Hello everybody, I haven't lost interest in this story! Sorry for the late and short update, but I started kind of a series of stories that intertwine... "The Deathstroke Contract", "Lost (Help Me I'm Buried Alive)", "When The Little Bird Cries" and "The Robin Conspiracy" and that's taking most of my time, but I'm still going to finish this, so enjoy!

III.- The Ones Who Didn't Protect Him

Dick Grayson

It was a struggle, brining Tim home. I had to put some clothes on him, and he would resist. He just wouldn't let himself be touched, he was so traumatized. And it hurt me. I was his older brother, I was supposed to protect him. But Kobra… Kobra took away his innocence, tainted his body and I wanted him dead. I wanted to kill Kobra with my bare hands. I wanted to shove a tube down his ass and make him feel what Tim felt. Helpless, violated. But that would have to wait, Tim needed us now. He needed to heal.

So I was now facing Bruce Wayne, who had just lost a son. Jason's demise was still fresh in our mind. I knew Bruce wanted so badly to kill the Joker, just as I did. How could we focus on helping Tim heal when we needed healing ourselves? How could we be a good family when we were all broken? I just couldn't understand that, I needed to understand that.

Alfred came out of Tim's room, looking sad. "He just fell asleep, Master Bruce."

Bruce nodded and I put my head down, feeling shame on how I couldn't protect him. "It is my fault, Bruce. If I had gotten there in time…"

"Listen to me, Dick," said Bruce as he put a hand over my shoulder. "This isn't your fault. You did your best… you always try to protect him. Sometimes… we… just can't. Like Jason… but he's still here. We have to help him. We have to let him feel protected."

I nodded, feeling tears in my eyes. "How can you be so forgiving?"

"Because you're my son," said Bruce as he squeezed my shoulder. "And Tim is too… the family has suffered enough. I don't want it to break apart. We'll help Tim, you and I. His family. I've seen so many suffer because of me… because of my mistakes. Not anymore…"

I nodded again, I understood that.

"Bruce, how can we help him?" I asked, confused. "I've never dealt with a rape victim so close to me like that. I don't know what to do…"

Bruce sighed. "That makes two of us."

Alfred looked at both of us and looked down. "I saw a lot of things back in my day, but one thing that will never change is that a rape victim needs to know it wasn't his fault. Master Tim needs a lot of love and affection to heal. He will need an understanding brother, and caring father, and loving friends… so he can be whole again."

Bruce and I nodded. Bruce sighed. "I just hope I can help him."

Alfred looked at his oldest charge and smiled at him. "Master Bruce, Master Dick. Right now, Master Tim doesn't need a Batman to save him or a Nightwing to protect him. He needs a Bruce Wayne and a Dick Grayson that will love him, care for him and eventually nurse him… so he can be happy again. Keep that in mind…"

We both understood that, and without waiting for anything else, I entered Tim's room. The lights were off, but I crept in anyway, making sure I didn't trip on anything. I grabbed the chair by his desk and pulled it by his bed, sitting on his bedside and watching him sleep. He looked so disturbed, even in his sleep, his breathings were uneasy.

I wanted to touch his arm and let him know that nothing would hurt him again, but I didn't know if that would be alright. I couldn't lie to him like that.

Then, he started to squirm around, his eyes closed tight. I turned the nightlight on and I could see him having some sort of nightmare. "Please, Timmy. It's okay. You can wake up. It's alright…"

"No! Please don't!" shouted Tim in his nightmare as he bolted up, and I could see a wet patch of pee forming on the bed. Tim was wetting the bed.

It broke my heart, I didn't know what to do.

Shaking, I put my hand on his shoulder and shook him. "Please, Tim. Wake up. It's okay. It's alright…"

And then Tim woke up, bolting up covered in sweat and pee. He sat up and breathed heavily.

I put my hands on his chest and tried to soothe him. "Hey, Timmy. Shh… it's alright. You'll be okay…"

Tim looked at me, and without saying anything, he started sobbing. I just couldn't take it. I started crying too, a lot. Loudly, we both cried until the door opened and revealed Bruce and Alfred.

Bruce walked towards us and saw the poor state we were in. He knelt before us and started hushing us, rubbing one hand over Tim's hair and one over my shoulder. I did this.

I did this to my brother.

If I hadn't messed up with Kobra so long again, if I had been half the brother I should have been, this wouldn't have happened. And so I cried, wanting to hold Tim tight against my chest and hug the life out of him. But he wouldn't let me. He was afraid of touch.

"Please, forgive me, Tim," I cried, not daring to look at him. "Please forgive me…"

Bruce wrapped his arms around me, because he knew Tim was afraid of touch. With love, he turned to Tim and looked fondly at him. "Hey, Timmy… we should get you cleaned up. Are you okay with that?"

Tim looked down, unsure, not saying anything.

He stood up and walked wobbly to the bathroom, not looking back at us. As if he was ashamed. He just opened the door and enter, striping of his clothes like a robot.

It broke my heart.

He closed the door and I could hear the shower start to run. I looked at Bruce and he smiled fondly at me. "He'll be alright, Dickie. We'll be alright. Come on, help me change his sheets…"

I nodded, I had my moment of weakness. But no more.

I was going to make my brother better, I was going to nurse him to health again. Even if it took me years. Tim would be alright, I promise. And Kobra… he will die. I'll kill him.

That's a promise too.

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