Author's Notes: I actually intended to have the bad guy (the one pulling the strings, who is responsible for Rebecca being yanked out of the afterlife) show up in this chapter. The characters had other ideas. Of course. They usually do. And how scary is it that Slade is the only character who is letting me take the lead, at least for now? So, in this chapter, Slade learns a little more about the town that's his temporary home and the people who make it up, while Meg has a minor freak-out (or maybe not so minor) and we meet more of Destine's denizens. Oh, and a few unexpected family members pop up as well. Once again, these gentlemen weren't supposed to show up in this story, but they had other ideas.

Chapter Four

Got Your Six

He was twelve years old when his father moved their family from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Destine, Missouri. He didn't remember much about the reason for the move, although he suspected it had something to do with the misguided idea that 'things are simpler in the country.' And if that was the case, they could have just as easily moved to the Gettysburg/Chambersburg area, since there was plenty of country around there, and they still would have been in the same state. Hell, they could have even moved no more than twenty miles away, to the Bethlehem/Easton area. But, no … they moved to the Midwest. Not that Rafe really wanted to live anywhere else: after a stint in the Marines, plus a nostalgic return to his childhood home, he realized that Destine was home now, and had been for quite some time.

Yes, Destine was his home now … but it wasn't always. And he remembered what it was like, moving into this small town as a little boy. True enough, while the young man across the table from him was no child (in fact, Rafe was willing to bet he didn't even regard himself as a young man), Rafe still recognized the slightly bemused expression of a person trying to understand his new environment. He'd seen it before, after all. So, he observed softly, "If there's something that's not adding up for you, son … ask. It's the only way you'll ever learn the answer." Something he tried to teach his girls … 'course, they were stubborn, just like him.

Slade Wilson's one eye slid toward Rafe, and for a moment, the fire chief wasn't sure if the boy was going to ask his question. There were quite a few questions in Rafe's mind about his companion, but he wouldn't ask them. Not yet. There needed to be trust before he did that, and Rafe's take on Slade Wilson was that this was a man a great deal like Rafe's grandfather: a man who found it hard to trust and once that trust was given, his loyalty was nigh unshakable. But if you betrayed that trust after it was given, God help you. Rafe had no intention of betraying anyone, but Slade Wilson had no way of knowing that.

The young man finally asked, "If Gordon Alexander's been a problem for such a long time, why is something just now being done about him?" Oh. That was a bit of a surprise, but at the same time, it wasn't. Wilson continued, "If he's been causing trouble … I saw Angel Carvalho duck under the table when he started up … if he's been that much of a threat, why didn't someone do something about him sooner? Why let him terrorize people all this time?" Rafe had the strangest feeling there was more to his question than that, but he didn't have enough facts at his disposal to call the newcomer on it.

Instead, he provided the simple truth, "Because Dory wouldn't let us." Wilson's eye opened and closed, and Rafe realized that was a blink. Since the younger man was willing to listen, Rafe went on, "Dory … I want you to swear not to tell Meg this, because it would only break her heart." Wilson considered that a moment, and then nodded. Satisfied, Rafe continued, "The same accident that killed Dory's younger sister Ruby also took the life of Meg's husband Stephen." Wilson's eye closed and he rested his forehead against his joined hands. Rafe went on, "Gordon was never the most friendly of men, never one to help out in a bad situation. He was ornery at the best of times. But Ruby smoothed his rougher edges. The rest of the town didn't understand how it worked, but she loved him and he adored her. And when she died, he completely spun out of control."

Wilson muttered under his breath, something that sounded like, 'well, that sounds familiar,' but he didn't interrupt Rafe otherwise. The fire chief went on, "I think Dory had this idea that she could save Gordon … if she couldn't save her sister, she could save Gordon. Trouble is, no one could have saved Ruby, and Gordon doesn't want to be saved. She had to come to terms with that. Sounds like she finally has. Trouble is, her niece Heather still thinks her father can be saved. And he can. But again …"

"He doesn't think he needs to be. I'm familiar with the type," Slade answered. Rafe was starting to get the sense that the newcomer was seeing parallels between himself and Gordon. Parallels there might be, but even Ruby had to guilt Gordon into helping others (something she rarely did, because his help was grudgingly given at the best of times. Besides, guilting someone wasn't Ruby's style). Based on what he saw for himself and heard from both Lindy and Meg, Slade hadn't volunteered … but there was absolutely nothing begrudging about his assistance.

However, all he said was, "I think we're all familiar with the type, son. What I'm getting at is, Dory finally realized that Gordon had to do this himself and she couldn't keep protecting him." Slade nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. Rafe patted his shoulder and murmured, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make sure none of the local teenagers are using my trucks for things they aren't designed for." A dark brow arched over the eyepatch, but Slade nodded. Rafe rose to his feet, intending to head for the bay. His oldest girl was Heather Alexander's best friend … he'd give Tori a call later, let her know that Heather could use her support right now.

Before he left, however, there was one last thing Slade had to say. He asked softly, "You say that it would break Meg's heart to know that Dory's sister died in the same accident that killed Meg's late husband. Did her husband cause the accident?" Rafe blinked at the young man, startled by the question, but he shook his head anyhow, and Slade added, "Then, why would it upset her? If her husband didn't cause the accident, why would it break Meg's heart?"

Rafe's mouth opened and closed. That … was a good question. At the time, with Meg grieving for her husband and struggling to be a good mother to Angel, it made sense. But … that was years ago, and while he had no doubt that she would always miss Stephen, Meg moved forward with her life. He looked at the young man once more, who offered him a small, one-shoulder shrug as he added, "She may be stronger than you realize." Of that, Rafe had no doubt whatsoever. Maybe the one they were protecting wasn't Meg at all. And that, in turn, begged another … if not Meg, then who were they protecting?

The question stayed with Rafe as he chased canoodling teenagers away from the trucks … there were plenty of places where they could neck, and those places were a lot more private. Just who were they protecting … and why? And why did he have a feeling that they were all being manipulated? He dismissed it, because if they were being manipulated, they would have no clue that it was happening. He certainly wouldn't be getting a bad feeling about it … would he?

DSDSDSDSDS

"I may have lost my mind."

"May have? I thought that happened a while ago. OW!"

"Sweetheart, if that was you being insane, I think we could all use a bit of insanity."

"Hush, all of you … I want to hear what she has to say. Now … Meg. What makes you think you've lost your mind, honey?"

As ever, the owner of this final voice made all others go quiet. That was good. Not so good? Three sets of eyes were now focused on her. Meg took a deep breath and answered, "Well, you have to admit, inviting a man I just met and know next to nothing about was hardly the smartest move I've ever made. All I know about him, I learned at the diner and on the ride over. I could easily be inviting an ax-murderer into my house."

She'd taken the pictures of her daughter, as Rafe advised she should do, and not a moment too soon. Angel was starting to fidget with her elf hat, which meant it was only a matter of time before she took it off. As ever, she sent the first set of pictures to Stephen's parents, who remained in Baltimore after their departure. They'd made one visit to Destine, and that was for Stephen's funeral. Curiously, they seemed to understand why she had to stay in the town where their son died, something few people from Meg's side of the family did. Once those pictures were sent, she returned to the kitchen, if only to see if there was something she could do. Of course, she should have realized that she would be ambushed with questions. Also of course, that was when she had her panic attack … what the hell was she thinking?

"You're right … you could be. No, hush … she deserves to have her fears taken seriously, because she's right. You're not a stupid woman, Meg," Lindy's mother Sissy observed. Lindy muttered under her breath, 'that's debatable,' then yelped when her mother swatted her without taking her gaze from Meg. Sissy, however, ignored her daughter and kept her focus on Meg as she went on, "You're not a stupid woman, nor are you impulsive. So. The question becomes, why did you invite a man you just met to your home, when all you know about him was one good deed? No one is made up of a single good action … or single bad action. Why did you do it, then? Why did you potentially put yourself and your fifteen year old daughter at risk?"

There were a thousand answers she could have given Sissy. She could have reminded the older woman that she was far from helpless. That was true. It was also irrelevant. Her instinct told her that Slade Wilson was probably the most dangerous person, man or woman, she'd ever met. She could have told Lindy that Slade was really trouble, he wouldn't have stepped in at the diner. Also true. Also irrelevant. She knew better than anyone else that evil often wore a friendly face. The simple truth, though … it boiled down to one thing. She said softly, "You know, he admitted to me that that just by meeting him, I was in danger. He accepted my offer, because this way, he could protect me, could protect us. But … I made the offer before he said any of that. Because he needed help. And he was so surprised at every turn when someone offered it to him, without strings attached. He needs help. He … he needs us."

Meg was a bit surprised when that last sentence came out of her mouth, but she realized upon reflection that it was true. Maybe not specifically the town of Destine, Missouri … but then again, maybe it was. She said again, "He needs us. Not to protect him … if what I saw in the diner is any indication, that man is likely a one-man army. But … everyone needs support. Everyone needs …" She struggled to find the words, before remembering a conversation with her Aunt Chloe, in those last days before her mother was drawn under the waves by her demons. She'd been no more than eight or nine, and she'd protested when Aunt Chloe made another visit to the house, fearing for the safety of her young niece. She was taking good care of both her and her mom. Aunt Chloe dropped to her knees in front of Meg, putting her hands on her shoulders, and whispered, 'honey, I know. I can see that. But even strong, brave girls like you need help from time to time.' She hadn't said that it wasn't supposed to be Meg's job to take care of her mother, perhaps sensing that it was a role Meg clung to. Instead, she added, her hands leaving Meg's shoulders to cup her face, 'everyone needs their hand held once in a while … needs the comfort of knowing they're not alone. And you aren't, sweet girl.'

She wasn't alone. Not then, when she had the comfort of her aunt's arms and the knowledge that her uncle was only a phone call away. Her father was an ocean away, but once she knew about him, she knew that she only had to pick up the phone and he would be on the first flight to the US. And not now, when her mother was more or less sane, although still a bit distant at times. More than thirty years removed from that conversation, Meg looked into the patient brown eyes of Sissy McFarland and said softly, "Everyone needs the comfort of knowing they're not alone. And I think Slade Wilson has been alone for so long, he doesn't remember that he doesn't have to be." Sissy smiled then, and because Chloe Anderson raised her when her twin sister Clare couldn't, Meg added, "That doesn't mean I won't pick up a few things to protect myself and Angel." Sissy laughed then and drew Meg into her arms.

She'd never shared much about her early life with her Destine neighbors. Not because she was keeping anything secret, but because it was the past and she was struggling to put the pieces of her life back together after Stephen's death. Aunt Chloe was going through a divorce, Uncle Brady was struggling with her cousin's drug addiction, and Stephen's death had pushed her mother into another one of her episodes. She didn't talk about her early life because it wouldn't have helped, and she felt like she was drowning as it was. But Sissy always reminded her of Aunt Chloe … not physically, because they couldn't be more different. But to Meg, their spirits … their hearts … were very similar. She murmured into Sissy's hair now, "I need to call my aunt when I get home. You remind me a lot of her."

Sissy laughed lightly, asking, "Is she a short, stout Southern lady with a sassy mouth?" Meg shook with laughter at Sissy's description of herself, because it was all true, and it was one of many reasons why Meg loved her. It had never occurred to her to resent her mother while she was growing up or even as an adult. It was just the way her mother was. She couldn't help it. And she had Aunt Chloe whenever her mother's problems overwhelmed her. But Sissy … like Dory, Sissy took Meg under her wing almost as soon as she met her. If someone could have a surrogate mother after they were thirty years of age, then Sissy was Meg's.

"No … no, like my mother, she's a willowy blonde Canadian," Meg admitted and Sissy's arms tightened around her waist at the reference to Clare Anderson. Sissy and Clare met once. They hadn't liked each other, although Meg sensed that her mother was jealous of Sissy. Not because Meg loved Sissy, but because Sissy wasn't broken, as Clare was. Meg hadn't understood that. Nor did she understand why her mother resented her for not being broken. It was something neither Chloe, or Meg's father Bastiaan, could ever explain to her. Meg added, "It was Aunt Chloe who raised me when my mother … when she had her bad days."

Again, Sissy's arms tightened around her waist and she murmured, "Then I accept that compliment." Sissy released her and stepped back, asking, "Do you know what you need to do next?" Not really, and Sissy shook her head, eyes warm with affectionate exasperation, saying, "First, you need to send those pictures to your parents, including your aunt. Then, you need to collect your daughter and your boarder, and go home. You've done more than enough today, Margreet Theodora. Now it's time for you to take care of yourself and that man." Yes. And she would start with keeping her word. She had no idea where to start, but she promised to do what she could to help Slade find his son. Maybe between the two of them, they could figure it out.

But it was Lindy who said with a quiet solemnity that Meg sometimes forgot she was capable of, "And if you need us, if we're all wrong about him … then the entire town will make sure he lives to regret hurting you and Angel." That, of course, called for a group hug, even if none of the women gathered believed for a second that it would be necessary.

DSDSDSDDSDSDS

Vienna, Austria

Stephansplatz

One did many things for friends … legal things and illegal things. There were also things one did for friends that were best termed as operations of questionable legality, and this fell into this that category. But Gideon Wilson had always been there for him, regardless of the situation. If it didn't contradict the best interests of Australia and didn't hurt Gideon's family (and he'd never ask Gideon anything that would violate either tenet), Gideon was there for him. The least he could do was … this, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. And really, it wasn't the actions that made him uncomfortable, but who was on the receiving end of those actions. It was one thing to interrogate an enemy … it was quite different to interrogate someone whom you regarded as family. But that was the way of the world.

And he was no stranger to the ways of the world. That hadn't stopped him from trying to make things better. Thirteen years earlier, stunned by the death of his son-in-law while Bastiaan de Vries was helping to coordinate an op and heart-broken that he couldn't be there for his daughter as she grieved, the Dutch operative recruited a young Bratva captain as a counterbalance to the League of Assassins. Oh, he knew that his son-in-law's death was supposedly an accident, and he knew that there was nothing he could do for his daughter or granddaughter on the other side of the ocean … but there was much he could do to prevent other young women from enduring his child's grief.

Things hadn't gone as planned, but things rarely did. And now, in the basement of another friend's café, Bastiaan was holding his friend's grandson fast as his friend interrogated that not-so-young Bratva captain. And Gideon Wilson wasn't being exactly gentle about it … so far, their recalcitrant captain was sporting two black eyes and a blood-smeared face. It seemed he thought that since Gideon was over seventy, he wasn't dangerous. That was a rookie mistake. Bastiaan tightened his grip on Joseph Wilson, however, murmuring, "Be still, boy … Anatoli was given a mission. Not only did he not complete his mission, he completely subverted it and the Jackals." Joe stilled for a few minutes, but only long enough to catch his breath and start planning his next move. That was fine. Bastiaan would be ready for him. He and Gideon helped to train this boy, if only by helping to write the ASIS manuals.

Gideon was now purring as he held Anatoli Knyazev's jaw, "So. Allow me to recap. We can hardly hold your time being imprisoned on that God-forsaken island against you. But I can hold your much more recent actions against my son against you. Shh, shhh, shhh. I'm fully aware of what the Mirukuru did … how it affected him. I'm fully aware of what he became, and if Oliver Queen had failed in stopping Slade, we had a contingency plan in place. One that didn't involve turning Starling City into a wasteland. Amanda Waller was always a ruthless lass, but she lacked imagination and subtlety. I, however, don't. And you should be grateful that I didn't simply turn you over to Bastiaan. Now. You are going to tell me what we want to know."

"Grandfather … the future version of Grant was already here. We didn't bring him here! We … you do that one more time, and so help me …" Joe said, sounding more than a little desperate as Bastiaan shook him for interfering when he was told not to do so. Bastiaan merely shook him again. Now was not his turn to talk. And evidently, he hadn't learned that excuses only annoyed his grandfather (and Bastiaan as well). Thus far, he'd made excuses for his own actions (seeing his father kill the spy when he was a kid. Not the greatest idea, Slade, but Bastiaan was sure it would take his friend's son the rest of his life to forgive himself for that particular action, if ever) … for Anatoli's actions (Slade Wilson's metamorphosis into Deathstroke) … and the Jackals' catastrophic failure as a antithesis of the League of Assassins. Oh, and of course, the mess involving his younger brother (Grant Wilson had already come from the future). Bastiaan had to admit, he might have a point there, but he had yet to hear Joseph take responsibility for anything.

"Do you have a hard time understanding the command to be silent, boy? Bastiaan and I formed the Jackals thirteen years ago, to protect others … to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Now, tell me, grandson … how is what you've been doing protecting the defenseless? Now you may speak, but only if you have an answer that isn't making excuses or whining?" Gideon inquired acerbically. Joe's mouth closed with a snap. Gideon returned his attention to Anatoli, saying, "Now. I believe my grandson when he says that the future version of his younger brother was already here in this time. What I want to know is if you did anything to help him kidnap his younger self and my former daughter-in-law?"

Anatoli shook his head, murmuring, "The Jackals may have failed in our charter, but I swear on the life of all I hold dear … we did not help him. Slade Wilson is frightening, but his ex-wife is far more so." Bastiaan bit back a laugh, because yes, that sounded about right. He had only to think of his former lover's twin sister. Now there was a frightening woman. Gideon studied first Anatoli's expression, before turning his attention to Joe, and then glanced at Bastiaan. He released Joe Wilson, grabbing the young man's wrist before he had the chance to strike him. Honestly, the boy never learned.

"I believe you," Gideon said steadily, "but now, my partner and I must trace Grant and Adeline's whereabouts. And the two of you will return to Kasnia with the rest of the Jackals, to await further instruction. No … there will be no argument, much less from you, Joseph. I clearly cannot trust either of you to keep your word. You will return to Kasnia, and if I find out that you've been in the United States, much less anywhere near Starling City or Star City, or whatever it's called, I will do far more than pull your charter. You are to go nowhere near that city, nowhere near Oliver Queen, and certainly nowhere near his son. Do I make myself clear?"

Bastiaan watched silently as grandfather and grandson held a staring contest. In the end, though, Joe looked away with a sullen expression, and Anatoli answered quietly, "Da. You do. And no harm will come to William Clayton at our hands. Nor to his father, or to Star City." Gideon looked from his grandson to the Bratva captain and back again, and evidently satisfied, nodded. He released Anatoli, and the two Jackals left the basement of the café, leaving the two old friends staring at each other. In spite of himself, Bastiaan felt the corners of his mouth quirking and Gideon rolled his eyes.

"Don't start … just don't. All right, our first step is to track Adeline once she was taken. And isn't it time you called your daughter? Now, now … I just had dealings with my family, it's time you spoke a member of yours," Gideon chastised. It was Bastiaan's turn to roll his eyes, but his friend was correct. It was another tenet of their partnership that they not lose touch with their families, the very reason they were doing this. Their families were both battered and broken. Bastiaan's relationship with Clare Anderson lasted just long enough to produce their daughter Margreet, and his marriage to a Greek pianist lasted just shy of five years. That was the life of an intelligence officer, regardless of the agency. His line of work, their line of work, was beyond difficult on marriages. For Gideon, it was keeping an eye on his youngest grandson Grant, since his relationship with Grant's father had been damaged so badly even before Slade crashed on that miserable island. Bastiaan, however, was still on speaking terms with his daughter, and Gideon insisted that he keep it that way.

"Once we get upstairs and on the street, I'll call her. I just need to make sure that she's awake. Ah, forgot the time difference, did you?" Bastiaan chided gently as the two men headed upstairs. They'd been working together for years. So, when Gideon moved a certain way, Bastiaan mirrored him … and within seconds, they had their would-be attacker on the ground. Bastiaan sighed, shaking his head as he once more grabbed the wrist of one Joseph WilliamWilson, muttering as he gave it a small twist, driving the boy to his knees, "They just never learn."

"No, they don't," his friend agreed, "very well, then. You have my recalcitrant grandson in hand, I see?" Bastiaan rolled his eyes at Gideon's attempt at humor, but nodded, and the Englishman went on, "What's the name of the ARGUS station chief here in Austria?" The inhaled breath from Joseph Wilson was the only indication that the young man realized just how much trouble they'd gotten themselves into with this little stunt. After the fact, as usual. They just never learned.

"Valentina Auer, I believe … and if memory serves, she's the one who recruited Amanda Waller," Bastiaan answered. Memory serves, his arse … he damn well knew that it was Valentina who recruited the Wall, because he trained Valentina and tried to talk her out of recruiting the young woman. However, he had the pleasure of seeing Joe Wilson go gray with horror when he realized just how badly he and Anatoli screwed up. Probably more Joe than Anatoli, but Anatoli didn't stop him … so he was just as culpable. Judging from the captain's face, he figured that part out for himself.

And Gideon's smile was best described as gleeful as he replied, "Oh, yes … the lovely Valentina. Did I ever tell you, Bastiaan, that my son saved her life when he was a rookie ASIS agent? I must have told you that story, for every time you told the story about your daughter saving that little girl in the crosswalk." Bastiaan glared at his friend, because really? He wanted to have this conversation right now? Well, far be it from him to deny Gideon the satisfaction. He smirked at his old friend.

"That was my younger sister, Gideon … not my daughter, as you well know. Margreet would be the absolute first person to tell you that she's quite boring, and she's quite happy with that. I am as well," Bastiaan retorted as he began pushing Joe toward the exit. Julius very carefully didn't look in their direction … he couldn't very well talk about things he hadn't seen, after all.

"Your younger sister, who is fifteen years younger than you and five years older than your daughter … you can see why I would get confused," Gideon fired back as he muscled Anatoli out onto the street. Bastiaan just rolled his eyes and followed behind with Joe. However, he nearly stopped dead when Gideon added almost innocently, "And you never know about Margreet. Your son told his son that he was a pilot. We weren't honest with our children about what we did for a living. Your Margreet might have hidden depths."

Bastiaan stared at his friend in horror. No. Just … no. His Margreet was like his sister Lisanne, quiet and reliable. She wasn't interested in excitement or in saving the world …

… Was she?

TBC