Disclaimer: Slade and the rest of the Wilson family do not belong to me (well, aside from Gideon, but I'm not sure he'll be appearing in this story). No one you recognize from Arrow or from the DC comics in general do, either. The denizens of Destine, Missouri, on the other hand, do belong to me. Don't mind if you borrow them, just ask first and return them intact. Oh, and if anyone has an idea about a name for this series as a whole, aside from Deathstroke, don't be shy … I'll listen to your idea, even if I don't use it (and I promise to give you credit).

Author's Notes: Welcome to the second story in this series, which began with Deathstroke: Crossroads. If you don't recognize characters such as Meg and Angel Carvalho, or Andrew Perkins, you might want to go back and read that. If you'd just like to continue, then here's what you need to know: Slade has arrived in the small town of Destine, Missouri, looking for Grant. His first day there, he stopped the town drunk/bully from attacking the man's own sister-in-law, who owns the local diner. Dory, who is far more than even her family realizes, recognizes Slade and claims him for the town. She also introduces him to Meg Carvalho, a widow with a teenage daughter, who somewhat impulsively invites him to stay at her house while he works out what he's doing next. During his stay with Meg and her daughter Angel, Slade begins to question whether he can really stop being Deathstroke. As the first story concludes, Meg points out that Deathstroke can be a force for good, just as easily as for bad, and Slade acknowledges that he's come to believe in balance. To that end, he'll remain in Destine, and protect the town to atone for what he did to Starling City. But what no one in Destine knows, including Slade, is that the future version of his younger son Grant has traveled back in time … abducted his younger self and mother … and is even now holding them hostage in Destine. Like his older brother Joe, Grant wants to see Deathstroke return as an agent of destruction … and as this second story opens, he's not real picky about how he goes about it …

Prologue

Seeds of Destruction

'Defeat may prove to have been the only path to resurrection, despite its ugliness,' Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Flight to Arras

Abandoned Warehouse, outskirts of Destine, MO

Early January 2018

He was unconscious when they found him … beaten and battered, hanging by his wrists from a crane, chin resting against his chest. Officer Andrew Perkins swallowed hard and moved forward cautiously. Right now, he didn't see the mastermind of the siege that took the life of his mother-in-law, but a badly injured man. And the likelihood that the people who hurt him were still around was good. More to the point, the idea that there was anyone who could do this to this particular man? That scared the hell out of Andrew.

In the three weeks since his confrontation with Slade Wilson in front of Meg Carvalho's house, Andrew often saw the other man in passing, but their paths rarely actually crossed. Meg was busy with her new job at the retirement home and when she wasn't working, she was helping her boarder find his son. There was a part of Andrew which was sure Wilson would have left after their confrontation, but the man was made of sterner stuff than that. Then again, that really shouldn't have (and didn't) surprised him.

At his hip, his walkie-talkie crackled and his partner said tersely, "The building is clear. Did you find anything?" Andrew immediately responded in the affirmative, followed by what, exactly, he found a moment later. There was a long silence, the other man answered, "Copy that. I'm on my way, see if you can figure out a way to get him down." Yeah. Good luck with that. Nonetheless, he began circling the unconscious man … and discovered that getting him to the ground would be far easier than he anticipated. Provided, of course, that Wilson remained unconscious. He wasn't sure which outcome he preferred.

It was a moot point, because aside from a few soft, involuntary moans of pain, Wilson never woke up. And once Andrew had the injured man on the ground, he cringed at the damage he immediately noticed. Wilson's t-shirt was cut to ribbons, revealing terrible bruising to his torso and his face was a bloody mess (literally). Andrew shook his head, muttering, "How did someone get the drop on you, Wilson?" He really hadn't much to do with Wilson … the man was rarely seen in public without Meg or her daughter or the rest of that little group: a quiet, brooding sentinel watching over them.

His partner, Troy Everett, entered the building at a dead run, dropping to one knee beside Andrew. The older man breathed, "Jesus Christ … they worked him over six ways from Sunday, didn't they? I've called it in … can you stay with him while I call Meg? She'd have my nuts if I didn't tell her." Andrew just nodded. Everett wasn't wrong, especially since it was Meg who called them two days earlier, worried about her boarder. The other man turned away, while Andrew returned his attention to checking over Wilson. All police officers in Destine were trained in triage and basic first aid. The kind of medical care Wilson needed, Andrew couldn't provide, but he could at least make the man comfortable (or, less UNcomfortable).

And while he did, he kept thinking about his mother-in-law. For years, he hated the man whose actions led to her death, led to the traumatizing of his little girl. He had, he realized now, turned that man into a monster, larger than life and terrifying. But this was just a man. A flawed, imperfect man, who did horrendous things, but still a man … a man who acknowledged what he'd done and regretted it, a man who was now seeking to protect others. And, even more importantly, he was a man who was living in Andrew's town, which made him Andrew's responsibility.

He thought, too, about Macy. The night of his confrontation with Wilson, he'd told his little girl about what he'd done. He told her about what Wilson had said, and the lack of excuses he provided. And then he told her about the drug that turned good men into monsters. When he finished, Macy curled in his arms and whispered that she knew she wasn't supposed to, but she hated Slade Wilson. She wasn't supposed to hate anyone, she knew. In a way, she was glad to know about all this, because it meant she really couldn't hate him anymore. On the other hand, she didn't know who to hate now.

Oh, that's not how she put it, but that was what she meant. Andrew tightened his arms around his little girl and kissed the top of her head, because he knew exactly what she meant. He wondered now, as he gently cradled the back of Slade Wilson's skull, to prevent it from cracking against the cement floor of the warehouse, what his little girl would say about this when he told her about it. Because he would tell her about it … would it finish her nightmares once and for all, to realize that the man responsible for that night of hell was just a human being like her? Or would it provide her with even worse nightmares? He didn't have the answers to any of those questions. And, he suspected, Slade Wilson didn't, either.

DSDSDSDSDSDSDS

Meg Carvalho was laying out the toiletries on the table in preparation for the day's volunteer activity: putting together hygiene bags for Sissy. For the last three years, her friend had run a free lunch program at her church. In the last few months, however, with the shower in the church fixed, Sissy added a new dimension to that program … giving the down on their luck in the area a place where they could get a shower and/or clean clothes. Which was where Meg and her volunteers came into play. They assembled the toiletry bags, which Meg would take to Sissy after work. Assuming she didn't get a call from Troy, telling her that they found Slade. In which case, she would check on Slade first, and then take the bags to Sissy.

She was in the process of re-counting how many items they had left and trying to calculate if she had anything that could be substituted when 'I Shot the Sheriff' began playing in the room. Meg jumped a mile, and then glowered at her phone. She muttered under her breath, "Not funny, Angeline, not funny at all." She answered the phone when she saw who was calling, "Hi, Troy … do you have anything for me?" Three days earlier, Slade disappeared after telling her that he had a very promising lead for Grant. He promised to check in that night, just to let her know what he found. He never called her.

Meg knew that the police wouldn't investigate unless he'd been missing for twenty-four hours, so she waited. It was Slade, after all, and her initial impression of the man's ability to take care of himself was proven correct several times over the last few weeks. But he was only one man, and a single man, even as gifted as Slade obviously was, could be overwhelmed. And so, two days earlier, she called Troy, her husband's former partner, to tell him about Slade's disappearance. That night, she told Angel about the steps she took … and told her to keep her cell phone close. Just in case.

"Meg, good. Listen, we found your boarder. We're in the process of transporting him to the hospital, so finish out your shift and then meet us there," Troy answered tersely. Meg froze. There was a soft swear, and Troy added a bit more gently, "He's hurt, Meg … they beat him up pretty badly … and currently unconscious, but I don't think you need to prepare for the worst. But you will need to come to the hospital, just as soon as your shift ends." It went without saying that just as she did after Stephen died, Meg immersed herself in her work … back then, it was to mute her grief. Now, it was to distract her from her worry over Slade.

She took a deep breath and released it, forcing herself to push her fear and worry to the back of her mind, replying at last, "Okay. Okay, you're right … if I leave now, I'll just end up getting in the way. Uhm … I finish up at two pm today, so I'll come to the hospital as soon as I'm done." A glance at her watch told her that it currently twelve thirty, so she just needed to stay focused a little while longer. To that end, she added, "Did you and Nita collect any toiletries when you were on your trip? I don't have to pick them up, just wanted to check in with you, 'cause I'll probably forget once I get to the hospital."

"We got a whole bag for you, and Nita will bring them to the home sometime this week. You can relax now, Meg … we found him. See you soon," Troy told her. With a shaky finger, Meg ended the call and slumped into a chair, burying her face in her free hand. They found Slade. He was alive … badly beaten, but alive. That made her wonder … many things. Where they found him, what happened … who had done that to him.

The chatter outside the multi-purpose alerted her that she needed to pull herself together, and fast, so she took a deep breath and did one last check of their supplies. When the first of her 'students' entered a few minutes later, she was leaning against one of the tables, her arms folded over her chest with a small smile on her face. Over the next hour and a half, she assisted where necessary (which it rarely was), sorted bags to make sure more fit in the box (far more frequently), and created a suggestion box for anyone who had ideas about future projects.

One thing she didn't anticipate was a gentle hand wrapping around her fingers as she worked on the suggestion box. She looked up into the eyes of Miss Emmeline, the oldest resident at ninety-two. Miss Emmeline buried three husbands, a son and a daughter, and two grandsons, and was considered the Grand Lady of the home. She said now, "I've told the others we'll clean up today. You need to see to that young man of yours." For once, Meg didn't argue when she called Slade 'her' young man. Miss Emmeline watched her worry over Slade these last few days, and never once asked why she was so attached to a man she'd known less than a month.

Instead, she offered Miss Emmeline a weak smile, answering, "Thank you … that'll be appreciated. And once I get some suggestions, you'll have the first crack at choosing our next activity." Miss Emmeline squeezed her fingers again, gently shooing her out of the multi-purpose room. Meg paused long enough to grab her purse before heading to the front desk to sign out. She told Vanessa, the receptionist currently on duty, "The residents are cleaning up the multi-purpose room … I'm heading to the hospital. I got a call from Detective Everett that my boarder has been found." Vanessa nodded … she wasn't the sort of person who said a lot with her words, but her eyes reflected sympathy. With her responsibilities to the home discharged for the day, Meg all but ran out to the car.

She'd already decided that she would wait until she reached the hospital to call her daughter. Angel would want answers that Meg didn't have yet. Besides, this was the time of day when her girl had her most difficult classes, and she wasn't about to make things more difficult for her. Angel needed to stay focused on her studies, not her mother's anxieties. And so, she focused on reaching the hospital safely. Slade was still alive … he was unconscious when Troy called her, but he was alive. That was the important thing.

On a normal day, it took her about thirty minutes to drive to the hospital … Today, it took her twenty minutes … fifteen minutes for the actual drive, five minutes to park and walk to the front desk, where Troy was waiting for her. He took her hands, saying, "Good to see you, Meggie. They have him in a room. They don't think he'll need any surgery, but they're keeping him for observation. On the way to his room, I'll brief you on what you need to do for him. He has broken ribs, so he'll need some help in getting around. And, he woke up during the examination … good thing we knew he has PTSD." Meg exhaled slowly as she and Troy walked to the elevator. That was one of the first thing she told Troy when she reported Slade's disappearance. He added, "He didn't hurt anyone except himself. And from what I know of Wilson, he would prefer it that way." Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.

He led her into a quiet room at the end of the hallway on the third floor. Troy murmured, "He's been sedated. The doctor figures he'll wake up in a half hour." Meg nodded. Troy squeezed her shoulder as she moved forward to Slade's bedside. It was so strange, to see him so still. Even when he was asleep (rare that she saw him sleeping, since his second day with them), he was never this still. She sat down beside his bed and took his hand, studying his face. He'd been cleaned up, but she could still see the evidence of the beating on his face, could hear it in the hitch of his breathing.

But he was here. He was alive. She could take care of him now. Meg leaned against the side of the chair, her exhaustion from the last few days finally catching up with her. She didn't remember closing her eyes … but she found herself opening them when soft noises drew her attention. Only moments later, a single brown eye was also opening and focusing on her. Remembering what happened the last time Slade had a nightmare, Meg tightened her hand on his, murmuring, "Do you know where you are … do you know who I am?"

To her relief, a soft smile touched his lips as he murmured in a hoarser-than-normal voice, "Looks like I'm in hospital. And you're Margreet Theodora Carvalho, the woman crazy enough to take me in." Meg rolled her eyes at the use of her full name, but smiled anyhow. Slade was awake, he was himself. He closed his eye briefly, before saying, "And I found him. Grant. I didn't see him, but I saw Adeline. They were in the warehouse where I was being held." Meg stared at him in shock. They … what? How did he know that? A small smile lit Slade's face, and he explained, "Those three idiots didn't know what they were doing. I learned early on how to take a beating. And I learned how to … divorce my attention from pain. That's how I realized Adeline was there. Let them think that they were hurting me worse than they were and let my head fall back between my arms. Saw her in the tower in the middle of the warehouse."

And of course, because these things always got her attention, she focused on what most people would have considered the least important detail of Slade's commentary, asking, "Wh … you were tortured?" Why this surprised her so much, she wasn't sure. Given what Slade already told her (and her knowledge that he had PTSD), she should have realized such a thing happened. She added (and immediately gave herself a mental kick), "What happened to them?" Meg was pretty sure she knew, but the words came out before she had a chance to stop them. Ugh. She really needed to stop doing things like that.

So she wasn't really surprised when Slade said very matter of fatly, "They're dead. I killed them." She nodded, because yeah, that was totally to be expected. Slade was either rescued or rescued himself, and he seemed to rescue himself most of the time. Also, while she doubted he would have gone hunting, she did believe that he killed people who tried to prevent his escape. There was likely more to it than that, but right now, she was more concerned with the now. So. Slade had seen his ex-wife while his captors were using him as a punching bag. That didn't necessarily mean that Grant was with Adeline, but given they seemed to have been taken together, she probably knew where her son was … or where she'd seen him last.

"I'm sorry … I know it must have hurt, to have her so close and not be able to reach out to her," Meg said softly, still holding Slade's hand. He smiled slightly and shook his head, wincing a little. His fingers tightened around hers … or maybe just flexed. She wasn't entirely sure, but he wasn't trying to get her to let go. That was one of the few things she was sure about. If he wanted her to let go, he would have pulled his hand from hers … or told her outright to let go. He'd done neither.

"No … no, it's okay. My captors, they were amateurs. Like I told you, I learned long ago how to redirect my attention during torture. They weren't expecting that … and they weren't expecting me to see Adeline. Now that I know where she's being held …" He let the sentence trail off, because, well, it really wasn't necessary to finish it. They both knew that there wasn't a force on earth powerful enough to prevent him from rescuing his ex and his child. And Meg? Well, she wasn't about to try.

Instead, she asked, "What's our next move? I mean, aside from you recovering from your injuries?" A familiar, mulish expression appeared on Slade's face, and Meg added, "Ah, no. We know where Adeline is being held. It's possible that she'll be moved once your former captors realize you've been rescued, but since neither Troy nor his partner noticed her, I don't think it's likely. Besides, you need to recover, because you aren't any good to Adeline or Grant like this. We use your recovery time to plan … and then, when we have the information we need, we bring Grant home." They would worry about the niceties of who Grant would live with later (and something his parents would need to work out). Getting the little boy and his mother to safety was their number one priority.

All else was gravy.

TBC