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Tim came to a halt when he saw Dick. The teen sat with his forehead rested against the door to the holding cell. He was collapsed against the glass, allowing it to hold him. His eyes were red and swollen. Tear-streaks stained his cheeks. His breathing was labored, and he shuddered in sporadic intervals.
It was clear that Dick had been sobbing, wailing, begging to be released from his prison. Tim knew the prison all too well; the only difference being that his was deep in the heart of Nanda Parbat, and Dick’s was beneath the surface of an industrial park in California.
It's been three months since Dick escaped Deathstroke. Tim knows what it's like to be thoroughly shattered. He does what he can to help Dick pick up the pieces.
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