“No, no, no,” Bruce mutters, fumbling with Dick’s wounds and choking out, “No, Dick, get up, please.” He came running the moment the mission went south, but he arrived too late. Now, he’s holding Dick’s dead body, because he died protecting you.

Bruce doesn’t pay attention to how you’re covered head to toe in blood, as he assumed all of it was Dick’s. But it wasn’t. The blood all over you is more yours than Dick’s, because you’re hurt, but Bruce doesn’t notice. He doesn’t even look at you.