Wally's POV

Dick looked exhausted. His cries had abruptly quieted into frequent sniffles, as though he had realized he was showing emotions in the presence of his friend and mentors and tried to shut down. That was always something he had struggled with; weakness. He felt unable to demonstrate such emotions, terrified that people would dismiss him as "just a kid" and leave him for others who could control their tears. I understood, to a degree, though Dick's fear of abandonment went well beyond mine. Sure, my father was an abusive alcoholic, and I had my demons from that. He left me for jail just a few years ago, when I was 14. But I always had Barry on my side. Dick, his parents left him when he was only eight years old. Of course not by choice, but they still left. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to cry, okay to feel. But I couldn't in front of his mentors. I knew he needed an outlet now, an escape so he could dive into the pools of sorrow without watching eyes. But I didn't know what to suggest.

Barry moved forward now, having been frozen with rage for several minutes. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and my body seemed to sag. Barry always had a calming effect on me, but I hadn't realized just how tense I was. Neither had he appeared, as he looked to me in concern. Barry could always read me well, and he seemed to know instantly what I needed, and he looked to Alfred. It took a few seconds, but soon Alfred addressed us, his voice a bit ragged. He seemed deeply troubled, and I knew him to be a hider-of-emotions as well.

"Master Wallace, Master Dick, might you wish to change and shower as I prepare dinner? Master Wallace and Master Barry are welcome to stay with us if you so desire." Instantly Dick's face whirled around, his eyes full of terror and pleading. Something pulled in my stomach; he thought I was going to leave him. I didn't even look to Barry for approval.

"Of course," I said.

"I'll call Iris," Barry murmured, still in shock. Dick slipped from Bruce's arm to stand at my side, keeping his eyes to the floor. I frowned but allowed Alfred to walk us to Dick's room, even though I knew the route by heart. Dick walked slowly, as though weights were dragging him down. His head was down, and eyes fixed to his feet and his lips in a seemingly permanent frown. My brow furrowed, anger still simmering in my gut. He was going to take a long time to heal.