Author's Notes: Have I ever mentioned how annoying my mind can be? Last night, after my Cardiac 'Canes tied their series with the reigning Stanley Cup champions, the Washington Capitals, it took me a while to let go (which is normal when I'm excited). I finally headed to bed, exhausted but happy. I had no sooner gotten settled when I was informed that the chapter title would no longer be 'The Innocent and the Guilty.' Instead, it was being changed to 'The First Step Is The Longest Stride,' part of the lyrics to 'If Today Was Your Last Day' by Nickelback, because dammit all, it fits better with the arching theme of the chapter. Yes, I like Nickelback's songs; no, I'm not even remotely embarrassed, and yes, I'm exasperated because they did this to me when I had no pen and paper handy. I'm grateful I was able to remember it this morning when I woke up. Okay. Rant over. Also yes, I wrote this chapter in one day. So, here we come to the penultimate chapter. In this chapter, Malcolm continues his rehab; Tommy reacts to what his father's doing whilst watching over Oliver with Shado; and Rebecca makes her way to the US. Next chapter is the epilogue.
Chapter Ten
The First Step is the Longest Stride
Somewhere in South Asia
Undetermined Time
"Why am I doing this again?"
He winced … not just at the pain shooting through his leg (his very much intact leg, and he still didn't know how that was possible when he should be in so many pieces), but at the whining note in his voice. He hadn't meant to whine … he was alive, after all, and he had no reason to be, no right to be. And his … guide, as she called herself … didn't look especially impressed, either. And when she was less than impressed, she wasn't especially shy about it. She proved this a moment later with her response.
"Because you killed over five hundred people, including your own son, and you don't seem to have much empathy for people not as strong as you … or rather, as strong as you perceive yourself to be," came the immediately rejoinder. Malcolm Merlyn glowered at the dark-haired woman leaning against the wall of his room? Cell? Quarters? He wasn't entirely sure what to call his current living space. He wasn't, technically speaking, a prisoner … however, since he wasn't entirely sure where he was, he couldn't escape. And … he was curious, about Kali, if nothing else. What her real name was, why she was involved in this, how she saved him.
She returned his look, adding, "The path to redemption, to resurrection, isn't just about realizing you seriously screwed up in every way imaginable, and trying to fix things. No, you also have to repair what's broken in yourself … you have to create new habits. Shut up, it isn't easy, talking like this for me. How many names have you said?" Malcolm looked at the notebook in his lap. It was about the same size as the notebooks his son had used when he was in school (and it wouldn't surprise him at all if that was why Kali used them).
"Four hundred eighty … fine, rephrase, when will my repetition of these names be enough?" Malcolm asked. Kali looked even less impressed than she had a few minutes earlier (and he hadn't thought that was possible). However, Malcolm was serious, adding, "This is the fifth time today I've repeated these names, and I repeated them ten times yesterday. When will it be enough?" Kali pushed off the wall and stalked forward until she could glower down into his eyes. Malcolm glowered right back, even if he was sitting on a cold stone floor wearing thin trousers and no shoes … it was like he told his daughter on more than one occasion. Pain is inevitable … suffering is not.
"When you get it through that thick skull of yours that those were people, dammit! Human beings with hearts and souls! People who had problems of their own, people who didn't even live in the Glades when your wife was murdered! Tommy was eight when his mother died … what was his crime? What were the crimes of the children and the teenagers who died that night? Do I blame you for hating the people who refused to help your Rebecca? Not in the slightest. If my husband died the same way your Rebecca did, I'd kill every last person responsible, starting with the shooter and ending with the people who walked past him. But you didn't stop there … not until it was you on that mine, sacrificing yourself to save your daughter. So what makes Thea so special, that you're willing to sacrifice yourself for her, but you sacrificed Tommy for revenge?" Malcolm flinched at that, because in Kali's words, he heard an echo of his own words to Oliver Queen, so many years ago, on the night of the Undertaking.
But Kali wasn't finished. She went on, "I'll stop when you admit the truth. Daniel Brickwell wasn't the only one who killed your wife. You know that. But here's the problem. You can't forgive the people of the Glades. Understandable. You can't forgive yourself … also understandable. And you won't allow yourself to blame Rebecca. Perhaps most understandable of all. So … how do you come to terms with it? A whole lot of Rebeccas died that night … some in the chaos, some during the earthquake. If your thought was to prevent another little boy from growing up without his mother, you failed. If you wanted to protect other young mothers from meeting the same fate, you failed. I'm told that Oliver Queen made his entrance by telling his target that he or she failed your city. You didn't just fail your city, Malcolm … you failed your wife and you failed both of your children."
True, true, and true. When he awakened and … went through the purging ritual, Malcolm found the reasons he'd provided so many times now rang hollow in his ears. He finally said softly, "I'm asking another question, then. How does this even come close to atoning for the lives I took, the people I hurt? Robert … Moira … Thea … Tommy … Oliver." He'd meant it when he told Oliver that he'd always seen him as a son. But his grief and rage (and yes, his guilt) over Rebecca's murder eclipsed everything else … even his love for his little boy, even his love for Oliver. And over time, that grief and rage and guilt metasized into something else.
Now Kali sat down in front of him, answering, "It doesn't. Not even close. But you have to start somewhere, and remembering, knowing the names of those you killed … knowing that this is a sample of those people … that's as good a place as any to start. And while you do that, try to answer my question from earlier … what is the difference between Thea and Tommy? Did you save Thea, to atone for your mistakes with Tommy, that led to his death? Is that what you would tell your son if he was standing here now before you?"
What would he say if his son was standing here before him now? What could he say for abandoning him when Tommy needed him most, for returning so different? The man who loved Rebecca and Tommy more than his own life was not the man who returned from Nanda Parbat two years later. For the years that followed Rebecca's murder, for the Undertaking itself? Tommy was more Rebecca's son than his, in so many ways, but that should have made him more protective of his son … their child was Rebecca's greatest gift to him.
He said softly, "I wouldn't know where to begin. I wasn't the father he deserved … I wasn't the father Thea deserved … I wasn't the husband Rebecca deserved. Before that night, Rebecca and Tommy were my whole world … and I can't tell you what changed me. My actions ended the life of my son … I turned my daughter into a weapon … and the man who Rebecca married would have never done those things. I went to Nanda Parbat, trying to find answers, but I started changing even before then, and I don't know why."
Kali dropped into a crouch beside him, saying softly, "And there's your first step. It would have been easy to blame Ra's al Ghul for the changes in yourself … but you've admitted that it started before you got to Nanda Parbat. So. Here is an answer for you … we all respond to trauma in different ways. You may not have acknowledged it, but you were traumatized by your wife's murder, and all that came with it. You aren't responsible for the trauma … you are responsible for not seeking out help."
Put like that, Malcolm couldn't argue with her. He could have told her that he'd wanted to clean up the Glades … which was somewhat true. He'd wanted that, but he also wanted revenge for the great gaping emptiness where his wife once was. But long before he'd tried to level the Glades, he'd leveled his relationship with his son. And no matter what you were doing, you had to start small in order to work up to the big things. He asked hoarsely, "Is it too late for me to ask for help?" For the first time, Kali smiled at him.
"No. So long as you live, it's not too late. In some ways, Malcolm, you were drowning and you didn't realize it. You've asked for help now, and I'll help you in any way I can. Finish the litany of names. Accept what your actions led to. And we can build on that," she answered softly. Malcolm still wasn't sure what the litany of names was supposed to accomplish, but for the first time, he could accept that in time, he would. As Kali rose to her feet, she said over her shoulder, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to call my husband. My step-daughter is seven years old … she just had her first soccer game, and I want to see how she did."
Malcolm nodded, but it wasn't until she was out of the room that he understood what she was telling him at the end. For all that they just met, Kali knew him terrifyingly well … knew that there was a time, not so long ago, when he would have regarded such tidbits of information about herself as leverage. That she was trusting him with this information now told him that he'd taken an important step forward, so far as Kali was concerned.
With that in mind, he returned his attention to the litany of names once more and began reading them aloud. But this time, he focused on names that were familiar, starting with the most familiar, most beloved name of all. He whispered, "Thomas Malcolm Merlyn, age twenty-eight. Tommy. My Tommy." And for the first time in too long, tears began slipping down his face as he truly grieved for his son, and what his drive for revenge had cost them both.
DSDSDSDSDSDS
Everywhere and nowhere
Same Approximate Time
He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel … compassion for his father's (belated) grief; relief that he was finally understanding what he'd done wrong through those years and actually cared; or bitterness that a strange woman from another dimension entirely succeeded where he failed. This woman, this Kali … got through to his father, when he couldn't. Tommy Merlyn had no idea how to feel about that. Shado said softly, You didn't fail, Tommy. He did. It wasn't your job to reach him, it was his job to reach out to you. He failed.
He looked up at the beautiful woman who stood beside him. When Laurel died at the hands of Damien Darkh, it was Shado who held onto him as his mother 'caught' Laurel. It wasn't yet time for her to join them (he didn't understand what his mother meant, not until the Laurel from another dimension arrived in theirs). And now, Shado was offering comfort in the only way anyone could. She smiled sadly, adding, He forgot it, but your father did love you. It got lost in his hatred for the people of the Glades, and his rage, but he never stopped loving you.
Yes, Tommy knew all that … but he still didn't know what to do with it. And so, he turned his attention away from his father… and to the person who was there for him all through those years. In the beginning, he'd been so angry with Oliver, thinking that he hadn't trusted him with the truth about the Hood. But the truth was, Ollie'd been trying to protect him. And the island changed him, changed him so much. Shado followed his gaze, smiling a little as they watched someone they'd both loved talk with his son's teacher. She said, her voice still very soft, He tries so hard to be the father William needs.
Tries to be the father that neither of us had … the father he didn't have until he got to the island. He and Slade call each other brothers, and they are … they are … but Slade raised him, too. I wish he remembered that … whatever his failings with Joe were, he succeeded with Ollie, Tommy answered. He smiled at William's exasperation toward his father, because Ollie was doing something that William thought was embarrassing. Ollie just laughed and ruffled his son's hair and told him that's what parents did.
He's still reeling from Joe's revelations, about watching him kill that Chinese spy, the one who told him where my father was. Let me guess, you aren't especially sympathetic to Joe? Shado asked and Tommy shook his head, his eyes never leaving his life-long best friend.
No. Because while Slade may have been on a mission when he took Joe to Milford Sound, when he was with Joe, he was completely there, focused on his son. What Joe became is on him, not on Slade, Tommy answered firmly. Were mistakes made? Without question … there always were … but by both of Joe's parents. As his own mother liked to say, it took two to tango, and the decision to lie to Joe about his parents' occupations were made by both parents, not just one. He returned his attention to Oliver, who was trying manfully not to tease his son about his obvious crush on his teacher. One of the rites of passage of growing up, Tommy thought.
Father and son were heading back to Ollie's car, the man teasing the boy by asking him if he wanted to go to the zoo or the aquarium. Both Shado and Tommy found themselves laughing at William's obvious exasperation, because he wasn't a kid, Dad! Ollie just laughed and wrapped his arm around William's shoulders, answering, 'you're not a little kid, but you're my kid.' Tommy swallowed hard, because despite the failings of their parents, Ollie was turning out to be a good father. Maybe it was Slade Wilson's influence, because it wasn't Robert Queen's.
Shado smiled as William asked if they could just ride around the city, a plan Ollie quickly agreed to. Mayor Butler hadn't called yet, but Tommy knew that was because the man was enjoying his own Sunday with his ten year old grandson. It was too cold to go fishing (which was their preferred spring/summer activity together), so the mayor of Destine was cheering his only grandson on at his hockey game. He would get the email in the morning, when he got to his office at city hall. It wasn't an emergency … it would wait.
Sister cities … that was … Tommy shook his head, smiling at Ollie's ingenuity. It was perfect. Like their shared little sister had said, Star City didn't have a sister city (yet), and the more the siblings looked at Destine and Star City, the better they liked the idea. So did Tommy. Actually, so did Shado, and so would Dory when they told her. Shado said softly as Ollie and William got to the car, Whatever else you want to say about the island … and there is much to be said … it taught Oliver to think outside the box. Although … so did Amanda Waller.
Tommy made a face, echoing the disdain he heard in Shado's voice. But her statement gave him the courage to ask something he'd wanted to know for such a long time. Even with his newfound courage, his voice was still hesitant as he asked, Shado … if I'd been with Ollie and you two on the island … do you think you could have … would I have …? And now his words, his voice failed him. He couldn't get the words out. If he still had a physical body, he would have said that the words got stuck in his throat.
But, as it turned out, saying the words weren't necessary. Shado smiled at him gently, answering, Once you decided that you wanted to live … yes. That was the first step that Oliver needed to take on the island, the first step that we all needed to take: Oliver, when the yacht went down; Slade, when Billy betrayed him; myself, when my father died. It is said that the first step is the longest stride, and this is so very true, particularly when it comes to survival.
That … never occurred to him. He'd always heard, this person was a survivor, but it never really occurred to him that those people made the choice to be survivors. But … of course they did. It was foolish to think otherwise. And there were many types of survivors in the world … you couldn't do much about a piece of rebar sticking out of your chest, or a bullet to the head, but …
Shado interrupted his thoughts, saying, Slade and I could have trained you, could have taught you as we did Oliver. Would we have come to love you, as we did Oliver? Probably, though the seeds would have been different for you. It has been said many times that you are your mother's son … and Rebecca is a nurturer. It is no shame for a man to be a nurturer, because men nurture in their own ways. There are times when I wish you were on the island with us. I suspect that you might have been able to prevent Slade's vendetta against Oliver, because you would have told Slade the truth about my death … if I died. Yes, Slade would have grumbled and griped about you, would have been exasperated and annoyed … but he would have taught you, just as he did Oliver. And, we would have all been the better for it.
Just as he didn't know what to do with his father's newly-discovered grief for him, Tommy didn't know what to do with Shado's declaration. And, it seemed, she understood that, for she added, For now, though, it seems they found something else to do on this glorious Sunday. Look. Tommy did … and laughed softly. As Shado noted, Ollie was no longer driving around the city … had stopped in his and Tommy's favorite park when they were kids, before Rebecca Merlyn was murdered. He could almost see his father sitting in the stands of the tiny baseball diamond as the two boys played catch. And maybe, in those memories, in the image of his best friend playing catch with the nephew Tommy would never have the chance to meet … maybe Tommy could find the seeds of forgiveness for his father.
DSDSDSDSDS
Washington, DC
Shortly before 7:30 pm local time
Rebecca Merlyn eased her backpack onto her shoulders as she waited patiently to leave her row on the airplane. They'd arrived a little ahead of schedule from London, which was a good thing … she had a little more time to clear passport control and security here in the States. But she was back in her home country, albeit under another woman's passport, and this time tomorrow, she would be in St. Louis. It had been a long journey, since waking up in Veronica Morales' body … and she still had far to go, both physically and … otherwise. A quick twist upward allowed her to tug her duffel bag free from the overhead bin, without getting anyone's way.
After recovering her strength to the point that she could be moved, she was evacuated from Aleppo to Beirut in nearby Lebanon, where she departed early this morning. She'd eaten a light breakfast in Beirut, lunch during her five hour layover in London, and she would be eating dinner in DC. Such was the life of a globe-trotter, she observed ruefully to herself. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed traveling. True, being stuck in an overgrown, pressurized sardine can for eight hours wasn't necessarily fun … but getting to see things through her borrowed eyes was. She'd accompanied Malcolm on his travels and loved it. Tommy joined them later … Rebecca smiled sadly, remembering her four year old son oohing and ahhing over the cockpits he was allowed to visit, the endless questions he asked, and her husband's equally endless patience. Allowing that memory free proved to be a mistake.
How had it gone so wrong? If you asked her, even the day before her murder at the hands of Daniel Brickwell, if Malcolm would turn away from his son, even with her death, she would have laughed. There was no way that would ever happen. Tommy adored his father, and Malcolm adored him right back. They often conspired together, there was no way Malcolm could ever stop loving Tommy so fiercely. What … happened? As she slipped into the aisle, blinking back tears, Rebecca forced herself to stop thinking about it. There was nothing she could do about her husband's … whatever that was. Psychotic break? That was the best she could do. She had a mission before her, and that was what she needed to focus on.
In the weeks since her awakening, Rebecca became aware of a remnant of what was once Veronica Morales. Not her spirit as such, but an awareness. There was a part of Veronica that remained, and was aware of Rebecca. She seemed to be also aware that Rebecca's usurping of her body wasn't the other woman's choice and bore her no ill will. That was a relief. As Rebecca left the aircraft and made her way to Passport Control, she considered what came next … namely, getting from the airport to Destine. Really, she should have done this sooner, but was focusing on … other things, at the time. And now, she had nothing but time.
The line in Passport Control was painfully long, but Rebecca was in no hurry. She used the time to look into public transit in the St. Louis area. There was the Metro, which ran from the airport into Missouri's neighbor to the east, Illinois, but she was hoping to find a bus running from St. Louis to Destine. Of course, first she had to establish that Destine had a bus stop … which, much to her astonishment, it did. Excellent. That made things a little easier. The line began moving a little quicker, so Rebecca put away her research for now.
Within minutes, her passport and non-immigrant visa were both being examined by the CBP agent and she was being questioned about her time and reason for being in the US. She had to actually remind herself that Veronica Morales was not a United States citizen, and instead told the agent that she wasn't entirely sure how long she would be here as she was on medical leave from Doctors Without Borders and was in the States visiting an old friend who lived near St. Louis, Missouri. What she didn't tell him was that she had no idea if she was returning to Doctors Without Borders. That wasn't something he needed to know.
She was wished a pleasant stay in the US and sent onward to security. Since she only had what was in her backpack and duffel bag, she bypassed the luggage carousel and was through security within ten minutes. A quick glance at her watch told her that she now had about four and half hours to kill. Nowhere near enough time to leave the airport (not that she really wanted to) … so, first order of business was to find a bathroom, and then roam around the airport for a while. She'd spent the last eight hours sitting … walking around a while would feel good.
And it gave her time to think. Her first order of business, once she arrived in Destine, was to find Dory. This was one area where she could not be Veronica, who would be expected to locate her friend Meg. She had to be Rebecca in this case, not Veronica. Besides, Dory might be able to help her maintain her cover as Veronica. She had this recurring fear of getting to Meg, and have the other woman realize within minutes that she wasn't really Veronica. How she would figure that out, Rebecca had no idea … but fear wasn't always rational. Besides, she had most of Veronica's memories, and whatever she got wrong, she could explain away … right?
Right. So, focus on finding her way around the airport, and stretching her legs. Soon enough, she would be back in the oversized sardine can. And, as she found out, Dulles was a big airport. Two hours later, she collapsed into a chair at her gate and glanced at her watch. Her legs hurt, her back hurt, her shoulders hurt … and really, would it kill parents to keep a closer eye on their kids? She'd lost track of the times someone's youngster ran in front of her and she'd had to come to an immediate and screeching halt or risk running over the child (and gotten a dirty look from the parent, because of course their child wasn't doing anything wrong by running into the path of an exhausted traveler. The airport was their child's playground, everyone knew that). That was bad enough, but adults were even worse about stepping in front of people. This part of travel wasn't good on the nerves. Or maybe she didn't have the patience she remembered having. Rebecca mentally shook her head. It didn't matter. This situation was temporary. She had to remember that … this was temporary.
She had a little over two hours 'til the flight, and about an hour before boarding. She would rest a few minutes, see about transportation from the St. Louis airport to Destine … oh. Oh, she should have thought of that sooner. Biting her lower lip, Rebecca did a search for one Dorcas Webster, smiling to herself when she located her friend's phone number. She hit 'call' and waited breathlessly for an answer … that never came. Much to her annoyance, Rebecca found herself blinking back tears when she got Dory's voice mail.
It was to be expected, really … Dory had a business to run, and as Rebecca knew, Saturday and Sunday were often her most busy days. It was to be expected. So, she said in a husky voice, "Dory, it's Rebecca. I … I know I sound different, but it is me. I'm in the States, and I'm on my way to Destine. I need you to call me back … I need your help so badly." She paused, and then provided her friend with the number to her cell phone before hanging up. She buried her face in her hands. Of all the stupid reasons to break down … Rebecca took a deep breath and released it. Okay. She had more time before her flight began boarding. She would go to the bathroom and wash her face, grab a snack, and … her hands began trembling. Rebecca stared at her hands as if she'd never seen them before … then grabbed her duffel bag and bolted for the bathroom. She just made it to a stall when she broke down.
The worst part was, she wasn't even sure why she was crying … but she was, and uncontrollably. She suppressed the wails of grief and frustration and … too many other things to name with the back of her hand, collapsing against the side of the stall. At last, the storm began to abate, and she sagged down onto the edge of the toilet seat, a few whimpers breaking free. Outside the stall, there continued to be murmurs and women coming in and leaving the restroom. Rebecca wiped her eyes and blew her nose, quietly resolving to wash her face when she left the sanctuary of the bathroom stall.
When the murmur of voices and footsteps outside her stall began to quiet, Rebecca emerged from the stall and made for the sink, splashing cold water on her face, and then patting it dry. Her eyes were red, and it was obvious that she'd been crying, but it couldn't be helped. Rebecca took a deep breath, glanced at her watch, and straightened her shoulders. She had three hours before boarding … she needed to get something to drink and a snack. And maybe aspirin, since her crying fit left her with a pounding headache. Probably should get water, instead of something, as that same crying fit left her dehydrated.
She emerged from the restroom with purpose, finding an alcove with vending machines a short distance away. The bottle of water was easy … figuring out what she wanted to eat, not so much. In the end, she chose a granola bar. She'd just tucked the granola bar inside her pocket when her cell phone began to vibrate. Saying a quick prayer, she hit 'accept' and said, "Hello?" It was a number she didn't recognize … but it was definitely inside the States.
"Becca? Sweetheart, is that you?" came the familiar, and oh so welcome, voice of Dory Webster. Rebecca nearly burst into tears once again, this time in relief, and Dory said, "Oh, honey, I'm so glad to hear from you … we were so worried when your son said you disappeared!" It took a moment for Rebecca to understand what was going on … her friend wasn't alone, but she still called her back immediately.
She answered, "I'm so sorry … I didn't mean to scare everyone, but I didn't have much of a choice. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm heading back to you now. Can you pick me up at the airport?" Dory immediately assented and Rebecca provided her with her arrival information. Dory would be waiting for her at the airport in the baggage claim. With a promise to see her friend soon, Rebecca hung up and nearly collapsed from her relief. A weight lifted from her shoulders … she wasn't alone any more. Taking a deep breath, Rebecca grabbed her duffel bag and headed back to her gate. Finding a seat near a young man, she began to relax. His headphones didn't quite contain the music he was listening to … which wasn't bad for Rebecca, because it sounded okay to her, but it couldn't be doing his future hearing any favors.
One of the lyrics caught her attention, 'the first step is the longest stride.' She smiled to herself as she opened her water and took a swig, then turned her attention to her granola bar. She liked the idea … well, maybe because it was true. No matter what journey you were beginning, taking the first step was the hardest part … it was the longest stride. And now, back in the land of the living for the first time in nearly twenty-five years, she was starting an all-new journey. And the best part was, she wouldn't be alone.
To be concluded
Additional Author's Notes: Okay, up next is the epilogue, which involves a small time-jump. Rebecca will be reaching Destine shortly, but she won't be joining the others right away. I'll explain more in the epilogue. With regards to her meltdown … I figure Rebecca, who has returned to life in another woman's body, who has had one helluva journey to get from Aleppo back into her own country, was long-past due for a crying jag … and having been in airports recently and dealing with people, that would definitely trigger such a meltdown (see also, my Murphy's Law return from Prague last year). I hope to have the epilogue up by Monday at the latest. Twould be appropriate, having a story called 'Path to Resurrection' finished by Easter Monday, right? Laterz, y'all.
