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'.”
“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.
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