Author's Notes: Okay … first things first. Despite the five-month hiatus, I'm fine … Slade and Grant decided to get stubborn on me all of a sudden. Like everyone else during this outbreak, I'm at home most of the time, as I'm considered essential personnel rather than mandatory (in the case of our college, mandatory means I need to be at the office … essential means that I get a laptop from work). I'm teleworking, processing what I can and going into work a few hours per week to take care of the things in the office I can't do from home. That's been going on for about two weeks now, and I'm slowly adjusting. I completed one project and have begun another, something I've been waiting to do for nearly four years, but never had the time to do it. Well, now I do. So that's going on. I had a great trip to New Zealand … spent six days primarily hanging around in my bach, walking along the beach, and occasionally walking down to the local convenience store. Next year, I'm planning to go to Switzerland. That brings me to the story, which tells the Wilson/Carvalho side of the events leading up to Slade and Oliver coming face to face once more. In this chapter, Meg has her own demons to fight; Slade isn't entirely sure what to expect after the Kiss; while Grant meets someone who will be a lifelong friend. Oh, and the chapter title comes from the Enya song mentioned in this chapter, 'My, My (Time Flies).'

Chapter Eight

Let Yesterday Go

Destine, MO

Home of Meg Carvalho

She jolted awake, trembling and just a gasp away from a scream … only to find herself in a large bed, entirely too large for one person. It took her a few minutes to remember where she was and when she was: Destine, Missouri, in the year 2018, rather than Baltimore in the 1980's. Meg sighed, running her hand over her face, unsure if the moisture on her skin was sweat or tears, and not entirely sure if it really mattered. It was a while since she last had that dream. It was a constant companion when she was a child, in the days, weeks, and months after her mother's … episode … at the supermarket. She couldn't count the number of the times Aunt Chloe comforted her, whispering, 'it's okay, baby, she didn't hurt you, she didn't hurt that little boy, everything is okay.'

She wasn't entirely sure what triggered the nightmare this time … well, yeah, Papa reminded her that contrary to what she told Slade, she'd been seven when that happened, rather than ten … but that was it. And like he told her, Slade didn't regard it as a betrayal or even as a lie. Just what it was, an attempt to deal with an experience no one should ever go through. Which, yeah, was nice to know … even if she wasn't entirely sure why Slade would regard it as a betrayal. She may have gotten her age wrong, but the events actually happened, so it wasn't even a lie. She muttered under her breath, "No, I couldn't get lucky enough to have a dream about Slade kissing me … nope, it had to be a nightmare about Mommie Dearest being off her meds."

Admittedly, she wasn't being fair to her mother … when she was on the meds that actually worked, Clarissa was a wonderful mother. It was when she went off her meds, when her meds conflicted with each other and she wasn't honest with her doctors about it … that was when things went wrong. It took Meg years to come to terms with that … it took her even longer to accept that her mother's medical condition was not her fault.

And, it was about half an hour before she would have awakened anyhow, so rather than try to go back to sleep (and fail miserably), she would instead get up. Try to get some things accomplished that she wasn't able to do the previous day, when her father and Slade's arrived so unexpectedly. Not that Meg was particularly upset. She was always happy to see her own father, and as for Slade's … Well, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on with him, but she trusted her father's instincts, and even if Grant had little use for his grandfather, even if Slade was wary, she was inclined to cut Gideon Wilson slack. At least, until he gave her reason to give him just enough rope to hang himself.

Of course, that drew her mind to Slade, and the Kiss. Yes, she capitalized it in her mind … never mind it was merely a kiss on her forehead, it was the first kiss she'd received from a man other than her father or uncle in the last ten years. Oh. Well. Uhm … it would seem that her friends and neighbors might have a point about the number of men she'd dated or even shown an interest in since she lost Stephen, if she was reacting this way to a simple kiss on her forehead when they said good night. But … it was Slade.

Meg growled under her breath and threw on a pair of sweats that definitely saw better days (okay, fine, it was one of her favorite pairs of sweats … she'd gotten it to the perfect degree of softness, without the annoying pills that irritated her skin so badly) and an overly-large t-shirt that Stephen left in the apartment before departing for Destine. She thought for a matter of seconds about pulling her hair back into a scrunchie (and who the hell left a scrunchie on her bedside table? To the best of her recollection, her daughter hadn't been wearing one yesterday, and Meg knew she wasn't), before deciding it was too much of a headache: literally.

With that settled, she padded into the kitchen barefoot, making sure to turn on one of the lamps as she did. A brief glance downward (because Grant was still getting the hang of taking his toys back downstairs and walking on Hot Wheels cars could be nearly as painful as stepping on Legos, as Meg learned during the last few weeks) warned her that her toenail polish was starting to chip … so it was time for a new coat. And maybe a new color? Nah … red worked just fine. She would leave the experimentation to her daughter and her friends. At least … that kind of experimentation. All the blood rushed to her face and she muttered under her breath about keeping her thoughts PG-rated. Easier said than done.

Once inside the kitchen, she flicked on the light, trying to figure out where to start. It wasn't that the kitchen was dirty, as such. It just … with four people living in the house, rather than two, some tasks received more attention than others. Also, the way she had things organized no longer worked. But, she would start with the few things that did actually need cleaning. Like the floor. It was Angel and Grant's responsibility to sweep the floor in the kitchen (as well as the patios), and they did a fairly good job of it, but it needed a good mopping. She'd start there … and maybe working on that would clear her mind, would stop the voice in the back of her mind, wondering what other things from her childhood she misremembered.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

It had become Slade's custom over the last several weeks, ever since Grant was found, to remain in the basement even after he awakened. Although he was getting better with every day that passed, Grant still suffered from separation anxiety, especially when he first woke up. And so, Slade would stay in the basement for a time, no matter how early he actually awakened, only heading upstairs once Grant began to stir. Unfortunately, as ever, that gave Slade entirely too much time to think … especially about saying good night to Meg the previous evening, and working through his calisthenics didn't help. Not a good sign.

Finally, as Grant began to make the little noises indicating that he was waking up, the former ASIS agent bent over and brushed a light kiss across his son's forehead, before heading upstairs into the main part of the house. It was still fairly early, but he could hear sounds coming from the kitchen and faint singing coming from the living room. With a small smile, he headed in that direction, bypassing the living room to go straight to the kitchen. He needed to get this over with (and really, the fact that he was this worried about Meg's reaction would have made Deathstroke howl with laughter … or indignation).

And yes, Slade feared things would be awkward in the morning between himself and Meg, thanks to the kiss the previous night. Then again, maybe he was just being an idiot about all of this … after all, kissing someone's forehead as you told her good night was hardly something to get excited about? Right? (Yeah, Wilson, you keep telling yourself that … and just who was the last woman you kissed, for any reason?) Fortunately, however, as he entered the kitchen that morning, he was greeted with Meg in her favorite ratty sweats and oversized t-shirt, barefoot and smiling, as she dropped two halves of an English muffin into the toaster. He glanced around, noting the changes in the kitchen … and yes, he did notice the changes. From a tactical standpoint, he needed to check those out, to make sure that they didn't impact his ability to protect this woman and these two children. He didn't think they would, but it required more investigation, just to be safe. (He also realized that Meg was up very early this morning, since she'd been on the verge of going to bed the previous night. What that meant remained to be seen … and it might mean nothing at all. Not that he believed that)

"Morning, Slade … any thoughts about what we're doing today? Maybe taking our dads to the center?" Meg asked cheerfully as she slipped two small plates out of the cabinet. She smiled at him, and the look of befuddlement he just knew he was wearing when he glanced inside the living room to see Angel's legs in the air over the back of the sofa as she sang something about someone forgetting to wear shoes (no doubt the source of the singing he heard when he first came upstairs). Strange child. Then again, maybe he should have been used to that.

"I thought so, yeah. I know you want your father to see it, and I don't imagine my father is interested in letting me or Grant out of his sight," Slade answered … and that was something new. Rephrase, he didn't remember his father being particularly interested in him while he was growing up. Then again, people changed … he had only to look at himself to realize that. And, he remembered a movie he saw as a teenager, in which the hero's father mentioned that he'd left just as he was getting interesting. Maybe that was the case here.

"Point … besides, I don't think my father wants to leave your father alone anywhere. He muttered something last night about how your father has no common sense whatsoever and he could find life-threatening trouble under a kitchen sink," Meg answered and Slade absolutely did not snort at her response (of course he didn't, why on earth would someone think such a thing). Besides, her father was right … it seemed to be a trait common among the males of the Wilson line (and yes, Slade was self-aware enough to admit that was true of him as well). She went on, sounding thoughtful, "And speaking of your father … did you happen to notice how Grant reacted to him?" Not … really? Meg inclined her head, adding, "He doesn't have much use for his grandfather. Angel actually heard him say that if your father hurt you again, Grant would do … something." Slade had no idea what his expression looked like, but Meg grinned, adding, "First experience with a child being protective of you, huh?"

If you counted Oliver … which Slade didn't, since he was technically an adult when they met, even if Slade called him 'kid,' … then yes. He remembered Oliver becoming quite protective of him on the island. But again, Slade called him 'kid,' but that was because Oliver several years younger than himself. At last, he shook his head and Meg's grin broadened as she told him, "Well, you're going to have an interesting time of it, between my daughter and your son."

"They do realize it's not their job to protect me?" Slade asked, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. Meg smirked and dragged over a step-ladder with her bare foot, before clambering up and stepping on the counter opposite him to retrieve the honey. With a sigh, Slade unfolded his arms and took the three steps needed to put his hand on Meg's waist to steady her, and oh, maybe that wasn't such a great idea after all. Judging from the way she tensed under his hand, she seemed to agree … but then she relaxed. Slade, however, did not.

"You do realize that it doesn't matter to them? You matter to them, so they're protective of you. That's the way it works, Slade," Meg answered over her shoulder, a tiny smile hovering about her lips. He had only to think of the island, and Oliver's reaction when he was shot, and had to concede she had a point. He never thought of it in those terms, but yeah, now that he thought about it … yeah, the kid did become protective of him. He wasn't quite sure what to do with that knowledge, aside from accept it. And thankfully, she changed the subject, asking, "What do you think Grant will want for breakfast? I know when Angel was his age, things tended to go in cycles, and right now, he seems to be following the same pattern."

He had noticed his younger son doing that, and with a pang, realized Joe did the same thing. He made a mental note to check in with some of his contacts. Oh, he knew where Joe was, and he knew what he was doing … but he also had contacts of his own in Vienna who could keep an eye on his boy. Valentina Auer was a damn capable woman, but Joe was his son, and … well, did anything else really need to be said? No … but Joe was also an adult, while Grant was a child, and right now, Grant needed him more. He answered, "Yeah, probably the same thing he's had for the last week. Then again, I suppose I was much the same way when I was a kid."

For the second time in the last few minutes, Meg froze, and Slade wondered at the reason this time. There was a long silence as she finally found the honey (where was it stashed, in the very back? Not where she usually put it), and placed in the counter below her. She tapped his hand lightly and he backed away, allowing her to descend the step-ladder. Meg answered softly, "Right now, I don't trust half of my memories from when I was a kid." She looked up at him through her fringe, adding, "My father told me last night that the Incident at the supermarket happened when I was seven, not when I was ten. It doesn't seem like it's that big of a deal, but at the same time … if I misremembered that, what other things have I misremembered?"

Oh. OH. Bloody hell! Slade lifted his hands to rest them on her shoulders (she was so tiny, why had he never noticed how very tiny she was), before allowing them to drop to his sides once more helplessly. He finally answered, "You didn't imagine what happened to you, what happened to that little boy, Meg. You may have gotten the timing wrong, but you didn't imagine something that didn't happen, whether to make yourself a victim or a hero. I don't think you have anything to worry about." And because something just coalesced in his mind that he should have realized some time ago, he added, "And you certainly didn't betray me by misremembering something that traumatized you so badly."

Meg's shoulders slumped and she said softly, "I know you don't give your trust lightly, Slade, and the last thing I want … at least where you're concerned … is for you to think that I've misled you in anyway. Thank you. I needed to hear that." Now Slade did hesitantly rest his hand on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. She took a deep breath, offered him a smile, and said, "Okay … so, I should make cinnamon toast for the kids. I have an English muffin for myself, what about you? And don't say you'll make it yourself, I'm already fixing breakfast, so don't argue with me."

Slade bit back a snicker at that, answering, "As my lady commands me. Sausage and eggs is fine. Should I go ahead and get Grant up? Or rather, make sure Grant is up?" She bobbed her head in agreement before turning her attention to the refrigerator to get his sausage and eggs. And because when it came to these two females, he just couldn't let anything go, he added, "By the way, what exactly is Angel doing? I heard her singing when I came upstairs." He did not, however, mention seeing her legs waving in the air.

Meg glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, answering, "She suddenly wanted Christmas music, and popped in one of my Enya CD's. She's been singing along with her ever since she got up." Slade had no idea who Enya was, and was fairly sure he didn't want to ask why Angel was listening to Christmas music in February. He learned some time ago that trying to understand the mind of a teenage girl was … well. It just didn't work. Also a recipe for madness, and he'd had enough of that, albeit a different type of madness.

So, instead of commenting on Angel's odd taste and timing in music, he answered, "Right. Then I'll go check on Grant … we'll be back up here in a few minutes. Any idea what time you want to leave for the Center? Or do you want to talk about that later?" Meg raised two fingers over her shoulder, which someone else would have taken as a salute, but Slade knew meant option two. Okay. Option two, it was. He would leave Angel and her desire to hear Christmas music close to Valentine's Day to her mother.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Grant heard the clomp of his father's boots long before Papa's legs could be seen in the light of the hallway. Still, he remained curled up in the blankets, not quite ready to leave their warmth. Besides, Papa always woke him up in the morning, that was just the way it was. Sure enough, Grant felt his father's gentle hand ruffling his hair, and the little boy opened his eyes. Papa smiled at him, saying, "Good morning, son … Miss Meg is making cinnamon toast for you. It should be ready by the time you get dressed."

"I like the way Miss Meg makes cinnamon toast," Grant said as he kicked his way out of the covers, "she says that's how her aunt and uncle always made it for her." His father just smiled and handed Grant his clothes. The boy changed quickly, because he was hungry, especially now that the door to the upstairs was open and the smell of food wafted downstairs. Once he was dressed, Grant marched upstairs after his father (who didn't take the steps two at a time … Papa did that sometimes, but tried not to when Grant was around. That was Grant's fault … he'd tried imitating Papa and nearly fell on the stairs).

Once in the main part of the house, the two Wilsons met first Angel, who was waiting for them in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room. For some reason, she blushed when she looked at Papa, and when Grant looked over his shoulder, he saw that his father was smirking. But neither of them said anything, and Papa steered him into the kitchen, where Miss Meg was taking the cookie sheet with cinnamon toast out.

She smiled at him, telling him 'good morning,' before nodding to the kitchen sink for him to wash his hands. While he did that, Angel began setting the table while Papa listened to whatever Miss Meg was saying. He made a small face at her request, much to Grant's amusement, and Miss Meg just patted his cheek. Grant remembered what Papa told him the night before, about kissing Miss Meg's forehead when they said good-night … and then he wondered if the reason Papa was making a face now was because Miss Meg asked him to get her father (whom Grant liked fine) and his own grandfather (whom he didn't) for breakfast.

Grant was proven right a moment later when Papa said a bit begrudgingly, "All right … just don't be surprised if at least one of them doesn't come down. My father doesn't tend to eat breakfast, and when he does, it tends to be light. Besides, I distinctly remember putting in a kitchenette in the garage apartment." Something Grant remembered as well, but Papa turned toward the door. As he did, a wicked grin appeared on Miss Meg's face as she stealthily removed the dish towel from its place atop the dry dishes … unfolded it … and flicked it at Papa. That drew a yelp from Papa, and 'ew' from Angel, and an outright cackle from Miss Meg. Papa actually blushed and growled at Miss Meg, "Not in front of the children, Margreet!"

Even Grant knew that those were fighting words, and Miss Meg glowered at him, as she brandished the dish towel in her hand a second time. Papa muttered something under his breath about discretion being the better part of valor, but it was .then that there were a series of knocks at the door: four raps, followed by two … a rhythm Grant came to recognize whenever Miss Dory came to visit. she rapped four times and then two times. Grant, Angel and the two adults stopped what they were doing, and then Miss Meg nodded to Angel. She did that when they were all in the same room, Grant noticed, and Papa said it was to prevent everyone from rushing to the front door (Angel muttered to Grant that it was also to keep Papa from scaring whoever was at the door. Grant wanted to protest, but he really couldn't.). The girl practically bounced to answer the knocks, and Papa murmured to Grant to pick up where Angel left off.

Grant didn't even have the chance to start, because only seconds later, Angel called, "Mom! It's Dory, and a really cute guy, and a kid." As Grant knew, 'kid' was anyone younger than Angel herself, so that didn't really tell him anything. Miss Meg and Papa shared a look, then, as one, all three joined Angel at the front door (Grant taking up position behind both Papa and Miss Meg), to find Miss Dory and … was that … ? Grant looked up at his father, who was smiling faintly at the man (the really 'cute' guy Angel mentioned, probably). Papa breathed, "Kid?" Miss Meg gently pulled Angel to one side as Papa asked, "What … what are you doing here?" Grant looked from his papa to the strange man (who was smiling mischievously), back to Papa, who repeated, now with a warning tone that Grant recognized, "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?" the man asked, grinning broadly. Grant noticed the other boy almost laugh at Papa's expression, and the strange man went on, now laughing outright, "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," Miss Meg invited. Grant blinked …. this was his uncle Oliver? He heard Papa talk about him! The three accepted Miss Meg's offer, everyone except Miss Dory removing their boots and standing in the house in their sock feet. Miss Meg went on, "Can I get anyone anything … coffee, hot tea, hot chocolate?" The other boy, 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," Mr. Queen (Uncle Oliver) responded with a smirk. Grant still wasn't sure what to call this man, but in the privacy of his heart, he thought of him as his uncle. Papa made it official a few minutes later.

He looked at the boy, saying, "In that case … why don't you call me 'Uncle Slade,' kiddo?" The other boy lit up at Papa's words, and Papa called, "Grant, come and meet your uncle and cousin." Grant slipped around Miss Meg, parking himself beside his father. He offered both his uncle Oliver and his new cousin a shy smile as Papa said quietly, "William, this is my son, Grant." His hands came to rest on Grant's shoulders, and the youngster reached out hesitantly to the American boy. For his own part, William didn't hesitate to take his hand.

Miss Dory said softly, "I'll be back later to pick you both up. Meg … Angel. Take care of these foolish boys." Grant looked up at Miss Meg, who merely smiled as Angel returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, which William happily accepted. Miss Meg began shooing everyone into the living room, and Grant briefly wondered about his grandfather and Angel's, if Miss Meg still needed someone to go retrieve them. However, Miss Dory added, "I'll let the two old spies know that it's time for breakfast."

Grant saw his father and Miss Meg exchange a quick glance, and Uncle Oliver just frowned … an expression that turned to outright shock a moment later when Miss Dory went on, sounding almost wistful, "You know, Shado would be so proud of you both right now … her boys found a way back to each other. No, she wouldn't be proud of you … she is proud of you." And with those words, Miss Dory left the house, heedless of the apparent bombshell she just dropped on Grant's father and uncle.

Everyone stood frozen for several moments, until Uncle Oliver said in a very small voice, "Slade, did she just …?" Papa nodded, his eyes still on the front door through which Miss Dory just exited. Miss Meg and Angel just looked at each other, their expressions as lost as Grant felt. Who was Shado? Why would she be proud of Papa and Uncle Oliver? And could they finally have breakfast? However, it seemed Uncle Oliver wasn't finished yet, for he added, "And just who are these old spies she mentioned?"

Miss Meg actually snickered at that, and Papa answered with a sigh, "My father and Meg's. Have a seat in the kitchen, kid … we haven't eaten yet, and there's a lot I have to tell you, preferably before they get downstairs." Grant found himself being nudged into the kitchen, where he found his cinnamon toast on a plate, with his orange juice alongside. He took his place at the table, whilst his father and Miss Meg located some (an) additional seat for Uncle Oliver, in the form of her favorite kitchen stool, which also had a small footstool, before jumping up onto the kitchen counter. Grant hid a smile behind his orange juice at his father's exasperated expression, since he knew how much Papa hated when Miss Meg did that.

And it was Miss Meg who explained, "What Slade's trying to tell you, M … I mean, Oliver, is that his father and mine have been on again, off again partners in crime for the last thirty years or so, based on what my father told me last night. Ever since I first got to know my father, I believed that he worked with museums, traveling with exhibits to help set them up in new cities. It wasn't until yesterday that I learned he actually works as a liaison with several intelligence agencies, including ASIS, which is how he met Gideon Wilson. He also …" Miss Meg swallowed hard, blinking back tears, but forced herself to continue, "He also founded the Jackals as a semi-independent agency … going the places ASIS or the CIA couldn't go. He … he was on a mission when my husband was killed in the line of duty, and couldn't make it back in time for the funeral, and wanted to find some way to prevent … well, he wanted to protect people. Unfortunately, the Jackals ended up perverting that purpose."

Papa picked up, adding, "Normally, we wouldn't have told you about this right away, kid, but since Dory dropped that particular bombshell, it was best that you had all the information at your disposal, before our fathers arrive." Uncle Oliver nodded, obviously processing this information. Grant turned his own attention to his breakfast, to the taste of the cinnamon on his tongue, allowing the voices of the adults (plus Angel) to wash over him.

At least until his grandfather and Angel's threw open the front door … which had all of the adults around Grant on their feet, each of them reaching for some sort of weapon. Rephrase that … his own grandfather threw open the front door, with Angel's grandfather right behind him, looking annoyed. Then again, Grant was starting to realize that was what Angel called his default state where Grant's own grandfather was concerned. Grant didn't blame him … as far as he was concerned, his grandfather tended to screw things up.

He would learn later that day just how right he was, when his grandfather hurt his father, yet again.

TBC