Title: System Failure
Rating: PG-13

Author's Notes: The next entry in my Downloaded series, following Downloaded and Program Reboot. This is a crossover with BSG 2003, but you don't need any prior knowledge of that series to follow this one. This is the part where we actually start to get plot, though, so if you haven't read the previous entries you should do so now. Because now there is a Plan.

For those who want to know what the Sixes look like, here's a rather lovely picture.

Thank you to nursedarry for the beta, and to dancinbutterfly for helping me with plot details and making sure my canon's straight.






Three weeks later and McCoy is still in the holding cell. He's gotten very familiar with it. He knows that it is exactly thirteen steps long and ten steps wide, that there is a small rough patch on the glass in the left corner against the wall, so subtle that human fingertips would not be able to detect it, and that if he listens very closely he can hear the low thrum of Enterprise's engines. He does his best to project himself elsewhere in an attempt to try and escape within the recesses of his mind, but after a while he gives up. He might be able to see vast, endless forests, but that still doesn't change the fact that after thirteen steps he's up against a wall.

At least Jim comes to see him more often now. He's even gone back to calling him Bones, and will sit with him in the cell for an hour or so when he gets the chance, telling him innocuous details about what's been happening on the Enterprise. He brings McCoy novels and medical journals, and McCoy is always able to relax in his comfortingly familiar presence.

It's not the same as it was before, though. There are some things they are careful not to talk about. They don't mention Lieutenant Shaw, and the torture. They don't mention Capella IV. They don't mention what happened when Jim was held captive on the basestar.

What they do talk about are the Cylons, and what McCoy knows about their plans. Jim usually just slips seemingly casual questions into their conversations, so while it's not quite an interrogation, it's a theme that runs below every one of their exchanges. It makes McCoy wonder about where he stands. He'd felt the connection to Jim snap back into place that night three weeks ago, and there are times when Jim comes to see him that he can see a reflection of his own loneliness and longing in Jim's eyes. Right now, however, he still feels more like a prisoner and information source than anything else.

"Stop being so cynical. I trust you, you know." McCoy glances over his shoulder to see Jim lounging on the cot smiling rakishly at him, and McCoy huffs a little in irritation.

"You don't count. You only exist in my head."

"Oh?" Jim's smile turns wicked, and he slides off the cot to sneak up behind McCoy, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on McCoy's shoulder. "Reality is such a subjective term. Just because only you can see me doesn't mean I'm not real. Maybe that's the way I want it to be."

McCoy feels lips brush against his ear, and Jim murmurs throatily, "Doesn't this feel real?" before biting down. McCoy can't help it; he gasps and presses back against him, and it does feel real, only that kind of hurts because his Jim, the one who's Captain of the Enterprise, hasn't touched him at all since he got him off the basestar, and McCoy misses him. He'd thought that when Jim came to see him that second time three weeks ago, it meant he missed him too.

"I do," murmurs Jim against the side of his neck. "Just be patient, okay? I have to walk a fine line here. You think everyone's going to just smile and nod in approval at the Captain falling into bed with a Cylon? It's going to take some time."

"But you trust me."

"I do. So does Spock. That's not nothing."

"I just wish we were all right," says McCoy softly, and Jim's arms tighten around him. McCoy turns his head just enough so that they can kiss -

- and the doors of the cell clang open.

McCoy stumbles backward as the body behind him abruptly disappears, and the flesh and blood Jim in front of him reaches out to steady him.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

Jim's fingers are warm on his skin, and McCoy feels a surge of longing so strong he has to close his eyes.

"Bones."

He opens them, and Jim is so close. His blue eyes are a little lost, and a little sad. McCoy wishes he could take that away, make Jim smile again.

"I just wanted...I wanted to see how you were doing, I guess," says Jim. Jim's hands are still resting on his arms, and McCoy has to fight the urge to lean forward and brush his lips against Jim's. It hurts, to be so close and know that there's still a wall between them.

Jim's eyes flicker over the cell walls. McCoy can tell that he's uncomfortable. "You know, I wanted to see about putting you somewhere else, but..."

"Some people might not take too kindly to that," finishes McCoy wryly.

"Yeah." Jim smiles a bit. "I...um. Yeah."

They wait a beat, awkward silence stretching out between them.

"Did you need anything?" asks McCoy, and because he'd been the CMO for years and hasn't forgotten that, "Headache, fever? Sore muscles?"

"No, nothing like that." Jim's fingers tighten on him. "I'm just lonely," he blurts out in a rush, and that makes McCoy's heart hurt. Even before the two of them took those first steps from being best friends to being lovers, he'd wanted to make sure Jim never felt abandoned ever again. He remembers Jim telling him one night, after they'd gone out drinking in celebration of finals being over, how he was tired of everyone leaving. His father, dead; his mother, emotionally withdrawn in grief; his brother, run away from home and a stepfather with whom they had a less than ideal relationship. Himself, dead on Capella IV.

McCoy's glance flickers over to the plexiglass. The security detail's back is to the cell. No one would see if he reaches out and pulls Jim against him, kisses him full on the lips. He wants to. So badly.

Jim's fingers slide gently down his forearms to his palms, and he twines their fingers together.

"Jim," says McCoy, and he can hear the pleading note in his voice. Jim leans forward and touches his forehead lightly to McCoy's.

"Just give me a little more time, Bones," he whispers. "I'll figure things out. Just a little longer."

McCoy isn't entirely sure if it's one Jim speaking, or two.


* * *

It's the attack that shifts the balance. Jim knows that while they've been lucky they haven't encountered any enemy ships since the initial strike, sooner or later they're going to have to engage in combat. And he's right; one second they're alone in space, next second one of the immense basestars has appeared right alongside them, a swarm of small, maneuverable ships that look like elegant, streamlined Birds of Prey launching out of its side and heading straight for the Enterprise.

"Shields," says Jim automatically, and a split second after they're confirmed to be at maximum strength they're getting pummeled. The small fighters have spread around the Enterprise like a net, firing rapid bursts of energy at the shields from all sides in counterpart to the heavier blasts coming from the basestar itself. Their own phasers can't handle all of them at once, and Jim wishes they had a similar attack squad to send after them.

"Sulu, is there any way we can get away from those things?" asks Jim tightly, and Sulu shakes his head as his fingers dance over the control panel.

"I'm trying, but there are too many of them, and they're fast."

"Sir," says Chekhov, his voice high and anxious. "Sir, zey appear to be somehow interfering wit our defense systems."

Jim curses under his breath and calls down to engineering. "Scotty, I need you to break us out of this!"

"Working on it, sir!"

"Shields are failing," says Chekov anxiously, his face intent as he bends over his panel. Jim's gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles are white. Up on the viewscreen he sees a new ship appear, larger and more square shaped than the fighters.

"Shoot those down, whatever they are," he snaps, and the next second he's focusing on not flying out of his chair as the Enterprise lurches violently.

"Scotty!"

A second later the view of space is obscured by a cloud of white energy that reminds Jim of the time when Scotty'd jettisoned the warp core. When it clears, the small fighters are drifting in pieces, and with a sudden flash of light the basestar vanishes. Everyone on the bridge waits for a tense minute to see if it's going to reappear, and when it doesn't they sag a little in relief.

"Why did they run away?" asks Sulu in confusion. "I didn't think we'd done that much damage to the basestar itself."

Jim shrugs. "At the moment, I'm just glad it's gone."

The sense of reprieve doesn't last long. "Captain," says Spock after only a beat of calm has passed, "it appears one of the Cylon ships has crashed into the docking bay."

"Fuck," mutters Jim as he gets to his feet. "Spock, you have the con. Scotty, meet me down there."

The enemy ship has clearly been damaged. There's a long gash running down its side, and it's leaking a fluid that looks more like blood or plasma than oil or fuel. The sleek, silvery hull is also marred with long black streaks, and there's an acrid smell in the air. Something about it reminds Jim of burned flesh. He approaches it carefully, surrounded by security, and tries to figure out how to get in.

Scotty shows up moments later, and is as fascinated as Jim had thought he'd be, making jokes and looking at the thing with a reverential gaze. They finally manage to open the cockpit, and Jim pulls out his phaser and enters with Scotty close on his heels He feels sick when he sees the ship's occupants. One of them is a woman, her eyes closed and her blond hair stained red with blood. A Six, Jim thinks numbly, Bones said that the blond models are Sixes. He can see the hair close to her mouth stirring faintly. Unconscious, not dead. It's the other one that holds his attention, because this one is still awake despite the jagged pieces of metal protruding from its stomach. It's gasping softly in pain, and it's one of the Sevens.

Scotty is saying something about the Six, how she needs medical attention. Jim nods numbly and watches out of the corner of his eye as his chief engineer kneels to gently shift the Six. The Seven reaches out, fear for his comrade in his eyes (and there's something so human in that; Jim knows what it's like to watch someone you've fought beside taken from you and feel the fear of uncertainty). He hears Scotty murmur softly to him. Whatever the Chief Engineer says reassures the Seven because he slumps back in relief, and Scotty leaves with the Six cradled in his arms.

Now it's just the two of them.

He knows that Bones is still in his cell, unharmed, and knows that the dying Cylon in front of him is not the man he loves, but there's something inside of him that screams in anguish at once again seeing someone with Bones' face in so much pain. A guttural moan crawls out of his throat, and the Cylon's hazel eyes (Bones' eyes; they're exactly like Bones' eyes) flicker toward him. Their gazes connect, and Jim can see the silent plea in that pain-filled look. He sucks in a ragged breath.

He knows that a stomach wound is a slow, agonizing way to die. Swallowing hard, he raises his phaser and sets it to kill.

It's a mercy killing. Maybe this Cylon counts as an enemy, but all Jim can see is a man with Bones' face in pain, and he can't just stand there and let Bones suffer. He can't. He fires, and watches the Seven's breath stutter then stop as its eyes fall shut.

He stumbles back onto the flight deck and stares blankly at the assembled crew. "See what we can get out of this thing," he orders. "Any usable parts, any clues as to what makes them run, whatever. Get on it."

He stumbles blindly off, trying not to think about what he's just done. He's just killed a Seven, someone who looks exactly like Bones, but Bones is still in the brig, still alive. It's eerie to think about.

He focuses on breathing, in and out. He didn't kill Bones. It was someone else. Bones is still alive.

But that doesn't mean he won't have nightmares about pointing his phaser at Bones' head.

* * *

Jim wants to retreat to his quarters and sleep until his world gets its equilibrium back, but of course that's not an option. They've just survived an attack, after all, and that means listening to damage reports, finding out who's been wounded and who can replace them, generally reestablishing order, and a thousand other little things. So he pushes the images of killing the Seven to the back of his mind, and focuses on what Scotty's telling him.

"Our defenses are failing, Captain," says Scotty nervously, his fingers flickering over a display screen full of percentages and technical terms that Jim wishes he knew more about. "We're not going to survive another attack like that; we were only lucky that the basestar jumped away when it did. But we're sitting ducks now."

"So give me a solution, Scotty," says Jim, doing his best to hide the anxiety he feels curling in the pit of his stomach. "Tell me what we can do, not what we can't."

Scotty stares at him, and for once there is no humor dancing in his eyes. "That's just it. There's nothing we can do, sir. Nothing."

"Nothing?" Jim can hear the incredulity in his own voice.

"You remember how the computer systems went haywire after the first attack wave?"

Jim nods. "Bones told us that one of the Sixes was able to infiltrate the government and gain access to the codes, and from there they developed a program that could cripple all of the networked computers."

Scotty's raises his eyebrows slightly, not missing the fact that Jim's back to calling Bones by name instead of "the Seven." He doesn't comment, though.

"Exactly. Chekov and I were able to set up enough of a firewall to prevent a total failure of our girl's systems, but a lot of the Cylon programming was very subversive, and we didn't catch it all." He taps the screen and Jim watches lines of incomprehensible symbols dance across it. "Those fighters that they sent at us, looks like they were able to wirelessly activate some kind of a backdoor program, and it's crippling us. It's doing something to the shields, preventing them from operating at full capacity."

Jim stares at the code. He doesn't know nearly as much as Scotty or Chekov, but he'd hacked the Kobayashi Maru and he knows something about computers. This, however, is utterly beyond him. He wouldn't even know where to start.

"We don't even know where to start," says Scotty in an echo of Jim's thoughts. "We can see what it's doing, but we can't figure out how."

Jim clenches his hands into fists. "Scotty, I really need you to fix this."

"Quite honestly, sir, we don't have the time it would take for us to figure this out, and I'll bet you my last bottle of whiskey that the Cylons know about that. They aren't going to waste any time in coming to finish us off. Like I said, there's nothing we -" and Jim hears the emphasis Scotty places on that word, " - can do about it."

"So tell me who can."

Scotty smiles slowly. "Do ye really need to ask that? Come on, Captain. Ye know perfectly well that we have our very own expert on board."

* * *

Bones is staring into the distance when they reach the holding cell, and Jim has to take a deep breath and avert his eyes to keep himself under control. He can't let himself even think about the dead Seven, and Bones, and what it all means until he has the time and space to let himself fall apart. Until then, he has to shut himself off, be the Captain and nothing else.

Scotty is looking at him a little anxiously. Jim nods at him, then motions for the security detail to open the door.

"We need you to look at something," he says, and Scotty passes Bones a PADD with the Cylon code on it. Bones is silent as he looks it over, and when he looks up his eyes are dark and unreadable.

"It's a Cylon virus that's programmed to target the shield controls and prevent them from operating at full power."

"We know that much," says Scotty. "Do ye know any way we can fix it, and fix it fast?"

Bones glances back at it. "You won't be able to fix it unless you take the system offline and do a complete wipe followed by a reboot."

"If that's what we have to do -" says Jim, but Bones is shaking his head.

"The second you take it down, the Cylon fleet will know and they'll jump straight here. It'll be over in minutes."

"And how do ye do that, anyway?" asks Scotty, his voice sharp with interest. "They're not warp drives; warp drives don't let ye just jump to a specific location like that."

Bones rolls his head from side to side, thinking. "Well, the hybrids are what control Cylon ships -"

"Hybrids?" Scotty leans forward a little, and Jim moves to stop what is sure to be a lengthy conversation about Cylon technological marvels that they really don't have time for.

"Mister McCoy," says Jim firmly. "I'm sure what Scotty's trying to ask if there's any way at all we can get out of this mess."

Scotty grins sheepishly. Bones' lips quirk faintly upward, but his eyes are serious when he looks at them.

"I can fix it. I'll even do you one better. I can modify your programming to block any malicious Cylon signals that try to upload another virus - they'll be able to find a way around it eventually, but it would take the heat off for a while."

Jim can hear the slight note of hesitation in Bones' voice. "What's the catch?"

"I'll need to interface directly with the computer."

Jim can hear what's not being said, and he's sure Scotty does, too. Bones is asking if they trust him.

Scotty breaks the tension with a shrug. "Doesn't matter to me what y'are. I know Bones McCoy would never bring harm down on the Enterprise, and that's all I need to know."

Bones stares at him, then his face breaks out into a smile that's tentative, but real. And for one single, fragile moment, everything feels all right.

* * *

The rest of the crew's reaction is not as enthusiastic when he and Scotty explain what is going to happen. Jim can see the trepidation in Sulu and Chekov's eyes, and he doesn't miss the way Uhura's face goes carefully neutral as she asks him if he doesn't think that he's emotionally compromised in this particular situation.

"Well, does anyone else have any suggestions?" he asks, trying and failing to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Because even if this is a mistake - and I don't think it is - we'll just die anyway. It's not like we have anything to lose, and I'd rather take a chance on being right than getting blown up for no reason."

Uhura's lips tighten, Sulu avoids everyone's eyes and leans back in his chair, and Chekov plucks nervously at his uniform cuffs. Scotty shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, clearly having hoped for a more positive reaction, and Jim grits his teeth. They don't have time for this, dammit.

"Look -" he begins, but before can get any further Spock steps forward.

"In my assessment there is no danger," he says smoothly. "I have probed the Cylon's mind, and there is no doubt that he is our Leonard McCoy. He harbors no desire to lead us to harm, and I have detected no traces of malicious programming in his subconscious. I believe, as the Captain and Mister Scott do, that this is our best option. Any risk involved does not stem from Mister McCoy."

The crew relaxes minimally at the First Officer's words, although Jim can still see doubts lingering in their eyes. That's fine; as long as they're not going to actively oppose this, he can deal with a little doubt. He nods gratefully at Spock, and calls security.

"Please escort Mister McCoy to the Bridge," he says, and everyone is silent while they wait.

The silence dissolves into soft murmuring when Bones appears, flanked by two security officers. Most of them haven't seen him since he was taken on board over one month ago, and it has to be something of a shock to see their former CMO on the bridge out of uniform and under armed guard, broadcasting his current status as a prisoner loud and clear. Jim doesn't miss the way that everyone other than himself, Spock, and Scotty tenses ever-so-slightly at the sight, and is relieved to see that Bones doesn't seem put off by it. He keeps his spine straight and his shoulders thrown back, meeting everyone's gaze without flinching.

That's his Bones.

"I'll need a fiber-optic network connection," says Bones steadily, focusing on Scotty and ignoring everyone else. "And a knife."

Scotty passes his battered old Swiss Army knife to Bones (he's told Jim that they're one of the best tools ever invented and is sure to never be without it), then opens the computer panel to get the cable ready. Jim watches in a sort of detached horror as Bones starts cutting into the fleshy part of his hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling in pain as blood wells up around the wound. Jim has to fight the urge to look away when he starts pushing the fiber-optic cable under his skin. That has to hurt like hell. Watching it makes him feel a little nauseated, but Scotty has a look of intense interest on his face. Bones is breathing heavily as he pushes the cable in further, and Jim can see beads of sweat on his forehead.

"Scotty," Bones says hoarsely, "I'm connected. I'm going to go in and rewrite the code now. Stand by."

It's unsettling, seeing Bones' eyes roll back into his head while lines of incomprehensible code start flashing across the computer screens. Seeing it is a blatant reminder that Bones isn't human; he's a machine that's been designed to mimic the human form perfectly. He might look human, feel human, and experience human emotions, but he's also undeniably Cylon. He's interfacing directly with a mechanical communications system, speaking in lines of numbers and symbols that make no sense to the human mind.

Except that's not the whole truth. He's not just a machine mimicking human form; he is human, very much so. Jim can't deny that.

Humanity is so much more than simple physiology.

Bones sways slightly, and he hears Scotty mumble softly, "That's amazing." The chief engineer's eyes are fixed on the computer screens, watching the lines of code scroll past at lightning speed.

Bones' breath is coming harsh and fast now, and it looks like he's having a seizure. It makes Jim uncomfortable to watch and he turns away. Spock looks at him appraisingly, and Jim nods jerkily in reassurance. He can handle this, really. He's the Captain. This is for the good of the ship. It doesn't matter that his lover is in pain in front of him; this is what has to be done. He doesn't like it, but he can't afford to be thinking about Bones as a person right now.

Bones gasps, and Jim's eyes fly back to him. Bones is doubled over, his eyes closed and his breath coming in heaves.

"It's done," Bones manages to say, his eyes raising to Jim's. "The virus is gone. Shields are restored."

"He's right," says Scotty, his voice exultant. "Shields are right as rain now. We're all right. We're all right!" He turns from the console with an enormous grin, and reaches out to clap Bones on the shoulder. "I have no idea how you did that, but it worked!"

The rest of the crew visibly relaxes, and Jim lets his eyes fall briefly shut in relief. The Enterprise is safe. His ship is safe. He opens his eyes and sees Scotty's exuberant smile, a slight softening at the corner of Spock's eyes, and even Uhura's rigidly correct posture relaxes. He lifts his gaze to Bones', and the connection between them is strong and clear, as though it had never been severed.

* * *

Jim goes to see Bones later that night in the dead time before ship's dawn. The frantic, anxiety driven energy that had fueled Enterprise's crew after the attack has dissipated, and nearly everyone who can, is grabbing some rack time. But Jim can't even start to think about sleeping even though he's been on his feet for over twenty-four hours. He can still feel the residual tension thrumming in his veins.

He stops in sickbay first to check on all of his crew who were injured. It's something he always does after any hostile encounter. He figures that everyone on this ship is his responsibility, and the least he can do is let them know he appreciates their courage and trust in his command decisions. They've gotten off lightly this time - there are some serious injuries, but no fatalities, and the wounded are all expected to make full recoveries. He makes his way through the room with a quiet word here and handshake there, finally ending up outside of the partitioned bed that holds the Six.

He pulls the curtain aside and looks down at her. The left side of her face is an ugly shade of purple, but the blood has been cleaned away and her breathing is deep and easy in sleep. She looks so harmless like this, but the restraints binding her arms and legs are there for a reason.

"They're mostly identical to humans down to the cellular level," says Chapel softly. He hadn't even heard her come up behind him. "There are some differences, but nothing you'd be able to notice during a standard physical examination, or even a blood test. It's amazing."

"I wonder why," Jim murmurs softly. "They hate us so much, but they went to so much trouble to imitate the human body."

Chapel shrugs. "I can't even begin to understand." She glances over at the machines monitoring the Six's vitals. "She'll wake up soon. What do what do you want us to do with her then?"

Jim lets his eyes trail over her high cheekbones, the slim line of her throat. The Sixes are exceptionally beautiful. "She'll have to go in the holding cell with McCoy. We can't let her go free, but she could be a valuable source of intelligence."

He glances back at Chapel. "Let me know when she wakes up."

He leaves sickbay without looking back and makes his way to where Bones is being held. He's ready now. He can face everything that's happened, acknowledge who and what Bones is, and move forward.

When he reaches the cell, he stops for a second to watch Bones through the plexiglass. His eyes are closed and his head is tilted to one side, almost as though he's listening to someone. Jim stares at him, and it hits him all at once.

There are many Cylon copies, each one the same and yet so very, very different. And this one is his.

He gives the guard the order to open the cell, and then dismisses him. He enters the cell and Bones opens his eyes widely with a start, turning to look at Jim.

"Jim," he breathes, and without thinking Jim moves forward to slide his hand around the base of Bones' neck.

"I killed a Seven," he admits, voice hoarse. He feels Bones tense.

"Oh."

"He was in pain, and if I hadn't shot him he would died. Horribly. But he had your face, and it felt like I was killing you. I knew that you were all right, and that he was someone else entirely, but I still raised a weapon against someone who looked exactly like you."

He feels Bones flinch against him, and he tightens his grip.

"But you're still here."

"Told you I wouldn't leave you alone," says Bones. Jim remembers how back at the Academy after a night of drinking and Jim pouring out his litany of woes, Bones had thrown an arm around his shoulders and said gruffly, "I'll stick with you, kid."

"Yeah." Jim's smile is more like a grimace, and then his hands slide up to twist in McCoy's hair, yanking him down into a hard, brutal kiss. And this is what Jim's been missing; Bones in his arms with his tongue in his mouth, and while it's tinged with desperation and sadness, it's also perfect because they're coming home.

"Fuck, I missed you," gasps Jim raggedly against his mouth when they finally come up for air. There's blood on his lower lip, and Bones leans forward to lick it off. Jim moans brokenly.

"I thought that you died, and that killed me, you bastard; it killed me. Don't you dare leave me again."

Bones makes a strangled sound. "I'll always come back."

"Yeah." Jim leans his forehead against Bones'. "Yeah, I guess you will."

It's amazing to think that Bones can be killed, but it's not a final death. He can come back. A gift, Spock had called it, and for the first time Jim thinks that maybe his First Officer is right.

Bones' arms are tight around him, and Jim buries his face in Bones' shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. He wants to go to sleep like this, all warm and safe and comfortable, but he knows he can't. Not yet. The timing still isn't right. The crew is taking steps toward trusting Bones, but there's no way he's risking anyone with lingering resentment taking a shot at him, even if he knows Bones can download. After all, it's not like he wakes up here; he'd be somewhere else, and then they'd have to get him back.

With a pang of regret he draws away, reaches up to touch Bones' cheek lightly. "I'll be back," he says softly. "We'll work our way through this. Things will be all right, I promise."

Bones smiles a little sadly, and reaches up to twine his fingers with Jim's.

"I trust you," is all he says.

* * *

When Jim leaves the holding cell, McCoy watches him until he's out of sight, then turns slowly and makes his way to the cot. It feels cold and lonely without Jim there, and he draws his knees up to his chest.

He's not surprised when he feels the other Jim settle in behind him, and it's nice, but it's not his Jim.

"That's not very polite," says Jim. "Not when I'm the one here with you."

"Don't be petty," McCoy retorts. "It's nothing you don't already know."

"Mmmm, true." Jim starts trailing his fingers lightly up and down McCoy's arm. "See? I told you so. I trust you. Everything's going to be all right. We're moving forward again."

"Does that mean you're going to leave?" mumbles McCoy, his eyes closed. Jim laughs softly.

"Would you miss me?"

"No."

"Liar." McCoy feels lips ghost lightly over the corner of his lips. "I'm not going anywhere until all of this is done. I'm not leaving you until then."

That's the last thing he hears before he lets himself fall asleep.


On to Interfaced

Back to Program Reboot