When Barney was slammed into a wall at two o'clock on a Sunday morning, it was too dark for any lights to go off behind his eyes. It was too dark to see his assailant's face. It was too dark for him to realise how much bigger the man was than him.

Unfortunately it wasn't too dark to hear what the man grunted in his ear. "You wanna fuck with me, tiny? You wanna fuck with me?" The words were slurred but recognisable. Barney's cheek throbbed where it had met the graffiti covered concrete but he raised a hand anyway, trying his best to interject before he was pulled up by his collar and thrown back against the wall a second time, a monstrous hand encircling his neck.

All he'd asked was who she was! There was always a she. This was probably a jealous boyfriend. This wasn't the first time this had happened but Barney could usually talk his way out of it or run or yell for help. This wasn't fair. He'd usually be out with Ted (you know what? Fuck Ted) in a bar somewhere near where he lived, not here in the borough of god-knows-where-ia, stuck in a dark alley in a deserted district with no cabs nor signs of life.

Barney knew it had been a mistake to go home with the girl. But, you know, she'd said she was going be a nun; she was just about to take her vows. He'd shown her a bit of heaven tonight! What up…

But that was all off-topic. Right now he was bent double and some jealous boyfriend was kicking the ever-living crap out of him. He opened his mouth to try and reason with the man-ape when the dude yanked him up by his tie and punched him, full-force, in the face.

Barney swore he heard something crack. He didn't feel pain as much as sense the explosive impact as his mouth filled with hot, sickly iron. He would have blacked out but the man let go of his tie and pushed him back against the wall. He practically spat in Barney's face as he yelled "You wanna fuck with me? Fuck with Penny? You know what? We're gonna fuck! How'd you like that, smart-ass?"

Barney would have told him exactly what he thought about that, and was flipping through his mental rolodex for a "Penny", when he got hit in the windpipe and dragged over to a dumpster. His brain, punch-drunk from the series of blows and really-drunk from a quarter bottle of scotch he'd shared with slutty-nun earlier (God didn't deserve her) suddenly sobered up enough to start being scared. When he felt the jealous boyfriend tear at his clothes, clawing at his trousers until they ripped, the first thing through his mind wasn't how much they cost, but that he was probably going to die.

Or get raped. Or both. Probably both.

Elbows… He tried using his elbows and when that didn't work, tried to knee the guy in the groin. He didn't get very far before the dude introduced his face to the metal top of the squat dumpster, bent him over and pulled down his boxers.

This was the point that Barney's eyes went very wide although all he saw was swimming darkness - blues, purples, charcoal. There was a flash, like the headlights of a car illuminating the alley briefly and he tried to kick out but his legs wouldn't work. There was a coldness in the pit of his stomach, a sour taste of bile and blood in his mouth and he heard a slap, felt something brush clumsily against the back of his thigh and he tensed up.

Grunt…

Oh f-

He yelled, hard, hoarse, inarticulate as the guy shoved something hard between his buttocks, inside him, tearing him, that shouldn't- couldn't-

His lungs hurt. The screams (girl) weren't loud enough (loser) to attract any (hurts) help and might actually have (reallyfuckinghurts) scared any would-be-samaritans away. One hand grabbed his arm, hard enough to fracture the bone, keeping him still as he struggled, wiggled, trying to get away even now, even as the guy was fucking him (to death? God, he hoped he would die, wanted to die) and his throat hurt worse than when he had strep. He closed his eyes, squeezing his eyelids tight, like it was possible to block this out. Like it was possible to block out the cloying stench garbage mixed with the booze that laced his attacker's breath. Like it was possible to block out how it felt like he's been impaled on a spike attached to a pile driver attacked to a jack-hammer.

Like it was-

He fell suddenly, awkwardly, on one kneecap, which numbed his entire leg. He was aware of disjoined sensations - his trousers round his ankles, how hard it was to breathe, the sound of the man, (the boyfriend, the fucking rapist moron) shuffling back. The man swore, shouted something about that teaching him a lesson and Barney's body gave out, bonelessly sliding down on to the dirty ground. He pretty was sure he was going to die. He was sure the guy was going to do it; kill him.

Please let him die.

He didn't die.

When he opened his eyes, minutes later, he was alone in the alley.

*--*--*

Robin hardly recognised him when she opened the door. Barney trembled and stumbled and collapsed on her sofa and she rushed straight into the kitchen for water, a cloth and a box of band-aids. Her brain did this weird thing where part of her was dead calm, hands working, cold water rushing into the bowl, fingers turning the faucet, but at the same time a little voice was screaming "Cops! 911! Hospital!" in her mind, over and over, because he just looked so bad.

She knelt down beside him and he didn't speak. He just looked at her - his blue eyes turned red and blood-shot, filled with unshed tears. "What happened?" She asked, trying to dab some of the blood away. He flinched (he'd split his lip) but he didn't make a sound. His skin was warm, so warm that it made her tingle. "You need a doctor, Barney," she said, gently. His suit was ruined - torn, shirt covered in blood. From the way he limped into her apartment and the way he held his wrist, she wondered if he had a couple of broken bones.

He managed to struggle on to his back, features contorted with agony.

"Barney?" She repeated. "What happened?"

He ignored her, but when she pulled away slightly he reached out, his long, pale fingers wrapping around her arm, pleading with terrified eyes.

Robin swallowed. His eyes - something in his eyes gave her chills.

Kneeling back down beside the sofa, she gently stroked his uninjured cheek, resisting the urge to run her fingers over his bruises. Back in college, she'd dated a few guys who'd looked not-dissimilar to this after hockey tournaments. Hell, she'd even chalked up a few bruises herself. She'd forgotten how hot a guy could look when he was all broken down like this.

But those players she'd dated had never looked quite so… She tilted her head, reaching out to loosen his tie. He breathed harder, recoiling, so she muttered soothing words until he let her take it off and mop his throat. Jesus, he was covered in blood!

"I'm going to get some alcohol. I'll be back in a sec-" She said. Despite her reassurance, he was reluctant to let her go. Finally she managed to pry him loose for long enough for her to lunge for a bottle of Johnny Walker that she kept on her cabinet.

"My fault," he muttered. "Deserved it."

Robin turned around to look at him, seeing him lying there in silence. It was almost like she'd imagined him saying that.

"You didn't deserve that!" She replied, angrily. "No-one deserves that!"

She knelt beside him again and began unbuttoning his shirt. For one brief instant, the thought crossed her mind that he might have staged this whole thing to get her to sleep with him again. But no… this was too real. She felt kind-of bad for even thinking it.

Barney let her undress him, revealing a spread of cuts and bruises that looked impossibly painful. As she dabbed carefully, using a mixture of water and alcohol to clean away the blood, her lips followed her hands, brushing over his firm flesh, caressing it, warming it with her breath.

She smiled. What was she? Mary fucking Magdalene?

Barney let out a choked sound as she moved down to his trousers. No belt buckle, the button was torn off. They were basically held up by the zipper. She felt him tense and whimper, like a puppy, and she kissed his abdomen, very, very gently, feeling his dick swell beneath her fingers. He moaned and bit back a sob of despair so plaintive that any doubts or weirdness vanished from her mind as she gently eased down his pants. She let her tongue wander slowly down, tracing the line of his pubic hair down his groin until it met the head of his cock, encircling the head until she saw his feet curl. He didn't try to guide her or take control in any way. He didn't try and encourage her, or laugh, or say some lewd comment like last time they hooked up. He was Barney, broken... and she let his penis slide into her mouth in the vain hope that this could fix a piece of him. She suckled on him, gently, feeling the pulse on the underside of his cock as she let it slip out of her mouth just so that she could take it back again. He let out the tiniest groan and she smiled inwardly, one hand reaching down to fondle his balls. The reaction was instantaneous - he went rigid and made a strangled squeak - so she let go, shifted slightly and held up her hands.

"It's okay, it's okay…" She murmured softly before licking him again, sucking him again, all the while knowing in the pit of her stomach that he'd been, what? Violated? She didn't know how she knew but she did. Dear god…

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the rhythm as she sucked, concentrating on his panting breaths and the way the tension rose and fell as he let himself get swept away - as he found heaven in her mouth.

She held on to his thighs at the sound of his "Oh!" of surprise and let the burst of warm fluid fill her mouth. She swallowed it down, letting her tongue wander over his erection until at last it wilted.

Then finally she looked up. He was smiling.

"All better?" She asked.

"It's a start…" He light was back in his eyes. The crooked grin was firmly in place.

Robin laughed. Somehow she very much doubted he'd be capable of much more that night, but she'd give it a try.