Chapter Text
Bones is up and out of bed before Jim can do much more than roll on his back and give a low groan of satisfaction.
"Fuck," Jim tells the ceiling, in a feeble echo of his enthusiastic litany just seconds before. "Bones?"
"Gotta go to work." Bones pauses while buttoning his pants and bends over, ruffling a hand through Jim’s sweaty hair affectionately. "Get some sleep, okay?"
"Nooo," Jim complains, heaving himself onto his side and clutching at Bones’ shirt stubbornly when the man tries to put it on. "No, Bones, stay. Just a few minutes."
"I can’t," Bones says, but he sounds at least a little regretful when he pries his shirt out of Jim’s hand and pulls it on over his head. "I’m already behind on clinic hours, so if you still want to go on that vacation early….."
"Yeah," Jim says sullenly, watching Bones tuck in his shirt. Bones’ hair is still mussed and crazy from Jim’s hands knotting in it, and he suddenly has a vision of Bones’ head between his legs, his hair tickling the inside of Jim’s thighs as he suddenly tightens his hands on Jim’s ass and pulls him up-
"-dinner," he realizes Bones is saying, and he blinks up befuddledly. "What?"
Bones squints down at him, exasperation warring with amusement in his expression. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way back,” he says again, slicking his hair down with a smooth professionalism that Jim will never be able to imitate. “Okay?”
"Okay." Jim reaches out again and catches Bones’ wrist, tipping his face up and giving his best plaintive stare. "See you later?"
Bones looks up at him, his eyes softening, and leans over, planting a solid kiss against Jim’s temple. “See ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, and then he’s gone.
Jim dozes then, burrowing into the sheets that still smell like Bones, and when he wakes, the room is dark. It’s quiet, and he raises his head from the pillow, grimacing self-consciously at the trace of drool at the corner of his mouth. The chrono tells him it’s been a couple of hours, and the window’s black when he glances at it blearily.
"Bones?" he calls out, in case Bones is lurking somewhere, the bathroom maybe. "Hey, man, you here?" He swings his legs over the side of the bed and snags the first pair of underwear he sees, hanging over a lampshade where one of them threw it hours ago. He’s not sure who it belongs to, really, but he pulls them on anyway and goes in search of his pants.
He finds them flung, bizarrely, under the kitchen table, and he fishes his comm out of the back pocket. There aren’t any missed calls, and Jim frowns at the glowing screen. Bones doesn’t pick up on the first ring, like he usually does, or the fifth, which he always answers, and now Jim’s really worried.
He phones the hospital first and confirms that Bones left the clinic on time. “You’re sure? Did he look okay?” Jim asks, clutching the comm close to his ear.
"He looked fine. A little stressed, maybe, but you know. It’s not exactly new."
"Stressed?"
"Well, a bit more than usual. I haven’t seen his friend before, either."
Jim’s stomach drops, his hand tightening on the comm. “Friend?”
"He was waiting for Dr. McCoy in the lobby. I only remember because I offered to page the doctor, but he declined. A cadet, I think. Tall. Brown hair." There’s a thoughtful pause. "Looked pissed off, but I’m not one to judge."
"Did he leave a name?" Jim asks intently, mentally scanning through lists of acquaintances, enemies, participants of a bar brawl gone wrong. "His voice, what did it sound like?"
"Hey, I don’t know, man," the receptionist says defensively. "Dr. McCoy called him something, though, I think……Phil? Finn?"
Jim feels his heart stop for a single, agonizing second, and when he speaks again, he doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. “Finney? Ben Finney?”
"Yeah! Yeah, that was it. Finney." The receptionist hesitates, then asks carefully, "Should I call someone?"
"No." Jim rakes a hand through his hair distractedly, trying to think past the pounding in his chest and the worry choking his mind. Shit, he’s got Bones. “No, don’t call anyone.”
"But-"
Jim hangs up and sets the comm down on the table, a little harder than is probably necessary. Ben fucking Finney. He should have known, he should have seen this coming- the bastard never got over Jim getting him kicked out on possession and distribution charges last year.
"Fuck," he says out loud, starting to panic. He’s gotta, he’s gotta do something, Finney’s got Bones, he’s got Bones, and hell, Jim’s so scared that he can’t even fucking move-
His comm lights up and Jim grabs it before it stops vibrating on the first ring, fingers fumbling at the screen. “Who-“
“‘Lo, Kirk,” Finney’s smooth voice drawls out, casual and slow. “Suppose you’ve noticed, then.”
"You son of a bitch," Jim says, his voice low and shaking. He squeezes the comm so tightly that he loses the feeling in his fingers, his other hand grabbing the back of the kitchen chair. "Where is he?"
"Who, your little doctor friend?" There’s a thump on the other end and a muffled groan, and Jim sees red. "Not so little, though, you should have seen how many doses it took to get him like this."
"You bastard-“
"McCoy’s fine, Kirk. For now. So calm your ass down and listen to me." The last three words are sharper, edged with insane anger, and Jim freezes, counting the seconds that pass before Finney speaks again. "See, we’re going to play a little game here now. A little hide and seek."
"Finney," Jim says quickly. "Ben, please, I’m begging you, man. Don’t hurt him.”
"My God, did you just say please? Couldn’t quite catch it."
"Please!" Jim yells, desperation seizing him. "Fucking please, Ben, just let him go. I won’t call the cops, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t-"
Another dull sound of impact and a low groan.
Jim clenches his eyes shut and inhales raggedly. Bones.
"Whatever I want, huh?" Finney repeats thoughtfully. "Yeah, well, we were getting there anyway. So here’s what. I’ve got a score to settle with you, Kirk, and your friend here doesn’t have to get hurt unless you fuck up. So here’s a tip: don’t fuck up." There’s a short pause before Finney continues. "I want you to find me, that’s all. Like I said, it’s just a game. You like games, don’t you? Since you’re all. So. Smart."
"You’ve got to give me something, Finney," Jim says, low and fast before Finney can cut him off. "A hint. Something.”
"How about you shut up," Finney says mildly. "This isn’t supposed to be fair, you know." Another pause, a faint click. "You might want to check your inbox."
Jim looks around wildly for a datapad and seizes one from the nightstand. His fingers shake as they slide across the screen, and he sucks in deep breaths, trying to lower his heart rate. He’s no good to himself like this, no good to anyone, and he has to keep it together. Long enough to find Bones and rip Finney apart, at any rate.
There’s a new message waiting for him, an image file, and John opens it with apprehension, bracing himself for whatever he may see.
It still punches the air out of his stomach, his eyes widening and his gut clenching painfully. Bones is sitting in a plain wooden chair, ankles bound to the legs and arms pulled out of sight around the back. There’s a strip of tape over his mouth, another around his waist, and- Jim’s hands squeeze the edges of the PADD so hard that his knuckles whiten- there’s a bruise spanning Bones’ left cheek, a small trickle of blood drying beneath a cut along his temple.
His face is turned up towards the camera, eyes squinting a little from the flash, and Jim stares at the screen, concentrating on the dazed look in Bones’ face. It’s something to think about, something to focus his attention on, something to keep him from falling apart right there on the spot.
"You still there?" Finney’s voice says, and Jim snatches up his comm again.
"Yeah, still here."
"I hope that’s proper motivation for you. Oh, wait, he wants to say something…." Finney’s voice fades away, and Jim hears the sound of harsh breathing scraping across the other end.
"Bones?" Jim drops the PADD and hunches over his comm intently. "Bones, you there?"
"Jim," Bones croaks, and it’s him, it’s his Bones, alive and sounding pissed as hell, but he’s okay, and Jim squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before he can speak again.
"I’m going to find you, all right? I’m going to find you, I swear. God, I’m so sorry-"
"Jim, listen," Bones says, and Jim shuts up. "There’s….he gave me somethin’…..can’t think straight. Ah, shit…"
Jim holds his breath, but when the comm clears again, it’s Finney’s voice he hears. “
"Oh, and, by the way, Kirk. Doc here’s got about thirty minutes before his heart gives out, so you better hurry."
"You-"
"Tick tock," Finney breathes, and he hangs up.