Learn To Love Chapter 14: Walking Alone
Chikorita-Trainer1
T
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or anything else I might make references to.
Damian's POV
It's the middle of the night, 1:01 AM to be exact, and I can't fall asleep. I just keep thinking about love, and what it means.
I can understand romantic love- sort-of. I mean, I get that two people are physically attracted to each other, then they get to know each other, then they fall in love…whatever. Not something I'm interested in, but it makes sense to me.
The love between parent and child is also very simple and easy for me to understand. A child is born to a couple, or in my case, to one parent, and the parent or parents treasure the child because it is a part of them, made from a combination of both of their bodies, both of their souls. It's only natural that parents feel protective of their children; in the Animal Kingdom, protecting the young is innate, because if the parents didn't care for their offspring, the young would get killed and the species would not survive.
The love between siblings is also not lost on me. While I don't feel particularly close to Dick, I do love him. He can be a pain in the ass, but he's also warm and kind, and fun to be with when we're fighting crime.
But Tim? How can I love him? He's my brother, sure, but we haven't spent enough time together to get to know each other. The only times we've attempted to work together we've ended up fighting. The times we have been together out-of-costume are times when we're FORCED to do so, and we end up fighting then, too.
I hate him and he hates me. Except…I love him, too. I hate him and love him. How can that be? That doesn't make any sense at all.
This is stupid. I wish he HAD died.
Damn it, there's that feeling in my chest, like my heart is being crushed in a nutcracker. So that means that even the thought of Tim dying makes me unhappy. But why? We don't get along, we have nothing in common, we can barely tolerate each other! Why does my body tell me I care for him when my mind tells me otherwise?
I roll over, as best I can on my cylindrical pillow, and scowl at the clock. I really want to fall asleep, but my mind is too active. I'm an insomniac.
I can see light coming in from under my bedroom door, accompanied by two long shadows; someone is standing outside my door. If it's Tim, I'm just going to pretend to be asleep.
The door opens, and my father steps in quietly. He must just be checking up on me. For the sake of avoiding a goodnight kiss from him, I let him know I'm still awake.
"Father?" I say softly, sitting up in bed.
"You're awake?" he replies.
"Obviously," I growl. "How was patrol?"
"Productive. I managed to stop a rape, a carjacking and some vandalism." I can sense what he's telling me via subtext; that without me, patrol was much easier.
"Good," I say, turning on my bedside lamp.
"How are you?" he asks, sitting down on my bed. I shrug and look away from him.
"As you can plainly see, I can't sleep," I grumble.
"Have you spoken to Tim since he woke up?" my father inquires.
"Yeah, we talked," I admit with a sigh. "Well, more like fought." Father chuckles.
"That's nothing new, is it?"
"Only this time I think I stuck my foot in my mouth," I add softly, almost not talking to him, but more to myself.
"What happened?"
"He told me he heard what I'd said," I struggle to say, since it's still so embarrassing. "And he said that it gave him the strength to get up."
"That's good," Father says proudly.
"He started to thank me, but I…" I trail off, feeling ashamed.
"What?"
"I pushed him away," I whisper, looking down. Father puts his hand under my chin and lifts my head up, forcing me to look him in the eye.
"If I had a nickel for every time I've done that to someone, well, we'd be living in an even bigger house."
"Hee hee hee hee!" I can't help but giggle. "So it's OK that I did that?"
"Not exactly," Father answers. "It's a problem that seems to run in the family, and not exclusively in the bloodline, either."
"What do you mean?"
"Dick has done the same thing. So has Tim. It's our insecure way of preventing further heartache," Father explains.
"I am not insecure!" I declare proudly.
"Of course you are, Damian. Look at yourself; you attack everything that moves. You pick fights with everyone who tries to be nice to you. That's like the definition of insecurity." The proud, self-righteous look on my face immediately droops down into one of shame.
"What do you think I should have done, Father?" I ask, turning the responsibility of the conversation on him.
"I don't know. I would have talked. Built a constructive dialogue." Man, is that ever what I DON'T want to hear.
"Father, I'm really confused," I say.
"About what?"
"About love. I hate Tim, and yet I don't want to live without him. You say that's love, but it makes no sense! How can I love someone and hate them at the same time?"
"Damian, we all feel that way about certain people. It's called having a love/hate relationship," Father says with a chuckle in his voice.
"That's stupid," I mutter.
"Damian, I'm not asking you to get along with Tim 100% of the time. I just want you to stop trying to kill each other. You can love each other without ever really saying it. You know that, right?"
"I suppose," I mumble. "I just fail to see how-"
"I know, I know," Father interrupts me, getting off the bed and rearranging the covers on top of me as I lie back down.
"And I don't understand how-"
"You don't have to understand everything, Damian," Father assures me, kneeling down to my level. "You're ten. Lots of things, especially emotional things, just aren't going to click with you until you get older. It's natural. No one expects you to understand the whole world."
"But I want to understand everything now!" I whine. Father laughs and smoothes my hair.
"Don't we all?" I smile at this. My father rarely jokes around with me. "See you in the morning, son."
"Goodnight, father." Ugh! He kisses me on the forehead again! Jeez, if that's a gesture of love, it's one I can do without.
Father turns out my bedside lamp, and exits my room quietly.
Tim's POV
I feel so calm and relaxed right now. The bed isn't all that warm, but that's good, because if it were, I wouldn't be able to enjoy the warmth of my brother, whose right arm is wrapped protectively around my waist. His chin rests on top of my hair, and I haven't felt this loved in a long, long time.
I feel so retarded for ever doubting him. Dick would never do anything to hurt me. Yes, I'm still a little jealous that he has a separate brotherly relationship with Damian, but what we have together means so much more. Especially since Damian doesn't even like to acknowledge the significance of relationships within the family.
I feel the exact opposite of what I felt the night I slit my wrist; that night I felt empty, weighed down, my chest felt like it had been hollowed out and replaced with an anvil. But now I feel fulfilled and safe. Even my arm isn't itching right now. I feel like I did when I was younger; back when Dick and I were still getting to know each other. Even though I'm seventeen, and more than capable of taking care of myself, I still like that he's so protective of me.
Part of me wishes we could lie here together forever, but I'm getting hungry.
"Dick?" I say, wriggling out from under his arm.
"What?"
"I'm hungry. Want to get some breakfast?" I half-expect him to groan and pull the covers up over his face in protest, but instead, his eyes light up and he grins, as if he's been waiting for me to ask him that.
"Hell yeah!"
Bruce's POV
I sit at the dining room table, reading the newspaper, waiting for Alfred to bring me my breakfast. A peaceful moment that I savor, because I know it can't possibly last. I don't even have to look up to know who's coming into the room.
"What's the breakfast du jor?" asks Dick, sitting down at my right.
"You have a nose, don't you?" I answer. And that response is met with the loud sniffing sounds of my eldest son.
"Mmm! Eggs, bacon and toast!" he says cheerfully.
"I'm actually more in the mood for Cocoa Puffs myself," says Tim. OK, that time, I do have to put my paper down and address him.
"Tim, that's disgusting!" I declare.
"Relax, Bruce. I was kidding. I don't even think we have any Cocoa Puffs in the house," Tim explains.
"I am happy to report that we do not," says Alfred, emerging from the kitchen with a plate in each hand. "Yours will be ready momentarily, Master Timothy," he adds, placing one plate in front of me and one in front of Dick.
"Thank you, Alfred," Tim says politely. "Where's spawn?" he asks, referring to Damian. I clench my eyes shut in anticipation; I know Damian is going to respond to that with a threat of violence or some such insolence.
My son puts his newspaper that has been obscuring his short stature down on the table and replies,
"Within earshot, if you must know!" Tim grins with guilt.
"Heh…didn't see you there, kid," he says sheepishly.
"Obviously. And if you're so keen on destroying your health, forget the cereal. I'll be glad to fuck you up right here and now!"
"Damian, that's enough!" I yell across the table. By now I've gotten used to his potty mouth, but at the breakfast table? Come on.
"He started it!" Damian counters.
"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" Dick demands, albiet humorously. We comply. And the only sound that is heard is the little KERPLUNK of Damian dropping a sugar cube into his tea.
Damian's POV
I sit here at the table, watching my family eat and interact, and I just can't help but feel excluded. True, they knew each other and formed bonds and relationships long before I hit the scene. It's no wonder I feel like an outsider.
I guess that's probably why I've been so hostile to Tim ever since I met him. I was sent to meet my father, though I never asked to, and right when I got there, I found out he already had a son. I felt threatened, disappointed, and challenged. I thought I had to take him out or I would never be accepted by my father. How wrong I was. I kicked the shit out of Tim Drake and all I got was yelled at. Hardly the reaction I would have gotten in the League of Assassins.
Despite the training I've been put through and all the skills I've had to master, I was still always treated like a prince. Mother gave me everything. I was always told that someday I would rule the world, and I guess I believed it a little too much. I never thought that someone would tell me that ruling the world wasn't a good goal to have. That protecting the weak rather than dominating them was a much better path. I see it now, of course, but back then I was still totally bewildered by it.
The rest of the morning is spent training. Father spars with me in the wring, though it's a little hard to reach him. I have to jump an extra two feet just to punch him in the face.
Dick and Tim are spotting each other, lifting free-weights. No one has ever done that with me before. Of course, I can't lift more than about 30 pounds, so there's been no need for me to have a spotter.
"OW!" I cry suddenly as my father's foot connects with my gut. I end of lying on the mat, gasping and coughing.
"Are you alright, son?" he asks, offering me his hand. I slap it away.
"Do I LOOK alri-" I attempt to say, before bursting into another fit of coughing.
"Aw, poor little Damian got the wind knocked out of him," says Dick. Before I can even process the tone of voice he says it in (which is not condescending, but more concerned), I stagger up and yell at him.
"SHUT UP!"
My family is silent. I look up at their faces, and see that they're all…neutral. They're not mad at me for yelling. Almost as if they knew I was going to.
"What?" I ask.
"You're such a brat," sighs Tim, ruffling my hair. That's the first time he's ever done that. He smiles warmly at me, and my heart gets that tingly feeling in it again. Next thing I know, my cheeks are stretching out against my will, and I'm smiling at my brother.
"I know," I say with a grin.
I'm starting to think maybe there is something to like about Tim. He cares for me. Maybe that's enough. Maybe that's all the reason I need to love someone.
END OF CHAPTER 14
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