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Saturday, July 16th, 2011 00:55
Title: Stars From Night, Sun From Day
Author: [livejournal.com profile] bandearg_rois 
Warnings: unabashed schmoop, lots of angst (reflects my mood, which is really sad...), and some pretty bad (not graphic, at least not too graphic) descriptions of captivity, and everyone being just a little OOC (if you squint, I mean)
Summary: Can miles truly separate you from those you love? Evidently, they can (especially if they have help).
Author's Note: Parts of this began as a comment-fic for these DCDD pictures over at [livejournal.com profile] jim_and_bones  (join to see the pretty!) and I'm expanding, adding, and removing some things as it suits me... I haven't been feeling good, which means I should probably go out and do something productive, but I'm writing this instead. Unbetaed, enjoy!

Prologue: The Dawn

"...You're not going, Bones. That's it." Jim's voice had the ring of command to it, but Len couldn't let it go at that. There was no way he ever could have, and he knew that Jim was quite aware of this fact, and he was also aware that they hadn't had a good fight in nigh on three months, which was probably the reason he was being refused passage.

"You can take your 'that's it' and shove it where the light doesn't shine, Captain," he said softly, feeling the true anger creeping into him as it rarely did anymore. "Because I'm not talking to the Captain right now, I'm talking to Jim, and I'd prefer to get a true answer from you."

"Is that what you think? That you can separate me from my rank? I know you don't like the chain of command, Bones, but I never thought you were stupid." Len reeled; his lover had never called him stupid, ever, and to hear it now, in something that meant so little hurt more than he cared to think on.

"I don't give a good goddamn about what you think of me, Captain. There's a sick person on that planet, and I'm going to see to it that I'm there to treat them. And as CMO, I can countermand your order to keep me on the ship with my Medical Override. You realize that right?"

"Bones... At least wait until the third group. I want to make sure everything's copacetic down there before I bring in extraneous personnel." Len was pretty sure Jim hadn't meant it to come out as it did, and that the wording was simply poorly thought out, if it was thought out at all, but that anger that had crept in turned into a burning roar at the word 'extraneous'.

"Extraneous?!" he said, raising an eyebrow. "So I'm no longer essential? As CMO, I'm no longer an essential member of this ship? As your lover I'm extraneous? If this is supposed to be some roundabout way of protecting me, let me just tell you that it didn't work. It just pissed me off." He turned, glad that he had thought to have this argument after the meeting but before the first group went down. "If you'll excuse me, Captain, I've got tongue depressors to count." Without waiting for a dismissal he strode from the conference room, his anger settling around him like a cloak, fuzzing his perceptions and dictating his actions as he completely ignored Jim's attempts to catch up, choosing instead to get into the turbo-lift, watching with a sort of grim satisfaction as Jim's face disappeared behind the closing doors.

Instead of going to Sickbay as he'd hinted he would, he went to the tertiary transporter room, his anger overriding his normal fear of the machine. After idly studying the topography of the planet, he gave the technician a set of coordinates and a glare hot enough to melt steel to forestall questions. The frightened technician, not used to dealing with him at his normalcy, let alone at his angriest, quickly input the numbers and away he went. He just needed a place to think, to figure out why he and Jim couldn't come to a happy medium between Captain-and-Doctor and Jim-and-Bones.

What he didn't expect was to be attacked a few minutes after he appeared, by locals who were clearly not of the same mind as those they would be negotiating with soon enough. He fought as hard as he could, but eventually, he was taken out by a blow to the head, and knew no more.

Sun From Day 

Jim watched Bones storm off with mingled irritation and frustration, along with the ever-present lust that always ran just below the surface no matter his dealings with the Southern man. When Bones disappeared into the turbo-lift, he decided to give him time to cool off, and to cool off a little himself before it was time to go be an ambassador of the Federation. Again. He headed for his quarters, intent on settling with a book for the half-hour until beam-down.

Thirty minutes later, he met with Spock and the other members of the preliminary team at the main transporter room, but before he could give the order to beam out, an out-of-breath ensign came rushing in, calling his name in between labored breaths.

"Calm down, Ensign, breathe, and then speak," he said, stepping off the pad.

"Captain... It's Dr. McCoy," the woman finally got out, once her breathing leveled out a little. "He... He demanded beam-down 20 minutes ago, and told me not to tell anyone.... told me to pick him up after 15... and he's gone!"

"Gone? Gone how?" Jim felt an icy hand grip his heart and squeeze, nearly unaware of Spock's hand on his shoulder.

"I can't get a lock on him... Nothing at all, sir... I'm so sorry!" The ensign was nearly in tears, and Jim knew exactly how she felt. Bones was alone on that planet... Maybe he had just turned off his comm, still too angry to return to the ship, but that didn't sit well with Jim's instincts that were screaming 'WRONG' at him in blaring neon sounds (how sound had a color he couldn't begin to speculate, but that had always been the way he'd felt it). The ensign gave the original coordinates to Scotty, who cursed fluently in Gaelic, making that hand squeeze just that little bit tighter.

There's a storm, Cap'n," he finally said. "It's not safe enough to beam you there right now. We'll have to wait until it clears." Jim thought seriously about punching the Scotsman, but that would give him nothing but bruised knuckles and an unconscious Chief Engineer, so he growled ineffectually and pushed the comm button with rather more force than was needed to connect it to the Bridge.

"Kirk to Bridge. Uhura, I need you to convey our apologies for our tardiness, and inform our hosts that one of our own is missing on their planet. See if you can get any assistance from them."

"Sir, who's missing?"

"McCoy," he bit out, and could almost feel the flinch through the comm system. Calming himself with a herculean effort, he continued. "Make the apology sincere and the plea even more so. We can't last long without our CMO." He barely heard her startled acquiescence before releasing the button and growling, thinking about punching something despite himself. Bones was gone, and it was his fault... If he hadn't insisted, used his position to keep his lover safe instead of seeing the reason in his CMO's words, they wouldn't be in this position. He really just wanted to go to the gym and break a few bags, but he couldn't. He was Captain, and the Captain had to objective. He pushed his irritation and worry to the side.

"How long before the storm ends, Scotty? If you can't tell me, get with Meteorology and get me a timeline. I need the information five minutes ago, understood?"

"A-Aye, Cap'n." And Jim settled down to wait, patience never having been one of his better traits.

He looked at the ground with poorly veiled frustration, wishing that he was seeing something, anything other than what his eyes were telling him. Bones was gone. The residual traces of blood on the soil, the shattered remains of the Federation communicator, still there even after the hard rain that that had kept them from starting their search, were like screaming beacons for his imagination, inviting images that made him want to turn and throw up, to curl up in a ball, imagining the worst possible scenario.

"Jim." Spock's voice was a hard shock, jarring him from the images of blood and pain that were flooding him. He looked up at his First Officer, absently noting the almost-flinch that settled through the tall Vulcanoid man. "We have a direction. They did not remove his life-signs' detector. He is alive, Jim. Alive." The words washed over him and he realized that he was most probably in shock as the world began to fade in and out around him, Spock's voice taking on the quality of a bad communicator connection as his name was repeatedly called, before everything just fuzzed like snow on an old-fashioned television and he lost even the impression of consciousness. Bones was gone. Bones was alive. But he was gone.

Stars From Night

Len looked around as he came to for the third time, the sour taste in his mouth proving that he'd finally had to be knocked out by his abductors, and the plain white shirt reflecting the fact that he was now firmly a prisoner. He could hear others, on either side of him, but they were behind a wall, and all he could see was the strange sight of a single moon outside the barred window, reminding him that while he wasn't on Earth, this planet was very close to his home world, a startling realization that both comforted and disconcerted him.

The moon looked newly risen, which told him almost nothing. He'd been taken early in the morning, under a cloudy sky that promised a healthy rainfall later, and while he'd fought back, four against one weren't good odds, specially for a country doctor who had decided he needed to be off by himself after a stupid fight with his lover.

God, Jim. Who knew what this was doing to him? Len felt heart-sick, knowing how Jim would be blaming himself for this, and not even thinking about the fact that Len was a hot-headed idiot who had chosen the most remote area of an unknown planet to sulk in. But now... Now he was here, and he didn't know where Jim was, or even really where here was. His day had started out shitty, and didn't look like it was getting better any time soon. Jim, he thought, looking up at that moon. I miss you, I'm sorry. Forgive me, come get me. I love you.

A few hours (it could have been minutes, his comm had been destroyed in the initial attack) later, the door to the small room opened, and he looked upon a female of the local homid species, who gestured to him silently. Having no real reason to refuse her and no leverage with which to do so, he stood, wincing and biting back the sounds of pain that were caused by the various wounds he'd received in transit. Moving had exacerbated them, and he could feel a few that had scabbed breaking open to bleed sluggishly.

He thought he detected a bit of sympathy form the female, but his empathy had never been much over average levels and so he couldn't be sure. She silently led him down hallway after hallway, all of them lined with doors that probably led to rooms much like the one he'd been kept in, and he tried and failed to keep his sense of direction, meaning that even were he to break away from her, he'd have no idea where to go. The trek ended in front of a slightly larger door that worked more like doors he was used to, hissing open near-silently to reveal a slightly out-of-date medical area.

She pointed to a table and pushed a button next to the main door, which closed it and locked it, if the yellow light going to purple above it meant what he thought it did. He settled on the table as best he could and watched her disappear through another door, one that matched the rest of the facility in that it swung open and closed rather than sliding. When she reappeared, she was not alone; a male followed her, both of them garbed in scrubs and pulling some sort of protective gloves that didn't look anything like anything he'd ever seen on over their four-fingered hands.

He was silently but gently pressed back to lie flat on the table, and he did so, only because they didn't look like they wanted to hurt him; from what he knew of the species, their facial expressions meant much the same things as Human facial expressions did, and he read no malice or scientific curiosity from the set of their faces. When they started silently healing his wounds, he was pleasantly surprised to realize that their instruments, while like nothing any planet in the Federation used, were more than up to the job of healing cuts and bruises and cracked bones. Once they finished, he was given a fresh shirt and pants, and they left him to get redressed. He slipped the life-signs detector from where he'd hidden it under his tongue into the hole in the waistband of his pants where the drawstring came out, and settled in to wait.

He didn't have to wait long.

(Part 2)