Dick comes home from Lewis' burial and his throat has a grip it cannot loose by itself. His wife is taking bags and others things inside but he cannot see, his eyes are filling with tears and since he hadn't allowed himself to cry, because of Grace and the others, his eyes hurt, his back is heavy as if it were leaned against a trench for the whole day. He sits slowly, slowly because his legs are shaking because he cannot hold his hands, his arms, his legs from tremble.
He sits beside the wall, really glued to the wall, his limbs compressed against his own body so hard he could appear curled around himself, like a cat. He listens to Nix's voice talking about that he should not take a cat home, but he listens to the sound of his cat too, their cat walking towards him, meowing and he chuckles for a second, a precious second before he starts whimpering in silence, in silence because Dick would not do it otherwise, his pain is his and he doesn't want to share it with anyone. This time not for a humble reason, though, but because his pain was his, only his, his reasons were different from others. Grace could feel something like he does, but not the same. No, not the same.
Feelings like the ones he had in war were special, unique, the kind of sorrow and pain, and despair few would feel all at once during months, years. He, Dick, had shared so many feelings with Nix, so many stories, pain, and love. Everything in an intensity few would probably believe Dick could feel in such a persona, in such a body and personality.
Some could think Dick doesn't feel so intense like others, like Nix. But about Nix, mainly, and others and pain and love, Dick felt everything as hard as everyone else and sometimes even more because he maintained too many things inside, buried or ready to get out, even when he didn't want to.
Dick loves Nix too much, too much for his own body and he needs to put it out in some way to not explode with so many feelings and the missing, the missing which was the biggest and tough enemy he had ever had.