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"Beep, beep, beep," rang Oliver's bedside alarm, its quiet chime echoing around the nearly vacant room known as his old apartment's alcove. He groaned slightly in annoyance, stuffing the flat feather pillow over his scruffy face. Never would a man be less of a morning person than Oliver Queen, though Barry Allen's tardiness tended to show an outward opposition to such an accusation.

I swear for supposedly being the "fastest man alive," he seems to get later each day...

"Beep, beep, beep," hummed the alarm clock once again, shaking the vigilante out of his inner thoughts. He flipped over the pale gray comforter that protected his body, letting the musty apartment air fill his weary lungs with shy delight. A single stream of dull yellow light shone in through the curtain-covered bedroom window, the man's gaze slowly turning towards the illuminated back of a dusty picture frame that lay on top of a small, nearby nightstand.

Oliver lazily saddled to the other side of the bed, carefully picking up the framed photograph.

His lightly bruised fingertips touched its glass front with a sort of delicacy that he reserved for only those who were closest to him. With every second that the picture laid unseen by his ocean blue eyes, his heart beat louder than the racing cars that occupied the busy streets of early morning Star City.

He breathed a silent breath, his worn eyes gently observing the photo's image that lay before him. Inside the tiny, chestnut wooden frame lay two small figures. There was a taller woman with sparkling blonde hair that sat gracefully upon her lean shoulders, a casual pink sweater covering her beautiful body. He could practically smell the vivacious perfume that followed her every skip of optimism.

Wrapped underneath her comforting right arm was a much younger boy whose brown eyes seemed to pierce Oliver's soul quicker than a speeding bullet. His small frame was outfitted in a simple navy blue, long sleeve shirt with stripes of bumblebee yellow running across his lower chest.

Despite the figures looking nothing alike, both of their faces wore a smile that warmed every depth of the hero's heart. Something only one other person on earth could fully accomplish.

I still remember the exact moment I took that photo. We were on this long, if kinda cheesy, family trip where we visited all the city's museums. Honestly, that number reaches much higher than you'd expect considering the general poll of people here. You know, people like me. I couldn't get that kid to laugh for the life of me that entire week, unless you count laughing at me, but that not really the same thing. But miraculously on the last day, I successfully told him that Star Wars joke that Felicity totally did not script me on and he genuinely laughed. And trust me, nothing feels nicer than seeing your kid smile because of something you did, especially a kid as special as he is.

Oliver felt a single tear spill down his expressionless face as he instinctively placed the object back in its rightful place, his hand brushing longingly against the pretty woman's face. He threw on a plain black t-shirt and jeans with a familiar sense of absentmindedness. It was as if every movement sent an unnoticed sting of pain throughout his muscular body, making his chest compress roughly under the immense pressure.

Not a day goes by, not a single day that I don't miss you having you here with me, Felicity Smoak.

The man quickly decided it would be in all of his family's best interest if he just focused on making his kids a wonderful Christmas-themed breakfast. Because of course, the Monitor had to complicate things even more for Oliver by bringing his adult children back from the future possible weeks before his death, right?

Laurel was right when she said that he's a cosmic level jerk...

And there was nothing that he wanted more than to spend his dying days with his family but it wasn't about what he needed to do as a father right now, it was about the decisions he needed to make as a hero. And that choice was already made for him.

My family will survive this incoming Crisis, no matter what I have to sacrifice to do it.

But just as his highly intelligent (I don't care if he's twelve or thirty) old son told him, "having someone you love in your life will never be a mistake, regardless of how much time they're there for. Especially not when that person's as great as you are, dad. And Mia will realize that, too. You just have to give her some time to process the whole time-travel dead father thing."

"I just really hope you're right about this, William," thought Oliver as he quietly pulled a large silver mixing bowl off the open-faced wooden cabinet shelf. He wanted the whole early breakfast buffet idea to be a sweet surprise which meant he had to be as stealthy as humanly possible which luckily, wasn't too hard considering he was quite literally a trained assassin who could fight League ninjas with his eyes closed. Still, after everything his kids had been through, the last thing they needed was to be woken up to the sound of crashing dishes.

I'm not sure how this William would react, but I think I have a pretty clear idea on what Mia would do and let's just say... it wouldn't be pretty.

The strong vigilante spent the next forty-five minutes utterly annihilating the refrigerator's entire storage of edible food, its empty shelves practically moaning in frustration at such a rash decision. He cracked freshly bought eggs (thank you, John) over the stove, letting their sticky yolks sizzle against his pan's metallic surface before adding just a tiny hint of blue and yellow food dye in their centers for a touch of Hanukkah. He fried and stacked enough green pancakes to feed a whole army of angry mayoral employees (the only way a true Smoak-Queen knows how to eat).

He wasn't entirely sure what his daughter's favorite foods were so, he decided it would be best if he made both regular and vegan bacon for his kids. Oliver took a few steps back from the enormous feast that lay upon the built-in long bar table, panting slightly from his most recent cooking venture.

Everything looked delicious, most especially the whip cream-topped green pancakes in the center of the table, though something still felt like it was missing.

"What was the one thing Felicity always did with William and baby Mia's food in the morning?" Thought Oliver as he rubbed his scruffy chin, contemplatively.

"The fruit," whispered Oliver, snapping his fingers in victory before dashing back off towards the refrigerator to collect the materials for his final touches on what he hoped could be the perfect first breakfast with his future kids.

I'm going to pretend like that first meal where we all sat in silence doesn't count into the ranking.

Ten Minutes Later...

Oliver heard the lazy footsteps of his sleepy children, their sock-covered feet slipping slightly on the polished tile ground (eh, I had a little extra time to do some housework).

"Oh my God, what is that indescribably delicious smell?" Asked William, his right arm suddenly shooting out in front of his little sister in excitement.

"I don't know what the smell is, but what I do know is that if you don't remove your hand right now, you'll lose it," warned Mia, only half-jokingly as she crossed her arms, agitatedly.

"Right... sorry," quickly apologized William as he pulled his arm close to his chest, taking a step or two back from Mia.

Mia rolled her eyes, a small smile hidden beneath her strn expression as both kids walked into the living room.

It's sweet how close they are, even though they've only known each other for a few months...unfortunately.

Oliver casually pretended to pull his head out of the refrigerator, his eyes immediately focusing their full attention on his two wonderful kids. Even from just their appearances, you could tell they were guests in the small household, yet warm love shone from their tired faces as they looked at one another.

Both brother and sister wore borrowed clothing from their parents, respectively. William was dressed in a thin forest green flannel shirt of his father's matched subtly with a pair of worn navy jeans. He really did look like a younger version of Oliver, minus the very obvious difference in the men's hair colors.

Mia on the other hand, was practically a spitting image of her mother. She sported a red velvet crop top sweater that reminded Oliver of the cozy nights he and Felicity used to spend together every Sunday when their work was finished. Covering her slim legs was an old pair of ripped black jeans the young woman had specifically picked out of the selection her father had given her a few days prior. Her light blonde wavy hair brushed against her broad shoulders, drawing attention to her always curious eyes.

She is all the best parts of her mother and more.

"This is what I like to call..." started Oliver before being abruptly cut off by his enthusiastic son.

"Your breakfast of Christmas Color! And you even added in mom's special touch with our names in berries which was always simultaneously sweet and a little overkill," finished William, a thoughtful smile covering his face.

Oliver couldn't help but smile back at his son, a silent appreciation of the young man's remembrance blanketing his father's body.

I always tried to make holidays extra special for him that year, I just didn't really know how good of a job I was doing... until now.

"Is this another one of your supposedly "amazing" food hacks that everybody loves?" Questioned Mia, her left eyebrow raised, skeptically.

She was definitely the harder of the two Smoak-Queen kids to please, but after all, The Green Arrow enjoyed a good challenge.

"Yes," nodded Oliver, a proud grin slowly overcoming the smile he'd once worn as he watched his children sit down on the two metal bar stools that stood opposite the kitchen.

"Sure, dad, but I'll be the true judge of how good this actually tastes," scoffed Mia as Oliver tossed her a recently washed fork.

That's what they all try to say until they've eaten my food and then, it's all over.

After only about fifteen minutes, the entire table laden with lavious hard work seemed to disappear into thin air.

"Am I the only one who feels like they just ate a banquet worth of breakfast food, and then some?" Commented William, jokingly as he helped his sister clear the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, definitely not just you," reassured Mia as she pretended to dramatically wobble from side to side, one hand held loosely against her stomach.

Oliver just laughed, a knowing grin covering his happy face.

"Just to be clear, this has nothing to do with how good your food was, I just spent a lot of time eating chips and beer instead of real food since I became a vigilante," stated Mia clearly, her eyes having fallen on her father's victorious face.

Oliver just shrugged, putting his hands upward, agreeingly as he wiped the remaining glomps of white snow whipped cream over the messy tabletop.

"You at least believe me, right, Willy?" Confirmed Mia, her cutest puppy dog eyes shining brightly on her innocent face as her eyes met her brother's.

Winning was not a subject taken lightly in the Smoak-Queen household, especially when "certain" archers were involved.

She must get that from Felicity considering how much she always cares about competing...probably.

"Um..." stuttered William, biting down on his lower lip as he looked from daughter to father.

Their stares of intensity towards his answer seemed unmatched by even the deadliest of Slade's slashing swords.

"Oh, look, I think Conner's texting me. I should probably go look at that," exclaimed William as he clumsily pulled his phone out of his jeans' back pocket, a nervous smile threatening to consume his otherwise sweet face.

"Aha, sure..." smirked Mia, rolling her emerald green eyes playfully as she and Oliver shared a mutual look of annoyance.

"It's probably better this way considering how we both would've taken losing," whispered Oliver before kissing his daughter gently on the top of the head.

"Maybe for you because I don't lose," bragged Mia, proudly flipping her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder as she disappeared back into her bedroom.

Is that what I sound like after every sparring match with John? Meh, I'm sure it's not that bad.

"Wow, that was convenient timing," thought William aloud, his eyes still trained on his phone.

He didn't need to know his adult son for more than a day to be able to tell that he shared a similar enthusiasm for technology to his mother.

"What?" Asked Oliver, curiously as he leaned up against the countertop's edge with a sort of calm composure.

"Well, Conner actually did text me this morning and it looks like Mr. Diggle and Aunt Dinah found that missing file you were looking for on Slade's whereabouts," explained William as he tucked his phone back away in his pocket.

"Really? What did it say?" Asked Oliver, tamed anticipation rising within his muscular chest.

He and his old island friend hadn't always had the best track record when it came to helping one another (you stab a guy through the eye one time and suddenly you're not trustworthy!), but now that they had mostly patched things up, he only hoped the best for Slade's family. A mutual respect both men actually shared for one another.

"He was seen last week in Russia by a few bystanders that noted him as a "really large, brooding man who looked like he'd seen better days." Though, I'm not entirely sure whether or not it's a very fair assumption when people like the Bratva run organizations there. No offense, dad," rambled William, his words flying by so fast that Oliver was struggling to even listen. More or less, get in a single word.

"None taken, William," nodded Oliver, encouragingly.

"Thanks, but does that by any chance mean that we can do that plan you were talking about when we first locked up Grant yesterday?" Asked William, excitedly.

Nothing seemed to make his son happier than helping others, a quality Oliver would always admire in the young man.

"As long as we check in with John and make sure Argus can handle it then, yes," replied Oliver, a small half-smile covering his face.

"Yes! It's literally like the perfect early December Christmas and or Hanukkah project!" stated William, clapping his hands together, happily.

"Yeah, I'm just hoping your sister will have the same type of excitement," admitted Oliver, sighing worriedly.

"Look, dad, we've all been through a lot this last year but she really does want to spend time with you, even if she

won't physically say the words aloud," reassured William, jokingly.

"Yeah, I know that. I just want us to have at least a somewhat normal holiday," explained Oliver, sadly.

"Normal's not really our thing, but regarding the whole good holiday thing, pretty sure you just being here, or rather, us being here is going to make this a pretty good season," smiled William, thankfully.

"Thanks, William. I really needed that," smiled Oliver back, placing a comforting hand on his son's right shoulder.

Well, it looks like someone else might be getting an early Christmas gift this year, Slade.