A/N: I apologize in advance for the angst. I wasn't expecting it to come out like this, but Herman (my evil plotbunny of DOOM) had his ideas on how this chapter was supposed to go, and I learned long ago not to question him.

The Third Touch

It's one of the only times they get to be together these days (their time, alone, even if they have to be studying but their schedules this year are just so damn demanding they don't have anything else) and Leo (can't stand, resents, is furious though he's not allowed to show it) the intrusion.

Of the two of them. The girl who is the night (who he's actually grudgingly gotten to like, and even more surprisingly respect, not that he'd admit it to the kid) and her new roommate. They've intruded on their (his and the kid's, not that he can really call it that but it's always been precious and enjoyed but obviously more by him cause the kid doesn't seem to have a problem with their presence) table, setting down their own books and trays and settling in (like they belong, own the place).

And (in Leo's eyes, at least) that's not the worst of their crimes. The (green one with the hair of fire, her appearance startling but somehow pleasing all soft curves) roommate has stolen the kid's attention (ripped it right out of Leo's grasp, and there's nothing he can do he's incapable of protesting and fuck does it hurt) and they sit (touching, and playing with each other, testing to see if they're compatible) flirting like there's no one else in the world.

So all he can do is sit and (scowl, feel the lines of his face harden, his brows knitting together in an expression he hates) stare at his food, picking at the mashed potatoes (cause he no longer feels like talking, no longer feels like he belongs and he's hating this) while he tries to ignore the chatter tossing back and forth between the kid beside him and the emerald beauty across the table.

That is, until a pointy-toed boot (most definitely feminine footwear, no men's shoes ever feel quite like that and he's had lots of experience with footwear connecting with his shins) taps against his leg under the table. He glances up (unable to keep the surprise from his face) and stares into the dark eyes of the midnight beauty.

She smiles at him (like she knows something, but Leo knows he's been discreet and fuck he hopes the kid doesn't suspect cause that would just make this worse) and asks him a question.

It takes a moment for her words to register, but then he grasps onto the (welcome, oh how welcome) distraction she offers, and tries to ignore the pair beside them. But then the emerald lips open in a tinkling laugh, and the kid reaches out a hand (he can see out of the corner of his eye and fuck – he hates) to brush a curl from her cheek (and Leo takes the hilt of that dagger and shoves it further in, lets the pain take hold so he remembers cause this is why he never lets himself hope) earning the kid a smile.

That's when (perhaps the worst realization in, ever) hits him. He can't (take it out on the girl, hate hate hate her for everything she's done in the short amount of time she's been here) resent the girl for her presence. Her words, her attitude (her very state of being) is so sweet and innocent (and free, true, in away Leo had never believed possible until meeting her, still cannot wrap his head around) that he can't hold it against her.

Can't even blame the kid for wanting to be in her presence more (because he sees, he's not blind, he can tell how the kid is smooth and relaxed now in a way he's never been around Leo – and that's what hurts the most), would jump at the chance to be with her (hell, Leo probably would too if it weren't for this giant chip on his shoulder and the beat of his heart that calls for only the kid).

Then the dark one catches sight of someone over Leo's shoulder (and he can guess who it is, it's obvious, the way she lights up in that way that means – fuck, stop it) and she rises from her seat at the table.

Murmuring a goodbye to her roommate, and with a sympathetic squeeze to Leo's shoulder (is he really that obvious? Unacceptable, he has to correct his behavior before something immutable happens) before walking off. Leo follows her with his eyes (knowing he's not the only one – the girl is quite a looker, and not just a few heads in the cafeteria stop to stare as she walks by) as she goes up to the professor, and engages him in a discussion.

Leo's assumptions are confirmed when he sees her destination (and the quiet look of pleased surprise on the half-Vulcan's face) and he can't help but feel a pang of (jealousy, because she knows what she wants and she's going after it – like he'd never have the guts to) sorrow that he can never do the same. Not only (are her feelings quite obviously returned, mutual) is she headstrong and courageous, she is sure of herself (in a way Leo will never be, not unless it's with his work which is undeniably the only thing he's ever considered himself even decent at. Cause he sure as fuck doesn't know how to do relationships) and confident in her abilities.

As soon as he turns back to the table, he's reminded (slammed into reality, battered by the truth that hurts so fucking much he just wants to scream – but can't) again of what awaits him here. And he can't take it anymore (it makes him sick to his stomach, he can't finish his food anyway he might as well) so he stands.

"I'm goin' to finish my work in my room."

Both people seated turn and gaze at him (the girl's eyes curious, assessing, and he can see her nostrils widen as she takes in a deep breath – and the look of surprise and pity that flashes across her face. But fuck, he doesn't want her pity) but he doesn't look at the kid (can't look at the kid, afraid he'll show what he's feeling and he'd much rather have him as a friend than nothing at all) as he gives a (fake, so plastic-feeling, but what other choice does he have?) smile.

Then turns and (without a backward glance, because the sight of them together is too much for him to bear) exits the cafeteria.

(*)

It's no surprise when, the next day, Leo (can't work up the energy to, doesn't give a damn enough) is only half-hearted as they're practicing. He's not protesting the practice itself, no (he knows he needs this, it's one of the only things that makes him feel good about himself) he just doesn't feel (can't stand it, hates it but loves it and oh god he's so confused) up to being in the kid's presence.

And it's obvious the kid can tell (he keeps glancing over, his eyes questioning) though he's walking in eggshells around Leo (which just further pisses Leo off, where does the brat get off acting like that around him, of all people?).

Until, finally, the kid has had enough, and he asks.

"Nothing."

Leo surprises himself with (his audacity, the pertinence because it's fucking obvious something's bothering him and it's ridiculous to deny it) his reply. It seems to surprise the kid as well, who gives him (a hurt, and oh damn especially now that cuts Leo to the core) look before turning away. Those (long slim fingers, beautiful like every precious part of the kid) hands ball into fists at the kid's side, and he continues the workout.

Somehow, the kid's refusal to push leaves Leo (abandoned, left to his own devices and he should really expect it cause he knows he's fucking useless and doesn't mean nothing to nobody) feeling hollow. And he takes a moment (to breathe, center himself and try to find his footing once again) before he begins punching the air again.

He's brought up short when a fist (flashes so close, the air whistling at the speed and it stops a millimeter from his nose cause the kid has control) appears in his face.

"Tell me."

"No."

Before he even registers movement (cause on top of his control, the kid has speed and power and fuck) he's on the ground, the kid straddling his hips (and oh fuck don't think about that no no no no) and his arm's getting twisted.

"Tell me."

The words come out frustrated, and Leo (can hear, can feel how much his silence is hurting the kid but he can't tell him the truth) can hear how close to desperate the kid is.

But he keeps his silence (there's really nothing to say, how the hell is he supposed to respond in a way that would sound even the least bit sane) and turns his head to the side, trying to ignore the slight twinge of pain in his arm.

A flinch must have appeared on his face, though, (cause the kid's expression whispers apology) his arm is released. And the kid (fuck fuck, don't it hurts how can you how dare you –) leans forward, still on top of Leo, and rests his head on Leo's shoulder.

He doesn't move (he can't, cause if he moves even the tiniest muscle this thing inside him that's dying to come out will explode and there will be no turning back and everything will be dust) just lies there, with his hands at his side, as the kid sighs against him (his weight feels so good and perfect, like it belongs, and damn how could he do this to Leo?).

"If it's Gaila…even if we start messing around, I'll never let it interfere with our friendship, Bones. Nothing means more to me than this."

The words make him sigh (And that's just it, isn't it? Friendship. That's all they'll ever have, all he'll be gifted with and damn it, it should be enough) and dampen his anger (like a bucket of cold water to his face, washing everything away until he's left an empty husk). Again, he can't blame the emerald goddess – or the kid (not even for the relaxed comfortableness from yesterday when the kid was in her presence), because he knows about the pheromones, and that the emerald beauty is nearly irresistible to Humans, but he's not quite sure why he wasn't affected (though he suspects it's because his heart is already tied to one person, but that person won't have him so it's not like it matters).

He even knows that any relationship with an Orion can never be permanent, that it's just moments of pleasure before both partners go their separate ways (and he also assumes that the kid knows this, cause the kid knows every and all things regarding the subject of sex) and he should be happy that the kid found someone (to touch, to have in that way cause Leo knows how broken the kid is inside even though he never speaks of it) to forget himself with for a while (and Leo certainly can't help if he wants that person to be himself).

But he (does the bigger thing, cause damn it, he's got no other choice) lets it go, makes it better (so the kid doesn't have to worry, because if there's one thing Leo wants to be steady and constant in the kid's life it's his knowledge that Leo will always be there) and pats the kid awkwardly on the back.

"That's all it was. I've gotten used to you, Jim, and didn't want you to disappear on me."

The smile (he's gifted with) then is radiant and relieved, and then the kid (so free and comfortable in his skin, grace personified) springs up, offering Leo a hand up.

He (wants to refuse, to prove that he can do it by himself but he's weak and needs that touch) grasps the offered hand, and gets pulled to his feet.

And they begin moving once again, on the same path but separate.

(*)

He rests his head against the window (and it doesn't even bother him that he's staring out into space anymore), letting the kid's words wash over him. Over the last couple years he's taken plenty of shuttle rides (and somehow the kid always manages to make it so they go up on these test runs together, and not once has he ever let Leo focus on what's happening), so many in fact that he's mostly comfortable (at least in the shuttle, and on the ships themselves – but if he stops and thinks about breaches to the hull too long he starts to hyperventilate), all because the kid has kept up a nearly constant stream of reassurance. Somehow, he knows how much it helps (though Leo can never find the words to tell the kid how much it matters to him, how much the kid matters to him).

But today, the constant chatter is (more frustration than comfort, the words grating under Leo's skin) more irritating than anything. It's not that the kid is talking (no, Leo is always appreciative of that, loves to hear the kid's voice and to have the kid's undivided attention) it's more the topic the kid is talking about.

Because it's really just ridiculous, now. Leo knows (how important it is) how big of a deal the test is for the Command Track cadets, but he still (can't wrap his head around, falls short when he tries to quantify) the level of (obsession) focus the kid is expending on the project. From what Leo understands, it's not (supposed to be) to be beaten, but rather to teach the future Captains and Admirals what kind of sacrifices they might be forced to make (in real life, where it matters, when it's real people on the line and you have to choose between the greater good and what you really want).

He rolls his head to the side, staring at the (so beautiful when he's intent on something, when his eyes light up like that as he's thinking) kid beside him, who's lost in his strategies and isn't really paying attention to Leo at the moment anyway. Maybe (that's it, it has to be, why hadn't Leo thought of it before?) the kid just can't stand failing at anything. Leo's never seen him be anything but perfect (but no, that's not exactly right. The kid doesn't do it on purpose, it's just as easy as breathing for him) and maybe the fact that he lost, and "people" died is driving him crazy.

That would make sense (insofar as Leo is able to ascertain, after all he might be a doctor but he's never been a mind reader, no matter how well he thinks he understands the kid) and would explain this extreme behavior.

Like how the kid is talking now (crazy talk, this is, and Leo wonders how the kid's instructors are handling this cause if Leo is getting more than an earful he's sure the instructors haven't stopped hearing his reasoning) about not giving up – and going in a second time.

It's (fucking crazy, is what it is) really not unexpected, and Leo lets out a sigh. Somehow the kid has managed to work more practice in (even before he's been approved for a second go-round, cause this is the kid and he doesn't take no for an answer) and his nonexistent free time has become even more sparse (and this burns, burns like wanting, cause this means he has even less time for Leo, but Leo takes comfort in the fact that he doesn't have time for the emerald goddess either – and Leo always comes first).

But that means this shuttle ride is the first time Leo's gotten to (stare at, even though it feels dirty now, after. After) sit and just talk with the kid, and it's gotten (monopolized) wasted on talk of something that Leo (doesn't give a damn about, can't comprehend) isn't interested in. He'd rather talk about anything but this (not that he'd ever tell that to the kid, cause he's so excited and focused and Leo would never admit that he's anything but overjoyed in the kid's presence).

So he (uses his own intellect, cause he can readily admit that he knows how to tackle a problem and find the best solution, and damn if he's going to waste all his precious time with the kid talking about this) inserts a (what he considers witty, but is quite obviously the opposite when the kid gives him that look) comment to break through the kid's monologue.

Who laughs (and at least he earned that, but it's barely more than a chuckle and he's rather disappointed in himself, in a humoring sort of way) and lets the change of subject occur.

As the banter (always with a touch of sadness, as Leo is never truly happy not anymore, not when he's so close and can never touch the way he wants to) takes place between them in earnest, the stars fly past behind the window.

(*)

He (finally gives in, after hours and hours of searching – so much that his feet ache and he swears he's covered every inch of campus and even beyond) gives up, and makes his way to his dorm (silent and empty and knowing) to wait.

If the kid wants to be found, he'll be found. Not that Leo (can stand the waiting, and the not-knowing, it's driving him crazy) can do anything otherwise.

He gets out his textbooks (and it's not like he hasn't been studying for so long he's forgotten how to do anything else, his brain so full of knowledge he considers useless he doesn't know if he'll ever feel normal again) and tries to do something productive while he waits.

Deciding on xenobiology (Vulcans, to be exact, because he still can't let go of the thought of dissecting that hybrid because his existence is purely fascinating) as something he can at least sink his teeth into, he settles down and lets time pass.

But he's (not so deeply in, intentionally keeping one ear open for) not so focused that, when the door (which had been locked, but he didn't expect it to stay so) slowly starts to creak open.

He stays still, (patiently but oh so impatiently) waiting in his chair at the desk, letting the kid come in at his own pace (doesn't want to scare him away, wants him to come, wants him to stay so he knows he's safe).

When he's finally inside, the door safely closed (and locked, which would make Leo chuckle at the absurdity if it wasn't under these circumstances) behind him, Leo takes in the sight of the kid in the low light from his lamp.

Disheveled, drunk (with the bottle still grasped between loose fingers, perfectly balanced and no danger of falling despite the kid's obvious inebriation) the kid stands, blinking at Leo in the half-light.

"Bones…."

And then he's falling forward, and Leo catches him, dragging him over to (his bed, the one he sees the kid in so many times while he's patching him up, and every time it makes him ache) the bed in the corner, letting the kid sink down.

But instead of falling onto the bed like he usually does, the kid leans towards him, wrapping his arms around Leo and nestling his head in the junction of neck and shoulder (so warm warm warm all hard planes and trembling flesh) and pulling him close.

"I hate this, Bones."

He doesn't know what (to think, if it's ok to breathe or will the kid discover and hate him forever?) to do, so he lets instinct take over and pats the kid awkwardly on the shoulder, holding him (but not too close, trying to make it feel like friend to friend or brother to brother, instead of the way he really wants to hold this perfect, broken person). He knows what today is (even though he never asked, never needed to – he's never given a damn, it doesn't change who the kid is, what he means, as a person, to Leo) knows how hard it is for the kid. And how hard everyone else makes it, this (godforsaken, damned holiday that doesn't make any fucking sense and how could they even think this was fair to the family this day destroyed?) "Remembrance Day."

"I know, Darlin', I know."

His heart, quite literally, stops (fuck. Did he just say that out loud? Shit shit shit what the hell was his tongue thinking, to let that slip out?) as the kid freezes in his arms. Even drunk, the kid must have heard (and must know now, and everything is lost, he'll never want to see Leo again and Leo will be broken and bleeding and empty for the rest of his days).

A full minute goes by, before either of them moves (Leo too terrified to even contemplate it, and the kid – he has no fucking idea what the kid is thinking) and then, it's only the kid burping quietly against his shoulder.

And then he yawns, and asks (the question that breaks Leo's heart, shatters it into thousands of pieces because he l—).

"Bones, can I stay here tonight?"

His (heart swells, cause he can't help it, and he knows it's innocent but still) voice (surprising Leo, cause he could have sworn it wasn't possible) doesn't crack when he says yes.

The kid gets to his feet (wobbly, cause there's too much alcohol in his system, but still able to stand on his own) and strips before Leo (can make any move to stop him) can comprehend exactly what's going on. He certainly can't turn away (cause that would be fucking obvious, make things even more awkward than they are, and he's just fucking glad the kid is drunk and hopes he won't remember any of this in the morning), so instead he just keeps his eyes on the kid's face. And he can't help but (breathe a little easier, cause he wouldn't know what to do if the kid hadn't kept them on) sigh when the kid doesn't touch his boxer-briefs. Then the kid is crawling back into the bed (on top of the sheets, and why does he insist on tormenting Leo so?) and falling bonelessly into a sprawl.

Leo shifts from his position on the bed, ready to go to the desk and continue his studying (cause he sure as hell can't stay here, not with the kid like that cause he doesn't know if he has that kind of control). When a hand reaches out to him.

"No, Bones, stay…."

And the kid (must not know what that sounds like, doesn't comprehend can't comprehend he's too drunk to know any better) is already half asleep, his words coming out as nothing more than a mumble.

But he can't ignore it (any more than he can ignore the pounding of blood in his ears) and he slips back into the bed, lying down next to the kid (in his sweats still, cause he's not going there this is fucking crazy as it is).

Then there's an arm stretched out towards him, strong fingers tangling in his sleeve (clinging, this kid that has tangled himself just as effectively in Leo's heart, and Leo doesn't have it in him to untangle either), then the kid drifts off into slumber.

Leo settles back into the bed, and (because he's human, damn it, and he can't help himself) takes the opportunity to observe the warm form beside him (cataloging every hard line and the delicate tracing of scars, wanting to know the story behind each one but knowing he'll never get the chance to ask) as the kid sleeps.

And he knows, can no longer deny it to himself (what the kid is to him and what the hell is he thinking he needs to stop this thing of his before he gets in trouble but he can't he can't) as he watches (as if outside his body, no control he wants to so badly and he just can't help himself) his fingers move, of their own accord.

They start at the kid's face (beloved, damnit, and it's cutting him into tiny pieces), brushing gently against eyebrows and cheekbone. Then his finger tips trace across that jawline (the one he's always wanted to coat with kisses) and then the hollow of the kid's neck. Down, further, across pectorals that are still tense (even in sleep, and it reminds Leo again what hell the kid must have gone through this day, alone), following the line of a scar that would be invisible but for the tanned skin.

He lets it stop in the light trail of curls that begin at the kid's belly button and travel downward (he can't go any further and still look at himself in the mirror, he really shouldn't have gone this far but he can't help himself) letting one of the tight curls wrap around his index finger.

Then his hand (of its own volition still, cause if he was even half listening to his brain he'd be all the way across the room long before now) lifts once more, wrapping itself around the fingers tangled in his sleeve (and it's probably just his imagination, but it feels like that grip is a little tighter on him and it makes his throat tighten painfully).

Listening to the kid breathing (calm and deep, not like that night that feels so long ago now when that breathing almost stopped for good), his eyes watch the shadows playing across the kid's (achingly beautiful, like every single piece of him) face before he finally drifts into slumber himself.