Author's Notes: So, first things first … congratulations to the St. Louis Blues for winning their very first Stanley Cup last week! And congratulations to sweet little Laila, who not only got to see her beloved Blues win said Cup, but actually got to touch and kiss it. See y'all next season … a little over three months from now. The NHL draft just concluded, and from what I've picked up, my Cardiac 'Canes got some great picks. Okay, so … I hit a rough patch with writing, but something pulled loose and Malcolm decided to remind me that he was here (as if I could forget him). So, in this chapter, we have Malcolm finally getting his head the rest of the way out of his hindquarters (and yes, some of it is old territory, but he has a lot of ground to cover); Angel muses over their unexpected guests; while Oliver arrives in St. Louis and is greeted by someone he doesn't realize he knows (yet. Give him time).

Chapter Three

Moving Forward

Somewhere in the mountains of India

Around five am local time

It was the fourth … or maybe fifth … time he'd woke up from a nightmare that night. By now, he was coming to expect it. Not used to it. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it, no matter how many times in a night it happened. He remembered what he was told, what he later told his daughter … pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. Maybe he should have qualified that. Once you deaden parts of yourself that feel, whether physical or emotional, that was the case. But whatever healed him from the injuries he sustained on Lian Yu, also reawakened that part of himself he killed after his Rebecca was taken from him, from them. Call it his soul, call it his conscience … it was back and it insisted on showing him what he unleashed in the Glades, what his actions did to the people who lived there.

Too many times during the night, he awoke, fingers clawing at empty air, trying to dig himself out of a house that had fallen on him in his nightmares, his lungs struggling for breath. Too many times during the night, he awakened with tears on his face as he held someone he loved (his spouse, his child, his parent, his sibling) as they died. He knew better than to say anything to Kali. Every morning when he joined her in the common room for the morning meal, she eyed him knowingly. Once, she even let it slip that just as his past sins were haunting him, her own past sins haunted her. But that was all she would say.

By now, Malcolm Merlyn knew that they were somewhere in India, that months passed since he stepped on that land mine to protect the daughter he should have spent his life protecting, rather than plotting against the Glades, and that until Kali believed he was ready, he would receive no more information about where he was or what happened to him. For now, it was enough that he knew that Thea was fine, that Oliver had his son back, and that he once more found himself in a mountain fortress. Though this was the antithesis of Nanda Parbat, in so many ways.

Rubbing his hands across his face, Malcolm rose to his feet and headed to the basin of cold water that was one of the constants in his chambers. It was a simple room, really … what amounted to a cot, a small writing desk where he was to record his nightmares (all the different ways he died or saw people die in his dreams), and the basin of water, which was always cold. He splashed the cold water on his face, trying to pretend that this dream was no different from the others. But it was … God forgive him, it was. But he knew better than to let it cripple him. Instead, he went through his morning routine … splashing cold water on his face (as much to finish waking up as removing the evidence of the tears he'd wept in his sleep), followed by the katas he'd learned in Nanda Parbat when he first learned to fight.

Once his morning rituals were completed, he joined Kali in the common room. She was sitting alone at the main table, dark head bent. He quietly walked over and joined her. She looked up (dark circles under her eyes, which were red and puffy … it was a bad night for her as well) and offered him a brief, tired smile, before she returned her attention to whatever she was writing. Neither spoke. That was one of the rules … it seemed everyone who was here kept a journal of some kind, and if they were writing in that journal, you didn't speak until they were done. At last, Kali laid the pen aside and closed her eyes briefly. She looked exhausted, and since she'd closed her journal only seconds before closing her eyes, Malcolm asked softly, "Bad night?"

"One of the worst," she admitted, surprising him with her candor, "and what makes it worse is it wasn't one of my many sins. Well, it was, but indirectly. I share a … well, an unusual bond with my sister. We aren't twins, which is was makes it so unusual. She was on a mission when she was shot … and I felt her pain, her fear, her confusion, her horror when it happened. I don't usually dream about that day, but … but when I do, I can't go back to sleep. I've never written it down, because by the time I get up, too many details are lost. This time … this time, I got up. I've been up since three thirty this morning. I wrote it all down this time. All about her pain, her fear … all about my helplessness."

Malcolm didn't say anything, instead nodding to the young many who always served breakfast. That was another rule. You had to acknowledge the people who were taking care of you, in whatever form that took. They were here for the same reason you were, Kali told him, this was part of their penance, but that didn't make you entitled to their time or their attention. Malcolm usually didn't say anything (he usually didn't know what to say) … but he always nodded, at the very least. Sometimes, if he managed a few hours of unbroken sleep, he smiled.

At last, he said quietly, "Sometimes, I think that's what destroys us." Kali looked up from the fruit that was placed in front of her, and Malcolm continued, "That desire to never feel that helpless again, and not having a way to direct it. After Rebecca was killed …" He couldn't finish the sentence, because he'd screwed up so badly. Not just the Glades, but Tommy. God, how could he have done that to his little boy? After his actions (inaction) led to Rebecca's death, how had he compounded things by shutting out his boy, Rebecca's greatest gift to him? And then, he had sacrificed his son to avenge his mother … what kind of a father did that?

Sacrificing himself for Thea … that didn't even begin to even the scales of what he did to her, what he did to Tommy. Thea, at least, was alive … and before she thought he died, he at least he told her that she mattered to him, even if he never showed it in the ways that mattered. Tommy? Tommy died believing that he wasn't important to his father … died knowing that his hatred of the Glades was stronger than his love for Tommy. And it was that knowledge that shattered the ice that accumulated around his heart over the last twenty years … the ice that pushed his son away, that led him to order his best friend's death, that condemned Oliver to years of hell.

He'd condemned so many people whom he loved by his actions and his inactions … Rebecca, Tommy, Thea, Robert, Moira, Oliver. Once again, that feeling of suffocation pressed against his chest … only this time, it wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream, but the consequences of what he'd done, what it cost him, finally registering in his heart. Even so, it was a surprise to him to feel wetness on his cheeks. Kali was staring at him in shock, but then her lips curved up in a gentle smile. She reached across the table to touch his cheek, brushing away a tear, and whispered, "Now you may truly begin to heal, Malcolm Merlyn … and become who you should have been all along."

DSDSDSDSDSDS

St. Louis, MO

Home of Meg Carvalho

Approximately same time

7:00 pm local time

"Angel, take over for me … I need to soak this skirt."

With those words, Meg Carvalho scurried into the laundry room only moments after arriving home and unlocking the front door, leaving the rest of her family looking at each other in bemusement. Angel rolled her eyes and led everyone into the living room. She observed, "Mom ended up getting some spaghetti sauce on her skirt. Yeah, that's what Aunt Lindy was teasing her about, telling her she should have known better than to wear a light colored skirt when eating spaghetti. Opa, Mr. Wilson, is there anything I can get for you?"

She didn't ask Slade, as he'd already found himself a seat on the sofa, and Grant dumped himself into his father's lap. He was likely to be quiet for a while … there were so many new people at the fundraiser tonight, and as much as he liked Father Rick and Deacon Andy, to say nothing of Aunt Lindy, there were a lot of new people he didn't know. Fortunately, there weren't many who approached and did something stupid like pinching his cheek … his extremely intimidating and very protective father probably had something to do with that … but Grant was still uncomfortable. Opa answered, "Just coffee for me, liefje … Gideon, same?" Mr. Wilson nodded, looking at his son and grandson, and wasn't that weird, thinking of Slade as being someone's son? Angel bobbed her head and headed into the kitchen.

It was nice tonight … the more things like this they did, the more it felt like Slade and Grant were part of their family. In her most private thoughts, Angel sometimes fantasized about that, about having Slade as her step-father and Grant as her step-brother. Things changed since Slade arrived in Destine. People looked at her mother differently, and Angel was starting to realize that was because her mother changed as well. It wasn't the first time in Angel's memory. She'd changed after she lost her job. Angel mentioned that to Aunt Lindy once, who nodded sadly. She'd noticed that as well. Of course she did … she wouldn't have any teasing ammo against her mom without it.

Deacon Andy also commented on the difference in Mom. She was a lot more confident now, he observed as he and Angel looked at the desserts available … held her head high and her shoulders straight. Over the last few years, he'd noticed her almost fading into the woodwork when she was uncomfortable. He also noticed that the more time she spent around the center, the more settled she seemed. He was silent for several moments as he stared at the Black Forest cake for sale, before adding that 'more settled' was actually a better description than 'more confident.' While she'd learned several moves from Slade, her work at the center was something she truly enjoyed, even more than working at the retirement home.

They … she and Angel … still did their volunteer work, especially at the hospital. In fact, after Grant asked shyly if he could accompany them, the boy and his father started joining them when they went to the neonatal unit. Mom seemed to think that Grant felt more comfortable around people who were smaller than him … but after seeing his face light up, the first time a baby was placed in his arms, Slade murmured that as long as it didn't interfere with work at the center, they would both accompany Mom and Angel to the hospital. Slade was a bit awkward … he was somewhat out of practice, he admitted … but he eventually relaxed. Not surprisingly, he was becoming quite popular … babies tended to be fascinated by his eye patch.

He was also popular with the older children. If he didn't have a baby in his arms, then he was walking the corridors of the hospital at the side or pushing the wheelchair of a sick child. That was actually one of the few times when Grant could bear to have Slade out of his sight, when they were at the hospital. Mom quietly told Angel to be prepared … for all his words about getting attached, at least one of the children at the hospital who Slade interacted with wouldn't make it … and when that child died, it would devastate him. They both noticed that Slade really wasn't very good when it came to dealing with his feelings. He was fine with Grant, and with them, but Mom didn't think he was aware of letting down his guard with those children. That was why she purposely kept putting off the clean-up of one of the worst rooms in the center.

When a child at the hospital died, Mom believed that Slade would retreat … because he was a protector. And this was something that could not be protected from. Rational or not, there would be a part of him that would feel like he failed that child. His rage toward himself and that disease would need a target. Angel questioned how she knew these things (not, Angel realized later, how it was possible, because Slade definitely didn't tell her), and Mom smiled sadly, answering that in a lot of ways, Slade was like Opa. And that was how Opa reacted when he felt like he failed someone he loved. Thinking about it, Angel realized Mom was right … after Angel's dad was killed, Opa created a special unit. There was nothing he could have done to prevent Angel's dad from dying, but in his heart, Opa believed that he failed his daughter.

Opa responded by creating the Jackals. Slade? Slade would likely need something to destroy, and in that worst of the worst of rooms, there was far more to destroy than to save. Angel had to admit, it made a lot of sense, in a Slade sort of way. One thing she learned from their volunteer work at the hospital … everyone had their own ways of grieving. Some of the ladies at their church didn't think Mom should take Angel to volunteer with her, and Angel definitely had issues with Mom the first time a baby Angel had cuddled died. But … Angel was starting to understand. In her own way, Mom was starting to prepare Angel to be an adult. Remembering some of the things she heard from her great-aunt and great-uncle about all the ways Mom had to become an adult before she was even Angel's age … yeah, this was definitely preferable.

As if summoned by Angel's thoughts, Mom entered the kitchen, looking a lot more comfortable in her favorite pair of leggings and an extra large shirt that she thought had belonged to her father. It was faded now. Mom flashed her a tired smile, saying, "Coffee for just your grandfather and Mr. Wilson?" Angel nodded and Mom continued, "Okay, you do that and I'll put water in the kettle for tea for us, and hot chocolate for Grant. He curled up in Slade's lap?" Again, Angel nodded and Mom murmured something under her breath that sounded a bit like, 'I figured as much' or 'that doesn't surprise me.'

As her mother padded to first the stove and then the sink, Angel asked quietly, "Do you think Slade will want to take them to the center tomorrow?" Mom hummed under her breath … a soft vocalization that told Angel she heard her, but wasn't ready to answer just yet. Angel focused instead on finding mugs that didn't 'belong' to her mom or Slade, and found what she was looking for in a blue mug that reminded her of the Delft plates hanging in the dining room for her grandfather and a novelty mug her mother picked up at a local flea market the previous summer for Mr. Wilson. Mom snickered and Angel looked over her shoulder to see Mom a few steps behind her, staring at the mug in question. Angel just shrugged, then scowled when Mom messed up her hair.

Mom answered finally, "I'm not sure. It's one thing for us to bring people we know to the center, because it is supposed to be a place for kids like Dillon … besides, they're locals. And he probably wouldn't mind Dad joining us. But his own father? Slade's relationship with his father is nearly as messy as my relationship with your grandmother. And whether he's willing to admit it or not, I think there's a part of Slade which still wants his father's approval." Just as there was still a part of her mother which wanted the approval of her own mother. Angel's mom didn't say it, but she didn't need to. It was something which both Aunt Chloe and Aunt Sissy mentioned to Angel in the past, because of how … strange … Mom got around her own mother.

That was something Angel never considered before, but looking at it that way, it made sense. The tea kettle began to whistle and Mom walked over to the stove, moving it to a cool burner. She poured the hot water into the two mugs which already had tea bags in them, and then did the same with the hot chocolate for Grant. She murmured, "I'll take this in for Grant, and then come back for our tea." Angel nodded … she would follow with the coffee when it was ready. Personally, she hoped Slade would take his father and her grandfather to their center. When he saw what Slade was doing, of course his father would be proud of him.

… Wouldn't he?

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Lambert International Airport

St. Louis, MO

About an hour later

Rebecca was steadily getting better. She got frustrated with what she saw as her lack of progress, but given she hadn't had a corporeal body in more than twenty years, and hadn't had to interact with people aside from Tommy or Shado in the last few years, she was doing extremely well. But even if she was still struggling, she would still have accompanied Dory to the airport … as soon as she heard that her nephew in all but blood was on his way to Destine with his own son, Dory suspected that Rebecca would have joined her even if she knew she would spend the next week in her room alone. Which was still entirely possible.

And so, here they stood in the baggage claim of the airport, awaiting Oliver Queen and his son William. They'd found a bench near the baggage carousel for that particular flight. Rebecca questioned that, since she doubted either had checked bags. Dory merely smiled and told her to have faith. Rebecca just rolled her eyes and started pacing. Of course, not ten minutes later, an exhausted Oliver Queen and his equally exhausted son loped toward the exit. Dory was immediately on her feet, and far faster than anyone would have expected a woman of her age to move, intercepted the pair. She smiled at them, saying, "Mayor Oliver Queen? I'm Dory Webster … welcome to St. Louis."

The young man smiled at her tiredly and accepted the hand she offered to him, answering, "Thank you … Mayor Butler told me that you might be the one welcoming us. This is my son, William." Behind her, Dory was aware of Rebecca standing very, very still. She didn't need to look over her shoulder to realize that the younger woman was staring at Oliver, her heart in her eyes. And judging from his expression, it looked like Oliver noticed, even as exhausted as he currently was. Of course he did. He hadn't survived the island and the likes of Amanda Waller and Talia al Ghul for nothing, after all.

Thus, Dory added, "This is Dr. Veronica Morales, a physician with Doctors Without Borders. She was recently injured during an attack against their camp, and she's been staying with me ever since." As ever, there was a method to her madness … her words were not only an introduction, but also a reminder to Rebecca that right now, she wasn't Rebecca Merlyn and that her honorary nephew wouldn't see her as the long-dead and much missed woman. A glance behind her revealed Rebecca shaking herself a little and pasting a smile on her face as she moved forward to shake Oliver's hand (even though her heart was demanding that she hug him).

Even so, Oliver evidently sensed something … off … about Rebecca/Veronica, as his eyes narrowed. However, he shook her hand with a smile, before allowing William to do the same. Dory explained, "Mayor Queen is in town to begin paperwork to link Destine and Star City as sister cities, Veronica. And, I'm given to understand he already has a friend here?" As she spoke, she led the father and son out of the airport and into the chilly night air. She still wasn't sure how much she would tell the young man. She wasn't entirely sure what Slade told his kid brother, or even if it would be necessary for him to tell him anything.

The latter was born out a moment later as the four of them slid into Dory's battered 4x4, when Oliver answered, "Well, you would know about that … you claimed Slade for your town, helped him to find his younger son." A glance in her rearview mirror told her that while he wasn't smiling, his eyes were twinkling. Within ten minutes of meeting him, she was already understanding why 'fond exasperation' was Slade's default setting with Oliver Queen. He was to Slade what half the town was to Dory.

"Very true," she agreed, "although I wouldn't exactly say that I claimed Slade for Destine. I think that was more something Meg did, even if she didn't realize that was what she was doing. You'll likely meet her tomorrow. By the way, Slade doesn't know about the sister city thing, does he?" Oliver's sheepish expression told her all she needed to know, and Dory shook her head in amusement. Well, she could tell that his arrival in her town would make things a lot more interesting. She went on, "Very well, I'll take you to the motel tonight, and then tomorrow, I'll take you to Slade and introduce you to the people of Destine. Because of your tie to Slade, you're already part of our family."

In more ways than one, but he wasn't ready to learn that, at least not yet. From Shado and Tommy, she knew about his connection to that young rascal, John Constantine … so he was aware that there was far more to the world than what was visible to the eye. However, she was sure he wasn't ready to learn that a woman dead for twenty years came back to life in the body of another woman … much less that it was a woman he loved as a child, who was a second mother to him for the first eight years of his life.

But it was Rebecca who answered gleefully when William asked, both warily and hopefully, if that meant he had even more aunts and uncles, "Oh, soooo many more than you know, little one! You even have several sets of grandparents, who are truly looking forward to meeting you and your father." Much to Dory's amusement, the boy's answering expression was somewhere between chagrined and pleased … in other words, what she would expect from a boy his age. She couldn't see the future, as such … but this she did know. By the time the Queens visit to Destine ended, he and Grant Wilson would be best friends.

And hopefully, they would be able to avoid all the pitfalls that entrapped their respective fathers. No, Dory couldn't see the future, but for a moment, she did get a glimpse of a possible future, one that had William Clayton Queen and Grant Nicholas Wilson standing side by side, two formidable men raised by two equally formidable fathers … and she almost pitied those who sought to harm the innocent. Almost.

TBC