Author's Notes: Hey, lookie here, a reasonable time between updates! I think part of it is things are winding down at work as the semester comes to a close (last day of classes is before Thanksgiving, and it's all downhill from there. In a good way, of course), but also, I've removed some of the pressure on myself by working on a few other things, so when I come back to this, my mind is clearer. Don't ask me how it works, it just does. As to what I'm working on, there was recently renewed interest in my Torchwood stories, particular the stories which found the institute working with the Avengers. So, I'm going to try to finish out the 'season finale' story of Lay My Honor in the Dust, do a transition story to wrap up some of the dangling storylines, before moving into the new 'season,' tentatively titled Something Like Forgiveness, which tackles the Infinity War movies. This remains my main focus, but that's what I'm working on when things stall on this or on my steampunk stew novel. And so, in this chapter, Grant does some thinking (that segment which was originally in the previous chapter); Rebecca gets a wonderful surprise; and the reunion between Oliver and Slade finally takes place.

Chapter Seven

A Circle of Family

Basement of Meg Carvalho's home

Same Time

Trying to go back to sleep hadn't worked, no matter how hard he tried, and so now he lay awake in the darkness, waiting for the sound of his father's footsteps coming back down the stairs. He'd tried counting sheep, tried the breathing exercises that Miss Lindy taught him for when a panic attack threatened, and most of all, and tried not to think about everything that happened today. It wasn't easy, though. In spite of Papa's best efforts, Grant woke up when he went back upstairs, grabbing his boots as he did. Something threw Papa off-kilter, and Grant wasn't sure if it was his grandfather's arrival, or something else. And he wasn't inclined to ask his father.

The truth was, he was worried about his father. That wasn't anything new for Grant during these last few months … the truth was, he'd been worrying about his father from the moment his mother died. Not because his papa was as heartbroken as Grant was, but because for the first time, he realized that he could lose his father just as easily as he lost his mother. And for all that he'd been made aware that his father could be a dangerous man, that meant he was also in danger. Before, it really wouldn't have mattered, because he hadn't known he had a father to lose. And for the first time, Grant understood his elder self's bitterness toward their mother.

Grant hadn't known that he had a father to lose, because he'd thought his father was already dead. He wasn't. He'd taken a mission, and that mission led him to be stranded for several years. And while Grant didn't know all about what happened to his papa while he was on that awful island, he knew that many of those things were terrible (somewhere in the back of his mind, he suspected that his father did terrible things to survive, partly because his father sometimes alluded to things he'd done, but Grant didn't allow himself to think about that)

And maybe he shouldn't have, but he'd talked to Miss Meg about that once. Not just about the island, as little as he actually knew about it, but about thinking for so long that his father was dead. Maybe he should have talked to his father about it, but he knew those memories hurt his papa … and he really needed to talk to someone about the things he'd learned.

And Miss Meg was a good listener. Her hands were always moving, whether she was cooking, making coffee, washing the dishes or typing, but she always listened (okay, so she got distracted sometimes, but so did his papa and so had his mum). To his surprise, she actually understood … and now, he knew why. Oh, she hadn't known until today that her dad was like Grant's papa, but she never knew until she was about Grant's age that her father was alive.

They were sitting in the living room after clearing snow out of the driveway, working on a scrapbook … Miss Meg sipping on her tea, and Grant drinking hot chocolate. Papa was putting away the shovels, snowblower, and broom, while Angel was showering. The conversation actually started with Miss Meg telling him about her Aunt Chloe and Uncle Grady, who still lived in Baltimore (pausing long enough to point out Baltimore on a map), who raised her due to her mum's illness through Miss Meg's early years. It was then that she told him that she hadn't known about her father until she was almost twelve.

Her father was from Holland, she explained, and he'd spent a summer in the States, working at the Inner Harbor, where he'd met her mother (who was from Canada and also working at one of the restaurants at the Inner Harbor). At the end of the summer, he returned to the Netherlands … and soon after, her mother found out that she was pregnant with Miss Meg. For reasons she'd never explained, she decided to stay in Baltimore. But not just that, she also refused to tell her lover that he would be a father, and hid all letters she received from him after he returned home from them.

Miss Meg fell silent, and rather than ask the obvious question (why her mother would do it, go to such extremes), Grant instead asked an equally important question … to him, at least: how did her aunt and uncle find out? Miss Meg took a sip of her tea, before explaining that her mother began developing a mental illness around the time of Miss Meg's birth. She wasn't a hundred percent sure, as she wasn't in the medical field, but she believed that it was post-partum depression that was exacerbated by other things (Miss Lindy was in the medical field, but wouldn't make a secondhand diagnosis).

As a result, her mother spent most of Miss Meg's childhood swinging back and forth between being a semi-normal person and … not. Miss Meg didn't say much, just that her mother had good days, bad days … and sometimes, she had really bad days, more frequently the older Miss Meg got. Then came the day she nearly killed a child in a parking lot because his mother supposedly cut her off in the grocery store, and Chloe Anderson realized that it was time to stop 'respecting' her sister's wishes. With her brother's assistance, she tracked down the letters which Bastiaan de Vries wrote to her twin, and wrote one in turn, telling him that he had a young daughter.

It took some time for the letter to get to him, for a variety of reasons … and in the meantime, Miss Meg finally began learning about her father, courtesy of the letters he'd written her mother. And then, a few weeks before her twelfth birthday, she received a letter of her own from her father. Grant piped up, 'best birthday present ever?' He was rewarded with a grin from Miss Meg, who acknowledged it really was the best birthday present she could have asked for.

It wasn't close to Grant's birthday when he met his own father … but if it hadn't been for the death of his mother, it would have been the best birthday/Christmas present imaginable the first time his father hugged him. So yes, Grant worried about his father, because aside from Miss Meg and Angel, his papa was all he had left in the world (his older brother didn't count because the last time he'd seen Joe … he didn't act like Grant's big brother anymore).

Now, weeks removed from that conversation, Grant lay awake in the basement. He wasn't sure at first about staying down here, since when people talked about basements, he thought they meant cold, dank, dark places, since those were the only kinds of basements he knew. This one wasn't. It was comfortable … almost like an apartment, only without a kitchen. They had their own bathroom, an unfinished walk-in closet that his father used as a workshop, and a corner where Grant could play with his soldiers and cars if he wanted to. They still weren't sure who would stay down here once the spare bedroom was cleaned up (and Grant already told his father that he wanted them to stay with Miss Meg). But it didn't matter, because for now he had a home.

The door to the basement opened and the familiar sound of his father's boots on the stairs allowed Grant to relax. He exhaled softly and closed his eyes as his father settled himself on the bed, easing the boots from his feet. He really shouldn't have been so surprised when Papa murmured, "Didn't mean to wake you, kiddo." Grant opened his eyes to see his father looking at him with a tired smile. Grant smiled back and reached out his hand. Papa took it, continuing, "I had some things to work through, went upstairs to work through them without waking you."

"Are you okay?" Grant asked softly. Papa smiled softly, his free hand ghosting over Grant's hair. Instead of answering right away, he pushed the two beds together … which meant Grant would be cuddling with his father tonight. The fact that he was doing that when Grant hadn't had a nightmare meant that it was his papa who needed the cuddling. The boy asked next, "What's wrong, did something happen?"

"Not a bad thing," Papa admitted, "I kissed Meg tonight. Not a big thing, I kissed her forehead when I told her good night … but it was still the first time I'd kissed someone in a long time." He sat down on his side of the bed and Grant immediately crawled into the circle of his father's arms. He didn't really know what to say, so he curled up, feeling Papa's arms tighten around him. He knew that kisses were for someone you loved, or someone you really, really liked … and Miss Meg had been really good to them. He also knew that his father wasn't the sort of man who was free with his affection … but once he gave someone his love and his trust, it would take something truly awful to change that. (Grant didn't want to think about what could change that. He suspected that he didn't want to know).

However, Grant was still mourning his mother, and as much as he liked the woman who opened her home to them (and often her arms to Grant himself), he really wasn't sure if he was ready to want her as a step-mother. It sounded like Papa wasn't ready to think about what that kiss could mean, either. And so, he simply cuddled against his father, taking comfort in his warmth and his strength and his love, until he could fall back to sleep.

That his father only went back to sleep just a few hours before dawn, still (over) thinking on the potential implications of that supposedly innocent kiss, Grant would never know.

DSDSDSDSDSDSDS

(Very) Early Morning

Cozy Inn

Destine, MO

Rebecca Merlyn curled up on her bed, arms wrapped around a pillow, alone in the motel room Dory obtained for her, still trembling. All attempts to getting sleep failed so far. Maybe she should have expected that. She … she'd seen her godson in the flesh tonight, for the first time since he was eight years old. She'd seen him, and for just a moment, she'd touched him. It wasn't the first time she'd touched someone and been touched since she awakened in Veronica Morales' body … but it was the first time she'd touched someone she loved before her death. She was glad it was Oliver … she was afraid that if she'd encountered her husband, even though he would have no idea who she was, she would have slapped him. Or worse. Maybe that was what triggered her meltdown (or exacerbated it).

She'd begun crying as soon as she got back to her motel room … great, heaving sobs that shook her body. She'd missed Oliver … and Moira … and even Robert … so very much, though not more than how much she missed her husband and her son. When Tommy joined her and Shado in the afterlife, there was a small part of her which was so glad her little boy was with her, and a larger part that hated herself for that joy. She was Tommy's mother, she wasn't supposed to see him for many, many years to come! There was something wrong with her, she was no better than Malcolm! (Yao Fei finally took her aside while Shado worked with Tommy about getting used to his new reality, and told her that a) if she really thought she was no better than her widower, she was as crazy as the aforementioned widower and b) he'd felt the same way when his treasured Shado joined him after her own death at the hands of Ivo).

Tommy. Shado. She hoped they were taking care of each other with her gone, she hoped neither of them did anything stupid (Rebecca wasn't entirely sure what she meant by stupid herself … maybe attract the attention of whatever brought her back?). She had little doubt that Shado was taking care of Tommy … almost as soon as he arrived in the afterlife, the young woman was looking after him and teaching him about his new reality, much as she'd once helped to train Oliver. Robert and Moira were in another section of the afterlife, working out some issues they'd still had at the time of his death. They would likely remain there, since Tommy didn't need them for the foreseeable future.

And Tommy … Tommy had his own way of looking after people. When he was a little boy, his favorite thing to do when Malcolm returned home from a particularly grueling day was to crawl up in his father's lap once Malcolm shucked the suit jacket and tie. Rebecca couldn't count the number of times she returned to the living room, to find her husband and son sound asleep. Of course, he was entirely too big to crawl up into Shado's lap (not that the reverse was true), but there was no doubt in her mind that he still found ways to look after his 'sister' whenever Rebecca wasn't around, not to mention calming and comforting Moira during Thea's 'training,' and oh, Rebecca had a few things to say to her husband about that whenshe finally saw him again. She now believed firmly in self-defense, but that wasn't it!

There was a gentle knock at the door, startling her. She knew very few people in Destine, and this wasn't the type of place that had room service. And, it was very early in the morning. Rebecca hesitated, remembering the last few moments of her life … of her original life. She remembered the shot, the pain, her call to Malcolm, the gradual dimming of her vision. Then there was a second knock, still gentle, but a little more insistent. It occurred to her that a) if they meant her harm, they could come in through the window and b) she did have a peephole.

With that in mind, she called, "One moment please!" She needed to wash her face and get cleaned up from her crying fit, and while she wasn't Rebecca Merlyn any more exactly, she suspected that Veronica Morales would feel the same way. Thus, two minutes after the second knock, she walked briskly to the door … and stumbled back a few steps after looking through the peephole. With trembling fingers, she undid the lock and opened the door, saying, "Why, Mayor Queen … what an unexpected surprise!" And immediately could have kicked herself, because yes, surprises were by their very nature unexpected!

But Oliver Queen just smiled at her gently and said, "Hi, Aunt Becca." Rebecca stared at him for a long second. Did … did he just say? His smile brightened and he added, "Yes, I know." Rebecca didn't even remember moving, didn't remember him moving, but between one breath and the next, she was in her godson's arms, held and holding on tight as she started crying again, apologizing. Oliver, to his credit, didn't ask her why, or what she was apologizing for. Just held on tight.

When the storm finally passed, Oliver pulled away a little, just enough to thumb away her tears, and say softly, "William is with Dory at the office. You're going to stay with us in our hotel and in our room. Don't worry … you won't have to leave the room unless you feel like it. He doesn't know who you are … not entirely at least. I told him that you saved me once, and that's all he needs to know. But I couldn't stay in a nicer hotel if you were here, alone. I lost you once, Aunt Becca … I'm not letting that happen, not again." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, before smiling at her gently and saying, "C'mon. I'll help you pack."

There were so many things wrong with that scenario, Rebecca couldn't even begin to pick one out. But she found herself nodding, because as much as she couldn't stand to be around people right now, she was also starting to realize that being alone wasn't helping her either. This … this was a compromise she could work with, and it would give her time to be near someone she'd loved throughout his life. She whispered, "I don't have much." Oliver smiled and kissed her forehead again, and Rebecca suddenly felt as though she was the child now … and wasn't that was he was? Reborn into another woman's body, more than twenty years after her murder? That was exactly what she was.

She could have told him even more. She could have told him that Veronica Morales' friend was the same woman who gave Slade and Grant Wilson. She could have told him about Shado, and about Tommy. And she would tell him, eventually, about his lover and about her son, in time. But not now. Now, she had packing to do. It took no more than five minutes, and when she was done, Oliver had her duffel bag in one hand and held her hand with the other (Tommy! Oliver! Take someone's hand, please!). She looked around her room, the first home she'd had since awakening in Veronica Morales' body. But it wasn't her home, not any more … really, it never was. She looked back at Oliver, who smiled and squeezed her hand. She smiled back, murmuring, "I'm ready."

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Destine Inn and Suites

Destine, MO

Later That Morning

William Clayton Queen sat in the back seat of Dory's car, patiently awaiting his father, who was still talking to Dr. Veronica in their room. Dory sat in the front seat, texting someone … William thought she said she needed to talk to her niece, but honestly, he was busy still getting warm. It was COLD here! He would have thought it would be colder in Star City, since it was further north, but Dad told him it was actually warmer at home due to the ocean currents, while this area was landlocked. He'd started to mention the island that now haunted both of their dreams, but stopped, as he usually did when the island came up.

Then again, once Dad came back from talking to Dr. Veronica (she saved him once … just how old did Dad think he was, six? Someone who saved you once didn't stare at you as if you were their long-lost kid. William had no idea who she really was, but she was a lot more important than just someone who saved his dad once), they would be heading to meet with another survivor of that island: Slade Wilson. William still had no idea what to call the man.

"You'll figure it out," Dory said from the front seat. William blinked and she repeated, "You'll figure it out, what to call Slade. Meg and Angel both call him 'Slade,' and his son Grant calls him 'Papa.' If you want to call him 'Uncle Slade,' which I admit sounds a bit weird, I'd advise checking with him first." Yeah, no kidding. He was just a bit scary. Not that he was ever unkind to William. Gruff, yes … but not unkind. In fact, the few times William interacted the man, he was actually gentle. Even so, he was still scary. Something he mentioned to Dory, who just laughed softly, answering, "If it helps at all, I think he scares himself sometimes." Uhm … William wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that … and said so. Dory's shoulders rose and fell, and she replied, "That's more than fair."

William would have said more, but it was then that his father emerged from the hotel, hands stuck in the heavy coat. The door opened, admitting a blast of extremely cold air, and then his father swung himself inside the truck. He said quietly, "She promised to call me if she needed me. I think she plans on getting some sleep, since she had a rough night last night." Dory nodded as she backed out of her parking space, and Dad went on, "Thank you for looking after her. I know, she's your friend, but she was always important to me … I'm glad she had a good person looking after her."

"It was my pleasure … she's a good person, didn't deserve any of the crap she went through," Dory answered as she headed toward the exit of the parking lot. She added softly, "None of you did, not even her husband, though he brought a lot of it on himself." William saw his dad's jaw tighten, and Dory added softly, "There was more going on than you realize, Oliver. I won't defend what he did, and I know he hurt you, hurt a lot of people you love, but there are things you don't know. He didn't become that twisted version of himself in a vacuum."

"It doesn't matter. He's dead," Dad answered flatly. He went on, his voice noticeably softer, "He died saving his daughter, probably the only good thing he did since Aunt Becca died. He died saving my sister, and while that doesn't allow me to forgive him for what he did, it does make it easier for me to remember who he used to be, before Aunt Becca was killed." Dory was silent as she drove, and Dad asked slowly, almost as if he was afraid of what Dory's answer would be, "Malcolm is dead … isn't he? There's no way he could have survived that mine, is there?" William thought about everything that happened on that awful island, and wondered.

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," was all Dory said as she pulled out onto the highway. William noted the sign that indicated they were heading into downtown Destine. His dad, from what the boy could see of his face from the rearview mirror, looked poleaxed. The woman went on, "He is no threat to you, Oliver. Not now, and not ever again." There was a quiet surety to her voice, but William noted that she didn't say that he was dead. Something that Dad mentioned and Dory observed with a small smile, "No, I didn't, did I?"

And that was all she would say, no matter how much Dad pestered her for the rest of the drive. William rolled his eyes, because there were times when his dad acted like the kid William was. Not many, since William came to live with him, but they had happened. He snuggled against the side of the door, where warm air was blowing, and tuned out his father's wheedling. Dory finally told him to put a sock in it, that he was behaving like the kid he was when he first met Slade Wilson. Dad asked a bit suspiciously how she knew that, and she just said one word. Shadow. What shadows had to do with what Dad was like when he first got to the island, William had no idea, but it shut his father up until they got to the Carvalho house.

It was a modest, two-story home, the kind of house William would have liked to live in, if he and his mom didn't live in the city. Dory pulled into the drive and exhaled slowly. She turned to face them both, saying, "Okay. So. This is where Slade and Grant have been staying for the last few months. I know you know, Oliver, I have a point to this. Slade may not have realized it, he probably hasn't allowed himself to think about it, but this has become his home, has become their home. Meg and her daughter Angel are becoming their family. That means, Oliver, that while by default it makes them part of your family, you are still a guest here."

His father answered quietly, almost gently, "I know that. I promise I won't do anything to cause trouble or make a mess. You're right, just by virtue of looking after my brother, Meg and Angel are family. What you don't realize is that means I'll protect them like my family. Okay?" Dory smiled at that, and nodded, and all three of them got out of the pick-up. William and his dad followed Dory to the front door, which she rapped four times and then two times. There was a particular rhythm to that, but William didn't recognize it. The door opened within a minute, revealing a young girl, somewhere between him and Aunt Thea in age. She had long dark hair, and was dressed an oversized shirt and leggings.

Her eyes lit up when she saw Dory, calling over her should, "Mom! It's Dory … and a really cute guy … and a kid." William would have glared at her, but considering she was at least three years older than he was, couldn't really argue with her. A woman came up behind the girl, resting her hand lightly on her shoulder. She was older than Dad, though it was hard to tell by much, as her skin was still smooth and there was some silver in her hair. And then, behind her, was Slade Wilson, hovering over the woman and girl protectively … though why he would need to protect them from Dory, he wasn't really sure.

Slade Wilson's single brown eye focused on Dad, and he breathed, "Kid?" William looked up at his father, in time to see a smile blossom on his face. A glance back at the other man told him that a similar smile was appearing on his face. Meg Carvalho gently pulled her daughter to one side as Slade Wilson went on, "What … what are you doing here?" Dad's smile turned impish, and the other man said, his voice taking on a warning tone, "Kid?"

"I don't suppose you'd accept, 'just happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to borrow a cup of sugar,' would you?" Dad inquired, grinning broadly. William almost laughed at the exasperation on the other man's face, and Dad continued, actually laughing at his brother's reaction, "Yeah, didn't think so. The truth is, I'm here in a somewhat official capacity, as the mayor of Star City … signing some paperwork."

"What kind of paperwork? And come in, all three of you … take off your boots, please don't track snow in the house. By the way, I'm Meg Carvalho, this is my daughter Angel … I know that you're Oliver Queen, and you would have to be his son William," the woman observed. William happily left the snow behind for the warmth of the house … and oh, it was nice and toasty inside. It also smelled of cinnamon and coffee, and maybe sausage. They were probably just finishing up breakfast, since it was ten am on a Saturday. Mrs. Carvalho went on, "Can I get anyone anything … coffee, hot tea, hot chocolate?" William perked up at this last and she added with a gentle smile, "A yes to the hot chocolate, then. Angel, honey, I'll leave that to you. And, Mayor Queen, what did you mean about paperwork?"

"First, my name is Oliver … we're practically family. And, I'm in town to sign preliminary paperwork for the beginning of a sister-city partnership between Star City and Destine. Figured since I was in town anyhow, I'd swing by and say hello to an old friend," Dad responded with a smirk. William looked from his father to Slade Wilson, whose expression held both affection and exasperation. The youngster suspected that was his default expression when it came to his dad. And then his lips turned up in a smirk, one that had Dad looking at him warily.

The man turned to William, his smile broadening as he added, "In that case … why don't you call me 'Uncle Slade,' kiddo?" William knew his eyes lit up at the offer, and his newfound uncle's smile softened. He called over his shoulder, "Grant … come meet your uncle and your cousin." A young boy slipped around the Carvalhos to stand at his uncle's side. He was about William's age, or maybe a little younger, with black hair and brown eyes. He smiled shyly at William as his father said softly, "William, this is my son, Grant." He rested his hands on the other boy's shoulders as Grant hesitantly held his own hand out to William. The American boy didn't hesitate at all in taking it. And he knew, he knew without any doubt whatsoever, that this boy would be his best friend for the rest of his life … and beyond.

TBC