A/N: This story is a continuation of chapter 3 of my story "Wally, Don't Let Go." If you haven't read that yet, DO SO NOW! This won't make sense if you haven't read that first.

Both chapters of this story are alternate versions of the ending of Chapter 3.

WARNING: Character death D:

...

Barry hated every time he had to tell Wally's parents that their son had been injured. Fortunately, Wally had the healing rate of a speedster and was never hurt very badly for very long. But this time…

No amount of accelerated healing could hope to treat three bullet wounds to the chest fast enough. So here Barry was, standing on the West's front porch—not to tell them that their son was hurt, but to tell them he was dead.

Barry raised a heavy hand to knock on the door, dreading having to face whoever opened it.

…...

Bruce's brow furrowed as he watched his partner ascend the stairs from the Batcave to the Manor. It had been three months since Wally's death. Bruce understood Dick's pain—he himself had lost friends over the years—but he had hoped to see some small spark of the old Dick back by now. Dick still participated in missions as Robin in both Gotham and as part of the Team, but Bruce could tell he found no enjoyment in it now.

He hated having to admit it, even to himself, but he didn't know what to do. He had never dealt well with grief and, as much as he loved his son, he didn't know how to help him.

Like countless other times during these last few months, Bruce's thoughts drifted to Wally and Dick's friendship. He remembered the two boys sprawled on the couch upstairs, beating each other to virtual pulp on some video game or another or giving each other real bruises sparring in the Batcave. He could hear their laughter coming from Dick's bedroom hours after they were supposed to be asleep during a sleepover and Dick's signature cackle when he pulled one or another of his highly original pranks on his best friend.

And that, Bruce sighed, was the problem. Wally had been much more than a teammate to Dick; they had been friends for years, both in and out of costume. Wally was the one person besides Bruce and Alfred with whom Dick could share every aspect of his life; he could slip back and forth between Dick and Robin without having to worry about what not to say.

Or maybe, Bruce realized, that was the problem. Well, part of it. Without Wally, Dick didn't have anyone his own age to talk to—to be himself around. Of course, Bruce made sure Dick knew he could come to him or Alfred anytime about anything, but sometimes a person just needed a friend. Or two. Perhaps… perhaps it was time to bring in the Team. They had already had several successful missions; maybe they could succeed where Bruce had failed. Though there had been no way to save Wally, maybe, just maybe, the Team could save Dick.