Dedicated to @NewYorkDoll, @CamrynKissel, and NoraXSWest-AllenFam for their amazing support of my Arrowverse work! And merry Christmas Eve to everyone who celebrates :)

"Okay, I have to admit, that one hurt a little bit," thought William as he rolled over on the frozen cold tile ground of what was now confirmed to be a Russian prison cell.

At least, that's what Joe had said before he'd proceeded to beat him up several minutes earlier, though it's quite possible that his words had been jumbled around inside of William's head.

His whole body ached with stinging pain, bruises covering his arms and legs as he inhaled a harsh breath of air through his tight lungs. Nothing seemed to be apparently broken with the exception of his right wrist which The Deathstroke had unceremoniously crushed beneath his heavy-soled boot in a fit of anger when he'd first entered the room.

I think I know how dad's developed such a high pain tolerance if he really does have to deal with things like this on a normal basis...

"Now, who's having fun, huh?" Sneered Joe as he watched William struggling to get back onto his worn feet.

His mind burned with waves of fiery pain as he lay sprawled out on the tile ground, helplessly waiting for his captor's next blow.

"I know you won't be after my dad breaks free," panted William, fierce determination ringing through his weak voice.

Even through darkness, a Queen's spirit never breaks until the end. He learned that from the strongest willed person he knew. His father.

"Oh, that's right, you still think we have him captured here don't you?" Remarked Joe, sarcastically.

Taunting was most certainly not something that had been passed down to Joe from his father, though his harsh tone did closely resemble the older Deathstroke.

William slowly used his still functioning left hand to push himself into a sitting position, his eyes trained intently on Joe's next reaction.

Please still be alive, dad, we need you...

"Before you go getting all soft on me, I just wanna remind you that your dad's alive. Just currently helping me with a little side project," commented Joe, mysteriously.

Despite the ominous tone used by his enemy, William still breathed a breath of relief at the news about his father.

I don't even want to imagine what I'd do if someone hurt him because of us, because of me. If I wasn't so distracted trying to get in the middle of Mia and dad's argument, maybe I would've checked the security systems better and Joe and Grant would've never broken out of Argus' custody.

"But he'd be lucky if he makes it past the doorstep before I kill him and my father," declared Joe, confidently.

"How can you even say something like that?" Asked William, incredulously as he stared up at the Deathstroke.

Joe narrowed his eyes, judgingly as he twirled a knife between his fore and middle fingers.

"And what exactly are you referring to?" Retorted Joe, impatiently.

He liked to watch his prey stammer a little before going in for the kill, much in contrast to his brother's "quicker" methods.

"What I mean is how can you possibly want to kill your own father? Yeah, he's done some bad, okay terrible things, but at the end of the day, he's still your dad which means you're always going to need him in your life," stated William, his voice speaking with a combined might of determination and softness.

Somehow just saying his dad's name made him feel stronger, safer.

I guess that's just the effect he has on most people, especially the ones who love him as much as I do.

Joe just stared down at the man, his eyes seemingly searching his every thought like a dog sniffing out the Christmas turkey with a ferocity unmatched by any other.

"You're right, I do need my father," replied Joe as he slowly paced around the room, his knife balancing gently between his fingertips with each motion.

William let the room fall silent as he bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to subside some of the pain that emulated from his fractured right wrist.

C'mon, William, you just gotta stall for enough time to think of a way out of this...

"I was always one of those kids in school who was great at every subject, math was my favorite. Sports wasn't an issue either because I was lucky enough to inherit my father's athletic prowess, too. In fact, I was so good at baseball that I got to bat at every game," started Joe, a rare insecurity breaking through his hardened voice.

"We never lost a single game with a player like me, at least that's what the coach said. Which is why I got the brilliant idea one Friday morning to invite my dad to a game. Of course, mom showed up to every match to paint the large signs in the front row and scream my name. Honestly, she was too good for the rest of us Wilsons. And to my surprise, he actually said yes. No excuses about how busy he was flying off to save the world. No, he said to me, "It's about time we spent some good quality father-son time together," continued Joe, his voice growing lower as he did his best impression of Slade.

William said nothing, his eyes remaining locked on the Deathstroke as he quietly loosened the ropes around his wrists.

There's a lot of benefits to not being tied to a chair...

"Of course, being the idiotic ten year-old kid that I was, I actually believed him. And I waited on the bench for hours during the game for my hero of a father to show up for his son so all the other kids could see how cool he really was. But guess what happened?" Prompted Joe as he kneeled down next to William, oblivious to the man's quiet attempts at freedom.

"He didn't show up," finished William, sighing slightly at the thought.

The words seemed to come out of his mouth faster than he'd intended them to, letting a small sinking sensation of guilt drop to the pit of his stomach. He didn't just understand what Joe was saying, he'd once agreed with it.

I just wish I would've realized that mistake earlier. As in, you know, two decades earlier.

Joe nodded his head as he dropped down to his knees next to William, his knife still wobbling precariously in his cut-up hand.

Yeah, I'm not even going to try that.

"Yep, just like always he had some excuse about how he had to go on a very important mission to save the world or some other lie along that line. But that day actually taught me a very valuable lesson," reasoned Joe, thoughtfully.

William felt the ropes slowly start to loosen around his hands, the tips of his left hand's fingers no longer numb.

Okay, well that's a good start...

"That you can't trust anyone to be there for you. You have to learn to fend for yourself because otherwise, the beasts will just eat you alive," finished Joe, a sense of utter spite ringing throughout his every syllable as he leaned in close to William, his breath blowing against his face.

William's heart beat a million miles a minute as he quickly stopped moving, hoping that Joe hadn't seen his very slim idea of a so-called "plan."

"I used to feel the same way about my dad. I used to think that he didn't care about me enough to be there, that every duty in his life was more important than taking care of me, but that's not true. And it never was," reasoned William, sympathetically.

He was saying the words he was to try and distract Joe, yet a part of him knew that each and every one was true to how he'd felt both when he was younger and now.

"See, that's your problem! You're blinded by the obvious truth in front of you!" Shouted Joe, a look of pure rage covering his face.

William didn't say anything, fear quickly building within his chest.

"Your father, our fathers, they don't care about us! All they care about is using their kids as an excuse for a sob story to justify their mistakes," scoffed Joe, hatred coursing through his every muscle.

"That's not true," protested William as he suddenly sprung to his feet, the tight ropes yanking roughly against his wrists as he moved.

He wasn't really sure where such motivation had come from, only that he wouldn't let anyone insult his family.

They now stood face to face in front of one another, headstrong passion shining through both men's eyes.

"My dad has always tried to protect me. Everything he's done since the first moment he came into my life was to keep me safe, to make my life better. And he will always, always love me. And I'll always love him," stated William, devotion ringing throughout his every word.

I don't care what he does to me, defending my dad will always be worth it.

Joe said nothing, his anger only intensifying before he finally released a heavy fisted punch to the side of William's face, knocking him back onto the hard ground. William could already feel a dark bruise forming on the left side of his face as he blinked once or twice to see through the pain.

"You're pathetic," spat Joe, though there was a small hint of insecurity still lingering in his voice.

And just as the Christmas tales always speak of, in that moment, William did happen to witness a miracle far better than any stories can tell of.

A lean, blonde-haired figure jumped down from the grimy ceiling's upper vent, landing directly upon the Deathstroke's shoulders with as much force as they could muster.

"Ahhh!" yelled Joe as he hit the ground with a loud thud! His head slamming against the ground roughly enough to temporarily knock him unconscious.

"Don't you ever touch my brother again," threatened Mia, firmly.

"Mia, you saved me! Wait, what are you doing here? You were supposed to be getting to safety!" Rambled William as he watched his little sister rush over to him and untie the several ropes that binded her brother to the prison room's stone wall.

"Yeah, well, maybe I didn't wanna abandon you, okay?" Replied Mia before finally breaking the ropes apart.

Never had she wanted to see something unwrapped faster than those ropes, though her Christmas presents did come as a close second.

She really does care about me.

"I honestly don't know whether to thank you or be angry," joked William, flinching slightly as the familiar pain of his injured wrist coursed up his arm.

Yeah, that one is definitely going to leave a mark for a while.

"How about instead you just worry about yourself," stated Mia as she extended a gentle hand out to her older brother, pulling him onto his feet.

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea," nodded William as he carefully reached down and pulled two of the guns from Joe's holsters before handing them to Mia.

Never had he been more glad than now to have a trained superhero for a sister.

"Agreed," breathed Mia, her eyes secretly searching over William's whole body, taking note of every bruise that lined it.

"Trust me, it looks much worse than it actually is," reassured William, softly.

"I know, I just don't like seeing you hurt," scoffed Mia, quietly as she quickly shifted her gaze from him.

William smiled, that familiar warm feeling from the prior day filling his bones with just as much warmth as it had before.

"Don't even think about it," warned Mia as she loaded the two pistols, her gaze unmoving from the two weapons.

"Too late," smiled William as he used his left arm to pull his little sister into as tight of a hug as he could manage.

Mia groaned in agitation, though she didn't make any motions to try and stop him either.

Dad's right about how sweet the whole hugging family thing is.

William slowly pulled out of their sibling embrace, a happy smile still covering his bruised face.

"Good, now if you're done with all this mushy gushy stuff, I think it's time for me to go all Rambo on these idiots," announced Mia, grinning slightly as she cocked the guns at the door.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold up. So, you've seen Rambo, but not James Bond?" Questioned William, disbelievingly.

They are literally the best films in all of existence!

"No, I've seen James Bond, just didn't like it as much," shrugged Mia as both Smoak-Queens heard heavy footsteps moving towards the door.

"What, how can you possibly say that?" Asked William, laughing shortly.

The footsteps were getting closer with each second that ticked by, the young Archer's weapons still trained intently on the door.

"Okay, maybe this conversation should wait until after we're free," thought William aloud, his attention suddenly snapping back into place.

"You think?" Remarked Mia, rolling her eyes, agitatedly.

Okay, maybe I'm not always the responsible one of the two of us... just most of the time.

The doorknob started to jingle gently, its user's metal keys clicking into place.

"Time for round two," stated Mia, both guns tightly gripped in her hands as she aimed them steadily at the door.