A/N: Hello all, here we are, at the end of our journey. I really hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it. If this inspires you to do something (say, write your own smarmy Bart and Ollie piece), I will gladly beta, read, and/or review that sucker for all it's worth. Just sayin'! ;)

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I entered the hospital room, my blonde hair sticking up in weird directions after sleeping in the waiting room for the fourth night in a row. The moment visiting hours were allowed again, bright and early at 5:30am, I was first in line to check in with the nurse and faithfully position myself by my adopted son's bed.

The backlash of missing so many days away from the office was really the least of my concerns, as I spent most of the time talking to the unconscious and feverish Bart about what had happened in the last few days and how I just wanted him to get better.

"We're fairly concerned about the amount of blood loss and injuries he's sustained. Can you give us any indication on how he got these?" The nurse had asked me on that fateful day when I came rushing into the hospital to see Bart.

I shook my head, my mind plagued with guilt as I answered, "Honestly, I don't know. I need to ask him the same thing. When can I see him?"

"He just got out of surgery. His body is going to need awhile to repair the damage so he will remain sedated while in the ICU. You can see him when we move him to a regular floor, but even then, he may not regain consciousness until later."

My eyes dropped to the floor with severe disappointment written on it, my fist clenched in frustration. I thought actually being the kid's father would give me the right to at the very least see him. -Apparently not, which only served to anger me more. These damn hospital restrictions were going to be the death of me! I had to see Bart!

I tried to reason with the nurse, but she would have none of it. Her stance was firm on hospital policy and patients not being disturbed while post-op. After running out of options, I did the only thing I could do: Wait until 2am when the nightly nurses were doing their rounds, quick-claw up to Bart's window, break in as noiselessly as possible dressed as the Green Arrow, and see how he was doing.

In theory, it wasn't a terrible plan, but after startling the nurse, getting Bart moved to a maximum security ward, and having a news report released on the Green Arrow being a hospital-prowling pervert, I started to reconsider my actions a little.

Still, for those few minutes after I had broken in, I had seen a sight that would forever be painfully seared into my brain: Bart, lying lifelessly on the bed, with nothing but a thin sheet and plenty of wires strewn across his small, skinny frame. His face was pale, almost glowing, in the darkness of the room and he had one huge tube coming out of his throat. My eyes had immediately filled with tears at the sight, and I wondered how I could be so terrible a guardian that I couldn't protect him from the horrific wrongs that befell him.

Now, four days later, my need to see Bart well again had burgeoned to a fiery desire that I couldn't repress. If he wasn't better soon, I was going to get my top doctors on the case to find out what was wrong with him. I mean, my God, if you're going to be a billionaire, might as well put your money to a good cause.

And right now, Bart was my only cause.

My cause for hope, my cause for family, and my cause for living. Bart had changed so much about my life in the last ten months I had adopted him, and there weren't enough words in the world to express how much I appreciated him for it. He saved me from the days I was sure I would be swallowed by my wealth, my job, the League. Bart gave me a true picture of the ultimate superhero: loyal, carefree, strong, and stubborn.

The edges of my mouth lifted at just the remembrance of Bart's obstinate attitude, but they fell as quickly as they had lifted as I recalled the lifeless picture that would meet me as I opened the hard wooden door to his hospital room.

Lightly, I nudged the door open.

Nothing.

Or should I say nobody. The bed in the room was empty! I could hear my heart pounding in my chest as my eyes searched the room for my charge. They froze on the sliding glass door that connected to the balcony of the hospital room. I registered the back of Bart's head looking over the edge of the balcony before he turned to me with tear-filled eyes. Time seemed to stop. We both looked at each other for five seconds, though it felt like an eternity, each of us in disbelief for what we were seeing.

I was the first to take action though as my long legs carried me to the sliding door, which I flung open with great force. I dropped to a desperate kneel so I was a bit below eye-level in front of Bart, whose eyes were wide and watery as he slowly reached up his hand to touch my face with uncertainty –Acting as if I were a figment of his imagination. I took his hand in mine, feeling how cold his fingers were and carefully watched his face.

Bart's chest seemed to rise and fall with such intensity I was afraid he was having a panic attack, but then I saw his face crumble and the tears fall and I knew he was just sobbing. Still, it had the same effect of breaking my heart all the same.

"I-I thought you a-abandoned m-me…" Bart stuttered, partly because he was now bawling helplessly and shivering from the winter chill in the air.

I just shook my head, totally speechless. How could he ever think I would do that? Hadn't I proved to him enough that I would always be there for him, that I would always be his father no matter what he did? Instead of conveying my regret and love to him in words, I pulled him down into a hug so fierce that I ended up falling onto the floor with Bart in my lap. I didn't care about sitting on the floor against the cold bars of the balcony though. As long as I had him in my arms, I felt an amazing weight being lifted off my shoulders.

"Never," I whispered into Bart's ear as he continued to noisily weep into my shoulder. "I love you too much to ever leave you. I'm so sorry I didn't make it clearer to you. I love you so much, Bart, so much…"

"I love you too, Ollie." Bart said quietly and genuinely, warming my insides and face with those five little words. He pulled a little out of my embrace to look into my red-rimmed eyes seriously. "I think you do a great job of being a dad."

I don't know how the kid did it, but sometimes he could always think up the right words to day. Granted, most of the time, he said a lot of bad words, but this time, nothing could have made me feel better or more fulfilled than hearing my son say that to me. It contradicted everything that I had been tearing me apart these past few weeks. I smiled at him, "Even without the parenting books?"

Bart's serious face turned into a watery eyed grin and he let out a short laugh. "Especially without the books. Dr. Phil is a quack anyway, you should know."

I laughed, pulling Bart closer to land a kiss on his forehead, which he blushed about, unaccustomed to the signs of affection.

We stayed like that for I don't know how long, each simply enjoying the others' presence. Bart sniffed and shuddered as a particularly icy wind blew over us though, and I tightened my hold around him, just a bit as I was still conscious of his newish injuries.

"What are you doing out here anyway, crazy?" my voice rumbled, but I got no reply. I panicked a little as I looked down, but I calmed a bit as I saw that Bart had just fallen asleep in my arms, his head rolling lightly against my wrinkled green dress shirt. I smiled and gathered him further into my arms before precariously picking him up. I carried him in one hand and pushed his drug distributor machine in the other as I reentered the hospital room.

After parking the machine to one side of the bed, I took hold of Bart with two hands before gently laying him onto the starchy sheets and mattress. I searched the cupboards from the side of his headboard until I found more blankets to cover him with. His face seemed to relax a little with the renewed warmth, sending a wave of relief over me. I was afraid he had gotten too chilled from being outside for so long.

I was so happy he was awake and that we could finally go back to being a family again.

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2 Months Later

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I shuddered a little as I walked stiffly through the door of the massive house. The winter cold outside was getting brutal as it drew closer and closer to the Christmas holiday. Surprisingly, Ollie was right at the door to greet me. In his hands he carried three tweed suitcases down the winding staircase and dropped them with a plop to the floor in front of me.

I frowned deeply at his actions and turned my face from Oliver towards the front door, hoping he didn't see the flash of sadness in my eyes. Honestly, after the year we had just gone through together, I thought it wouldn't be too much to ask for us to spend a holiday together without him going out of town.

I sighed and began pulling off my coat but let out a small protest as Ollie pushed it right back onto my shoulders. I turned to look up at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Our flight leaves in an hour. We gotta go now."

I shook my head, not understanding. Our flight? "Wha?" I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

Ollie rolled his eyes, but a smile pulled at his lips so I knew he wasn't as exasperated with my naivety as he let on. "Don't you ever pay attention when I'm telling you to put plans on your calendar?"

I feigned thinking about the question for a moment before answering, "Um, no. How does one acquire such a contraption?"

Oliver let out a small chuckle, rapping me on the head lightly with his knuckle. He bent down to lift one of the bags that had appeared light in his hold, but once he rested it in my arms, it suddenly seemed incredibly heavy. "We're going to Grandma and Grandpa's for Christmas."

Suddenly his intentions clicked. Sure I was happy that we would be spending the holiday together, but when I figured out where, I couldn't suppress the exaggerated groan escaping my lips. "Olllliiiieee, but whyyyy?" The Grandma and Grandpa in question were actually Ollie's grandparents. When Oliver adopted me, it seemed they adopted me as well, and sometimes, they took their roles as the spoiling, coddling grandparents a little too seriously for my liking…

"Ugh, I was wondering why I didn't hear your whining the first time I told you." Ollie muttered quietly but still loud enough for me to hear. Hmph. I resented him thinking I "whine." "Honestly, Bart, when we went to see them for the Fourth of July you said you had a great time."

"That was because I could forgive the fact that they took me to a petting zoo because of the awesome fireworks show. But if I have to endure another hour of babyish activities again, I'll probably have to take a quick trip to Rome just to make things interesting."

"I thought you were still recovering." A deep voice chimed into Ollie and my conversation. I turned to see Clark behind me, standing with a suitcase of his own in hand.

As happy as I was to see the man, I still had to glare at him for reminding Ollie once again of my physical condition. The blonde leader had forbade me from using my ability for about three months until my stitches and internal injuries fully healed. The scars were almost gone, but not totally. Still, it hadn't stopped me from the occasional dash to Chicago…

"Great, you're coming with us?" Ollie asked, happy to see one of his closest friends accompanying them on the trip to his quirky relatives' house.

Clark nodded, smirking, "Victor and AC convinced me. Said that I'd be right at home on their farm in Minnesota."

"Not only that, but we could also use your heat vision to keep us warm if the fire isn't hot enough!" Victor yelled out over the banister, and the three of us watched as both AC and Vic descended the stairs with duffels full of clothes as well.

"Looks like we're all set. Let's go." Ollie declared. I opened my mouth to protest some more, only to be drowned out by the gusting wind as Ollie ushered me out the door. Great! I had just gotten back from my friends' house and now I was leaving again. Between numerous hospital visits and school, I was starting to think I would never see the inside of our house again.

I stayed close to Oliver as we made our way to the taxi sitting curbside in front of the mansion. The snow had continued to fall from yesterday night and had left a biting wind in its wake. My face, probably the most exposed against the cold, frigid air, was pressed partly against the sleeve of Ollie's wool, black trench. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief as we neared the vehicle, a puff of white escaping my lips.

The driver, an older Indian man in a tan, bunched coat, nodded at us and opened the door to the sedan. The four of us piled into the back of the cramped cab, me mainly on Ollie's lap, as Clark rode shotgun. The heater was blowing loudly in the front seat, and I was glad to be in closest proximity to it.

I turned slightly to stare at Oliver.

"I don't see why," and I saw the tell-tale cringe as I spoke his four least favorite words. "We didn't just take our own car or our own plane to this place."

Ollie just ignored the question as a whole though, giving instructions to the driver for the airport. "Just enjoy yourself, Bart, like a normal kid."

I made a face at him and turned forward again, closing my eyes against the heat radiating into my skin. "Not a kid," I replied, almost by instinct.

Oliver laughed and pulled me backwards so I was resting my head against his shoulder. "Well, you're my kid."

I smiled at his commen, for once, not concerned about all the bigger problems with my life, just the thought that Ollie would always be the shoulder I could lean on.

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"Oh, Dearie, you're going to look cute as a button in this sweater I made you!" I watched from afar as Bart made a face at the knit atrocity my grandma presented him with. He at least had the manners to say thank you without further prodding but still held it at a safe arm's distance, as if it were going to attack him with its long sleeves.

I couldn't help the snort that escaped my throat as I took a sip from my wine glass, hoping it hid my amusement. I looked up to see Bart just giving me a fierce glare though, his expression saying, "I told you this would happen." I smiled at him, feigning innocence.

"C'mon, son, try it on," my grandpa encouraged with a wave of his hand. Apparently, he was enjoying the spectacle of his wife and "grandson" just as much as I was. The only one oblivious to Bart's absolute displeasure seemed to be my grandma, who couldn't see how everyone was taking a certain degree of pleasure from Bart's scowling expressions.

"Umm, I think I'll save that for later," Bart tried but my grandma instantly objected.

"Now, now, I just want to see if it fits. You've gotten so thin since that last time I saw you. Ollie, what have you been feeding the poor boy?" My grandma took a moment to glare at me critically and I suddenly felt very guilty, a fact that Bart appeared to take pleasure in as a smug grin spread across his face.

My guilt level dropped at the mischievous glint in Bart's eyes and I smirked, "Well, I guess you'll just have to fatten him up. Eh, Grams?"

She chortled, turning back to Bart, who quickly went back to glowering at me and the sweater.

"Come now, let's see how it looks. Don't make me get your father over here." My grandma said, and Bart finally conceded, more to get it over with then for the threat of having me intervene.

Clark walked over stabbing at the Christmas ham on his plate and watching the scene of Bart trying to pull the atrocious and bulky sweater over his head. The super man let out a snicker as Bart accidentally began sticking his head through the slot where his arm was supposed to go.

I glanced at Clark with a smile, studying his face for a moment. "Thanks," I said finally to which Clark replied by turning to me with a quizzical look in his eyes. I shrugged into the direction of where Bart sat opening his presents. "Thank for helping me out with him. Without you pointing out the obvious, I would never have seen Bart for what he truly is: a kid that needs guidance and protection. I totally overestimated him and almost missed a chance to have him become one of the biggest aspects of my life…"

Clark only smiled, turning his head back in the direction of where Bart sat, giving the sweater stretched over his chest a petulant frown. "Don't worry about it. I can't take all the credit, after all. I would never have imagined it working out like this, but I'm really glad it did."

I watched as Bart smiled a little at the way my Grandma complimented him. Even in the horrendous sweater, I could tell he was genuinely happy to be surrounded by his eccentric new grandparents. I would never have guessed it either, but the cure to most of Bart's problems had been a new look on the definition of family. I hadn't realized how lucky I was to be a part of it.

"Me too," I said with unadulterated sincerity. I pulled out my camera phone and took a snapshot of the apple of my eye. My son, my hero, Bart Allen.

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A/N: Aww, tears! So much smarm in this it hurts! Whelp, it's been a great ride with you all and I thank you dearly for your support through the good times (fast updates) and bad (two month hiatuses). You patience and support have truly made this all possible. Please, leave me some final parting words?

Stay Amazing! Please Review!