Twenty minutes later I was sitting in my living room, propped up by pillows. Robert had helped me upstairs and left me alone long enough only to wash away the dirty feel of Big Show's hands and change into a nightgown. Then we'd went back downstairs, his patience at an end.

"I'm trying my best not to push here. I really am. I love you, you know I do. I'd do anything for you. But when my baby sister calls me crying at one o'clock in the morning to come and pick her up at the airport and then when I get her she looks like this—" Robert waved a hand at me where I lay stretched out very carefully on the couch –"you gotta know I've got questions." Looking at her sitting there, two eyes black, nose swollen, lip split, he swallowed pure rage. "Give me a name, Dory."

Dory sat there silently, eyes big and pleading for reassurance, misty with unshed tears. "Tell me exactly what that bastard did to you. Give me his name and I'll make him sorry he was born."

Robert gritted the last threat out from between clenched teeth. He wanted to gather her in his arms, cradle her against his chest and wipe away her tears, chase away her fears the way he'd done when they were children. He'd always bandaged her scraped knees and made her laugh. He'd always defended her from the bullies in her life when she needed it, whether she wanted him to or not. Hell, she did the same for him. But this time he'd failed her. He hadn't been there. Raking an impatient hand through his hair, he jerked to his feet, wincing and biting back a curse when Dory jumped and jerked away from him. From him. Her own brother.

"Talk to me Dory." He sat back down slowly, leaning forward.

Taking a deep breath I searched my mind desperately, trying to decide what to tell Robert. Biting my lip, trying to think of what to leave out, of what to tell him, but just thinking about the night brought all the horrid details to mind. I could feel his hands on me again, could feel his fingers biting into my arms, could feel his arms crushing my ribs. It came out in a rush, revealing more than I'd wanted to. "He almost raped me Robert. God, it was so close. He trapped me. He wouldn't let me go. God, Mark . . ."

Robert seethed. So it had been that bastard Mark that had done this. Some 330 pound professional wrestler had decided to beat on his baby sister. The Undertaker, that's what Vicki had called him when she'd told him about him meeting Dory and her in the parking garage. He was going to need an undertaker when he got done with him. Beating his baby sister. God damn him. He might not be some 6' 10" and 330 pound wrestler but he was damn sure going to make sure this Mark regretted hurting his baby sister. Looking at Dory, seeing the tears she couldn't control streaking down her cheeks he left his seat and moved to sit beside her. Ignoring the slight flinch at his sudden movement he wiped gently at her tears and gathered her in his arms, whispering nonsense, soothing her, as well as himself.

"Baby, don't. Don't do this to yourself."

She jerked away from him violently. Shoving against his chest, almost shoving him off the couch. Hiccuping, "Don't, don't call me baby. Don't. Ever. Don't. He did. Don't do it."

"I'm sorry. I won't. Ever. I'm sorry. Dory, please, quit crying. It's not good for you. You're going to make yourself sick and that won't be good for your ribs. And then that will just about kill me. Come on, let's see if we can't get you up to bed. And then tomorrow morning you can tell me where he's at now. I'll catch a flight out and we'll settle this." Robert said the last with relish, picturing his own fist smashing into flesh, settling the score.

"No." I shook my head determinedly. "I don't want you involved. I don't want you to do anything. Mark . . ." I swallowed, trying to think of how I wanted to handle the situation.

"Mark is going to pay for what he did Dory. I guarantee it." Robert swallowed his own thirst for revenge, his own desire to make it personal. "We'll file a complaint with the cops. We'll throw his ass in jail if nothing else. But I won't let him get away with doing this to you. When Dave said he didn't like the guy I had no idea it was because of anything like this." Robert ran his hand distractedly through his hair, causing the few strands that had been laying down to stand on end. Walking over he carefully lifted Dory into his arms, ignoring her pain filled groan. She'd rest better in bed, no matter what she said. Straightening carefully he started for the stairs only half listening to her.

"Damn it, Robert, are you listening to me?"

Robert jerked to a stop and tightened his arms around her, inadvertently hurting her in the process. Ducking her fist the second time, "What the hell is wrong with you, Dory?"

"It wasn't Mark!"

He almost dropped her. "It wasn't that wrestler you were hanging around with?"

I shook my head. "Mark would never hurt me. Never. I was with him tonight, that's true. But I was waiting for him in his dressing room. He told me to stay there. He told me not to leave Robert. He told me not to."

"Shh, it's alright. It wasn't your fault ba—sweetheart. What some sick bastard did, that's his problem, especially when I catch him. It wasn't your fault. It had nothing to do with what you did. Nothing to do with what you wore, what you said or how you acted. I'll make him pay, I swear. Just tell me who it was."

"Wh-what if Mark blames me? If he gets mad because I went out of the room? He told me not to. He said it was dangerous. Told me not to. More than once. He told me not to Robert."

Robert didn't say anything as we went up the stairs. He was silent. I could hear him breathing. Could feel his heart beating under my ear as my head lay on his chest. I knew I was being illogical. I knew it. But this person wasn't me anymore. I couldn't be logical. Not now. This was the person who jumped at shadows, who flinched when her own brother made a sudden move in the same room with her. This was the person who felt like crying at just the thought of ever being alone in a room again.

We walked into my bedroom, shadows playing eerily across the wallpaper. Leaning down, barely breathing heavy Robert pulled the covers back, laying me gently between the cool sheets. Tucking my feet tenderly beneath the covers he pulled the covers up. Walking into the adjoining bathroom he returned with a warm washcloth and wiped my face, ignoring my attempts to take the cloth. Finally I gave up and relaxed into the pillow, allowing my thoughts to drift, letting his presence comfort me, letting his strength protect me from the horrors of the night. Simply letting him take care of me.

"Shh, you just sleep, now. I'll stay right here. We'll have some breakfast in the morning and talk some more. Everything will be alright. I promise. I'm here now."

I simply nodded and closed my eyes, too tired to argue with him. My ribs were killing me and I hurt to even move. Maybe if I just lay still I would live through the night. Maybe.

Bending at the waist Robert kissed her temple, sweeping back the damp hair that clung to her forehead. Watching her swollen eyes flutter closed he silently pulled a chair up to the side of her bed sinking down into the soft cushions. Kicking off his shoes, he slouched down in the seat making himself comfortable. He sat for hours holding her hand, feeling it twitch, watching as she frowned and moaned, before finally falling into a deeper sleep where the memories of the night seemed unable to reach her, where the pain finally let her rest. He'd been afraid to give her anything but Advil when they'd first got home. He left his fingers in hers, unwilling to take her comfort from her, even in sleep, even if she wouldn't know it. Settling back in the chair he'd pulled up to the side of her bed he propped his feet up and leaned his head back, contemplating the ceiling. God, a few hours ago life had been so simple. And now, now life was a bitch. But in the morning he'd get a name. And then there would be hell to pay. Hell on Earth.