This is for I SEE YOOUU who asked for a PTSD (just so you know it stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) story. So here you go hope you like it.

It shouldn't affect him. He'd seen worse. Dealt with death and loss before. So why won't it leave him alone? Every time Damian hear the sound of a drip, saw liquid red, smelt burning flesh or felt ropes wrap around him the memories started turning and dancing in his head. The look of pain as his brother smiled at him one last time. The sight of blood from open wounds. The sound of screaming the older men couldn't help but make as blades of red hot steel where forced through skin. He couldn't forget his brothers voice begging them not to harm him, saying he wouldn't fight back if they left him alone. How he wished his brother hadn't been so damn heroic. He wished for once his brother could have been selfish, protected himself instead. Instead of slowly dying at the hands of monsters. Damian wished beyond anything he could get the image of his brother lying lifeless at his feet out of his head.

Damian's hands shook violently as he watched the deep red wine spill across the table. His breath became quick and shaky.

"Damian? Are you okay?" Dick studied the small boy across the table. Damian's eyes never left the liquid. Slowly he got to his feet, nocking his chair over, and backed out of the room. Eyes fixed on the table the whole time.

"Damian?" his father called after him. He ran. Fast. Out of the house. He didn't stop till he was out of sight of the large home. Falling to his knees in the snow he curled in to a ball.

"NO, No, no. stop. STOP IT." He wrapped his hands over his ears trying to block out the screams, the ones that echoed in his memories.

"Leave him. Please let him go." His shaking intensified.

"no…" sobbing took over him.

"It's okay Damian. It's over now." Bruce picked the boy up from where he found him on the ground. He looked at where his son had run too. Grave stones stood out of the white snow.

"It's not. It's not. Save him. Save him." Damian's cries came back to present time.

"Didn't save him. Couldn't save him. He saved me." After a week of not sleeping exhaustion took over. Damian fell in to a restless sleep in his father's arms. Bruce knew it wouldn't last. His youngest would wake up screaming from the nightmares that haunted him.

"Oh, Tim. If only I could have saved you. He needs you. We all do." Blinking back tears Bruce stared at the newest of the graves.

Timothy Drake-Wayne

Son, brother, friend.

Protector till the end.

Please review. I know it's not that long but i don't know a grate deal about PSTD so i did my best. Please tell me if its as good as you hoped.

Love,

AtarinaMAK