Speaking Eyes: Jealousy

by MaryReilly

Disclaimer: Based on the TV series, with influences from the Dark Knight and other DC comics. Involves underage sexual activity; you are forewarned. You will leave now, or get over it. Whichever.

And of course, I don’t own them, never have, never will, make no pretensions to, except that I am firmly committed to the belief that all information should be free - but it is not, I realize that. At any rate, I have nothing anyone would want (except a mind full of smut and a damn cool computer).

Me hamava Tut I love you

In the few years of his life, Timothy Drake had seen great evil, and great good. He had known evil men and seen them do evil things; he had seen great men do good deeds for good reasons. One of these men was his hero, a hero he shared with a million other people in the plagued city of Gotham: the Batman.

Bruce Wayne.

That was his name; the man inside the mask. Tim loved and worshipped Bruce Wayne with all that he had. Every ounce of loyalty and devotion that he could wring from himself, he gave to Bruce and to the Batman. In his admittedly small world, Bruce could do no wrong.

Not yet.

In his life, Tim had never seen great love, or great jealousy. Until now.

He crouched at the top of the grand staircase in Wayne Manor, hiding in the deep shadows there, and stared transfixed at the two men below.

Bruce Wayne. Calm, a gentleman. Riding out the storm of rage and hate being directed at him with more patience than Tim had thought any man capable of.

Dick Greyson. Tim didn’t have the right words to describe Dick at this moment. If he had been able to understand the richly sibilant words that Dick was screaming in his fury, he might have been able to use a few of them.

The worst part of it for Tim was that he knew why Dick was so angry. It was his fault that the former Robin was jealous and angry.

It never occurred to Tim to think that Bruce might be somehow to blame, or that he should take his share of the guilt.

Not yet.

Tim stared, sickly fascinated in his guilt, at Dick Greyson. He had never realized just how wild and savage an angry person could be. Or at least, how angry and savage Dick could be. He had always envisioned the former Robin as a quiet young man, serious and studious. Not like this. Never like this.

"How could you? In my house, Bruce? In our house? Did you think I wouldn’t know? Did you think I wouldn’t care? Do you think I don’t love you anymore, is that it? You sent me away! You told me to go! You made me get my own place! You told me I needed to broaden my horizons!

"Did you really think that I would ever find anyone to replace you? How could I? After I gave myself to you?

"Why are you doing this to me? What have I done? Why did I trust you?"

Something cracked in Bruce at this point, and he moved forward, but Dick pulled away, still screaming in his wild fury.

"What have I done? How could you do this me?"

Bruce finally managed to grab hold of Dick, and was holding him by the shoulders. "Please, Dick, listen to me – " Bruce’s voice was icy calm, in a way that Tim had never heard before.

Dick struggled wildly without answering until Bruce finally let him go, and he ran to the door.

"Dick - if you leave now, it’s because you’re not coming back. You know that." Bruce’s voice was steely and uncompromising.

Dick paused, his hand on the door. The moment passed, and he sank to the floor, sobbing wildly. "No, no no, Bruce, please, me hamava Tut, please, no...."

Tim could barely make out the words through Dick’s sobbing.

Bruce walked over to him, and pulled Dick up into his arms. "Dick," he whispered into the young man’s hair. "I won’t let you leave me, not like this. Come here, and listen to me."

"Me hamava Tut, me hamava Tut. Oh, God, Bruce, why me? What are you doing to me?"

Bruce half-carried Dick into the sitting room, and Tim couldn’t see them anymore.

Me hamava Tut. He wasn’t positive what the strange words meant, and he couldn’t even guess what language they were. But he had a good idea of what Dick was trying to communicate to Bruce, from the tone of Dick’s voice and the way that he kept repeating it.

They were the same words that Tim had been crying out last night.

I love you.

end