Dedicated to @NewYorkDoll, @CamrynKissel, and NoraXSWest-AllenFam for their amazing feedback on my arrowverse work :)

"Okay, even I have to admit, that was a lot," panted Mia as she raced behind a cracked stone wall, William only seconds behind her.

They had successfully made it a few rooms away from their dimly-lit prison cell, though not without some rather intense struggle. And even then, they hadn't made too much distance compared to where the door stood a story below.

Maybe there's a window or something that we can jump out of instead of having to try to fight our way to the front door. Although if these thugs are anything like the last ones, they'll be pretty easy to get past, anyways.

But that was the problem because she preferred to have at least a little bit of a challenge.

Though, she highly doubted that her overprotective brother had the same opinion on the matter.

He's just a little too much like mom, sometimes. Especially when it comes to babying me.

William nodded in agreement to Mia's previous comment, panting just as heavily as his sister was, both siblings hearing furious footsteps closing in on their temporary position of safety. Had he been tirelessly fighting off the hired thugs just like his expert Archer of a sister a few seconds prior? No, but being beaten by an angry Deathstroke can take a lot out of anyone, especially a guy who's only ever really been physically injured by the person standing beside him.

In my defense, he was the one who walked in during Conner and I's training. It's not my fault that a knife happened to cut his hand, even if it did happen to be after he made that joke about us being a couple...

"Any ideas?" Asked Mia, hopefully as she attempted to reload the one remaining pistol she still held in her hands (the other having been used as a projectile to knock out one of the goons who'd tried to shoot her during their first confrontation with their enemies).

"Um, just a second to think," replied William, his mind trying to push past a concussion mixed with their enemies' yells of fury.

Is he seriously going to make me be the one who gives him some motivational speech? Wow, he really doesn't give me enough credit for being such an amazing sister to him.

"Hey, look at me," sighed Mia as she awkwardly maneuvered her left hand onto his lean shoulder, the comfort of his skin sending an oddly soft sensation rippling up her arm.

Yep, she would always hate having emotional conversations, especially if she actually cared about the person's feelings.

"What? Did you think of something?" Inquired William, his voice clearly fighting back the anxiety building in his bones faster than a flash flood.

Mia just stared blankly at her brother, having no desire to beat around the bush if she was going to have to do another stupid emotional talk in the same day.

Everyone always says that the longer ones work better but, I think that the quicker you get to the point, the quicker you can move on.

Or in her case, ignore the problem until it explodes in her face, a habit she'd no doubt gotten from the notorious closed off vigilante known as her father.

Bang! Rang a thundering bullet as it crashed through the wall beside where Mia's right shoulder was previously resting, William immediately yanking her out of its blast range.

"If you come out with your hands up, maybe we won't kill you both before handing you over to the bosses," shouted a Russian accented man, his voice reverberating around the facility.

His whole body wrecked of expired beer and sweat, a mixture that had evidently decided to waft its way towards Mia.

Ugh... That almost smells worse than Rene's overly fake masculine body spray. Almost.

Neither Smoak-Queen responded, using the silence as their only advantage of stealth.

"Fine, the hard way it is," concluded the thug as he quietly gestured for his men to follow him into the next room.

Good thing this place is so huge or we would've long since died by now.

"Thanks," nodded Mia, quietly, her heart still beating loudly against her chest from the impact's sound.

Yeah, quicker is definitely better.

"Anytime," William half-smiled back at her, both siblings taking a quick second to breath before Mia once again tried her hand at helping him.

If he's always doing it for me then, it can't be that hard to do.

"Look, Willy, I need you to focus long enough for us to think of a way out of here," started Mia, looking into her brother's soft brown eyes with a silent sort of desperation.

There was another loud crash! As the enemies tossed a heavy shelving unit at the wall only one door away, their search for the sibling duo approaching an end.

"I know, that's just a lot easier said than done," reasoned William as they quickly jumped to the wall opposite of them, their feet hitting against the ground as softly as they could possibly manage.

But let's just be honest, neither of them were exactly A+ ballerinas growing up.

I could've been, just didn't feel like letting mom see me in a pink tutu.

"Yeah, I get the whole distracted, nervous wreck thing you currently have going on, but now's not really the time to be giving up," scoffed Mia, her tone coming across as much more accusatory than originally intended.

William said nothing, his eyes seemingly glued to his black sneakers.

Great, now I hurt his feelings. This day just keeps getting better and better...

"Okay, I know that you're the more sensitive one of the two of us or whatever, but if something as stupid as what I just said offended you then..." started Mia angrily before William quickly cut her off.

"No, it's nothing like that. Well, yes, it was kinda hurtful, but you actually gave me an idea," smiled William, that similar hint of nerdy excitement carrying his whispering voice.

Mia crossed her arms, waiting expectantly to hear her brother's plan.

See, my insults are so good that they actually inspire people.

"Okay, so remember how you told me to stop making those useless shoelace explosives because, in your words, I'm such a klutzy that I'll just get myself killed?" Rambled William, his quiet words practically blasting through Mia's ears louder than the literal gun fire that surrounded their location.

"Yeah, the things I told you were no better than spare parts," replied Mia, raising her eyebrows in suspicion as she watched his gaze fall on his brightly colored red shoelaces.

So red means danger when it comes to tech geeks' inventions, too. Good to know.

"Well... I kinda sorta, didn't get rid of them," confessed William, a nervous smile covering his face.

"And how did they not explode when you and dad were blown up?" Questioned Mia, confusedly.

She may not have been a genius like him, but it was just common logic that two grenades in the same room could never equal something good.

Depending on how those explosives are being used, of course.

"To put it simply, they have activation programs that were specifically designed to only detonate if their user, as in someone on the team's, fingerprint initiated the timer," explained William, a small hint of proudness creeping into his voice.

"Doesn't that seem a little overkill?" Remarked Mia, plainly as she crossed her arms, judgingly.

"If you think technology that took me over two weeks to even make usable is overkill, then yes, it's overkill," replied William, energetically.

Mia rolled her eyes, playfully.

"Honestly, I'm actually kinda surprised that my overly strict older brother made something dangerous," said Mia sarcastically, though she was a lot more glad for his plan than she'd like to admit.

"I guess you're just rubbing off on me," joked William, happily.

Which is never a bad thing with how awesome of a person I am.

Their enemies' footsteps were now only mere seconds from reaching their location (at least, by Mia's estimation anyway).

"Okay, just give them to me," stated Mia, hurriedly as she gestured towards his shoes.

William nodded, quickly untying the laces that secured the black sneakers to his sore feet before carefully handing them over to his sister.

"Okay, when you're ready, just pull the plastic ends off of the laces. That'll give us a five second time window to..." explained William, though Mia mostly tuned out the rest of his overly explanatory sentence.

"Come and get us, you idiots!" Shouted Mia as she jumped out from behind cover.

The men whipped out their various forms of lethal weapons, aiming their guns at the foolish hero who stood across from them.

"Yeah, just like I said earlier today, this is gonna be fun," whispered Mia, a slight smile forming on her face as she grabbed the two red plastic pieces and ripped them clean off of the small, yet intricately designed laces, immediately tossing them into the fray that lay just on the other side of the wall.

"Everyone down!" The leader of the men screamed before sprinting into the closest room that could provide any semblance of protection.

That'll be sure to shut them up.

"And I guess you're throwing them now," sighed William, agitatedly as Mia swiftly ducked back behind cover.

But his frustration was short-lasted, for the explosion was so powerful that it blew both siblings straight off their feet and through the concrete wall across from them, their backs denting what used to be a metal medical table.

"I almost forgot what a pleasant effect getting blown up has on you. It really never gets old," thought Mia, only half-sarcastically as she pushed herself onto her wobbling lean legs.

Her knees almost buckled beneath her body as she grabbed onto the table's corner for support, her mind slightly foggy from the impact of the explosion.

"That's what you call a work-in-progress explosive?" Questioned Mia, watching as her brother unsuccessfully attempted to push himself onto his own feet using only his left hand.

"Yeah, I might need to tone down the controlled burning ratio just a little bit," reasoned William, roughly biting down on his lower lip.

It sometimes amazed her how even after getting blown up, he still found a way to throw science mumbo-jumbo at their problem.

Mia rolled her eyes, grabbing William's uninjured arm and helping him back onto even ground. Or whatever two half-way conscious people considered even ground.

It's honestly exhausting having to live with such an annoyingly smart guy for a brother.

"Thanks," smiled William as he blinked several times to regain any form of the vision he had left.

"You can thank me once we get out of here," stated Mia as she gestured towards the foreign room's door, its rusted metal hinges dangling off their frame like a teetering ornament about to crash to the concrete.

"Sounds fair," agreed William as both siblings slowly stepped over the debris, their sore feet throbbing as they moved.

But through their pounding headaches neither hero saw a certain Deathstroke's sharp blade jut towards their necks, its cold metal freezing their throats within a second's touch.

"Don't move," commanded Grant, his determined eyes seemingly testing Mia's confidence.

Does he really think he's just going to tell me what to do and I'll listen to him?

"And what if we say no?" Retorted Mia, fearlessly staring back into the villain's eyes.

If he wanted to play chicken, he chose the wrong hero to do it with.

Grant laughed shortly at her futile attempt to show confidence, William cringing slightly at the oddly discomforting sound.

"You won't live long enough to find out," spat Grant, viciously.

And before either Smoak-Queen could react, the powerful Deathstroke grabbed the Archer by the throat, harshly pinning her up against the wall. Mia quickly felt the air rushing from her lungs as her feet furiously swung back and forth, trying their very best to kick her aggressor in the chest without success.

Dad was right when he said that these guys are tough. Of course, not too tough for me, though...

"She didn't do anything to hurt you, just let her go," protested William, quickly as his left hand fiddled quietly inside his according jean pocket.

Finally, his ugly Christmas sweater had come in handy for it slyly covered his only chance at saving his sister.

Mia wanted nothing more than to argue that she was fine, but she didn't exactly have the breath to do so at the moment.

"She didn't, but your dad did," declared Grant as his grip tightened around her neck.

Okay, now would be a really great time for you to do something, Willy...

"Our dad, he hurt your father and I'm really sorry for that, but hurting his daughter won't solve your problems," reasoned William, his voice at a cautiously low level.

He was honestly masking his utter desperation to save his sister much better than you'd expect something as typically nervous as him to.

"The only thing that'll solve my problems is to see Oliver Queen suffer the same fate as my father," hissed Grant, Mia still feebly struggling against his powerful grasp.

I really need to ask Aunt Laurel to teach me that double-kick trick once we escape this place.

Though deep down, her hope was quickly dwindling as to whether or not she'd actually be living to see the rest of the night, more or less, training the next day.

"You'll never be able to kill him," breathed Mia, determination ringing throughout her weak voice as she looked her enemy straight in the eyes.

"I wouldn't bet my money on that," growled Grant, confidently.

But out of the corner of his eye, he saw William's finger move towards a tiny toy buzzer's tip.

No, Willy...

Grant furiously threw Mia aside, letting her sweatered body slide against the slick concrete before he angrily punched William right in the bruised side of the face, knocking him onto ground, unconscious.

"No, why did you..." started Mia before she was once again lifted off the ground by The Deathstroke, only this time the suffocating sensation that sparked within her lungs immediately took full control.

"I'm done playing your games, little girl," stated Grant as he watched the life slowly leaving the young woman's body.

This was it. She was going to die. Without making her mother proud. Without keeping her brother safe. Without her father.

I never even got to tell him how much I love him...

Her vision was now completely blurred, though through the immensely strong ringing in her ears she still heard the distinct noise of an arrow soaring through the air.

"Aaaagggghhhh!" She heard Grant scream as he abruptly dropped her onto the cold, hard ground.

"Never touch my daughter again, you son of a bitch," she heard a familiar, strongly toned voice command, before a hand rested on top of her right shoulder.

It felt soft, but not in the same way as William's. No, this man's touch didn't just feel comforting, it felt soothing. As if all the pain that currently raced through her every bone had spread between their souls, letting their hearts beat only in rhythm to one another's.

C'mon, Mia, you have to open your eyes!

"Mia, can you hear me? Mia, are you alright?!" Asked a worried Oliver as his face slowly came into view, her eyes finally regaining a less blurry sight.

"Dad," she breathed, thankfully.

And without wasting another moment, she wrapped her cut-up arms around her father, letting his full embrace warm her every thought.

And even though both Archers had to pull away a few seconds later, Mia wanted nothing more to stay in her father's arms for the rest of that moment, that day, her whole life.

I need him. I always have. And I always will.

"Your son's still breathing," announced Slade as he removed his cobalt blue-leathered hand from William's neck.

Oliver nodded, breathing a deep sigh of relief at the news of which Mia copied ever so slightly.

I'm not going to lose him, either of them. Not again.

"Did you really think one punch from your traitor of a friend was going to take me down, dad?!" Scoffed Grant through blood-stained gritted teeth as he unsheathed his shining silver katana.

"No, son, but it did stop you from making a terrible mistake," stated Slade, a sword also gripped in his own right hand.

It was the very first time Grant had ever called Slade, "dad," and even Mia could tell beneath the plain expression that covered his face how devastated he was to hear it with such spite.

Is that the way dad felt when I told him that he was nothing more than some hero who abandoned us?

Even thinking about the words again brought a sort of unacknowledged sadness to her heart.

"Just stay here with your brother, Mia," stated Oliver, sternly.

"But dad I can..." started Mia, though she had no choice but to stop when she saw the look of urging on her father's face.

"Stay put, got it," nodded Mia, begrudgingly rolling her eyes.

I never honestly realized how much us Smoak-Queens like to guilt each other into staying safe until now. I kinda feel bad for blaming mom so much, actually.

Oliver gave Mia's shoulder one last gentle squeeze before pushing himself back onto his feet, the black-framed bow still held tightly in his right hand.

"What mistake are you referring to exactly, dad?" Questioned Grant, the slightest hint of curiosity hidden within his harsh voice.

"Taking a life that's not owed," responded Slade, remorsefully.

Mia didn't know why, but she felt like there was something in particular he was referencing, maybe even something involving his ex-rivalry with Oliver?

"And what? That's supposed to make me feel better?! To stop me from killing all four of you?!" Shouted Grant, the point of his sword angled directly at Mia's chest, only this time at least she was several inches from its tip.

Mia didn't flinch at the villain's words, one hand now pressed against her brother's chest with a sort of instinctive need to protect him.

"Don't even think about it," snapped Oliver, an arrow held within his bow in case of the slightest threat that endangered his children as he stepped in front of the blade.

Oliver and Slade's eyes met, a certain sense of mutual agreement covering their faces as they stood beside one another.

"Then, I guess you've chosen your side," muttered Grant before he swung his katana high above his head, fiery rage coursing through his veins.

Of course, now is when dad decides to bench me from our holiday trip...

The booming sound of metal clashing against metal bounced around the second story's halls, both Deathstrokes' swords continuously colliding with such a force that went unmatched by any combatants Mia had ever seen. Though, she had barely observed the greatest marksman in the world known as Oliver Queen in action.

C'mon, dad, you've got this.

"I know you can do better than that," taunted Grant as he swiftly ducked beneath Slade's swinging sword.

Slade threw a harsh punch at his opponent, making Grant suddenly jump to the right where he stumbled directly into Oliver's extended fist.

"How's that for doing better?" Countered Oliver as he watched the younger fighter trying to regain his footing with a lack of grace, so to speak.

Mia silently smirked to herself, loving nothing more than seeing her father in his natural element.

"You can still come back from this, Grant," reasoned Slade, his voice low so as to show understanding towards his estranged son.

"Don't you get it, dad?! I don't want to stop!" Yelled Grant, his leg quickly slamming into his father's stomach.

The stronger fighter only skidded back a few inches, but it was still a feat considering the massive disparity in skill between father and son.

Not that there's THAT much of a difference between dad and I. Just a little.

Slade cracked his own neck, feeling an immense frustration filling his bones as he heard his son's taunts growing.

"You want to see a fight, son. I'll give you a fight," stated Slade firmly as he unsheathed a second sword.

Mia could clearly tell that the less experienced Deathstroke was destined to miserably lose the moment both of their fathers teamed up. Every one of Oliver's punches was followed by a kick or slash from Slade, barely any blows missing their intended target. Grant tried his very best to counter their attacks, but they were too fast, and too strong to keep up with.

And sooner or later, he was face-first on the ground, several bruises and cuts lining his damaged armor.

Now that is what I call cool!

"Just stay down," warned Oliver, his bow still held at the ready as Slade stood on the other side of his son, his mounting frustration slowly returning to regret.

Grant groaned angrily as he looked away from his father, contempt carrying his every breath.

Oliver nodded a look of confirmation at his ally, taking extra caution to ensure that he had his son contained before rejoining his kids across the room.

"Okay, even I have to admit, that was a little cool," stated Mia, reluctantly.

She didn't like to say that other people were good at fighting too (or at the very least, better than she was), but for some reason, if she had to pick someone to share that glorious first place title with, she was glad that it was her father.

"Yeah? Well, maybe I can teach you some of those moves after we get back to the base," suggested Oliver as he ran his gloved fingers over the bruise on the side of William's face, seemingly taking in every excruciating detail of injury that even may have been considered painful to his son.

And now dad knows why I don't like taking Willy on missions.

"I guess that doesn't sound like it would be awful," admitted Mia, her eyes only briefly aligning with her father's before diverting back to the musty wall opposite them.

Oliver smiled to himself, finally knowing the feeling of what Mia's true excitement looked like. And it was even better than he'd first hoped.

But just as the Smoak-Queens were about to get up, Mia heard the quietest of noises moving towards the three Smoak-Queens' positions, their heavy boots scuffing ever so gently against the concrete ground.

"Dad, move!" Shouted Mia as she quickly jumped in front of Oliver, using one of his quiver's arrows to block the incoming sword that was about to stab into his unsuspecting back, the arrow breaking in half on impact.

That was too close.

Oliver immediately got back onto his feet, standing shoulder to shoulder with his daughter as they looked into Joe Wilson's eyes.

Slade turned around from Grant, making sure to keep one foot on his youngest son's chest to eliminate escape as he turned his full attention to Joe.

"This is never going to end until one of us kills each other, dad," remarked Joe plainly, his panting only getting heavier with each second that ticked by.

Clearly, the day's prior fights had taken a toll on the man.

Mia and Oliver didn't move, looks of determination covering both father and daughter's faces.

"Which is why I'm surrendering to your hand to die," conceded Joe as he stepped towards his father, letting his sword fall to the ground before dropping down onto his knees.

Streams of maroon blood were smeared down both sides of his face, his highly equipped armor covered in large knife and or arrow scratches. His knuckles were practically bruised red at this point, an expression of exhaustion covering his face. In a way, Mia almost felt bad for him.

Almost being the key word.

"Why, because you already had fun trying to kill my brother," snapped Mia, anger fueling her every word.

Oliver extended his arm outward so as to tell his daughter to stay put.

"Fine, I'll give him five seconds to explain. And even that seems too generous," conceded Mia before standing back next to her father.

Anyone who hurts Willy deserves to be locked up.

Slade nodded thankfully at Oliver, though his eyes remained on Joe the entire time.

"That's funny actually, because your brother, he's the one who showed me what I've been doing wrong," started Joe, his lungs releasing a deep sigh as he continued to kneel down in front of his father.

"What're you talking about?" Asked Oliver as he cautiously listened to the young Deathstroke's every word.

"All this time I've blamed you and Queen for everything bad that's happened in my life, father. It was the reason I used to justify becoming the man I am now. But your son, he told me what it really means to care about your family in a way that I never could see before. And now that I know that, I realize that the one who needs to die isn't either of you, it's me," explained Joe, his every word ringing with more pain than the last.

"Look at me, Joe," urged Slade as he released Grant from his hold, kneeling down on one knee in front of his first born.

Joe just kept his eyes locked onto the ground as he finally listened to his father's words.

"I will never kill you, Joe. No matter what monster I've become. And if you'll allow me to, I can help you move on from the mistakes you made because of me," stated Slade as he placed one hand on Joe's cheek, lifting his son's face up to eye level.

"I just, I just don't know how," admitted Joe, a single tear dripping onto his father's outstretched hand.

For the first time since she'd met him, Mia felt like she was seeing Joe for who Slade knew he really was. A broken, but misunderstood man who just wanted to be like his father. A path she could have so easily fallen upon herself.

"Neither did I, but you will, trust me," reassured Slade before pulling his son into a tight embrace.

Neither had they hugged one another since Slade returned after his siege of Star City. And to everyone's surprise, Grant stopped struggling to escape. No, he didn't hug them too, but his face showed a similar expression to his older brother's. His anger slowly dissipating like the gentle snowflakes that touched the snowy Russian ground.

"I think it's finally time we all go home," Oliver whispered as he carefully lifted his son into his arms, supporting his unconscious body with a silent mixture of concern and happiness.

And as they turned to leave, in that singular moment, Mia allowed herself to let her whole body succumb to the warm feeling her mother had always called her father's love.

Author's Note: Sorry about the swear word used in this story, it's not usually something I prefer to use in my writing, though I thought it added another layer of emotion to the scene because it's the same words he said to Adrian Chase during the Lian Yu fight where he saved William.