There's a light in Dick's eyes that closes beyond the one she can see. All the pain he'd hoped that she hadn't had to endure shatters past. Certainly she was never broken or beaten. That would never, ever be in Barbara's repertoire. It was still a thing that Dick wished had never played through her life.

To have been spared the horror of that night, and the miserable task of learning how to relive life-- Dick had cared so deeply for her and it hurt him even if he didn't go to her. He was a sorry ass chicken. He knew it. Rubbing the back of his head, Dick closes his eyes and tries to hide the wealth of thoughts that go running through his brain, all the memories that surge forward.

Vibrancy, them dancing back and forth over the vase before ending up deciding to become partners in crime and life. Then again, not too long before he ended up here-- finding himself in her arms. He looked up to her. "I'd hoped you didn't have to go through that. I hope that the implant works the best it can while you're here. I know the chair never holds her back, not to compare, but I do doubt it does you either. This place, this planet? It makes me anxious in ways I don't get in Gotham often."