Author's Notes: This chapter is focused entirely on Grant and Slade Wilson … both versions of Grant, actually. For those who are wondering, the mental image I keep having for baby!Grant is the child version of Boba Fett in Attack of the Clones, as played by Daniel Logan (if they ever make the much-discussed Boba Fett movie, he and Manu Bennett are the only actors I could accept in that role. I met Daniel Logan a few years ago at DragonCon and I know he's lobbying for the role. But Manu would make a seriously bad-ass Boba Fett). The end of the semester is coming up fast … commencement will be in four weeks, and then the week after that, we switch to flex time. Which means both less time to write, and more … I work from seven thirty to five thirty, Monday through Thursday, and then seven thirty to eleven thirty on Friday. Also, fair warning, despite what may seem logical, as a staff member at a college, I actually tend to be busier during the summer than I am during the semesters. A lot of students who attended many years ago start the process to go back to college during the summer months, which means I need to confirm that their entire record has been entered into the student database. Plus, there's diploma distribution, and the summer semesters. So, we'll see how it goes. Oh, and can't forget Raleigh SuperCon in July. That's gonna be off-the-charts this year. So. In this chapter, Slade officially meets both variations of his youngest son; Future!Grant has a few last things to do before he vanishes; and baby!Grant creates a new future him.

Chapter Eight

Phantom Arms, Phantom Touches

Destine, Missouri

Early Sunday afternoon

"Hello, Father."

Those were the exact words Joe greeted him with, so many months ago. But this wasn't Joe, this was Grant … two different boys, two different tones. A potential future version of Grant … but it was still his youngest son, who led him into the same tower where he saw Adeline during his captivity. Slade swallowed thickly, murmuring, "Hello, son." He dipped his head, ever so slightly, and flinched at even that small motion. Some of the pain must have flashed across his face, because Grant's expression tightened with concern.

"Are you all right? Did they hurt you, too?" he demanded. Slade started to answer, flinched again, and remembered his son slashing open the side of the boy who'd held Angel. He wasn't sure if he wanted to answer, if it meant putting Dillon in danger, when the boy had tried to protect them in the only way he had available to him. His hesitation must have provided his answer to his son, because Grant added, "It was Dillon, wasn't it? He and Braden probably tried to talk Grady out of it, and when they couldn't, Dillon figured out the best way to protect all three of you … except just like always, Grady didn't stick to the script. Am I close?"

"Dillon was behind me … told me that if I surrendered, he had a better chance of keeping the three of us together. He also told me that he had to hit me, and to please at least pretend to lose consciousness," Slade answered. No, that wasn't technically what Dillon said, but that was the basic gist of it. Grant relaxed, ever so slightly, and Slade took a chance, adding, "The kid could use some training … I think he hit me harder than he meant to."

"I've had him protecting Mother and the current version of me … more to protect him from the stupidity of his cousin than anything else," Grant acknowledged. He paused, and then added, "You'll be the one training him, not me, Father." Slade was on the point of asking his son what he meant when Grant … phased out. Slade thought at first that he'd been hit harder than he thought, when it happened again. Grant smiled at him sadly, saying, "I think it is what is called a 'self-own.' I came back into the past to change things, to ensure that I destroyed your enemies before they could become a problem for either of us … and I changed myself right out of existence. This version of me will cease to exist before the day ends … and who I become will be up to you, and probably Meg Carvalho."

"Considering my track record with your brother …" Slade began and Grant immediately began shaking his head. Slade blinked at this variation of his son, and then realized Grant mentioned Meg, adding, "And I don't know how long I'll remain in Destine, if I'll be here long enough for Meg or Angel, or anyone else here, to make an impact on you." But even as the words left his mouth, Grant was once more shaking his head.

"She's already making an impact, Father … just by raising Angel the way she has, she's made an impact. Just now, Angel put her arms around my mini-me while my mother examines her for a concussion. Oh, it's not out of any affection, something my mini-me knows, but right now, a girl he's only just met is holding him and giving him someone to hold onto. And stop blaming yourself for Joe. What he became is on him, not on you … just as what I became is on me, much as I've blamed Mother for all these years. We all make our own choices, Father … stop taking his choices from him, and accept that," Grant answered.

Slade closed his mouth with a snap, because that was the exact same thing Meg told him. And out of all the conversations he'd expected to have with the future version of his son, this was probably one of the last one anyone could have imagined, especially once he realized that the individual who kidnapped his ex-wife and youngest child was a potential future version of that same child. As if guessing this, Grant added ruefully, "I know. You were expecting Joe 2.0, complete with, 'if you don't act like what I've become, you aren't my father any more.' And maybe, if you'd found me at the beginning, before Mother changed course and started telling my mini-me about you when you and she first met … maybe that's the version of me you would have gotten. But that's not the father I need. Well, I won't need anything for much longer."

"I'm sorry," Slade said hoarsely, and Grant blinked at him. Slade inhaled (it still hurt to breathe, especially now with his heart feeling as if it was too big for his chest), before repeating, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I took that mission, I'm sorry I wasn't there while you were growing up. I'm sorry I didn't know about you until Joe told me. I don't know if I'll do any better with the current version of you … there are times when I'm not sure if I was cut out to be a father. But I'll do my best." Grant smiled then … not the mocking smile he'd worn when he slashed open that boy's side, but a real smile.

"And your best is good enough, Father. I promise you that. I … oh. I didn't know that, did you?" Grant asked and Slade frowned. Know what, exactly? Grant explained, "Angel just told my mini-me that one of her mother's favorite books is Dune, and one of her favorite characters is Alia. Oh. That makes your life easier. Ask Meg about Alia, and about the choices that were made for her, that led to her damnation, and the choice she made, for her own salvation. She'll understand." Slade didn't, but maybe that didn't matter.

Instead, he asked softly, "So … what happens now? Because this was not among the scenarios I ran in my head on the way over." To his surprise, Grant actually laughed … and after a moment, so did Slade. Actually, nothing had gone as Slade anticipated on the way over. None of the scenarios that he and Meg prepared together, whilst asking the advice of Troy Everette … but it was like he was taught when he first joined the service. No plan survives first contact. It was true then, and it was true now.

"Honestly, it wasn't among the scenarios I had in mind when I came back here. What happens now is, I take you to my mini-me … he's so looking forward to meeting you. And, I suppose you see Mother again," Grant added, his disdain for Adeline clear. That was made even clearer a moment later when he added, "She kept me away from you for so long … and then she trash-talked you. I have two sets of memories in my head for her, one from my past and one from right now. She's been telling my mini-me about how you two met, and about Aunt Rose."

As ever, the mention of his young sister-in-law caused a pang. He pushed his grief down into a little box, to be dealt with later, and instead, focused on a conversation with his chosen brother on the island that changed them both. Oh, there were several differences … but Grant needed to hear this as much as Oliver had. Slade told his son, "You need to forgive her, Grant." The boy looked more than a bit rebellious, but Slade continued, determined to get through to this son, to succeed with Grant where he failed with Joe, "You do. Don't let the version of your mother that you remember win … besides, considering what I was like with the Mirukuru in my system, I can't say she was wrong. I could have hurt her, I could have hurt you. Forgive her, son, for your own sake if not for hers … and then you'll be free."

Grant opened and closed his mouth several times, before exhaling and saying, "I'll try. Would you like to meet my mini-me, and check on Meg and Angel? I swear to you, Father, I told those idiots not to hurt them. I knew hurting them would piss you off." He paused, before adding quietly, "Besides, Meg was there for you when you arrived in town. I've had Dillon listening around town, and people talk about you two, about how Meg looks after you." Slade felt blood rush to his face, because yes, he'd heard that before and was likely to continue hearing it. Grant smiled faintly and said, "Come, Papa … I'll take you to them."

'Papa.' Slade cursed himself for being all kinds of a fool. How had he not seen this before? He told his son softly, "Wait." Grant twisted to face him, and Slade took the two steps needed (crossed the chasm) to pull this adult, possible future version of his youngest son into his arms. Grant stiffened for just a moment, telling Slade just how much he'd surprised him, and then the boy all but melted against his chest, burying his face in his shoulder. Grant phased in and out, but as jarring as that was, Slade never let go … if anything, he tightened his hold on his child.

At last, Grant pulled back and whispered, "We should go. Time is running out, Papa, and my mini-me needs you." Slade released his son and followed him from the room. And of course, because that was the way life worked, all hell broke loose almost as soon as the current version of his youngest child was in his arms. Before the hour was out, there would be no future version of Grant remaining, his ex-wife would be dead … as would her killer. But there was work to be done, and as a Navy SEAL he'd met during training liked to say, the only easy day was yesterday. He wouldn't expect anything else.

DSDSDSDSDSDSDS

He was running out of time. And while he couldn't have said why, he knew that he needed to get his father in the same room as his mini-me before he vanished completely. For some reason, it was important … it was necessary, either for himself or for his mini-me. Probably his mini-me. Truthfully, he didn't know why he was still here. With every new experience that his mini-me had, Grant's time was shortened. And when Angel Carvalho pulled him into her arms (to comfort herself as much as to comfort him, and that was okay, because he wasn't the only one who was frightened), that time went from days to hours. Really, he hadn't thought any of this out at all. He'd simply … reacted after losing to Oliver Queen.

Now, he was phasing in and out, he had memories from two different timelines, and his mini-me refused to even look at him. Quite without meaning to, he'd pushed his child-self further toward his mother (although, the fact that she was telling him stories about their father that Grant himself never heard whilst growing up probably had a few things to do with that). Oh yeah, and he was letting Braden live after he and the other boys were specifically told not to harm the Carvalho ladies. Grant knew how to hurt someone without killing them. And technically speaking, Dillon also disobeyed him, but considering how little Grady listened to him, Grant really couldn't fault him for his part in this mess (plus, the kid knocked Grant's father unconscious with very little training … that had to count for something).. But really … what part of, 'I don't want you hurting the people who have been there for my father' was so very hard to understand?

Apparently, all of it. And that was something else that was interesting. With every change made in the timeline, of course, his memories were changing. That was to be expected. What he hadn't expected was that once his father arrived, his mental state would stabilize (even though his physical state continued to deteriorate). He still hated his mother … he probably always would … but so many things were becoming clearer to him now. And that was even before his father pulled him into his arms.

It was … it was like coming home, and not even realizing it first. Grant couldn't help stiffening at first, because he wasn't expecting it. He couldn't even remember the last time someone hugged him. But his father pulled him close and Grant closed his eyes, leaning into this flawed, caring, stubborn man who helped to create him. Oh, Slade Wilson would deny that to his dying breath … but he cared for others. Maybe not in a way that the average person would understand it, and he offered it to select people, but it existed. And so, for those few precious seconds, Grant Wilson held on … held onto the hours remaining to him, and held onto his male parent.

He wouldn't be here much longer, and before he took his father to see his mini-me, before he gave his mini-me the chance he never had, Grant had one final gift for his father. He whispered, "He never stopped loving you, you know … Oliver Queen, I mean. No matter how angry he was with you, no matter how badly you hurt him, no matter how badly I hurt him, he never stopped loving you. And he never, ever, gave up on you." His father's arms tightened around him, and the soft inhale of breath told him … told him what he needed to know. Just as Oliver Queen never stopped loving his father, his father had never stopped loving Oliver Queen. They were men, and they didn't speak of such things, but that made that fact no less true.

Grant took a breath of his own, adding, "My mini-me will love getting to know his uncle Oliver, and his cousin William. Make sure he has that chance." Grant knew by now that his father and Queen mended fences, that Queen helped his father to find his erstwhile older brother. Things like that tended to come to light when you used your brother's alias. That, and your father figured things out quicker than you anticipated. Then again, there weren't a lot of aliases he could have used, and given the PTSD his father received on the island thanks in part to William Wintergreen, there wasn't a chance in hell he'd use that bastard's name.

"I will. I swear to you, Grant, I'll do better by you this time. I promise," his father answered and once more, Grant tightened his arms around his father, because he knew what those last two words meant … and what they meant to his father. At last, though, he released his grip and pulled back to look at his father, whose remaining eye was shimmering with tears. But he was smiling as he said, "C'mon. We should make sure that your mum and Meg haven't gotten into a catfight." That was so unexpected, Grant had to laugh.

"I doubt it … I had Dillon take the Carvalho ladies to Mother and mini-me, so Mother could look her over. Whatever my issues with Mother are … and they are myriad … I can't imagine her hurting an innocent woman," he answered. And he really couldn't. At least, not the version of Adeline he'd been holding captive for the last several weeks. The woman who raised him was another story entirely. But, given what happened in the last few weeks, it seemed extremely unlikely that the woman who raised him would ever come to be now.

And that was when Grant understood what his father was telling him, when he asked Grant to forgive his mother. Yes, a significant part of it was cutting himself free of the past and allowing himself to move forward … but because the woman he'd been holding captive for the last several weeks wasn't the woman he grew to hate over the course of his life. This wasn't the woman who lied to him about his father … any more than his mini-me was Grant himself. And something in Grant's chest loosened with that revelation. All this time, he'd been punishing a woman for something she hadn't even done yet, and something she wouldn't do now.

But that was to be shoved to the back of his mind, at least for now, because as he opened the door to the room where his mother and his mini-me were being kept, events took on a life of their own. Part of it was his own doing … he had to play a role, to ensure that this version of him never came to be, and that meant convincing his mini-me that nothing had changed. And of course, because he was Slade Wilson's son, that meant not telling his father the plan.

Inside the room, they found Grant's mother checking over Meg Carvalho. Grant took a deep breath, and his father looked at him, eye reflecting worry. Whether that worry was for Grant or for Meg, Grant wasn't sure. Not that it mattered. Grant knew that his father could care for more than one person at a time. He said with a smirk, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, "Well, the family is nearly complete. I just spent the last few minutes talking to my father … and Mother, if I didn't hate you before, I certainly do now for keeping him away from me." His mini-me pulled away from Angel Carvalho, just a bit … and to Grant's surprise, the teenager allowed it. At the same time, his mother rose to her feet and stood in front of Meg Carvalho protectively. Hmm. Interesting. Grant went on, "Oh, she's in no danger from me, especially since that idiot Grady ignored my orders and hurt her. I …"

"You … you're my father?" his mini-me blurted out. Grant glanced at his younger self, but the little boy's eyes were on his father, and no one else. Their father shifted his weight, ever so slightly, so that he faced Grant's mini-me. But Grant's own attention was drawn toward his mother, as she pivoted, keeping half of her body toward Grant, and helped Meg Carvalho to her feet, wrapping a supportive arm around her waist as support. But he quickly re-focused his attention, because this was a distraction to what he really wanted to see.

Their father nodded, murmuring, "Yes, Grant …. I'm your father. I'm sorry …" Grant almost laughed when his mini-me decided to do one of his flying leaps … straight into their father's arms … and quickly went into octopus mode. When was the last time he'd done that? When he was six or seven? He couldn't remember. Just watched in silent awe as his younger self wrapped his arms and legs around their father … who had staggered back at the impact of Grant's small body, but quickly recovered. And once more, Grant's memories changed, as phantom arms wrapped around him … a big, warm hand came up to cradle the back of his head. So entranced was he, that he didn't notice himself completely phasing out.

When he returned to himself, a roar of fury echoed through the warehouse. Grant smiled to himself as he watched their father carry his mini-me to a far corner of the room, away from danger, where Grant's mini-me promptly made himself even smaller. The door nearly flew off the hinges, revealing a blood-stained Grady. He stalked into the room, a knife clutched in his hand, and snarled, "Why? Why did you kill my brother, you bastard! I was the one who hit the bitch, Dillon hit your old man … Braden was innocent! Why!" Grant merely offered a disdainful look. The weeping boy repeated, "Damn you, tell me why!"

"I already told you. I gave you very specific orders. My father was not to be further harmed, and the people sheltering him were not to be harmed. You chose to ignore those instructions, Grady. You chose not to believe me. That means your brother's blood is on your hands, just as much as it is on mine. As for Dillon, I knew about him hitting my father … he told me. He also told me that Dillon was protecting him in the only way he had available to him at the time, since you ignored your orders. So … you are responsible for that as well," Grant said coldly.

Unsurprisingly, it seemed Grady didn't listen to a thing Grant said. He growled, "You killed my brother. You took my family away from me. So I'm gonna take your family away from you." Grant's eyes swept first to his father, then to his mini-me … both well out of danger, although his father was already turning to intercept Grady. Grant had no idea whom he meant, although he suspected that Meg and Angel Carvalho could become family to his mini-me, especially if his father stuck around … until his mother pushed Meg away from her, shoving both mother and daughter to the ground.

And then Grady was shoving his knife into his mother's unprotected abdomen … and Grant's vision whited out. He heard his mini-me screaming, heard his father crying out her name. When he could see once more, his father was quickly gaining ground, and his mother choked out, blood staining her teeth (had his knife punctured her lung?), "You … idiot! You … killed … the one person … in this room … my son doesn't care about." Grant watched numbly as his father took the remaining steps to grab Grady's shoulder and send a fist rocketing into his face.

The little prick hit the ground without making another sound, and the room erupted. Angel helped her mother up, then pivoted to grab Grant's mini-me as he flew toward his parents, toward their parents. Another two sets of phantom arms wrapped around Grant as the mother and daughter pulled his mini-me into their arms. Dillon … poor Dillon looked like he was in shock. He probably was. With his younger self safe with the two women who would help define him from here on out, Grant next turned his attention to the woman who created the Grant even now phasing in and out. He would no longer exist in a matter of minutes, and there was still so much to say … with so little energy to say it.

Still, he heard the whispered conversation between his parents, the apologies from his father, apologies for not being quick enough to save her, for not realizing the danger … the apologies from his mother, for keeping Grant from his father, for lying to him, for telling his older brother to lie. She … apologized. His mother, the woman who raised him, the woman he spent so many years hating … she never apologized. But that wasn't all. She choked out, from the protective circle of his father's arms, "Grant … baby … come here."

Meg released his mini-me, and Grant felt phantom fingers wiping away tears that didn't exist, felt phantom lips caressing his hair. His younger self stumbled toward his parents. His mother's dying words filled his ears, telling him that she loved him so much, that she would always be with him, even when he couldn't see her … that he was to be a good boy for his father and for Miss Meg … that he was to grow into a good man, the kind of man who protected others, the kind of man who even when he fell, found a way to get back up and move on: a man like his father. Grant closed his eyes, feeling himself phase in and out. It wouldn't be long now. There was one more thing he absolutely had to do, absolutely had to say. Gathering his strength, Grant forced his eyes open and said the one thing he never thought he would say, in this life or any other. He called, "Mother … I forgive you! I forgive you."

With those last words spoken, his mini-me united with his father, Grant let go of his hatred of his mother, and all that kept him here, and fell into the arms of eternity.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

His mother was dead.

Eleven year old Grant Nicholas Wilson listed against his father's side. Later, he would be able to see that at that particular moment in time, he was in shock. There was a part of him that always knew there was a possibility that he or his mother would die at the end of this … his mother made that very clear to him on their second week of captivity … but he always believed that his mum would die at the hands of his future self. Not … someone else. And now, his mum was dead. He had his father now, but his mum was dead.

The boy who helped to take care of them as his older self went crazier, Dillon, was hugging his cousin, the one who hadn't killed Grant's mum. The one who did was dead himself, and a man in black was kneeling beside him. Grant's father said softly, "We need to let her go now, Grant. Both of us do. We can't do anything more for her." Grant nodded, but wasn't sure if he could let go. At least, not alone. His father added, as if hearing what he was thinking, "If we let go together, we won't be alone."

"You won't be alone. Angel and I are here," said the nice lady Dillon brought in earlier, the one who was hurt, and Mum was afraid had a concussion. He liked the idea of calling her 'Miss Meg.' Her hand slid around the back of his neck, anchoring him. She had warm hands, both soft and callused, and under any other circumstances, Grant would have laughed. Angel put her arm around Grant's shoulders, and his father put his hand on Grant's back, and the boy found that with those connections, he could let his mother go. Because she was gone … she was dead, and he couldn't hold onto her any longer. She'd told him that once, when he was about six or seven, and his dog Windy died. Windy went over the Rainbow Bridge, and she would be waiting for him until it was time for him to join her, Mum had said. But he had to let her go, because she wasn't there anymore. His mum wasn't there any more, either. But his father was. Angel was. Miss Meg was. And they weren't his mum, but they could become … family?

As Grant finally released his mother, he saw that Miss Meg's hand was cradling the back of his father's skull, just as his father had done when he hugged Grant, while Angel was leaning against him. They were holding onto him, just as much as they were holding onto Grant, and the little boy was glad. His father slowly, carefully released Grant's mum, whispering something in a language that Grant didn't understand. Then he nodded to the police officers.

But the younger one said, "The dead can keep for now, Wilson. Troy, you got Meg?" When the older officer nodded, assisting Miss Meg to her feet and keeping a supportive arm around her (just as Grant's mother had, before the bad man came in), the first man knelt in front of Grant saying, "Hey, buddy … we're going to take all of you to the hospital, to make sure you're okay. You hold onto your dad's hand, okay?" Grant nodded solemnly, and slipped his fingers around his father's, and felt his father's answering squeeze. The man looked next to Angel, asking, "Are you okay, are you hurt at all? You'll be checked over as well, but I wanted to see if you needed any help walking, like your mom does."

"I'm fine. What's going to happen to the other two boys?" Angel asked softly. Grant didn't pay much attention to the conversation after that, just focused on walking out of the room and clinging to his father's hand. They'd barely gotten out of the room, when his father stopped and scooped Grant up into his arms. Once Grant was wrapped around his father, they began moving once more, Grant resting his head on his father's shoulder. Angel and the younger officer fell into step behind them with the remaining cousins.

As they walked, Grant's father said softly, "I wasn't a very good father to your older brother, Grant. And I don't know how good of a father will be to you. But I swear to you, on your mother's life … I will do my best for you. We'll be staying with Miss Meg and Angel for a while, because I made a promise to … someone else. I hurt people, people who hadn't hurt me or anyone I was trying to protect. I can't undo that, much as I wish I could … as unreal as it seems to me now. But I can help others."

"I can help you," Grant offered, "Mum and I had a dog named 'Windy,' and I helped to take care of her before she died. I was six then, or seven. Mum always said I was a very good helper." The boy's voice caught only a little on the title, and he didn't break down crying, much as he wanted to. He had to be a big boy, he had to do what his mum asked of him. His father tightened his arms around him, which made Grant happy. He already figured out that his father's arms were one of the best places in the world to be.

"I don't doubt this at all. Then the first thing we're going to do is figure out a way to help Dillon and his cousin … while we're taking care of Miss Meg and Angel. You think we can do both at the same time?" his father asked, pulling back a little to look at Grant more fully. The boy nodded emphatically and saw his father smile, truly smile. Slade Wilson said quietly as he carried Grant down the stairs that would lead them out of the warehouse, "Then that's what we'll do. I love you, Grant."

He was still quite young, but Grant suspected even then that his father didn't often say those words. It wasn't his way to say such things, but to show them. Grant whispered, "I love you, Papa." And together, they made their way out of that place of death.

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: I have no idea whatsoever what Grant's canon middle name is. I know that Joe's full name is Joseph William Wilson. I chose Nicholas because of Adeline's late sister Narelle Rose. So … according to my updated timeline, we now have about two or three chapters, rather than four. The next chapter will lay the groundwork for the very next story (which I don't yet have a title for) … just as a hint, it involves the arrival of Gideon Wilson and Bastiaan de Vries, as well as other members of Slade's family. The chapter after that will involve Malcolm, Rebecca, Tommy and Shado, and then the epilogue will wrap things up.