Slade lets the sorrow in, accepts it, deals with it because he has no other choice. Holstering his gun, he kneels beside the only man he ever came close to loving, and gently lifts his head onto his knee. The pulse beneath his fingers weakens with every beat as each of those beats forces blood from the hole in his aorta.
Dick's eyes flutter open, full of pain, and he coughs, blood spilling from his lips, as he manages to ask, "Why?"
Slade's soft voice conveys both anguish and truth. "You are a weakness I can no longer afford, kid."
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