Title: Found
Author: Caera1996
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
W/C: 2,113
Summary: A st_xi_kink_meme fill I almost forgot about - originally done anonymously (though I don't know why I bothered with that). The pompt was: Kirk is kidnapped into sex slavery. He's tortured, drugged with aphrodisiacs, forced into submission, whatever. He does everything to survive. Then Enterprise comes to save him, and everything is back to normal, but he has some old habits (like looking down, or sleeping at the floor, or being aroused by command, anything) and is afraid of any sort of intimacy. Spock (or Bones, or anyone else) notices and helps.

In the two weeks Jim had been missing, all they'd done was follow leads. One of those leads led them to tracking down and contacting this mid-sized transport. Uhura hailed them and opened communications with so Spock could question the captain about some dealings one of his crew may have had when they were in port on the planet where Jim had disappeared. It wasn't much, but it was all they had right now, and they were leaving no stone unturned…no matter how small a stone it was.

Leonard stood behind Spock, arms crossed, brow drawn. He'd taken to being on the bridge whenever they were questioning anyone, and everyone could see the strain he was feeling. Jim's disappearance had hit everyone hard, but Leonard worst of all. He hardly slept, he angered easily – more easily – and no matter what Spock did, it wasn't enough.

They all felt that way…nothing they did was enough. Not until they found him.

As Spock and the transport captain conversed, Leonard saw Nyota suddenly sit up straighter, one hand pressing against her earpiece as she made some adjustments to her equipment. Moving back a couple of steps, he leaned over to her.

"What?" he asked lowly. She didn't answer, her brow furrowed in concentration as she moved faster. "Nyota, what?" he repeated, more urgently. She glanced up at him, and then over her shoulder to the view screen. The communication ended, and Nyota immediately stood.

"He's on that ship," she announced. She was met with stunned silence, but it didn't last long.

"Mister Chekov, inform the transport to hold position. If they try to leave, engage the tractor beam."

"Aye, sir."

Turning back to Nyota, Spock focused on her. "Explain."

"During the transmission, in the background noise, there was an echo...as if the communication was picking up an artifact from an inter-ship conversation over a commlink. I heard him. I heard Captain Kirk."

"Well, let's get him the hell out of there!" Leonard exclaimed, hands balled into fists at his side. "Put together a security team, beam over there and bring him back!" Spock glanced at Leonard before turning back to Nyota. He understood the sentiment, but he could not act without proof.

"Were you able to record it?" Spock asked, his voice as even as ever, hands clasped behind his back. Nyota's eyes flicked to Leonard.

"Yes," she replied quietly. Spock got it.

"Transfer the audio to the ready room," he said.

"Yes, sir," she replied. Spock made his way across the bridge, pausing when he realized McCoy was following him.

"Doctor…"

"Spock," he said quietly, the desperation he was feeling roughening his voice. "I need to know. Please." They held each other's gaze for a moment, and finally Spock nodded minutely.

"Doctor, you are not part of the away team," Spock said firmly. Leonard didn't even look up from the medkit he was preparing. He couldn't hear anything over the scrap of transmission Nyota had managed to record. The transmission that proved Jim was on that transport. The transmission that proved that he was being hurt. "Doctor…"

"I'm going," he said shortly. "I need to be there. If he's badly injured…" He stopped and took a deep breath, turning to look at the acting captain, medkit clutched tightly. "I have to go Spock."

"Doctor…Leonard…we do not know what condition he will be in," Spock said, and Leonard's heart fluttered with the fearful truth of that statement. Didn't change anything though, and he shook his head. "Regulations specify that those emotionally compromised by a relationship cannot be part of a rescuing away team."

"They've had him for two weeks Spock. Two weeks. What if he's badly injured? He doesn't respond well to anyone else...you know that. I'm going. Fuck regulations. I'll resign my commission right now if that's what it takes," Leonard said.

Spock stood silently for a moment, considering, then inclined his head slightly.

"I do not believe the captain would be pleased to realize that we had to leave you on the next planet as a civilian."

Leonard quirked a half smile, relieved that Spock was able to see reason. "So, let's go."

"Indeed."

In the transporter room, Leonard was only half listening to the security details of what they were walking into. He was peripherally aware of what had occurred since Nyota's astounding announcement, and he knew the ship they were beaming over to was secured. The mechanics behind that didn't concern him. Nothing concerned him except getting to Jim.

He started slightly when he felt someone gently grasp his wrist, breaking the furious swirl of thoughts and emotions as he waited for the order to energize. He looked up and saw Chapel's understanding gaze on him, and felt the knot within him loosen slightly.

"He'll be okay," she said quietly. Clenching his jaw, Leonard nodded tersely. She couldn't know that. None of them did.

"Energize."

Once he rematerialized, he was moving – only vaguely aware of the security personnel hurrying to follow. The concentrated scan indicated a lifesign in the bowels of the ship – which, in this ship's design were split between cargo storage and crew quarters. Running now, following the information his tricorder was providing, his breath was rushing and his footsteps sounded incredibly loud.

And then they found him.

"Jim!" Leonard exclaimed. He hurried to the prone, naked body, restrained on a cot in one of the otherwise empty storage sections. Kneeling beside him, Leonard gently ran his hands over his head, turning his face to him. "Oh, god, Jim…" Blue eyes opened blearily, and he convulsed against the restraints, obviously trying to move away. His movements were weak and uncoordinated. He was drugged. "It's okay, you're okay. It's Bones," he said soothingly. He turned to talk to Chapel over his shoulder. "Get me a blanket."

The drugs in Jim's system made him physically pliant, though he was always aware of what was happening. Aware that his body was being manipulated into forced arousal, aware that he was being sold and transported as a piece of merchandise to add to someone's "collection." He was hurt, and abused…but not broken. He'd remained defiant, fighting when the drugs wore off enough to gain control of his limbs back. And though he'd been forced to submit when his captors decided to entertain themselves with his body, he remained cognizant enough to separate himself from what was happening as much as he could. And he held onto the knowledge that his crew was coming for him. He just had to hold on.

But two weeks was a long time. And fairly quickly, Jim learned that if he just accepted what they were doing to him, and didn't fight, they wouldn't hurt him. So, he internalized his defiance…and he kept inside, present in his tightly suppressed breathing, burning behind his blue eyes, making them water in anger and humiliation and disgust despite the low cries and pleas he didn't have the strength to keep quiet.

Then they found him…like he knew they would. And Bones was there, but it took him a minute to realize who it was – that he was safe, finally – and then he couldn't stop shaking.

"Get me a blanket," Bones said to someone behind him. Jim's gaze slid passed Bones to the room beyond him, and though his vision was blurry, he realized that other people, other members of his crew, were there. He flushed darkly and Jim tugged at his arms and legs, desperate to cover himself, hide his vulnerability, hide his shame.

"Bones…please," he whispered past chapped lips, voice hoarse with dehydration and strain.

"Okay, Jim. Okay…" Bones replied. He took the blanket from Nurse Chapel and quickly covered him with it, then turned to her. "He's not critical. Get everyone out of here while I get him ready for transport." Bones said quietly.

"Of course," she replied. McCoy's full attention was on Jim, looking at the restraints on Jim's wrists and ankles. They were effective, but simple, and it only took a couple of minutes with one of his surgical lasers to free him. Once he did, Jim automatically pulled his arms and legs in and turned on his side, clutching Bones as tightly as his weakened muscles would allow. He heard the comfortingly familiar whir of the medical tricorder, and allowed himself to relax slightly, his shaking subsiding slightly. And though he welcomed Bones' gentle touch, craved it even, he couldn't stop the flinch when Bones' hands moved over him, feeling to confirm what the tricorder was telling him.

"Shh…" Bones said soothingly. "You're okay. You've got some drugs circulating in your system making you feel the way you do…and some minor damage…Damnit Jim," McCoy's voice cracked with suppressed emotion. "I'm so sorry…"

"Doesn't matter," he said. He coughed, tried to clear his voice. "I knew I just had to hold on and you came. I knew you'd come." Jim said. And then tears he couldn't control any longer finally slipped down his face. McCoy gentled him with a soft touch and leaned down to brush a kiss across his forehead.

Yeah, they found him, but was it soon enough?

Leonard sighed and lay still on his side of the bed. He watched as Jim dithered – part of the new routine that had developed since they'd gotten him back.

Jim, being Jim – strong, confident, tenacious – fell back into routine of his daily life quickly. He was the Captain, and nothing that defined him in that way had changed. He'd managed to make his ordeal into something that had some positive results, providing enough information about the underground world he'd been caught up in to give a cooperatively investigating task force the foothold they needed to infiltrate a piece of it. The last they heard, other unfortunate individuals who'd found themselves in a similar position were rescued. He took comfort from that, and the Captain was doing well.

At night though, when they were together and they were just Jim and Bones, Jim was struggling. He had nightmares. He was nervous sharing a bed, even though all they did since he'd been back was sleep. And, most telling, Jim didn't want to be touched. Jim was the most touchy person Leonard had ever met, and from day one had absolutely no concept of personal space.

That had changed.

Now, Bones watched as Jim went through his new nightly ritual of convincing himself to lie down. They'd found, fairly quickly, that this way, with Bones already in bed, was easier for him. Jim panicked when Bones went to join him…apparently lying down and having someone move into the space with him was just too much. Bones never, never wanted to be the cause for the type of panic that bloomed in Jim's eyes, and so they adjusted.

Tentatively, Jim lay down in the bed, studiously avoiding Bones' gaze. Leonard could feel the tension coming off of him, saw it in the line of his jaw and the way he clutched the blankets. He remained quiet and still, waiting Jim out. Finally, Jim seemed to settle a bit and commanded the lights down, but not completely off.

"I love you, Bones," Jim whispered, staring at the ceiling.

"I love you too, Darlin'," he responded immediately. This also, was part of their new nightly routine.

Licking his lips nervously, Jim glanced over to him – the frustration and anger he felt – at the situation, at his uncontrollable feelings of residual panic, at the pieces that were taken from him – evident in his eyes and on his face. With a sigh, he turned on his side to lie face to face with Bones.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice cracking.

"Nothin' to be sorry for."

"I won't be like this forever," he said quietly.

Bones looked at him, seeing how much he needed comfort, and how trapped he was.

"Can I touch you?" Bones asked. Jim licked his lips again and took a shaky breath. And nodded. Bones gave him a small smile, his eyes warm. He reached out and gently drew his hand through Jim's hair, down the side of his face, stopping when his hand rested on Jim's shoulder. Jim closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, but didn't shrug him off, didn't move away.

And after a few minutes, for the first time since he'd been back, Jim moved towards Bones, enough that Bones could wrap his arm around Jim's shoulders.

Bones pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, and he felt Jim's body relax slightly in his embrace. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

It would take time, but Jim would be okay. And Bones would be here.