[ It's hard for Dick, too, but part of him, even now, is thinking about it abstractly. Like a puzzle to be solved, rather than his best friend looking down the barrel of a gun. ]

I can't imagine.

[ It's true; he's tried and tried to put himself in Wally's shoes, wondering how it would feel if it was him. If someone told him he had five years. Maybe he doesn't have the imagination for it. It's strange, though — he wants things for his best friend that he can't even conceptualize for himself. A family. Kids. A college degree. Dick certainly doesn't have a death wish, but it feels so much more inherently unfair for something like this to happen to Wally. ]

I don't believe that it's final. I can't. We have tons of resources at our disposal, right? And time, and knowledge... most people don't get anything even close to that. [ He squeezes Wally's shoulder. ] But... dude, I'm worried about you. Now-you. It's eating you up, I can tell. It's like you're trying so hard to prevent this from happening in the future that you're wrecking your present.