I Am Jealousy
By Simply Shelby

"Whoever had qualities to alarm our jealousy, had excellence to deserve our fondness."
-Samuel Johnson, The Rambler

"I try not to."

Alan looks over at the woman, taking his eyes off his book. Amita is across from him on the couch, Charlie's curly head in her lap, and her eyes are following her hand as she brushes his hair from his forehead. She doesn't look up to meet his eyes and keeps them intently on his son's face as he sleeps soundly. Don has left for the night, after checking on his little brother, but Amita remains.

"What's that?" He slips off his glasses so he can see her clearly.

Her face is the picture of regret. "I know he's just doing what he thinks is right and he doesn't mean to step on toes. And he always makes up for it in the end." She sighs softly and shakes her head as if to dislodge some disturbing idea. "I'm just being stupid."

He doesn't stop looking at her, waiting for her to say more.

She hesitates, pursing her lips. Finally, she looks up at him with dark, fearful eyes. "I think I'm jealous," she admits in a whisper.

The father of a genius is not surprised by her admission. "Many people are," he comforts.

But her hands are shaking slightly and her eyes are terrified, begging him to understand. "I've always been so awed by his mind, by him." She remembers running her fingers reverently along the chalkboard that held such elegant math; remembers watching as he explained such complicated steps to an FBI team in simple, exquisite terms. "I don't want to lose that."

"You won't," Alan assured her.

But she's a woman and woman worry more than any other creature on the planet, Alan has found. "I'm afraid the more I get to know him, the worse it will get. I don't want to do that to him." Those last words alarm Alan as they sound very nearly like goodbye.

"He doesn't mind," Alan dismisses, "As long as you don't hold it against him."

Amita agrees, "It's not like he can help being so brilliant."

Alan remembers a time when Charlie had tried to pretend he didn't understand the numbers as well as he really did, tried to pretend like he wasn't really that brilliant and Alan remembers just how spectacuarly that particular plan backfired. "No, I suppose he can't."

"I'm not jealous that he had a better answer," she explains, "And it's not just the thought that we would have wasted hours of the FBI's time for a solution that would have solved nothing. It's not that he was right and we were wrong, but that he was right and we were wrong."

And he understands. The two of them had sulked and basked in self-pity and Charlie had apologised and explained and begged for understanding before handing the two of them something he knew they could do ten times better than he ever could. It wasn't about the math or the genius, but the man himself.

And for a moment he feels so proud of the man his son has turned out to be. Then he feels so proud that the woman across from him has grown fond enough of the man his son is to be jealous of him and not of his work. He can truthfully say he never wants to see this woman go.

Her fingers are tangled in his son's hair again and she smiles fondly. "He's getting a migraine," she says softly, her fingers trailing down to outline the creases in his forehead.

Alan resists the urge to chortle and simply says, "It's been a stressful day." As if it wasn't bad enough having one son weilding a gun daily, now he had two.

"I'm jealous for him." Amita admits again, softly, but this time her words have an entirely different meaning. (1)

AN: Title taken from Luke Pickett's "And Asleep I Am Your Everything" and this story was actually written while listening to that song.
(1) Definition of the word jealousy also includes, "an intense interest for another's prosperity".