near the door. While the one standing closer than anyone should was wearing a plain black, one piece jumpsuit, the one by the door had what appeared to be a type of gray jacket fastened at the neck, with a pale blue jumpsuit beneath. The eye colors matched the clothes, and Jim wondered if that was something to do with why they wore the colors. Maybe the eye color changed dependent on the clothing or other surroundings. Now wasn't exactly the time to speculate, and he assumed Bones would be doing the same thing, much more successfully.

The two aliens got close, holding what appeared to be a tricorder between them and clicking at each other. Then the one in black returned to Kirk and what appeared to be a smile stretched his face. "We wouldn't tell you our 'evil plot' if we had one." The voice was very deep, difficult to understand, and the shock of hearing it come so easily and clearly out of a mouth he had assumed couldn't form human language made it even more difficult. So it was a few seconds before he found his voice, and even then it wasn't the impressive speech the captain was used to giving.

"Uh... yeah, it's usually a dumb move."

"Indeed."

There was a moment of silence in which they stared at each other. Jim had no way of knowing what was going on in their heads, nor what they planned on doing.

"Where's McCoy?" He asked, finally breaking the silence when he knew he had to ask. He had to try. He doubted they would be forthcoming with the information, but if he didn't ask he would regret it.

He wasn't surprised when his question was met only with a blank look, no answer to be had. When he tried to clarify, recognition sparked behind the alien eyes before it was gone, and there was still the silence bursting with knowledge that Kirk wouldn't get to know.

They left without saying anymore, although Jim suspected that the guard had done a full body scan while he'd been demanding to know McCoy's location, and he didn't feel at all comfortable about that. But there was little he could do once the door at closed behind them, and truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted to do anything. He still felt weak from the reaction he'd had, and the subsequent drug in his system hadn't helped him to recover at all. His body felt sluggish and less than peak condition, but he did his best not to let that show. Whatever was going to happen, he would be strong. That's what he'd always had to do, to be, and he wouldn't let a little kidnapping by aliens get to him.

The captain wasn't sure if it was hours or days when the door opened again.

McCoy had begun to wonder if they had forgotten about him. He had assumed he would be faced with his captors early, in the hopes that they could intimidate him or coerce him into giving them knowledge. He had been fully prepared to deny them if they caused him physical pain. He had been slightly less prepared to continue denying them if they caused Jim physical pain, but there was only so much he could watch his friend go through. He'd decided there was little he could do to make further preparation, and so he had allowed his mind to wander as he waited.

It was a long wait, and soon he was up and pacing again, despite his resolve to save his energy. He was starting to understand why pacing was such a common trait in commanding officers. He couldn't sit still and do nothing, not when someone could be in danger. Usually, he wasn't aware of the danger, at least in its totality, until he received patients, and by that point there was something he could do. And if there wasn't anything he could do, he at least could sit by and help whoever it was pass peacefully into whatever came after this life. There was a reason for him to be still, something for him to focus on that was real and concrete. This dealing with the abstract, with something that he couldn't deal with in a tangible way, was worse. There was a reason he'd never wanted his own vessel, why he'd chosen to go into and remain in medicine. This was just reinforcing that, but also reinforcing a policy he would put into place once they escaped this place: get hurt on a mission, and you'd best beam yourself back up to the ship to get medical attention, because Bones was never going on world again. This was not his job.

He sighed heavily. He knew that was a lie, but it made him feel a little better anyway, planning for a future that didn't involve rotting in a cell.

When he finally heard the door open, he pressed himself against the far corner so he would have more time to observe their captors and understand how best to get away from them. He was immediately disappointed when he learned that they really were as tall as the door had suggested. He hadn't realized how much he was hoping for the intimidation technique, but he supposed that would be completely eliminated once they showed themselves.

He surveyed the gray skin, the large eyes of shades matching their uniforms, the height and the disproportionate fingers.

Nope, he'd never studied them in any of his courses or readings.

Fuck.

But he still did his best to learn what their weaknesses were, whether he would be able to use any of his expansive medical knowledge to incapacitate them in some way. He didn't come up with anything before he felt his upper arm wrapped in a vice grip and he was hauled out of the cell. The fact that he was digging his heals into the ground and struggling against the pull didn't seem to even mildly inconvenience them, and soon he gave up in the hopes that he wouldn't waste any more energy on the pointless struggle.

The hallway beyond his cell was the same dark red, the same hard material. He noticed several doors that were similar, but without windows he couldn't tell if anyone was being held in them. He also noted they were a fair number of them, and some had a decent amount of damage. He wondered if they often took captives. He was afraid to delve too deeply into why they required so many prisoners, and attempted to focus on the route they were taking. Perhaps it lead to an exit, or he would need to traverse it in the future.

There were many offshoots from this hallway, which appeared to be the main one. Bones stumbled to his knees as the alien stopped suddenly, raising a free hand and slowly sliding one finger down the middle of the door. Some kind of advanced technology that recognized his biology, or a simple mechanism that triggered through touch? He didn't have a chance to explore it further before he was tossed inside, and immediately he heard the relieved voice of his captain.

"Well, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine?"

AN: Thanks for your lovely comments on the last chapter, and I hope you've enjoyed this one as well! I'm rather enjoying it this far!