Sursis Limada

The Title is two Arabic words. One which basically means 'leave him be' and the other is a request for a reprieve' By That Exact Word.

As he looked out to the approaching army, Balian wasn't sure how to feel. It was not his responsibility to protect Kerak, at least he owed the lord of that keep no duty. Reynald had been in part responsible for angering the Saracens enough to attack the city in the first place. But before coming to the holy land Balian had been given a charge to be both fearless and just and to protect the people of this kingdom. It had been his father's dying wish and did not make allowances for who to save or defend. Besides, there were too many people fleeing into the city that would be run over by cavalry if he did not at least hold the enemy off. Almaric, his father's best man trotted to be right beside Balian.

“We cannot attack that, and live.” He observed placidly.

“True.” Balian agreed softly. “But there are too many out here who will die if we don't.”

“I'm with you Milord. On both counts.”

“That may be the last decision you ever make.” He answered with a small smile.

“We've a saying in these parts that a good death is its own reward. I want to test that theory.”

“...Then let's get this over with.”...In the minutes that followed Balian led a straight line charge against the enemy host. Both lines broke apart to attack either side of the other army. It was a fight almost completely on horseback for Balian until a spear went through the neck of his charge. He lept off just before the beast crashed to the ground. Somehow he'd managed to keep a tight hold on his sword and sliced the throat of the nearest dark-clad solider. He heard a cry, a challenge of some sort from his left and turned to face his attacker. He swung Godfrey's sword with all his might. For the second time since coming to the holy land he found himself with a challenging fighter. Not only had this man given defiance and singled him for combat, he seemed just as skilled as the Saracen Balian had fought just after the shipwreck. He didn't have time to lose himself in his memories however. Twisting his wrist he lifted his sword to the height of his opponents head. In one stroke he sliced the soldier's face.

Rather, he cut the mans cheek. The wound could not have been serious but the solider staggered back as though something had knocked the breath out of his lungs. Balian knocked the sword out of his opponents hand. In a few moments his own blade was at the Saracen's heart.

“Sursis” The man stated plainly.

“Give me a reason.” Balian said testily. At that moment he heard a cry from another Saracen solider. The man's eyes were almost frenzied. “Lays hu” The first warrior barked. Balian could not understand what the command had been, but the cavalry soldier immediately turned to fight another opponent. For a moment everything seemed silent around Balian, including the man in front of him.

The man made a few statements in Arabic, words that spread through his army like flames. Balian reckoned the instructions had been similar to the 'cease fire' order he'd given his own troops. When both messages had been carried out, Balian stood and faced the other officer directly.

“Who, which side has even won this day?” Balian inquired.

“This day is not over yet. I am certain the armies of Jerusalem and of my lord Saladin (Sa-la-ho-deen) are on their way. But this field is yours. I have no reluctance about that.”

“I honestly don't...” Balian began. His words died in his throat when the man put his arms straight out in front of him, palms facing upward. Recognition and near-joy washed over Balian's heart. He knew this man. Why he had failed to see it before didn't seem to matter, compared to meeting up with him again.

Almost as soon as he'd arrived in the desert, he'd been 'greeted' by a Saracen lord and his attendant. The lord had challenged him for possession of the horse he'd rescued from his shipwreck. Initially the man had charged Balian while remaining on his horse. On foot he'd barely stood a chance. It wasn't long into the 'skirmish' Balian declared himself the Baron of Ibelin and demanded a fair fight. After the claim was translated by his attendant, the lord obliged. A fair fight was not only deserved, it was expected. Balian won the skirmish easily. The blood from the final wound had gotten all over the servant's horse. An instant later the man was flat on his back in the sand. Walking up the stranger Balian noticed he had a young, handsome face, and strangely showed no sign of distress. He reached his hands out, with his palms up.

“I understand.” Balian responded. “It's not needful, but I understand. Get up.”

The stranger did so. It was only after he found a pack of dates and seeds, shoving several handfuls into his mouth, that he spoke again. “You have taken it very well I have killed your master.” The man didn't answer verbally, only gave him a thoroughly perplexed look. “Why are you not upset?” Balian clarified.

“We are taught nothing happens to those who believe unless Allah has made it so. I have no reason to regret my master is now in paradise. Although I could wish he had not left so suddenly.”

“I believe I understand. We can't stay out here. Take me to Jerusalem? I don't know the way.”

“I will bring you.” The man said, easily.

“How long though? I mean the journey, how far are we away from Jerusalem?”

“We should be there by nightfall.” Came the instant, soft reply.

The assertion was perfect. It was almost dusk when they trotted their horses close to the walls of the Holy City. Balian had kept side by side with his companion riding this far, but pulled himself just barely ahead of the stranger as they drew close. It was a gesture the man apparently understood as he slowed his steed and lowered his head slightly. A palm tree stood not far from the David Gate. It was a good place to rest. Balian drank a gulp of water and offered it to the stranger; an offer the man politely declined. Balian had remounted his horse at trotted several paces to the gate before he realized he was traveling alone.

“What is the matter?” Balian asked, looking back with a concerned expression.

“If it's all-right, I'll put a cloak around my face.” Came the cryptic reply.

“That's fine. But that's not what I mean.” Balian said shortly.

“Please, let it wait until we are safe, and a good way inside.”

“...All-right.”

The city of children and soldiers that was Jerusalem sprawled out before them. After passing some pottery stalls and more than a few fruit and herb sellers, Balian stopped in front of a water trough. The stranger dismount and patted the neck of the steed he'd been riding. After rummaging around in his sack he found a carrot stub to offer the beast.

“...Either you hide your feelings well or your people are not as passionate as we are led to believe.” Balian said suddenly. The stranger looked ready to smile. “I meant to explain my last question. I don't know much about life here but it IS strange to me...I don't even know your name?”

“I am called 'Nassir'...It means 'champion' or 'supporter'. What do you intend to do with me?”

“I can't ask you to follow me.” Balian replied thoughtlessly. “I go to the mound at Gethsemane. I am Godfrey's son, the baron of Ibelin, yet I'm a stranger here. I don't know what following me would mean for you. Will you be all-right on your own?”

The shock on Nassir's face was considerable. “I...yes. Your style makes sense now. Your fighting style I mean. It was unlike anything taught here. That last move in particular. I admit, I do not understand why...” His words failed him completely.

“Why I refuse to take you with me against your will as a slave, a prisoner or some such mess? In the village I'm from...I was not a slave but I had no other status that meant anything. I will not use a title I'm not sure I earned to make anyone feel inferior. Go in peace...What was the name of the man I killed?”

“His name was Mummad-al-Fais.” Nassir answered easily, mounting his own horse, and smiling.

“Please believe me...I hope he is in paradise now.” Balian offered simply.

“Thank you for your kindness.” The man answered. He raised his hand, palm up, and rode away.

“This explains a lot.” Balian said simply. It was not a joke, though Nassir smiled softly.

Almaric walked up and stood aside Balian. “I don't mean to tempt providence but, what has happened?”

“More to the point, what happens now?” Balian asked of Nassir. The man did not verbally respond. He gazed at Balian with intense, almost piercing eyes. “...I guess we wait and find out.” Balian suggested.

Saladin and King Baldwin of Jerusalem met in the middle of the field. They stood on their horses, not too far away at Balian's left. When the parley broke, Saladin rode his horse to greet Nassir.

The sultan dismounted quickly and walked straight up to his subordinate. Nassir placed his hand across his chest, with his fingers close to his shoulder and made a bow.

“One would expect greater losses from a battle such as this.” Saladin said in Arabic.

“I owe my freedom if not my life to this man.” Nassir replied. “I have for some time. Once I realized the commander I was fighting here, was the man who'd set me free...” He paused his words a moment, twisted his wrist and pointed to the cut on his cheek. “I do not see how I could have done otherwise.”

“Who is this man?” Saladin inquired, clearly interested.

“Balian of Ibelin, the son of Godfrey, and his heir.”

Saladin bowed his head a moment, sorrow for Godfrey's passing. “I did not know he had a son.”

“When I had Mummad al-Fais challenge who I thought was nothing but a lost traveler, the fight was less than fair until the stranger declared himself a lord. Mummad al-Fais lost his life in the skirmish. I was asked to take the lord to Jerusalem, once there, HE,” Nassir indicated Balian with his hand and with his eyes. “asked me to go my own way in peace. I can only assume Godfrey has passed his sense of justice and honor on to his children. And I must do the same.”

There was enough power in the last few words that, though he could not understand them, Balian lifted his head and stared with wonder at Nassir. 'I better ask him about that later...If I get the chance.” He thought.

“There will be no battle today. And I hope not in our lifetime. Will you let me take the others back?”

“If you refer to Nassir's soldiers, I will not keep them from you. I only hope God himself will make some great good come from this day. Beyond not leading us into pointless war.”

Saladin glanced at his friend before looking at Balian. “That is a thought we all share. Peace be upon you.” The Saracen king spoke a phrase in Arabic, remounted his horse and rode away.

Balian stared at Nassir, who stood motionless beside him. “Should you not follow him?”

Nassir stared at him with wide eyes. “If I have any sense of faith and honor, no!” Balian's jaw dropped. “You must see I offered a truce because I owed you my freedom. The hope and expectation I have is not just from that mercy. It is the work and will of our kings and leaders that the peace we have maintained these six years remains, and that is because of you. It is the same sense of justice and honor you showed when we first met. If you'll have me, I'll not leave your side.”

Balian seemed torn between embarrassment and elation. “What is the Arabic word for 'friend'?” He asked plainly. Nassir didn't seem to understand the question. “I do want you by my side. But only if you are truly by my side, not walking behind me. Do you understand?” Nassir dropped his head and raised it again. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable. It's just..Back home I was always told 'God moves in mysterious ways'. It seemed like just another way to tell us we had no idea what God was like or what he would have us do. I think I understand better now. He brought us together that day. No matter how it came about, He wanted us to meet, so something could change. You asked for a reprieve by that word instead of 'grace' or 'mercy'. I never had the chance to tell you what I sought here in the Holy Land. I won't search so hard after today but...if there is anything more...If our ideas of God and of other people our anything alike...”

Nassir cupped his hand over his own mouth. And when he'd pulled it back he was smiling broadly. “I would be a fool to think our meeting again and as equals was anything but the will of Allah. I never knew others were taught this. Our word for friend is 'Sajiq'. Since you seem to prefer it, I'll try to be more a friend than a servant. I would prefer it also. I would be happy if I could follow you, no matter what that meant.” He caught his breath and looked around, almost nervously. “I realize how absurd that must have sounded. But I've searched for a new way to live all of my life; I didn't care the hardship or strangeness. And I would be hard-pressed to find a MORE different life.”

When Ashes turn to Nectar

 Nikita is on deaths door. Elana and Nikita are of similar empathic races. They are the most open-minded and human looking aliens anyone at the D.E.O. have ever met. Which is why it made sense to everyone that Elana could easily 'sync up' with Nikita and bring her back from the brink. Elana explains what is needful to bring her back and why she can't do it. 

"It would require someone both compatible and in sync with her to pull her back from death. I'm compatible; I'm not in sync!" She looks around and takes it by a different handle. "It would require someone who has been with her for at least six years day in day out and is on the same wavelength as her. I'm on the same wave-length. But she and I are practically strangers. In other words, despite the fact that we agree with each-other on 95% of everything, we've never actually spent enough time together to recognize each-other. And in this case, it has to be someone who is BOTH."

"Could I do it?" J'onn asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
"I...I believe so." Elana replied thoughtfully. "The two of you have always been so in-step...and you've known her longer than anyone."

Several days later Nikita is at her apartment, watching a Cinderella musical when J'onn knocks on her door. She waves him in, finishes whatever she was whispering to herself about and  invites him to sit down with her and watch the movie. The instant he sits down, she hurriedly stands up.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"What are you drinking?"

"It's a kind of seltzer, apparently mildly alcoholic." J'onn give her a 'why do you say it like that' look. "I've never known anything that is not alcoholic to calm both my nerves and my stomach like this. Here, let me pour you a glass." She pours him more of the seltzer into a glass identical to her own. "Chet na-she Hezikiah Nest-Za Ki." She says raising her glass in a toast. She brings the glass up to the side of her face before drinking. "Alah Ka-tiya Kian-em."
 A traditional toast in her own language which translates loosely as "To life friends and family...To God whoever that may be." 
J'onn actually blushes. "I'm sorry I, wasn't sure you recognized me."
"I know what is familiar to me J'onn." She replied with a small laugh. "Although I have to admit I'm not always sure why. Why does Jeremiah act like he's afraid of me?"
"It's a caution stemming from concern, not apprehension." J'onn said automatically. His face grew a look of regret. “You know how much we both care for you right?” Nikita nodded slowly. “I'm hoping you and I can talk about something...that we've been dancing around for a long time.”
Nikita sat herself down on her couch. "Yeah what is that about anyway? Seriously J'onn, what happened between us? I feel like apologizing to you for something. But I also feel like grabbing you by the collar and trying to shake some sense into you. Which makes no freaking sense!"
"I underestimated you and scared you off in the same stroke."
“J'onn I am asking as formally as I know, to be direct exact and forthright. It shouldn't be hard for you.”
“Do you recognize the name 'Hank Henshaw'?"
A dark look cast over Nikita's eyes. "Only that he was a jerk who took Jeremiah away from his family.  I didn't have anyone to miss me when he locked me away. He must be dead now, long dead because I try to picture him and all I see is you."
"That might be because I am wearing his face. Hank was...well I met you and Jeremiah for the first time when you both served under him. Your word for him was Creech-ta. It Fits."
"...It would have to; I wouldn't use it otherwise." Nikita said offhandedly.
"Something did happen between us. You said I was appropriately wearing Hank's face. That I reminded you of him. You were right. I stepped into Hank's shoes in a MAJOR way. His attitude, his bull-headedness, and quite possibly his arrogance. If there is one thing Jeremiah, you and I know about Henshaw  it's that we hated his tendency of jumping to the worst conclusions about someone who is practically a stranger, just because of their race. Which is exactly what I was doing and you rightly called me on it. But you didn't break faith with me over it.”
"You didn't know how unnervingly I hold to my own convictions?"
"I think you mean unswervingly, and no I didn't. But even that isn't all of it. For the last several months I've been keeping my distance from you...admiring you from a distance actually. You're a better human being than I ever realized. Which may sound ironic, but for us it's true." Nikita cocks her head sideways. "What?"
"Weird choice of word sequence is all. And you are a very deliberate person so I imagine it was meant to indicate something specific. It wasn't just for the sake of being different?"
"That was me acknowledging both that we know you're Zavallen and that we still call you a human being. For us it doesn't matter.” J'onn looked intently into Nikita's face with a warmth and admiration that would make you envy the recipient. “We've been working together, professionally but avoiding each-other in a way that...probably wasn't very comfortable for either of us. I've been trying to find a way to tell you that you were right. But something...uncertain was going on. There was some pain in your face I hadn't seen there before. And until I knew where it came from, and what part I had in putting it there, I didn't want to, 'stick my foot any father down my throat'."
" 'In your mouth', I believe is the proper expression. At least you're aware of what happened. And you're being honorable about it: Giving me space without playing the blame game. What I mean is you're being selfless. You're not demanding an apology or an explanation, but giving one. And you recognize the part you had to play in what happened between us. In my experience, that's pretty rare."
" 'In your experience'.” J'onn said thoughtfully. “It occurs to me I know very little about your life before I met you. Or at least, before you ended up here the first time.”

“I shall assume you mean the D.E.O.” J'onn nodded. “Well, there's not much to say. I spent 19 years on my home planet, 38 years in the Western Hemisphere of this one. 12 years living rough with the salt of the Earth in the geographic intersection of the world; Southwest Asia. I was learning Farsi and Arabic so I could speak as one of them. I came back to the United States, got captured as a criminal and treated as if I had been running away from justice or the law the entire time I'd lived on your planet. No one had noticed me so they assumed I had been hiding my presence. It was pretty messed up. After, I don't even know how long Jeremiah joined the D.E.O and life became bearable again. 5 years later...well I assume you know that part of the story."
J'onn nodded sagely. "You stood up for Jeremiah even when you wouldn't stand up for yourself. In light of that, Henshaw decided you could work for the DEO and make a difference, instead of living there as a prisoner in one of their cells. Wait...you were a prisoner for more than 5 years?"
"Of course!" Nikita said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Hank didn't take a particular interest in me until Jeremiah came. I only look back as far as when Jeremiah joined up because that's where our story, yours and mine I mean, even begins. But that's not the same thing. J'onn are you feeling alright?”

"...I need to sit down."

Anderson Becomes and Receives a Blessing

Lt. General Anderson was being shown around the D.E.O. by Hank Henshaw's second in command Nikita, who is a human-looking alien. She speaks with professionalism and restraint, but hesitates when talking about the director. That is, when she talks about how she first came to be part fo the D.E.O. her voice goes quiet before becoming present. Director Henshaw returns from a mission and the 3 of them go up to the briefing room. And talk for a few minutes before Anderson's face gets the unmistakable 'down to business' look of an officer wanting to burn away irrelevancies.

Lt. General Mitchell Anderson: Okay there is one thing that confuses me about this whole situation. And that's you, director.

Hank Henshaw: How do you mean, General?

Lt. General Anderson: Nikita speaks very highly of you, I couldn't get her to say a bad word about you if I tried. And the entire time she's been showing me around she's let me form my own opinions about literally everything, not trying to sell me on how good a job you're doing, which was a pretty good strategy by the way. It's clear her loyalty is to you first and the D.E.O. second.

Hank Henshaw: Why would that be confusing to you? She's served under me for years. At the very least we have a history together.

Nikita: It's confusing to him because he knows the rest of that history. I told him how we met, how I came to your attention. And about the day everything changed. He doesn't understand what you could have done to change my mind about you.

Lt. General Anderson: It's not just that. When you were talking to me about your time here, you spoke of Hank with sadness in your voice. You told me the only thing you really felt for him was pity. But you're not scared of him, you're loyal to him. And I can tell you genuinely believe in him, you'd have to be blind not to see it. So my question to you Director is, what changed?

Hank Henshaw: (In quite a different voice) I did General, literally.

Nikita: Sa-jen, no.

Hank Henshaw: Nikita, I appreciate you having my back, but I appreciate telling the truth a little more. Keeping my secret is one thing, but I'll not have you flat out lie for me. General, here's the truth as any of us know it. (He shape shifts into his natural green form). Two years ago the original Hank Henshaw led a mission to kill me. Nikita was part of that mission. As was an agent named Jeremiah Danvers. Nikita vouched for me, to Jeremiah. Or actually more the other way around. She did everything she could to keep Jeremiah safe. And that man died saving me from Henshaw. So when I found her I brought her back here, to the D.E.O...and she's served as an agent under my command ever since. My name is J'onn Jo'nzz.

(reaction shots, looks of confusion and resignation until Anderson basically asks 'okay, what now)

J'onn Jo'nzz: Listen to me General. I'll surrender myself on one condition, that Nikita stays as she is. Don't discipline her for having a sense of honor.

Lt. General Anderson: (In a hard tone) I don't see why she should get off. She knew what she was doing and contrary to your assertions she outright lied for you. If she's a free individual, she had a free choice. One you ironically gave her. Believe me, there will be an investigation into this. And it will begin with her.

J'onn Jo'nzz: She was following my orders; she's done nothing wrong! (getting himself under control) General, you know Henshaw kept her here as a prisoner for years before deciding she should serve under him. She didn't have a choice back then. I gave her a choice when I asked her to stay. And she chose to keep my secret and help me serve with, well I honestly think I have done a good job here with what this place is supposed to be. But regardless of what I did with my name, and if it justifies my deception, I will NOT see her punished for being loyal to a friend, who happens to be her superior officer. She sees this as paying a debt, to Jeremiah if not to myself. Please.

Lt. General Anderson: Thank you for proving the kind of man you are J'onn Jo'nzz.

J'onn looked confused. Then smiled faintly. “That was a test, to see where my priorities stood?”

“I wanted to know if you would stand up for yourself or for her. If you were...If you reciprocated the trust and loyalty Nikita clearly has for you. Don't worry, I'm not about to haul into detention as a traitor. But this deception cannot stand any longer.”
J'onn Jo'nzz: I don't understand, what's the alternative?

Nikita: That you remain as director but admit who you are to the public. That way you are not viewed as a liar and will never fall under the suspicion of being a spy or some other kind of enemy. The deception has to end. Your time as Hank Henshaw can finally come to an end. But your tenure as the Director of the D.E.O. does not have to. I can stop lying for you and can be recognized as the man you truly are.  Being genetically engineered but never coming clean, one is a liar as well as an abomination. Being a wizard in a world where magic is outlawed. the only thing worse than having magic, was that Emrys had lied about it all those years. To give an example closer to home, if anyone ever figures out who Superman really is, he'd be the better for it if he actually told them himself rather than being found out. And you are no different than him in that regard.

No one saw it at the time but General Anderson's face went white.

Scattered notes of Anderson, Superman, J'onn and Nikita

“J'onn, congratulations. It's good to know things really are changing for the better around here.” Superman said as he clasped J'onn's hand lightly.

“You should thank Nikita, she's the one who convinced me to accept it. And of course General Anderson for making me the offer.”

“Is he here, I'd like to thank him in person.”

Nikita walked up with General Anderson at her heels. “I am unfamiliar with protocol in these matters so I'll fall back on my own peoples customs of formal introductions. Superman, I would like to introduce you to Lt. General Mitchell Anderson. General Anderson, I'd like you to meet a friend I believe needs no introduction whatsoever, Superman.”

“General, it's a pleasure to meet you.” Superman said extending his right hand. Lt General Anderson looked flustered as he accepted it.

“It's good to...meet you too...Superman.”

“So how exactly did this happen?”

“The general came for an inspection of the D.E.O. and picked up on the fact that Nikita had a much higher opinion of me than she did of the actual Hank Henshaw. I offered to turn myself in. And instead they convinced me to step into the light.”

“Well that couldn't have been an easy challenge.”

“It actually wasn't hard. Nikita made some pretty convincing arguments that I should stop living down to my own face, and that Director Jo'nzz had a much better ring than Director Henshaw.”

“I'm sorry, would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course General.” Nikita said simply.

“Of course General, you would know all this anyway.” Superman said simply.

“Thank you Superman.” General Anderson actually snapped to attention, gave a short, curt bow and excused himself.

“Okay that was weird.” Superman pondered aloud. “I wouldn't have expected a military general of all people to get unnerved around me.”

“Superman, I think 'unnerved' is an ironically appropriate choice of words.” Nikita said in a queer voice. “He's not tripping over himself; he's beating himself UP.”

“What possible reason could he have to do that, you just met.” J'onn intoned.

“I was beating myself up like that the first time you and I met, if you remember.”

“Good point.” J'onn said, smiling sadly.

“I'm going have to excuse myself and follow him. This is something...I don't have the words for.”

Nikita found Anderson standing against the back wall of the auditorium. “How do you know Superman?” She asked bluntly.

“It's pretty obvious I don't right? You heard him he just met me.”

“Exactly true. He just met you. It does not thrust both ways.” General Anderson looked at her, thunderstruck. “Your open-book nature makes it easier for me to read you. And what you feel for him is so close to the surface it might as well be painted on your skin.”

“Well I suppose that comes with the territory of being a low-level empath.”

“I don't read people, either telepathically or like a book. I sense the core or essence of most beings and the emotional vibrations coming off of them.”

“And what are your conclusions on the matter?” General Anderson asked stiffly.

“You are familiar with Superman but he doesn't know you. The only thing I can think is that you know a different version of him.”

Anderson's face instantly transformed. As if a lightning bolt had somehow vulcanized his skin into metal. “What do you know about that?” He asked in an urgent whisper.

“It's only a theory.” She responded easily. “My friend Winn told me about this idea in theoretical physics. 'Simultaneous realities in parallel places wherein our statuses are different but we have the same faces.' Does that sound right?”

“That sounds...weirdly accurate actually.”

“General, I can guess what happened between you and your Superman, at least in the broadest of strokes.” Anderson gave a 'go ahead' look with his eyes. “You didn't know he was anything but Superman. Whatever posting you had put you with him as completely as being director of the D.E.O. means J'onn has to deal with National City's highest profile alien. But you never trusted him...until it was...almost too late.” She thinks for a second. “Wait, were you the director of the D.E.O. on your Earth?”

“We didn't have one. The only aliens known to exist are Kryptonians. And I...screwed up badly. It took landing on a world with a red sun where the D.o.D. Had been taken over for me to realize how wrong I was. I'm pretty sure I died in that place. Then I woke up here, on this Earth.”

“You weren't here seeking redemption but someone decided to give it to you.” Nikita said quietly.

“That seems to be the only explanation. Do I infer correctly...” Anderson didn't let himself finish his question. “I guess it falls in the 'goes without saying' category at this point, that you won't tell anyone where I'm from.”

“Considering I don't understand where you're from, I'd say it works. Besides, we needed someone like you in our lives and the universe provided that. Someone who understood both the need and the weight of keeping secrets.”

“And was still a member of the military.”

“If it hadn't been you it might have been Colonel Harper. One of Hank Henshaw's closest mates. Do I need to elaborate on how much that would have sucked?”

“...No. No you do not.”

 “And that's how I came to serve at the D.E.O as a free individual. Under the real Hank Henshaw I was a prisoner, and then something like a ward of the state. I had a job to do and not much choice about whether, much less how to do it. J'onn made me an active agent of the D.E.O. I guess you would say he gave me a commission. But he is a little lax with me on smaller protocols.”

“Like wearing a DEO uniform.” General Anderson inferred.

“He knows what it would mean for me to wear one. You pleasantly surprise me." Anderson blushed.

An Unraveling Superman Story

It's fascinating how many layers of the story get pulled back like an onion here. For once the seamless transition of scenes, well exists but also scene 1 is shown before scene 2 and it fits perfectly. This is as much blowing my own horn about my skill at creating a story as I ever do.

Clark and Superman meet Hank and J'onn

A young man with shaggy dark hair and a very open face sat down in front of me. “Are you all-right?”

“Yes. Yes I believe so. I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble.”

“Okay why don't we start with proper introductions. My name is Clark Kent.”

“I am...called Nikita. It means 'hidden strength'.”

“Listen it's okay. You're safe here.”

“I don't think you are.” I replied slowly.

“I'm sorry, what?” A middle aged man with dark blonde curly hair said from the other side of the coffee table. He looked more concerned than anything else. But I could tell I had alarmed him.

“I didn't mean that as a threat sir. And I'm not radio-active or anything. But I am I..”

“You're in trouble.” Clark finished for me. “I kind of figured seeing you were unconscious and shaking when I found you.”

“I wasn't running away. I was...an asset. And my D.E.O. taskmaster WILL want me back.”

“D-E-- Department of Extra-normal Operations.” Clark reasoned out. “Does that mean you are, from the stars?”

“My home planet is 50 miles past nowhere and yes I am resident alien. Wait – KENT?”

“Uh__yeah. The name mean something to you?” The older man said with an utter lack of hostility in his voice. In face he seemed quite literally nothing except surprised.

“When I first came to Earth, the first...Okay backing up a minute. The name Hiram Kent is treasured for me. I never found him though.”

“You never met him, and yet you value him, why? Or more importantly, what went wrong?”

“First, please tell me, are you descendant from him?”

“Yeah, I guess that would come first.” Clark intoned. “Proper introductions should have included all of us anyway. Nikita, Johnathan Kent is my adopted father. He is Hiram's natural son.”

“Okay this is almost too cool to be real.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I believe in providence, or something like it. And if I didn't before I would start to believe in it right now. This is more awesome a thing than I could have anticipated. I have no way to convince you, but I will find a way to assure you it was not deliberate on my part. Breth-so-ree Ya Rey Fa Sool.”

“This may be a weird time to say it but is there a reason you didn't give your family name?”

“You mean other than the possible explanation that I disavowed my family name when I arrived on your planet. The very simple reason that I was never given my family's name. My own family that I lived with back home never claimed me. So no real family, no family name to inherit. That's how I came to your planet...Earth I mean.”

“...So you know I'm an alien, it reasons.”

“I know you're Kryptonian from the house of El.” I countered. Both men's necks snapped inward as if someone had dropped a very loud boulder in front of their faces. “It's what I started to explain before. The first friendly face I ever met on this planet was similarly foreign to it. He met me in the some caves to the west of here. As we waited for the rain to pass he told me of a small village, of a woman he had loved with all of his heart. That woman died and he was pursued for her murder. It was a complete accident but he didn't know how to explain it. He told em also of a good man named Hiram Kent who sheltered him from the police and helped him get safely away before the sun rose. This man, who I suppose I would call a friend if I met him again, identified himself to me as Jor-El. And I knew you had the powers a kryptonian derives from exposure to Earth's yellow sun, otherwise you could not have found me in the Canadian Rockies and carried me to the plains of Kansas in as little time as I hope has passed.”

“Did he stay long?” Clark asked me urgently. I shook my head.

“He said with the death of his love he had no reason to stay on this 'fractured planet' anymore. I think he meant by that 'hopelessly divided into millions of exceedingly different individuals'. I went a different direction from Smallville, geographically speaking. Almost 30 years later I was enfolded—that is the only word I have for it-- into the D.E.O. And I have served there for the past six years. Speaking of, I know you're there.” A dark skinned man with almost completely shorn locks and military aspect stepped forward.

“It's good to see you Nikita.” He said mildly.

“And you as well Director Henshaw.” I replied in just as temperate a tone.

“Found some new friends I see?”

“These people most kindly gave me shelter, yes. And yes I kind of like them. I take it...” I stopped myself, I had to be very careful not to break D.E.O protocol. Not just for the sake of Henshaw but so as not to confuse my hosts. “I have an idea but I have to ask for his own sake. Does this mean...Jeremiah?”

“I haven't seen him in three days. I have assume he was killed in action.”

“Johnathan and Clark Kent, Director Hank Henshaw of the Department of Extra-normal Operations.” I looked back at Hank. “You're the one who mentioned we had been on a mission. I'M not breaking protocol in confirming that.”

“Fair enough.”

I felt the eyes of literally everyone in the room focused on me. “Something else happened, didn't it?”

“You could say so, yes.” Hank said glumly. “But I'd prefer to tell you the rest of it back at headquarters.”

“Then let's get back to the base so we can talk about it.”

“She is not going anywhere.” Clark stated, taking an almost threatening step toward the director.

I shook my head at him. “Clark, while this is a free country I am a ward of his organization. You have no legal grounds to keep me. And that is what you would be doing you know. For the past 3 decades I have been a legal migrant of this country. It's my choice to make and I have made it. If you get in my way, you will be the one keeping me here against my will. . Unlike an old friend of mine, I never had a family to be torn from. The D.E.O. is sadly the closest thing to what a family should be that I can even remember. And in going back to it I am going home.”

We were within proverbial sight of the D.E.O. tower when I turned to face the Director. “It IS good to see you, J'onn.” Every muscle in his hands tensed on the wheel. “I'm an empath, I know you're not Hank Henshaw. You knew not only who Jeremiah was, but where we had been just under 3 days ago. And you do not feel even remotely like the asshole we left unconscious back there. I know Martians are shape-shifters. It was on a very short list of things that made sense.”

“And you're coming back with me? I mean you...won't betray me?”

“Am I going back in my cell? Are you planning on assuming the worst of every single powerful alien you ever meet? If Jeremiah was alive would you forcibly keep him in line?”

“Absolutely not. Of course not. And by NO means. In that order.”

“Then let's try a new way. Let's make the DEO. something Jeremiah would've chosen to be part of.”

“I'm glad we think alike.” Was all J'onn said aloud. But I could feel his spirits rise.

“And that's how I came to serve at the D.E.O as a free individual. Under the real Hank Henshaw I was a prisoner, and then something like a ward of the state. I had a job to do and not much choice about whether, much less how to do it. J'onn made me an active agent of the D.E.O. I guess you would say he gave me a commission. But he is a little lax with me on smaller protocols.”

“Like wearing a DEO uniform.” General Anderson inferred.

“He knows what it would mean for me to wear one. And you pleasantly surprise me." Anderson blushed at the vibrant praise.

Lt. General Anderson was being shown around the D.E.O. by Hank Henshaw's second in command Nikita, who is a human-looking alien. She speaks with professionalism and restraint, but hesitates when talking about the director. That is, when she talks about how she first came to be part fo the D.E.O. her voice goes quiet before becoming present. Director Henshaw returns from a mission. The three of them go up to the briefing room and talk for a few minutes before Anderson's face gets the unmistakable 'down to business' look of an officer wanting to burn away irrelevancies.

Lt. General Mitchell Anderson: Okay there is one thing that confuses me about this whole situation. And that's you, director.

Hank Henshaw: How do you mean, General?

Lt. General Anderson: Nikita speaks very highly of you, I couldn't get her to say a bad word about you if I tried. And the entire time she's been showing me around she's let me form my own opinions about literally everything, not trying to sell me on how good a job you're doing, which was a pretty good strategy by the way. It's clear her loyalty is to you first and the D.E.O. second.

Hank Henshaw: Why would that be confusing to you? She's served under me for years. At the very least we have a history together.

Nikita: It's confusing to him because he knows the rest of that history. I told him how we met, how I came to your attention. And about the day everything changed. He doesn't understand what you could have done to change my mind about you.

Lt. General Anderson: It's not just that. When you were talking to me about your time here, you spoke of Hank with sadness in your voice. You told me the only thing you really felt for him was pity. But you're not scared of him, you're loyal to him. And I can tell you genuinely believe in him, you'd have to be blind not to see it. So my question to you Director is, what changed?

Hank Henshaw: (In quite a different voice) I did General, literally.

Nikita: Sa-jen, no.

Hank Henshaw: Nikita, I appreciate you having my back, but I appreciate telling the truth a little more. Keeping my secret is one thing, but I'll not have you flat out lie for me. General, here's the truth as any of us know it. (He shape shifts into his natural green form). Two years ago the original Hank Henshaw led a mission to kill me. Nikita was part of that mission. As was an agent named Jeremiah Danvers. Nikita vouched for me, to Jeremiah. Or actually more the other way around. She did everything she could to keep Jeremiah safe. And that man died saving me from Henshaw. So when I found her I brought her back here, to the D.E.O...and she's served as an agent under my command ever since. My name is J'onn Jo'nzz.

(reaction shots, looks of confusion and resignation until Anderson basically asks 'okay, what now)

J'onn Jo'nzz: Listen to me General. I'll surrender myself on one condition, that Nikita stays as she is. Don't discipline her for having a sense of honor.

Lt. General Anderson: (In a hard tone) I don't see why she should get off. She knew what she was doing and contrary to your assertions she outright lied for you. If she's a free individual, she had a free choice. One you ironically gave her. Believe me, there will be an investigation into this. And it will begin with her.

J'onn Jo'nzz: She was following my orders; she's done nothing wrong! (getting himself under control) General, you know Henshaw kept her here as a prisoner for years before deciding she should serve under him. She didn't have a choice back then. I gave her a choice when I asked her to stay. And she chose to keep my secret and help me serve with, well I honestly think I have done a good job here with what this place is supposed to be. But regardless of what I did with my name, and if it justifies my deception, I will NOT see her punished for being loyal to a friend, who happens to be her superior officer. She sees this as paying a debt, to Jeremiah if not to myself. Please.

Lt. General Anderson: Thank you for proving the kind of man you are J'onn Jo'nzz.

J'onn looked confused. Then smiled faintly. “That was a test, to see where my priorities stood?”

“I wanted to know if you would stand up for yourself or for her. If you were...If you reciprocated the trust and loyalty Nikita clearly has for you. Don't worry, I'm not about to haul into detention as a traitor. But this deception cannot stand any longer.”
J'onn Jo'nzz: I don't understand, what's the alternative?

Nikita: That you remain as director but admit who you are to the public. That way you are not viewed as a liar and will never fall under the suspicion of being a spy or some other kind of enemy. The deception has to end. Your time as Hank Henshaw can finally come to an end. But your tenure as the Director of the D.E.O. does not have to. I can stop lying for you and can be recognized as the man you truly are.  Being genetically engineered but never coming clean, one is a liar as well as an abomination. Being a wizard in a world where magic is outlawed. the only thing worse than having magic, was that Emrys had lied about it all those years. To give an example closer to home, if anyone ever figures out who Superman really is, he'd be the better for it if he actually told them himself rather than being found out. And you are no different than him in that regard.

No one saw it at the time but General Anderson's face went white.

Explaining the word Sa-Jente

 Supplemental material, written and designed to explain one of the main characters and her regard for Kryptonians... since no description made  by any character made it into my stories.

One day Tal-Rho stops by to see his brother and reacts in surprise when Sarrin address him as 'Sajente'. After confirming she's Atraxi, he tells her among other things that she doesn't have to call him that.

"Sa-Jen then." She says. "I'd feel weird not calling you at least that. I address Kal'el that way."
Tal-Rho tells her 'that I can deal with'. This sends her over the moon. Clark walks in and asks her what's made her so emotional, considering the dignity and restraint she usually bears.
 "Going by my true name so often – Melissa is a name I adopted when I landed here and started going to school and everything. You're the first people I've met since secondary school to even know I'm an alien. Going by my native name of 'Sarrin' all the time is new for me – add to that meeting TWO Kryptonians I don't have to. – she stops herself before making any direct references - Yeah goofy grin on my face."

"Fair enough." Clark says easily.

"More than fair, trust me Kal." Tal-Rho says shortly. "Listen, Sarrin, would you mind giving my brother and I a moment alone?"

"Of course not. I'm going to make some rice."

In an undertone Clark asks his brother. "Is it really that rare for her to meet a good Kryptonian?"
"It's that rare for her to meet two Kryptonians she doesn't have to essentially call 'master'. Good and bad don't enter into it for her. They...never could make that distinction."

Clark recognizes what he means. That Atraxians weren't allowed to make a distinction between good and bad Kryptonians. They were required to address all of thier 'superiors' the same way, by the word 'Sa-Jente'. In a moment he realizes something else. That Tal is being not only politic but courteous about it. As if he doesn't agree with it either...anymore at least.
"Tal, she's not the only one over the moon about this." 

Tal Rho Makes a Friend

  A young Atraxian female, a species that was actually raised to respect and obey Kryptonians spends time with Superman everyday for a week before calming the quaking reaction. Her race was actually a labor class on Krypton and her mother like the rest of her race was literally branded into service for one or the other of the great houses of Krypton. Superman or Kal-el had nothing to do with it and she holds the man no particular grudge.

I'm setting my story about a young Atraxian, a race that was a labor-class on Krypton, in THAT world not either of the continuities I created or Earth-38. In case you don't know, while this show is set in the same multiverse as Flash and Arrow and Supergirl, it's not Supergirl's version of Clark and Lois. It's thier doppelgangers-doubles on one of the few Earth's remaining after the mega-crossover Crisis on Infinite Earths. They actually have a history of people from other Earth's distinctly Dis-liking Kal'el specifically. Or another Earth's version of Kal'el causing some serious problems when he's just trying to do the right thing. So it's something they are sort of familiar with that gets turned on its head when they meet her. She's the inverse: An alien who's misunderstanding isn't with Kal'el specifically at all.

One day Tal-Rho stops by to see his brother and reacts in surprise when Sarrin address him as 'Sajente'. After confirming she's Atraxian he tells her among other things she doesn't have to call him that.
"Sajen then." She says. "I'd feel weird not calling you at least that. I address Kal'el that way."
Tal-Rho tells her 'that I can deal with'. This sends her over the moon. Clark walks in and asks her what's made her so emotional, considering the dignity and restraint she usually bears.
 "Going by my true name so often – Sasha is a name I adopted when I landed here and started going to school and everything. You're the first people I've met since secondary school to even know I'm an alien. Going by my native name of 'Sarrin' all the time is new for me – add to that meeting TWO Kryptonians I don't have to. – yeah goofy grin on my face."
In an undertone Clark asks his brother. "Is it that rare for her to meet a good Kryptonian?"
"It's that rare for her to meet two Kryptonians she doesn't have to essentially call 'master'. Good and bad don't enter into it for her. They...never could make that distinction."

Clark recognizes what he means. That Atraxians weren't allowed to make a distinction between good and bad Kryptonians. They were required to address all of thier 'superiors' that way. And that Tal is being not only politic but courteous about it. As if he doesn't agree with it either...anymore.
"Tal, she's not the only one over the moon about this." Clark mentions as he walks away.

Subverting the normal 'friend become enemy' trope, in the Arrow-verse show Superman and Lois the season 1 bad guy becomes a season 2 ally friend and brother. He actually is Kal-el's half-brother and Clark does come to trust and rely on him.

One day Tal-Rho stops by to see his brother and reacts in surprise as she address him as 'Sajente'. After confirming she's Atraxian he tells her among other things she doesn't have to call him that.
"Sajen then." She says. "I'd feel weird not calling you at least that. I address Kal'el that way."
Tal-Rho tells her 'that I can deal with'. This sends her over the moon. Clark walks in and asks her what's made her so emotional, considering the dignity and restraint she usually bears.
 "Going by my true name so often – Sasha is a name I adopted when I landed here and started going to school and everything. You're the first people I've met since secondary school to even know I'm an alien. Going by my native name of 'Sarrin' all the time is new for me – add to that meeting TWO Kryptonians I don't have to. – yeah goofy grin on my face."
In an undertone Clark asks his brother. "Is it that rare for her to meet a good Kryptonian?"
Clark recognizes what he means. That Atraxians weren't allowed to make a distinction between good and bad Kryptonians. They were required to address all of thier 'superiors' that way. And that Tal is being not only politic but courteous about it. As if he doesn't agree with it either...anymore.
"Tal, she's not the only one over the moon about this." Clark mentions as he walks away.

One thing I HAVE to remember to include is that when Sarrin met 'Superman' she recognized the symbol on his chest as Kryptonian but couldn't read it. She asked him 'if we were on Krypton, what would I call you'. Essentially asking his Kryptonian name. Tal-Rho's crest on the other hand she can 'read' just fine. Also that when talking to Clark and John Henry Irons, she defined 'Sajente' as how you would address royalty or heads of state and how any of her race would address ALL Kryptonians. And 'Sajen' as how you would address an officer of the law or a superior officer in the military. Clark, dressed in human clothes invited her to stay at his house. She accepted but warned him that 'old habits die hard'. Basically it will take a minute for her not to treat him as a superior.