-Requested by sheisafan . Sorry it took so long-

-TW for mention of Sexual Assault. Nothing is shown, and it's not too graphic, but it is discussed-

"Guys, I... I didn't expect you..." Dick muttered, blocking about half the doorway. He looked like a mess. "I- I didn't even have time to clean!"

"It's fine." Tim told him. He knew Dick wasn't the most organized brother, but he wasn't sloppy, how bad could a college dorm be? It was a single!"

"These are for you." Damian thrust a package into their little brother's chest, sending him stumbling backwards off balance. Now that Dick was out of the doorway, the two eldest Wayne brothers could step in and take a good look at their surroundings. The place was a MESS. And that's from two people who'd seen Jason Todd's middleschool bedroom!

"Did you get robbed?" Tim asked, only half joking.

"I didn't expect you. Dick explained quickly. "I have been really busy lately, so I haven't had time to clean..."

Tim was at least relieved that the place didn't smell like weed, alcohol, or cigarettes, but it sure did smell of stale food and unshowered college student.

"Are you well?" Damian asked, giving his youngest brother a visual inspection. He looked unwashed and needed to shave.

"Like, am I sick? No." Dick replied.

Tim checked his brother's small fridge, it contained nothing but half a litre of milk, a handful of store bought sandwiches, a thing of mustard, and three pieces of bread. "Have you been eating?" Tim checked the cabinets, a pack of crackers and two packs of instant ramen. The sink was filled with unwashed dishes.

"Yeah, I have. I'm going shopping tomorrow." He insisted.

"What've you eaten today?" Damian asked suspiciously, he could always tell when his little brother was lying.

"I had some toast?" Dick lied.

Damian strode over to him and pried the lid off the tin they'd given him. The fresh aroma of Alfred's cookies stole through the stale air. "Eat." He warned his brother.

Dick took one, but didn't bite into it. "I'm... not really hungry."

Tim, who was in the middle of opening windows to let air in, stopped. No one ever rejected Alfred's cookies unless something was really wrong. "Are you sure you're okay, Dick?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" He tried to look peppy, forcing himself to bite into the cookie. It turned to sawdust in his mouth. He couldn't even enjoys Alfred's cookies anymore. Everything was lukewarm-cool and felt like seven pm on a Thursday. Everything was just so nothing. All his thoughts were repetitive and boring. That is, the thoughts that he let himself think....

"You don't look too good." Tim pushed his brother to the edge of his clothing-scattered, unmade bed. "Are you sure you've eaten, when's the last time you showered?"

"I dunno, a couple days?" Dick replied. "I've been busy."

"Have you been attending classes?" Damian asked, his brother didn't look like he'd gotten changed or left the apartment in days, weeks even maybe. not to mention that the dirty dished looked old, and the food seemed untouched.

"Some of them." Dick replied. He hadn't left in almost fifteen days. He just flopped back in bed, staring at the ceiling. 

"Dick, are you okay?" Tim tried to check him for a fever, but Dick flinched, pulling away. He didn't seem much for physical touch.

"M'fine." He replied. "Please. Go. I'm not feeling it today." Dick pleaded.

"What's wrong?" Damian ordered. "Did something happen on Patrol?" It was the only option, Dick would have told them if it was a school thing...

"Please get out." He buried his face in his hands, trying to keep himself steady and stoic. He felt another episode coming on, and didn't want his brothers there.

Tim reached out to touch his little brother's shoulder. Dick pulled away again before he could make contact. "Dick, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Go away." He told them, retreating into his hoodie sleeves slightly. He was struggling to keep his voice level now, and felt a lump rising in the back of his throat.

Damian grabbed Dick's arm to steady him. Dick tried to pull away, but gave in. He just broke, unable to hold back the sobs any longer.

The two older brothers locked eyes. That wasn't good. Usually being touched and hugged soothed their brother, but now it seemed to do the opposite.

"Dickie, what's wrong?" Tim asked in the voice he used to sooth his little brothers when they were children. "Are you hurt?"

Dick fell back on his bed, curling up into the fetal position. He was fully crying now, letting out soft whimpers into his sleeves.

Damian reached over and rested his hand on Dick's mattress. They waited until Dick's sobbing had quieted down a little. "Who?" He asked. "What is their name, Grayson?"

Dick sniffled a little, rolling over a little. He reached over shyly and locked fingers with his eldest brother. He gripped Damian's hand as hard as he could. It was the first physical contact he'd wanted in weeks.

"Take your time, it's okay." Tim assured him.

"Last name? That's all I need."

"Damian! He's not ready." Tim told him. Dick buried his face in the unmade covers, lip trembling.

Damian stood and cleared his brother's desk. He grabbed a notepad and a thick pen. "Richard, can you write it? For me?"

After a long few minutes of sniffling, panting, and shaking, Dick put out his left hand. Shuddering, he uncapped the pen. With much struggle, he scrawled the Words:

'C Flores'

Tim looked up at his older brother, mouthing:"C Flores?"

"I'll check the systems." Damian muttered, tearing out the page and reaching into his bag.

Tim took over Damian's place of holding their brother's hand. "Good job, Dickie, thank you for doing that." Tim had no clue who he meant, or what had happened to his brother, but he knew that someone was going to pay for this.

"Catalina Flores?" Damian asked suddenly, glancing up from his phone.

Dick let out a slight whine and let himself huddle a little closer to Tim.

"Who's Catalina Flores?" Tim asked his little brother. 

"We don't have too much on her, but I've found record of her in Bludhaven. A vigilante by the name of tarantula." Damian read.

Dick choked out another sob, defeated, lying in a pathetic, unwashed mess between his brothers on his unmade bed. 

Tim tried to put his hand in his brother's hair, but Dick froze up, so he quickly aborted and didn't touch his brother again. "Do you know her, Dick?" He asked. "What did she do?"

It took almost another thirty minutes for Dick to calm down enough to talk. He wanted to tell them and get it over with, but it's like the words got stuck in his throat. There was no way to say it that didn't make him out to be just as pathetic and weak as he was. He wished his brother's hadn't come.

"Grayson, Dick." Damian used the nickname, knowing it brought his brother comfort. "What did this person do?"

Dick finally took the glass of water Tim was forcing into his hands. He didn't want to look at either of them. He wished he was dead. He wished he'd fallen too, and could have died with his family rather than live on through torture.

"Blockbuster." He finally choked out. "Was trying to kill everyone." Tim let Dick grip his hand. "An-and we where stopping 'em..."

"You and Flores?" Damian asked. Dick shakily nodded. "Then what?"

"We did, but." He took may fast, shaky breaths, a second wave of panic crashing down on him. "I- was so confused and tired and I was in shock. I couldn't move." He choked, raising a splade hand to cover his running nose. "And-"

"What?" Tim encouraged. Dick just turned over and collapsed backwards on his bed again, sending the water glass spilling across the covers.

Damian glared at Tim, as though he was personally responsible, and  lowered himself closer to Dick. "Richard, Did Catalina Flores rape you?"

"Damian!" Tim shouted.

"We'd never get an answer if we never asked, Drake!"

Dick just turned further into his covers, beginning to shake as his panic attack and guttural sense of despair deepened. 
He had never had the stomach to put that word to what had happened. He'd told himself that it was just sex, just a want for affection and blurred lines after a traumatic event. Still, somewhere far back in his mind, he knew what had happened. 

He had never wanted to think about it though, for fear of this: a total breakdown.

"Whatever!" Tim turned to the bed and rested his hands on the mattress. "Dick, Damian is going to call Bruce, and we're taking you home." Dick tried to shake his head 'no', but Tim was not to be reasoned with. "I'm going to pack you a bag, and we're going to go stay at the manor until things are better, okay?" 

Damian was already dialing their father's number, hoping (for the first time) that he would pick up. "Timothy, put his jacket and shoes on, we can find him toiletries at the manor."

Tim nodded and retrieved Dick's boots and winter coat, they didn't look like they'd been used in weeks. After helping to clothe him, Tim pulled his eighteen year old little brother to his feet. He hooked the box of Alfred's cookies under one arm, and wrapped the other around Dick to stabilize him. Damian did the same with the hand that wasn't pressing the cell phone to his ear. 

Tim found Dick's keys and locked up after them. "Dick, we're just going to take a elevator downstairs, and Damian's car is parked out there, kay?" 

Damian's call went through and they faintly heard Bruce's raised voice, he must have been in the middle of something. "Father, we're bringing Grayson home." He paused. "I can't tell you now, but it's important. We're on our way."

They helped Dick to the car and got him in the back seat. Tim joined him back there, putting the tin of cookies in Dick's lap. Damian tossed back a water bottle and Tim rested it next to his little brother on the seat. "Don't worry, Dickie. It's going to be okay now."