Dick crouched quietly, resting his legs, his body, half prepared something else to go wrong, to have to move suddenly.
Duo seemed to understand. It was a fragile, shattered, scarred sort of understanding; but he understood.
Dick listened. He had good ears. He listened, and he understood alternate timelines and other dimensional versions of yourself. He understood discovering yourself dead or maimed or simply altered.
He thought he understood that Duo had turned the lasers off. He picked up a rock and rolled it into the firing range, hoping.
Hoping, because he understood when being left alone and being left to break were two very different things.