Author's Notes: I am in shock. My beloved Cardiac 'Canes, our dear Bunch of Jerks ™ (Don Cherry can kiss our Southern behinds) swept the New York Islanders, 4-0. Friday night marked franchise history … until nearly forty-eight hours ago, we'd never done that before. And now, we're going to the Eastern Conference Finals … first, though, we have to wait to see who wins the Bruins/Blue Jackets series. That's fine, though. Gives our guys time to recover from their injuries, although one of our boys is out for a few months due to a shoulder injury. Other news … this chapter marks the first update of this story with my new laptop. My old one had been deteriorating steadily for the last year. I finally was comfortable with the money I needed to buy a new one, found one with the specifications I needed, and got to Wal-Mart early yesterday morning to buy it. I spent most of yesterday getting acquainted with it. So, this chapter … this chapter sees the arrival of Bastiaan de Vries and Gideon Wilson at Meg's home; Rebecca struggling with panic attacks and her conflicting feelings about her husband; and there are surprises for several characters … not necessarily good surprises, either.
Chapter One
Questionable Choices
Destine, Missouri
Early February 2018
Fifteen year old Angeline Carvalho laughed as she chased her current quarry around the yard. She didn't have a hose this time, but that was all right. She didn't need a hose to chase Grant, especially with the recent cold snap. Honestly, there were times when she understood Aunt Lindy's comment about Mother Nature being off her meds! This was one of them. The cold air felt good against her face. She, her mother, Grant and Slade spent the better part of the day, cleaning up the room over the garage in preparation for her grandfather's arrival. The room was all cleaned up … but it exhausted her mom. She'd recovered fully from her concussion, but tired easily. Slade steered her into the living room, calling over his shoulder that he was leaving Angel in charge of Grant. Really, that was standard operating procedure nowadays.
Not that Angel minded … she'd always wanted a little brother or little sister, and as Grant's anxiety eased, he was turning out to be a lot of fun. Oh, he still had bad days when he didn't want to let his father out of his sight, but as long as Slade, Angel, or her mom were within his line of sight, he didn't have a panic attack. Oh, and, distracting worked really well for him, also. Like what she was doing right now.
In another few minutes, she would take him inside, so he could get a shower … so they could both get showers. Mom hadn't decided what they were doing about dinner yet, in part because Angel's grandfather liked to take them out to dinner. He tended to avoid Dory's, because Nina tended to flirt with him. On the other hand, Dory had been closed for the last few weeks, due to a family emergency … at least, according to the sign on the front of the restaurant. Angel hadn't known that Dory even had family outside Destine, but just like her mom said, you never knew about these things (she also said it was none of their business).
Grant's energy was starting to flag when an unfamiliar car pulled into the driveway. The boy stopped moving and stood at Angel's side (even though she had the sense he would have rather been hiding behind her). She wasn't worried. She'd caught a glimpse of the driver as he pulled into the driveway, and she'd recognized him. Angel put her arm around Grant, giving him a reassuring little squeeze. A few seconds later, the car came to a halt, and her grandfather emerged from the driver's side, another man emerging from the passenger side at the same time. Opa beamed at her, saying, "Angeline, mijn engel! And who is this fine young man?"
"Hi, Opa … this is Grant Wilson. He and his father are staying with us," Angel answered … and noticed the Look that passed between her grandfather and his companion. She wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but it was important. When Slade began teaching her self-defense, the first lesson was how important observation was. Assume nothing. She teased with a faint smile, 'assumption is the mother of all failure?' That earned her a smile and a ruffle of her hair, as he acknowledged that was the case. Before you could make the bad-ass move, you had to observe your opponent … self-defense was as much mental as it was physical.
Also at Slade's urging, she was talking to the high school counselor about what happened. 'You don't want to end up like me, kiddo,' he'd said, his remaining eye haunted. Angel kept her thoughts to herself … it seemed to her that growing up to be like Slade wasn't so bad, bout with insanity aside (and her mother agreed with her about this, although Angel knew that Mom worried about Slade a lot), but she suspected he wouldn't enjoy that statement. Just as she suspected that her grandfather wouldn't entirely approve of a scary bad-ass ex-soldier living here with his traumatized son.
However, her grandfather said only, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Grant. You share a last name with my friend here. This is Gideon Wilson, and he works with me." Now Angel was getting a funny feeling. The other man's last name was Wilson, a common enough last name, but then there was the way that Opa and this Gideon Wilson looked at each other when they heard Grant's name. Opa went on, "Is your mum inside?" Angel kept her arm around Grant's shoulders, feeling the way the boy tensed up. Most of the time, she thought his protectiveness of her mother was sweet. Right now, though, with two strangers (even if one was her opa), it could get dangerous. Mainly to Grant.
"She is. Hopefully taking a nap, since we spent the entire day working on the spare bedroom over the garage. Grant's dad took her inside a bit ago," Angel answered as she gave her grandfather a one-armed hug, never releasing Grant. Again, a Look passed between her grandfather and the other man named Wilson, and as Opa released Angel, she noticed him making hand signals to his friend. For the first time, Angel felt uneasy … but this was her Opa, and she knew that he adored her mother, just as she knew that the sun rose in the west.
"Well … let's go inside, and we'll endeavor not to wake her," Opa answered, wrapping his arm around Angel's shoulders, even as Grant clung to her waist. The four began walking to the house. And despite herself, despite everything both Slade and her mother told her about behaving normally in an abnormal situation, Angel couldn't stop looking at her grandfather and the man named Wilson, and the way they interacted. It … it reminded her of how Slade and Father Rick interacted, now that their priest understood that Slade wasn't going anywhere for a while, and the best thing to do would be to accept it and work with him. And for the first time, Angel began wondering if her grandfather really did work for a museum.
DSDSDSDSDSDS
Journey's End Motel
Just outside Destine, Missouri
Same Time
Rebecca Merlyn sat up in bed, torn between amusement and disbelief. She'd been dead for nearly thirty years and soaps were still the same, just the names had changed. Not that there were many soaps remaining on the air these days. She remembered watching a few of the defunct ones in the last few months of her pregnancy with Tommy because she'd run out of reading material, and her dear, over-protective husband had taken to staying home from work to be with her. Watching soaps was the only way to get a few moments to herself, because Malcolm couldn't bear to watch them.
Truthfully, Rebecca didn't so much like them as prize the hours of solitude watching them gained her. She loved her husband, but he was really bad about getting underfoot while she was pregnant. And, they'd watch other things together, later in the evening, Rebecca tucked securely against his side, Malcolm's arm draped over her and their unborn son protectively. Where had that man gone? How did her wonderful, protective, occasionally silly husband turn into … into the Dark Archer? She hadn't understood it as it played out in front of her, and she still didn't understand it. Oh, to a point, she saw it … her death left him unmoored, in ways she never considered. She could have understood (and maybe even forgiven) his rage against the Glades. He'd wanted her to move her clinic a few blocks, so that it was on the edge of Glades, rather than right in the middle of that section of town, but still easily accessible to the people she was trying to help. But she'd insisted, and he bowed to her wishes.
Shado said, not long before Rebecca was returned to the mortal coil, that it came down to three things: Malcolm couldn't forgive the shooter or the people who wouldn't help her; he couldn't forgive himself for not answering her call; and he couldn't blame her. And those three things tore him apart. Something Rebecca could see and understand … but that didn't explain why he turned away from Tommy. To some degree, she could forgive him for the Glades. It was far harder for her to forgive him for Tommy.
Before her death, there was never a father and son closer than Malcolm and Tommy. How many pictures had she taken of them after they both fell asleep … Tommy curled up in his father's lap, Malcolm's arms wrapped protectively around their only child? And after … she just didn't understand it. Had his drive for revenge overwhelmed even his love for his son? It made no sense to her. It would never make sense to her, and she wasn't sure if Malcolm himself understood the reasons why.
Not for the first time, she wished she talked to Shado more, but Tommy had needed her … needed them both more … and Shado's circumstances with Slade Wilson were far different. While Slade's actions were his own, they were influenced by outside forces, namely the Mirukuru. The monster who laid siege to Rebecca's home wasn't the real Slade Wilson, not the man who looked after Oliver Queen and taught him to fight, not the man who sacrificed his way home to save that young man. She couldn't say the same about Malcolm.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Dory poked her head inside, asking, "How are you? Have you tried to leave the room today?" Rebecca shrugged. That was an ongoing problem for her. She was starting to get cabin fever, but every time she tried to venture out of the motel room, she had a panic attack. Today, she'd decided to try to take Dory's suggestion … to walk from the room to the soda machines. Start small, the older woman suggested, don't try to do everything at once.
And really, it was stupid that she was having panic attacks. She'd been through far worse, after all. She observed, "I managed to get to the soda machines … then spent ten minutes getting my breathing under control. What would have taken me five minutes tops before … well, before, took me twenty minutes today." The compassion in Dory's gaze forced her eyes away, back to the tv, before she added in a deliberately light voice, "So. Tell me how your trip into town went? I'm guessing it's still standing?" Dory rolled her eyes at that.
However, she evidently decided to indulge Rebecca's desire not to talk about what she was experiencing, and said, "Not only is the town standing, but I talked to your son." For some reason, Dory could only talk to the rest of their afterlife family while she was in her diner. Rebecca wasn't sure how exactly that worked, but there you had it. Dory paused, as if not knowing how to say whatever came next, before explaining, "Malcolm's awake … and his rehabilitation has begun."
Rebecca stared at the other woman for a long moment, not sure how to feel about that, how to react to Dory's statement. Because that was what it was, a statement … there was no doubt in her mind whatsoever. At last, Rebecca rose to her feet and went to the window, trying to work out how she was supposed to feel, how she was supposed to react to this piece of news.
She also wasn't sure how to react to Dory's certainty that her husband's redemption was at hand. There were so many times, before Lian Yu, when Rebecca believed that … only to have her hopes dashed away. But Malcolm's willingness to die for Thea (when his actions led to Tommy's death) … she still wasn't sure what to feel about that. On one hand, she was glad Malcolm finally put someone else before himself. On the other hand … even if he'd known that Tommy went to the Glades for Laurel Lance, he wouldn't have stopped his Undertaking. He truly was willing to sacrifice their child, supposedly in her name, but in truth, for himself.
At last, she turned to face her friend, asking, "Are you sure about this? This isn't … this isn't a feint, a way to get what he wants?" And oh, how Rebecca hated having to ask that about someone she still loved, would probably love for all of eternity, no matter how angry she was with him. But Dory's eyes reflected only compassion. Rebecca wanted to believe her friend, wanted to have faith in her husband once again … she just wasn't sure she had the strength for that any more.
"Tommy is positive," Dory answered simply and those three words … were all she needed to hear. Rebecca stumbled over to the bed, sinking down onto it once more and burying her face in her hands. Tommy, the person whom Malcolm really hurt most, more than Oliver Queen, more than Thea, more than even those lost souls in the Glades … was positive. That could only mean that he was seeing signs of the man he'd known before Rebecca's murder, signs of a man who died at the same time Rebecca herself did.
There were muffled footsteps, then Dory was kneeling beside her, her arm around Rebecca's shoulders as the younger woman fought once more to bring her breathing under control. It wasn't another panic attack, but it was worse in its own way, because something was wanting to claw its way out of her throat. Whether it was a scream or a cry or something else, she wasn't sure, and she wasn't sure what she was feeling. Was she happy or sad or angry or overjoyed, all of them or none of them?
"Shhh … breathe, sweetheart, just breathe. Listen to me … you did not fail Malcolm. Tommy didn't fail him. He failed you both, and now he's seeing how badly. Sometimes … sometimes, it takes an outsider to make us see. That's what she did. She told him that there were hundreds of Rebeccas in the Glades whom he failed, and that's when he started to understand. He has to accept that … not just that he murdered over five hundred people, including his own son, but that when it was all said and done, he did it for himself, not for you. She's stripping all of his defenses away, all of his excuses. You couldn't have done it, and Tommy couldn't have done it, because in a twisted way, he was trying to protect Tommy from what he'd become."
Rebecca did look up then, heedless of the tears streaming down her face, and asked hoarsely, "You believe that? That Malcolm shut Tommy out because he was trying to protect him, in whatever weird made sense to how badly his mind was twisted?" Dory grimaced and settled herself more comfortably on the bed beside her. With just a gentle tug, Rebecca was leaning into her side, resting her head against Dory's shoulder. A gentle hand carded through Rebecca's hair, and the younger woman closed her eyes against the tears.
"Not exactly how I would put it, because that makes him sound more noble than he actually was. There was a certain amount of protecting self as well," Dory acknowledged, "but I also think that there was an element of wanting to protect Tommy, because it wasn't your son's responsibility to save Malcolm, and on a certain level, he understood that. Saving him wasn't Tommy's job, it wasn't your job." Rebecca hummed at that. Both women fell silent, because there really wasn't much to be said.
"Do you think there's something wrong with me, that I still love him, even after what he's done, to our son, to Ollie, to the Glades, to Robert and Thea and to so many others? Am I wrong to still love him?" she asked softly after several moments. Dory huffed and withdrew, just enough for her to look at Rebecca. She wiped Rebecca's tears away with her thumbs, just like her mother used to do when she was a child.
"Sweetheart, I think I'd be more worried if you didn't still love him," Dory answered, kissing the top of her head. It wasn't her experience that love worked that way. You didn't stop loving someone because of what they did. Assuming they were reunited, could Malcolm and Rebecca stay together? That was another question entirely … just because you loved someone didn't mean that you had a future with that person. They both changed … Malcolm emotionally and mentally, and Rebecca changed physically. The two women sat together in silence for several moments, until Dory said, "C'mon. Walk with me to the car, and I'll tell you about what's going on in town." There was a slight hitch in Rebecca's breathing, but she bobbed her head lightly. Baby steps. Baby steps would get them to where they needed to be.
DSDSDSDSDS
Destine, MO
Home of Meg & Angel Carvalho
This … was a very interesting development. That was all Bastiaan de Vries could think as his granddaughter … and Gideon's grandson … led them both into the house. They had landed nearly two hours earlier, but this leg of the trip had quickly turned into what his daughter would have called a Murphy's Law Trip … everything that could go wrong, did. First, the cabin door didn't want to open. Then, once it did open and the exhausted, frustrated passengers began making their way into the terminal, it became clear that they were sent to the wrong baggage carousel. Once that was straightened out, many people discovered that their luggage was left off the airplane. Fortunately, Bastiaan and Gideon only had one piece of luggage a piece … and they learned years earlier to make sure they had at least one or two days of clothes in their carry-ons, just in case. Not everyone was that lucky. Then again, at least someone hadn't hit the wrong button and retracted the skybridge. That would actually have been disastrous.
On the other hand, once they reached the car rental booth, they found a line a mile long (not really an exaggeration) and while they didn't have a specific time table, neither man much enjoyed waiting in lines. As it turned out, the vendor was having technical issues with their computers, and the poor girl who was operating them was getting more and more flustered with each passenger. Fortunately, as maddening as he often found the other man, Gideon was also very good at putting people at ease … the girl was almost in tears when they reached her, and by the time they had the keys to the car in hand, Gideon was making her laugh.
They would have to return to the airport the following day, because the exhibits for the museum would be coming in on a later flight, but for now, they were both glad to be out of the airport and away from cities, even for twenty-four hours. None of that resolved a very important question … why hadn't his daughter told him that Slade Wilson and his younger son were staying with them? Yes, true enough, Meg had no reason to suspect that he was familiar with the younger agent, but while she'd told him that she had a boarder and his son staying with them, she'd never mentioned the man of the man. Which Bastiaan found very suspicious indeed … although, judging from the way Gideon's grandson kept looking at him, the boy found him to be just as suspicious. And wasn't that strange to think about … the anxious little boy in front of him was Gideon's grandson. But even without hearing the child's name, it wouldn't have surprised him … Grant closely resembled his father at the same age.
Gideon murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, "So, your daughter didn't tell you that my son and grandson were staying with them?" Bastiaan very slowly shook his head. It wasn't that Meg told him everything. He was fairly certain that his daughter didn't even tell Chloe everything. It was the idea that someone as dangerous as Slade Wilson was anywhere near his innocent daughter that made him uncomfortable. Of course, the idea that his Meg wasn't nearly as innocent as he wanted to believe made him even more uncomfortable. Just as the sight in front of him really made him uncomfortable.
Sitting together on the sofa were Meg and Slade … Meg's head resting on Slade's shoulder, and Slade's cheek nestled against Meg's hair. Quite unnecessarily, he thought, his granddaughter murmured, "They're both asleep." Yes, they did notice that. According to Meg, she'd only had a boarder for a few months … how had she come to be so comfortable with Slade during that time that she was comfortable with falling asleep against his side? And if he'd been thinking, he would have dissuaded Gideon from what his friend did next. But he wasn't thinking, and neither was Gideon, because they both knew damn good and well that Slade had PTSD from the island (and other things). And one of the worst things you could ever do when dealing with a person with PTSD was surprise or startle them. Wake them up? Even worse idea.
The older man murmured, "Oh, they won't be for much longer." Angel turned to face him, fully prepared to warn him not to wake her mother, but before she had the chance to do so, Gideon bellowed at the top of his not-inconsiderable lungs, "SLADE JOSEPH WILSON! What do you think you're doing, young man?" Slade's reaction was swift and devastating … he instantly woke up and spun to face them, reaching for a weapon with one hand and sweeping Meg behind him with the other.
But it was Meg's reaction that took Bastiaan's breath away, because Slade's reaction was expected, but hers was not. As she landed on her bum behind Slade, she grabbed the nearest item … which happened to be a paperweight that Stephen gave her as a souvenir from New York City, and bounced immediately to her feet, fully prepared to do battle. As soon as their respective parents were up, Angel was shoving Grant to the ground, shielding him protectively. Meg was the first to recover, gasping, "Dad? What the hell? Slade, are you all right? Angel, Grant, it's okay."
"That remains to be seen," his granddaughter grumbled, but helped Grant to his feet, before rounding on Gideon, snarling, "And who are you to come into our house and act the fool!" Her mother's soft 'Angel' had the teenager growling at Gideon again, before putting her hand on Grant's shoulder and gently steering him to their respective parents. Gideon looked a bit nonplussed by being called on the carpet by a fifteen year old (and, presumably, everything else that happened during the last few minutes).
"My daughter may have spoken out of turn, but her point remains. I don't know who you are, and why you're with my father, but you're in my home now. And I will not tolerate such rude behavior, especially since both my friend and his son have varying forms of PTSD. As it is, you're damn lucky all either of us had was a paperweight and … a pencil. On the other hand, Slade, I have a feeling you could probably kill someone with a paperclip," Meg chastised. Now Gideon's jaw was slightly ajar. Not that things would improve before too much longer.
"Oh, I know exactly who he is, Meg … may I present Gideon Alexander Wilson. A senior ASIS agent, and my father. It would appear that our fathers have been working together for some time," Slade Wilson answered and Meg pivoted to look up at Slade, before turning her attention first to Bastiaan (and oh, her expression didn't bode well for the first private conversation) and then to Gideon. If anything, she looked even more displeased with Bastiaan's friend. But Slade wasn't finished, adding mockingly, "And father, this is Margreet Theodora Anderson Carvalho, her daughter Angeline, and my son Grant."
Meg swatted his shoulder, muttering, "Stop using my full name, you know I don't like it when you do that." Both Gideon and Bastiaan blinked at that, while Bastiaan noticed his granddaughter rolling her eyes in exasperation as she and Grant parked themselves behind their parents. Meg turned her attention to the two spies, sighing, "Well, we're awake now, thank you very much. After the stunt you two just pulled, I'm tempted to make you sleep in the basement, but that's not fair to Slade and Grant to have to move their things. Angel, I need you to start lunch for me. Grant, go with your father."
She didn't tell Slade what she needed him to do … but apparently, that wasn't necessary. Slade put his arm around the boy and gently steered him outside once more, while Angel made her way into the kitchen, leaving the two agents alone in the living room with the very annoyed civilian, who happened to be Bastiaan's first-born child. And she was being very, very quiet … not a good sign. While his elder daughter tended to be quiet as a matter of course, there was quiet and then there was 'shit, run for the hills and don't look back,' as his younger daughter so elegantly put it on more than one occasion. And right now, Meg's expression bore a closer resemblance to the latter than to the former.
She finally said in a very quiet voice, "I honestly don't care that you don't really work for a museum, Dad. I don't. If I've learned anything from Slade, it's that sometimes people who work in the shadows to keep the wolves away have to lie to their families, for their own protection in more ways than one. But what I will not tolerate is someone coming into my home and behaving in such a way, especially not to someone whom I actually invited … someone who even now struggles with trauma. I'll let you figure out if I mean your son or your grandson. Now, as soon as Slade gives the go-ahead, I'll take you both up into the room over the garage and you two can work out who gets to sleep where. For now, I strongly recommend you stay out of my way and out of Slade's."
She glowered a few minutes longer at Gideon, whose expression was sheepish. Now he figures out that barking out like that to a sleeping man wasn't the smartest thing in the world to do. Not for the first time, he wondered how it was that someone so lacking in common sense managed to survive so long. Perhaps sensing that she'd made her point, Meg returned her attention to Bastiaan himself, her face softening. And seeing that expression, Bastiaan took the five steps separating him from his oldest child and drew her into his arms. She returned the embrace, murmuring, "I'm so glad you're here, Dad. I have so much to tell you."
He hoped how Slade Wilson came to live with her was at the top of that list. However, considering what his partner had just done, Bastian had the sense that making any sorts of demands on his daughter was a big time no-no. He reluctantly released her, but quickly cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, something that never stopped making her smile. With one last glower at Gideon, she murmured, "I'll check in with Angel. Make sure she's okay." Bastiaan let her go, watching her stride into the kitchen, and then turned to face Gideon.
"It would seem, Bastiaan, that your daughter isn't nearly as boring as you wanted to believe she was … her reflexes are uncanny," the other man said. Bastiaan offered his partner his best 'are you kidding me right now?' look and Gideon added, more than a touch defensively, "Well, really, did you see how she immediately reached for that glass paperweight? She could have easily hurt either one of us with that thing."
"Oh, shut up … what in God's name were you thinking, waking your son up like that? If Meg's reflexes were impressive, then Slade's were even more so! He's trained, and she isn't!" Bastiaan hissed. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, trying to forget the image of Slade Wilson shoving Meg behind him protectively, fully prepared to defend her with whatever he had available … even if it was just a pencil. He added, still rubbing his face, "And that wasn't a glass paperweight … that was lead crystal, which is much heavier … and pointed. If my daughter decided to throw that, it could have killed either one of us."
Gideon just blinked at him, and Bastiaan shook his head, muttering under his breath in Dutch. All he wanted when he came here was to spend some time with his little girl and her little girl. In the end, he was walking into what all law enforcement officers, of any level, hated … a domestic. And because if he didn't get out of this room, he would use that lead crystal paperweight on his partner's hard head, he added, "I'm going to help my daughter and granddaughter in the kitchen … try not to alienate your son and grandson more than you already have, hmm?" Gideon was still staring at him in shock when he left the room. Idioot!
TBC
Dutch Translations:
Mijn engel: my angel