FIC: Upon Your Knees
Tim holds a simple gold ring in his hand. There are no stones decorating it, but at just the right angle and with enough light, a faint engraving can be seen on the inside of the band. Tim rolls the ring across his palm, eventually pulling it off the thin gold chain it was on. He places the chain gently on the bedside table, setting back into sitting position on his bed. With shaking hands, he puts the ring on the ring finger of his left hand. He stares at his hand for a long time, remembering when he'd first had the chain with the ring hung around his neck. He'd hung the chain with the ring's partner around his partner's neck, stared into amazing gold eyes and kissed Bart until they were out of breath.
It had been a lifetime ago, and only a few years. Back when Bart was Kid Flash, and he was still more Robin than Batman.
They'd made love the first time that night, and for the first time in his life, Tim had felt completely safe and happy and loved. They'd had a few precious months when everything had been perfect. Then they'd lost Kon, and Bart had... changed. He'd changed too, but Bart had changed so much. They loved each other still, they always had and always would, but things were all broken and wrong. The first time they'd had sex afterward, Bart had fallen asleep almost immediately, into a deep slumber, while it had taken Tim three hours to cry himself to sleep.
Bart had been gone when he'd woken up.
He'd showered, discovering a series of bruises and scrapes that needed an excuse, and Tim had punched the wall of the shower so hard he'd caused four tiles to come off, and popped three fingers out of joint. The next two times they saw each other, Tim couldn't even let Bart touch him, and Bart hadn't understood what was wrong. The third time Bart had gotten pissed and demanded to know what was wrong and, after a short shouting match, Tim had ended up shouting 'you hurt me' and Bart's entire face had gone slack. Tim had repeated himself, quieter, and Bart had cautiously approached him, apologising, and eventually pulled him into a hug and held him tight.
It had taken a while before they'd slept together again, and Bart had been nothing but gentle since. But it still hadn't been quite right. Never quite what they'd had before. There'd been so many changes. Bart was so young, but he'd grown so quickly, changed so quickly. Three months or a few hours in a library, and the young, impulsive, almost-teenager that Tim had shared puppy-love and the beginnings of a relationship with had changed into a teenager who was capable of loving Tim in a different, less innocent way then they'd shared before. Someone who'd became Tim's life-partner and lover, as opposed to a boyfriend Tim had held hands and exchanged chaste kisses with.
Tim is sure things would have progressed in the same way, just taken longer to get from one stage to the next, had Bart aged normally. It was the second age jump that messed things up so badly. Bart was an adult physically, and he'd changed mentally as well, but he still wasn't quite an adult in that way. He was just less optimistic, trusting, and so many other things. So desperate to prove himself too, to be out from under any sort of command or supervision. Suddenly they were having fights, had lost the instinctive team dynamic they'd once had, had trouble just working together.
But there were moments, small precious moments, when Tim could see Bart beneath the walls he'd put up. The weekend they'd stolen away together to a small cabin in the Alps Bart had called in a favour to borrow. Bart had almost shyly showed him the bedroom, and had even accidentally slipped into superspeed while talking at one point.
Reading a poem he'd written. For Tim.
It had been terribly sweet, and Tim admantly protested when Bart had blushed afterwards and said it was horrible. It might've been to anyone else, but Tim had loved it, and had tackled Bart to the bed and shown his appreciation for it.
That had been two months ago, and they'd only seen each other a dozen times since then, and only a handful of those times they'd been able to be alone.
Tim would always be alone now. It hits him hard, and he can hardly breathe for a few minutes, taking deep, gasping breaths, and somehow managing not to cry. He pulls the ring off his finger, and holds it cupped in both hands, staring at it. He wished he could believe that it was all a horrible dream, or some sick joke, and he'd see Bart in a few seconds. His vision blurs as tears threaten to spill out of his eyes, but he doesn't let himself blink.
There is a knock at the door, and Bruce asks for him.
Tim ignores him. Bruce opens the door hesitantly, and slips into the room.
"I suppose you've heard then," he says eventually. Tim nods shortly. "I'm sorry you lost your friend." Tim nods again, and, despite all his efforts, bursts into tears. Bruce hugs him awkwardly. Tim hugs him back hard, clutching the ring in one fist. He can't stop crying, and he's embarrassed and slightly ashamed of himself for breaking down in front of anyone like this, but he. He's lost Bart. He's lost *Bart*. "Ssh," Bruce says eventually, "it's going to be alright. It hurts, and it's going to hurt, but it's going to be fine," Bruce promises. Tim shakes his head.
"Nothing's fine," he manages to sob, "nothing's fine. I. I loved him. I loved him. It's not fine, it never can be."
"Tim," Bruce says gently, and Tim pulls out from the hug so that's more of a hold. He unclenches his fist until Bruce can see the ring in the left one. Bruce looks from the ring to Tim quickly. Tim nods, hanging his head. "Oh god," says Bruce, and Tim starts crying again. "Tim, I'm so sorry." Neither of them moves for a long time, and Tim cries every tear he as before he looks up.
"How can you live when your heart's this badly broken?" Tim asks.
"You don't," Bruce says.
A young boy kneeling in an alleyway, a single ring in an open palm, and Tim understands.