More Episode Reviews

 The Flash: The Present (2016) Season 3, Episode 9

Joe's Wells Journey

The best parts of this episode are the small moments, continuations of these from previous seasons, not just its place in the Savitar story-line. It's cool to see Jay on Earth-1 and being a Flash mentor to Barry. Joe's talk with H. R. right after Cisco's struggle with his dead brother is the best continuity. Joe once got schooled by fake Harrison Wells. "From what I know of Barry. Once he sets his mind to something... doubt is his real enemy Joe and as long as you continue to doubt him, he'll keep doubting himself." Joe was later able to *teach* Harry Wells about Barry's relentlessness and how pointless it is to get in his way once his mind is set. Here he gets schooled by H. R. Wells along almost exactly those same line. Wally comes to H. R.'s defense when Joe gets in his face. Joe gets in H/R.'s face again and Wally just walks dejectedly away. H. R. Explains in his own words why he's helping Wally. For no other reason than the kid is special and he needs someone to encourage him. He's not being selfish, just helpful.

He tells Joe "The longer you deny someone thier potential, the more they're going to look for it elsewhere." In other words "Your son needs you to believe in him. So start believing in him." And for what might be the first time ever, Joe listens to a Wells. And H.R. finally earns this rather tough cop-dad's respect. By the end of the episode, Joe accepts his son Wally West as Kid Flash. And H. R. as a friend.

Earth: Final Conflict: Déjà Vu (1999) Season 3, Episode 4  8/10

More unexplored Possibilities than actual Exploration

Okay, so Liam is experiencing memories of the SI war, something that is impossible because he never actually served during that conflict. They quickly figure out that this is someone else's memories being hijacked and put into unsuspecting users. But one possible explanation for the false memories that is never explored is that these are memories given to him because of his assumed identity. When Liam first showed up, he claimed he had served under Captain Boone in the SI war. So as far as the rest of the world would know, he'd have memories fo that war. By this same token, that Liam never served in the SI war was a dangerous thing to say in front of Ms. Palmer. Renee doesn't learn about Liam's actual origins for a few more episodes. And yet this duplicity or double life is never even mentioned. And never really considered. Missed opportunity there I think.

Da'an asking Liam why he would refuse to share his memories if he is not ashamed of them, using it as a comparison to the present situation is pretty slanted. Liam Sharing the memories is one thing. Like a consensual mind meld. Or like Da'an Sharing himself with Lilli back in Wrath of Achilles. What's happening here is not only worse -- stealing one persons memories and giving them to another -- is done without the consent of either the person who's memories are being Stolen or the individual implanted with these memories, who not only didn't consent, has no clue where they come from. It would drive most people mad to have memories as if they were your own that don't make any sense showing up out of NOWHERE. The conversation about perspective and privacy does make some good points and it pushed the comparison of commonality vs. Individuality along. But they seriously could have found another vehicle for that debate. Instead it's just pretty jaundiced account, Da'an's question in the first place is a slanted half-applicable inquiry which presumably Liam would recognize. And for some reason Liam doesn't rebuttal it. He drives forward with Human ideals... and not even the most relevant ones.

The ending is pretty awesome, there is no denying that. Liam finds the man whose memories he had received and gives him a disc of those memories back. Unlike his backstory, that is unlike the false identity Augur created for him which he wears for the first time since Boone's funeral, unlike what Major Liam Kincaid never served in the war. So he finds a way to recognize an honor a man who did.

The Pretender: Hazards (1998) Season 2, Episode 8  10/10 Ghosts laid to Rest

...for both Jarrod and Sydney. When Sydney is being refreshingly comfortable and easy going with his co-workers he sees a man from his pas t and suddenly he has one thought on his mind "Get the Gun, Get it done." In the flashback Sydney is having Jarrod draw this man's face and he is clearly troubled, already haunted. He shows Jarrod a picture of him and his brother, his twin at thier first communion and that right there tells you everything you need to know, almost. I was wondering if we knew before this whether Sydney was Jewish or Catholic. We knew he was old enough to have lived in WWII and was from a particular region in France, that had been occupied, but not that he'd actually been in a concentration camp. That is the only explanation for his enraged, single-minded pursuit of the man. And Sydney had gone to confession in a season 1 episode, so we did already know he wasn't Jewish. When he's holding a gun to the man "This is for John Mikael, and this is for Greta", Ms. Parker stops him and talks him off that ledge... sort of. The Jarrod part of the story is full and well paced and opens in a very unusual and attention grabbing way. Jarrod sees someone intentionally step in front of a bus because he thinks he's responsible for the death of a co-worker. I love Jarrod's adventures that he doesn't plan for and this was up there on the list of good ones.

Sydney was still haunted by uncertainty if Jarrod still thinks of him with warm feelings, or is too bitter about what happened to him at the Centre. About his part in the secrets and lies all those years. Jarrod assures him, over the phone. "You're not a monster Sydney and you're still...my family." It's a beautiful moment. Which follows another gorgeous moment between Sydney and Ms. Parker.

The Pretender: Stolen (1998) Season 2, Episode 18

 10/10 One Powerful Question is Finally Answered

The question being from Jarrod to Sydney near the end "How do you face your past, Sydney?!" While working at a hospital Jarrod inadvertently becomes involved in a kidnapping, by posing as the boys father to the kidnappers. A situation which understandably floods his mind with memories fo his own kidnapping. He tries to talk to Sydney about how to deal with his screwed up past. Stopping there for now. Ms. Parker is doing a pretty good job of convincing herself that Jarrod is just playing mind games and that she has moved beyond being susceptible to them. She tells Sydney this, along with her belief that the emotional umbilical Sydney has with Jarrod is becoming a problem. Which for a moment actually seems to be true. I could probably count on one had the number of times Ms. Parker and Sydney actually apprehend Jarrod, if even for a couple of minutes. During an incredibly tense confrontation/ apprehending, a thoroughly desperate and ticked off Jarrod yells "How do you face your past Sydney?"

A question which has been posed by Jarrod A-Lot of times in the past. And this is simply the first time Sydney actually provides an answer. Sydney deals with what happened to Jarrod in the Centre, or is comforted in knowing that the good Jarrod is doing now out there in the wide world is proof that something right did come from such horrible wrong. It's something Sydney himself had been struggling with more and more up until now. And he is almost ready to finally do something about it. And finally choosing a side now, makes it easier for him to act in the season finale. Cute little sneak that Sydney actually answers the question posed before Jarrod asks it that final, dramatic time in the hall: That some great good came out of something so Egregiously hellish and stupid. I think Jarrod stops asking the question after this. And that's why season 3 Jarrod and Sydney can be so beautiful together.

The Pretender: Crazy (1998) Season 3, Episode 1  8/10

Brilliant Episode

Speaking as someone who is schizophrenic and disassociatve, I love this episode. In high school and college I did personal research on the different kinds of schizophrenia and other related disorders, for Gen Psych class and for my own research so I knew that writers of the show must have done almost as much research as Jarrod had in order to blend in among people with these problems. And Jarrod's description of a place that was perfectly real to him, deliberately told in such a way to convince people he was crazy was jaw-dropping acting. He was always, in every episode doing research not for his own sake but to pull off whatever he had to professionally pull off in that episode. Sydney realizes this, that his research wasn't because he thought he was crazy, but in order to fit in among crazy people. The doctor in charge of the facility doesn't do a half bad job either of figuring out that for whatever reason, Jarrod wanted to be put there.

At the end of last season Sydney finally took a stand against the Centre's work, casting ALL loyalties except to Jarrod aside. He couldn't fix what happened to Jarrod but he could help now. And that allows for the growth and closeness in Jarrod and Sydney's relationship for this entire season. He had this attitude already but now he flat out states: I'm not interested in saving myself. This may be my last chance to help Jarrod...or you. Talking to Ms. Parker. It was pretty brilliant! Everything that is built here is destroyed not too far into season 4 but so what? For right now things are growing, peoples connections are deepening. All our charters are in thier prime. It's bleeping amazing. I don't watch the scenes in the female patient's room. The one Jarrod actually is there to help. Which is why despite my glowing report of the episode, I only gave this 8 out of 10 stars.

Jeremiah and Nikita

In a world where EVERYONE is the extreme of themselves, a very isolated J'onn Jo'nzz meets a stubbornly good man named Jeremiah Danvers and his charge, a human looking alien named Nikita. I'm giving an except first because each draft of the story begins basically the same way. And this is the biggest update.

“I was as wrong about you as this arrogant human you speak of was wrong about her. I am sorry. And I will FIND a way to make it right.” He left without another word.

A few hours later Jeremiah walked up the steps from the basement. Something he very rarely did. He saw J'onn sitting at a dining table, staring out the window.

“You escaped. You both escaped.”

“Yes...I thought we had established that.”

“If she's not Enkaren, what is she?”

“Xavallen.” Jeremiah replied with the sudden feeling that all reason had completely run away from the conversation.

“Well...I guess that explains it.”

“Okay, I'm a little lost. I don't mind saying so.”

“Everything that lives has an instinctual fear of dying. And you might think this a universal tenant of sentient life. Which it is. But the extremely well-developed need for self-preservation at all costs is unique to humans. Most of the time, self-improvement and self-preservation drown out all other considerations just as a matter of cause. She is different. If I was examining her on such a thing – I swear to you I was not but if I ever did examine different races in order to determine how SELF preservation is balanced against an interest in preserving all sentient life...Her people are the opposite of yours.”

“Wait you're telling me her entire race gets an “A” in protective instincts and a “B” in self-preservation?”

“If I understand you correctly, yes.”

“That does explain a lot.” Jeremiah said, his voice quiet.

“How do you mean?”

“...Back at the D.E.O. When I broke her free from that device. I was returning the favor. I was there for six years and I saw Hank do some pretty unspeakable things to aliens who...well who deserved it like the weapons manufacturers and drug-dealers of Thrombus and to aliens like Nikita. But no matter what he did to her, she never raised a finger against him, barely ever raised her voice to him. We were...there she was in a machine designed to lower her neural-synaptic threshold – I'm still not sure what that means – and Hank decided I needed to keep my sympathy where it belonged.” Jeremiah looked up at the man who suddenly had become his companion in evening talk. “He stuck me across the face. That's ALL he did. Nikita broke the machine, slammed Hank against the wall with her forearm against his throat. And told him that perception and empathy go hand in hand. That my 'bleeding heart' meant I saw things more clearly than he did. Then literally rested on her shins and knees waiting to be taken back to her cell.”

  Jeremiah and Nikita met a VERY isolated J'onn Jo'nzz

“My guess is if he wanted us dead we'd be dead right now, so what's his story?”
“I don't know. He's a GREEN Martian.” She said definitively. “I've lived on Earth for 70 years. 17 of them at the D.E.O. He's been on earth At least 3 times as long. He may have forgotten how to trust people, especially humans. Other aliens wouldn't be as hard.”
“That I can understand.” I said glumly.

Three days later the alien came to take me away. He grabbed me by the arm and started to literally drag me out of the room. “Stop it!” Nikita cried out. The green-skinned alien stopped in his tracks. He turned to Nikita with a prompting look. “He's done nothing to deserve this. I would think if anything you'd be after me.”

“Are you saying you'd rather die instead?”

“...Yes.” Nikita answered her voice low but distinct. “I would rather be killed than let him die. I would think if you'd be angry at either of us it would be a freak of nature like me. Not quite literally the best human I have ever known. So if nothing else at least that would make sense!”

A single look told Nikita the outburst had hit home. The man, the alien, instantly dropped his arm and released her friend. “There was no need for any of this. There never was.”

“I...I misread the situation.” The alien said as if he were a schoolboy getting dressed down for misbehaving. A feeling that would only deepen as the conversation continued.

“And that's the worst thing about all of this. All you had to do was ask. I would have told you. Hell you're a Martian you could have read my mind. I would have permitted it! How quickly we become the things we hate and we don't even realize it.” Nikita walked to the far edge of the room, sat down with her feet tucked behind her and turned away from her host. A universally recognized 'I don't want to talk to you' attitude.

“She's comparing you to someone who treated her like an enemy for absolutely no reason and literally tortured her to convince her to reveal the truth. But there was no 'truth' to be found. She wasn't a danger to anyone. And if Hank had looked at her for 5 seconds and seen anything other than a human-looking alien...he would have seen what was right in front of his face. Seen her for the innocent she was. Hank didn't bother to look. He actually got off on hurting aliens...even helpless ones like her.”

“And you broke her free.” Realization blanketed the strangers face. Followed quickly by a look of unmitigated shame. “You broke her free from the D.E.O.”

“ I couldn't stand by and let her get tortured for information she didn't actually have. I released her from...well she was propped up for enhanced interrogation and I shut off the device. I knocked Hank out and put him in that chair, which I kept turned off. She asked me if I wanted to come with her. She said I didn't deserve to be trapped in the D.E.O any more than she did. So we made our escape together.” He turned and squarely face the man. “You are the third alien and the 14th face we have seen in the 8 weeks since that day. And she is quite right. All you had to do was ask. She would have told you anything. Force, much less pain was never needed. She laughed at Hank for that assumption. To her, you're as blind as Hank...Blinded by your own preconceived opinions of others.”

“I was as wrong about you as this arrogant human you speak of was wrong about her. I am sorry. And I will FIND a way to make it right.” He left without another word.

A few hours later Jeremiah walked up the steps from the basement. Something he very rarely did. He saw J'onn sitting at a dining table, staring out the window.

“You escaped. You both escaped.”

“Yes...I thought we had established that.”

“If she's not Enkaren, what is she?”

“Xavallen.” Jeremiah replied with the sudden feeling that all reason had completely run away from the conversation.

“Well...I guess that explains it.”

“Okay, I'm a little lost. I don't mind saying so.”

“Everything that lives has an instinctual fear of dying. And you might think this a universal tenant of sentient life. Which it is. But the extremely well-developed need for self-preservation at all costs is unique to humans. Most of the time, self-improvement and self-preservation drown out all other considerations just as a matter of cause. She is different. If I was examining her on such a thing – I swear to you I was not but if I ever did examine different races in order to determine how SELF preservation is balanced against an interest in preserving all sentient life...Her people are the opposite of yours.”

“Wait you're telling me her entire race gets an “A” in protective instincts and a “B” in self-preservation?”

“If I understand you correctly, yes.”

“That does explain a lot.” Jeremiah said, his voice quiet.

“How do you mean?”

“...Back at the D.E.O. When I broke her free from that device. I was returning the favor. I was there for six years and I saw Hank do some pretty unspeakable things to aliens who...well who deserved it like the weapons manufacturers and drug-dealers of Thrombus and to aliens like Nikita. But no matter what he did to her, she never raised a finger against him, barely ever raised her voice to him. We were...there she was in a machine designed to lower her neural-synaptic threshold – I'm still not sure what that means – and Hank decided I needed to keep my sympathy where it belonged.” Jeremiah looked up at the man who suddenly had become his companion in evening talk. “He stuck me across the face. That's ALL he did. Nikita broke the machine, slammed Hank against the wall with her forearm against his throat. And told him that perception and empathy go hand in hand. That my 'bleeding heart' meant I saw things more clearly than he did. Then literally rested on her shins and knees waiting to be taken back to her cell.”

“Lowering a neural-synaptic threshold of an empath, what would you expect?”

“In most alien races it lowered their defenses and made them more...pliant is the only word I can think of.”

“A non-chemical way to produce the same 'I know what I'm saying but I don't care' response as truth serum.” Jeremiah nodded. “The only thing keeping an empath from causing anyone physical damage is that they would feel it as well. The full awareness of how senseless violence is. If they no longer care about what they are doing...”

“...They no longer hold themselves back from whatever random and potentially destructive thing that pops into their heads.”

“I believe SHE understood. Keeping you safe was simply more important to her. I knew why you seemed so passionate about protecting her. But until now I didn't understand why she seemed at least as adamant about protecting you. She saw you as Alana-Kai.”

“Most humans, most races in the galaxies at all no matter how much they try to lift the head of another and put the needs of their friends first, would still put their own life, their own survival before anything else at need. Xavallens don't. They are, by comparison to their brethren, Friars and Philosophers.”

“I'm sorry, but I still don't understand the connection.

“Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races to each-other. Enkarens are...genetically speaking in trouble but also far superior to humans in most respects. Xavallens are, by comparison to their brethren philosophers and friars. They still speak the same language.”

“And she doesn't make sense for an Enkaren.”

J'onn nodded. “But more than that, Xavallens are a protected species.”

“Wait, what?”

“If I had known what she was, laying a hand on her to get You to talk would have been a crime. And I would have begged her forgiveness.”

“Sir, I don't know where this comes from. But I know her, she holds you no grudge, for any of this.”

“And what about you?”

“You didn't know. And besides, it was as much my choice as hers.”

“I can see why she loves you so much.”

“...Loves me?”

“Like a father.” The man's face became concerned, and amazed. “You didn't know?”

“I didn't really have the chance to get to know her, until about 3 months ago.”

Beauty of Enkaren Names

I came up with all of these names for my Enkaren and Xavallen characters, in my fictional worlds where the public knows aliens live on Earth. Then I was trying to come up with a name for Superman's daughter, one that would sound Hebrew or Arabic because Kryptonian itself is based on Hebrew. But whose actual meaning was something Clark would came his kid. And I found out that most of the names I chose for my Xavallen and Enkaren Characters are names with Turkish/Persian or Celtic origins. Which is extra cool because I used Irish Gaelic when writing Nikita's (Xavallen) language.

Elana: Form of the Greek Ἑλένη (Helene), probably from Greek ἑλένη (helene) meaning "torch" or "corposant", or possibly related to σελήνη (selene) meaning "moon".

Cara: From an Italian word meaning "beloved" or an Irish word meaning "friend"

Eloise: From the Old French name Héloïse, which was probably from the Germanic name Helewidis, composed of the elements heil meaning "healthy, whole" and wit meaning "wide". It is sometimes associated with the Greek word (helios) meaning "sun" or the name Louise, though there is no etymological connection. This name was borne by the 12th-century French scholar and philosopher Héloïse. Secretly marrying the theologian Peter Abelard at a young age, she became a nun and eventually an abbess.

Eliana: Means "my God has answered" in Hebrew.

The name I decided on when I finish this is Aisha. I knew a woman of African-American descent by that name when I was younger. So I know it wouldn't turn TOO many heads. Because among other things I want a name that isn't so completely awkward to say at school. That's clearly of different origin but not hard on anyone's tongue.

Aisha عائشةf Arabic, Urdu, Hausa, Swahili, African American
"living, alive" in Arabic. This was the name of Muhammad's third wife, the daughter of Abu Bakr. Some time after Muhammad's death she went to war against Ali, the fourth caliph, but was defeated. Her name is used more by Sunni Muslims and less by Shias.

 Originally I was thinking a name that meant 'kindness' or tenderness or 'hope' but none of those met my other criteria. But Clark would name his daughter a name that meant 'brightness' or 'alive' so Aisha fits.

Jeremiah Danvers narrates this.

Elana reached up and embraced her charge. In that moment and with this revelation, the bond of friendship was not broken, but deepened. I smiled, a little sadly. A thought occurred to me. “I hate to interrupt, but there is something I still do not understand. Something I've been wondering about since you, Eloise first told me you are half-human.”

“Eloise was my name at birth.” She said, unprompted. “When my mom died I took her birth name as my own. It will be my name until I die. If I have a daughter I will name her one thing, probably 'Alia' and she will take the name 'Eloise' as her own upon my death.”

“Matra-lineal?” Martin guessed.

“Not quite. The same would be true of a husband who had a son. If I'd had a brother, he would have a different name now than when he'd been born, but would not have received it until Henry had died. It's our custom and how we remember ourselves...where we come from. And we do mean ANY of us. There's no 'maiden name' or 'father's name' cause neither side of the family takes precedence.”

“But your father was a human. And from what you just said, died without having a son.”

"We would have honored the tradition. But my mother was...in the equivalent of her late 70's when I was born and my father died when I was 5. Not much chance of it."

"Do you people have...great houses?" I asked her, thinking of Elias.

"We have strong, complex family units. But it's hard to have houses when the daughters would wear different crests than the sons."

"I see your point." Martin intoned.

"Also, I was born here. Most of what I even know about my people is second hand knowledge... from my mom." She turned to Martin. "I don't want you thinking anything bad happened to her. She died peacefully and of old age. My people live about 120 of your years. She was 136 when she passed on."

    "Wait....what?" I exclaimed. Martin smiled at me as if he understood a secret I wasn't privy to. "I gather there's a scientific explanation for how that's even possibly the case?"

"You thought I was my early 30's didn't you? Physiologically, for my own lifespan I am. But you have to take our metabolism and aging process into account.  Jeremiah Danvers... There is every chance I am older than you."

Creating an Oddessy

“Please, please save her.“ Superman begged earnestly. It was plain this woman, whoever she was meant the world to him. For a moment, Batman hesitated.

“I don't understand.“ Bruce admitted. “Your own death a heartbeat away and you plead for her life?“ He took his foot off Superman's throat but kept the kryptonite spear inches from his face. “Why?“

“You're afraid of me and you hate me. You hate me for what I am__ or what you think I did. I...I just don't want her to suffer too. I'd fight you to the death for her freedom and I will surrender to you for the same reason.“

“You are strange, for a Kryptonian.“

“I told you before Bruce – we are not all like him.“

“How did you...?“

“So you're saying all humans are like Hitler? All Americans are Richard Nixon?“

“'I'm saying he's not human. And if there is in a chance he's like that psychopath (General Zod) in any way, we have to be able to defend ourselves.“

Batman stumbled backward. “...Clark. Clark Kent?“ Superman nodded miserably. Batman threw the spear as far away as he could. Superman stood up slowly, rubbing his throat.

“I take it this means you no longer want to cut me open and play with my insides?“ Batman stared, his mouth frozen open. “Look, all I care about right now is that you and Lex have a friend of mine hostage. You help me rescue her, we'll call it even.“

“I...I don't know who you're talking about.“

Superman looked coldly and searchingly into Bruce's eyes. For about 2/10^th fo a second. "Lex you son of a bitch.“ 

Batman did not feel particularly inclined to argue with him.

None of this ever took shape in my head before now. We have never actually seen it. At last we see how These 3 first met each-other. The first time Nikita and Kal-El of Krypton, met Mon-El the former prince of Daxam in my sprawling Earth-21 D.E.O. Odyssey. To explain the name of the story, "The Ten Glorious Tales" are what Nikita's people call thier sacred scriptures. It IS ten principles, told as stories to live by as you walk in this life. And she does in both how she deals with Mon-El and with everyone else. Superman is questioning a newly captured D.E.O. prisoner who he is convinced is responsible for a recent attack on a US senator. His passion is fueled in part because he saw the effect that intruder had on one of his friends. But he is not actually listening to him or even wanting the answers he is demanding. His attitude is "Daxamite you are" "Daxamite why did you do this?" And so on. Then he uses a "We" statement in reference to the D.E.O itself and at that point...

“That's enough Superman!” Nikita near-barked at the Kryptonian. Who turned around with surprise and more than a little confusion. “We have no more reason to be suspicious of him than we do of you. Daxamite or Kryptonian, the D.E.O. has no particular opinion of either one of you. If you're going to speak as one of us, make sure it's something that would actually come out of our mouths.” She walked up to the cell that contained their latest alien guest and began typing something into the console. “Guilty until proven innocent has no place at the D.E.O. Not anymore anyway.” She sounded almost bitter, and she realized it. “And by the way, you're not one of us. You are the D.E.O.'s closest alien ally but still an ally of the D.E.O. Not a part of it. We do not share you're particular prejudices about each other. And as far as J'onn is concerned you leave assuming the worst about aliens ANY aliens at the door when you walk through it.”

“What are you doing?” Superman asked in a puzzled voice.

“I'm getting him out of that cell.”

“You don't have the authority...”

Nikita chuckled. “Actually, I do. You don't have the authority to stop me.” Nikita tilted her head, up. “C.A.T. Two-three-one-seven-four-six-one-one oblique oblique. Enable.” The force-field powered down. “Come on out.” Nikita instructed the prisoner.

“I don't understand.” The man pondered. “You're actually letting me go?”

Nikita looked caught out. “I can't let you out of this facility. You'll have to speak Director Jo'nzz about that. But there is no reason on the face of this planet -Earth- for you to stay in this cell. Come on, I'll take you to my compartments.” Nikita turned to Superman. “You assumed he's responsible for these attacks because he's a Daxamite. The very fact that he's a Daxamite makes it impossible. I never thought I'd say this to someone wearing that crest but open your damn eyes.”

“Okay, now I'm really confused.”

“The crime Kal-El is accusing you of was perpetrated by either a Kryptonian or Infernian. It involved heat vision. While you have a Kryptonian's strength and speed under our yellow sun, you do not posses any of their other incredible abilities, like heat vision. During the attack, I collapsed. Superman as he's known here on Earth was with me, and rightly guessed the attacker was responsible. Except only Infernians and White Martians affect me in such a way. It's a physiological response by body has to the very presence of either of those beings. It's physically impossible for you to be responsible for any of this.”

“Whoever you are...” The stranger began. “I don't want to get you into trouble.”

“As far as trouble with him,” she pointed to Superman “that's my own damn fault and I'll take it. If you mean with my superiors...” Nikita turned back to Superman. “When J'onn asked me to join the D.E.O. I gave one condition. If I actively believe a prisoner does not belong in this cell, I can act on that belief without asking prior permission. It is literally a condition of me wearing this uniform... Such as it is.” She continued, looking at her loose fitting black top and its longer-than-regulation sleeves.

“Something else is troubling you.” Superman observed.

“Two things. Among my people introductions should come before almost anything.” She pointed to the center of her chest with her right hand. “My name is Nikita, I'm Xavallen. You?” She indicated the former prisoner.

“My name is Mon-El. I'm the former prince of Daxam.”

“The two of you would call me Kal-El. Most people on Earth call me Superman.”

“The more troubling part is the self-defeating blindness of 'do you have anything to say for yourself, anything' and then continuing to talk as if you'd given him a chance to answer. I think he would have had something to say for himself if he wasn't talking to a brick wall. I know I would have.”

“I keep forgetting.” Kal-El said, his voice much weaker than it had been.

“Easy thing to do, we never told you. I understandably do not like to think about it.”

“I'll have to ask J'onn about that. Will you let him know I'm alright to talk to.”

“He doesn't know.” Nikita insisted fiercely. “I mean, he knows the basics, we went through the timeline fo everything the first time we even met but if you want to know why this is all so personal for me, why it burns me to see you falling into the same trap, I never told him. You'd have to talk to the man whose FACE J'onn is wearing for that.” Nikita motioned Mon-El out of the room. He followed her silently.

'Okay by now this is stating the obvious but, they know you're an alien.” Mon-El observed as they walked the corridors.

“Yes.” Nikita replied simply. “Human looking alien who prefers reading a book and sharing knowledge to picking up any kind of weapon. The rest of this conversation should wait to be said in private.”

“Can't argue with you there.”

Nikita turned a corner and suddenly they seemed to be at a dead end. She simply turned to the door at her left. Pressing her four fingertips against the pad next to the door she addressed the air. “One-one-four. Seven-point-two.” The door slid aside.

“Does everything here work on a numerical system?”

“No.” She replied cheerfully. “Only things requiring my participation. They're number sequences from my personal past, things that don't have any meaning to anyone else.”

“So not only would no one else ever use them, no one else could ever guess them.”

“Exactly.”

Nikita's quarters were packed but comfortable. A dark blue sofa in front of a coffee table. A sofa seat next to the bookshelf in the far right corner of the room. A narrow hall on the left which presumably led to a washroom and sleeping quarters. He sat across from the sofa.

“I'll make us some coffee. It's a pretty cool way to clear your head. Take a seat.”

“I don't suppose you could pour me a glass of ale instead?”

“I'm not against it. But J'onn will be coming soon to check on you. Clearing fuzz out of your brain is more advisable.” Nikita rummaged around in her kitchenette for supplies. Soon the coffeemaker was gurgling. She came out carrying two narrow white mugs and a tall thermos. Setting the objects down she smiled at her guest. “Mon-El, in case I didn't make it clear, you are most welcome here. Certainly as far as I care.”

Mon-El took the hint and sat down in the sofa seat. Nikita sat down in the darker sofa, facing him. “J'onn,” Mon-El began. “Same man as director Jo'nzz?”

“Yeah. And that's as good a starting point as any.” Raising her glass. “To friends and family may whatever 'God' may be keep them safe and hold them in his hand.”

“Cheers to that.” They clinked mugs and drank.

“I've been an agent of the D.E.O...the Department of Extra-normal Operations for about three years now. But when I was first brought in through its doors, I was considered an 'enemy alien'. No particular reason for it, except the answers I gave didn't make any sense to Hank. A man named Hank Henshaw was the director of the place at the time. He thought the only reason I looked this human is because I was trying to fit in. Kept trying to get me to show him what I really look like.” She held her hands to her face. “This IS what I really look like. He couldn't figure any reason for me to have lived on Earth for more than 50 years without telling anyone I was an alien, except espionage. In the 50 years I had been on Earth I told exactly two people that I was Xavallen. One was an alien himself. The other a good man who used to work here. I had no reason to tell Hank Henshaw a damn thing.”

“What changed?”

“The director, J'onn Jo'nzz, he's an alien himself. And a shape-shifter. When Hank Henshaw died J'onn assumed his identity. We've spent the four years since trying to reform the D.E.O into something better than what I found. I have never felt more 'Henshaw'd' then I did when Superman was talking to you. And I serve under a man wearing his face.”

“Deus. No wonder this was so personal for you.”

“This is literally the first time I've really talked about it. I don't even talk to J'onn about my time here before. But there is something, there is one memory I should share with him.”

The door chimed. “Come in.” A black man in his mid forties, well built with short-cropped hair entered the room. A holstered weapon hung at his side. It could not be doubted he was a person of authority, and preparedness.

“I take it this is our latest alien visitor?”

“Yes. But introductions should come first.” Nikita replied.

“My name is Mon-El; I'm the former prince of a planet called Daxam.”

“I am J'onn Jo'nzz. I'm the director at the Department of Extra-normal Operations.”

“From what Nikita tells me you're a fair-minded man and patient. I hope you will be patient with me.”

“I'll do my best.” J'onn answered with a soft smile. “We'll put you in guest quarters for now. And I will tell you up front you will not leave the D.E.O unaccompanied. Do you you understand and accept this?”

“Does leaving with Nikita qualify as 'accompanied'? If so I have no problem with it.”

“Nikita, was everything above board?”

“I can honestly say I don't understand the question.”

“I'm not concerned with how much of our operation he knows about. I wonder how much of your history you've shared with him.”

“If I didn't know you, I'd think you were jealous. But to answer your question, or rather the reasoning behind your question: I trust him as much as I trust Winn, as much as I trust Kal-El, as much as I trusted you when I first met you.” J'onn took half a step back. “And if you look at the past 28 minutes of my memories, you will see the extent to which that is true.” She nodded sagely. J'onn put his hand to Nikita's temple. A few seconds later his eyes snapped open. Nikita regardeed J'onn with dreadful seriousness. „eemaanadaaree hamesha zaroori hai. jo zaroori hai (eemaanadaaree) vah vyavsayik ya apratyaashit ho sakata hai, lekin kabhee bhee naasamajhee nahin hotee.“

J'onn mentally translated her words. Honesty is always necessary. What is necessary (honesty) may be unprofessional or unexpected, but is never unwise.

"I understand that." He turned to Mon-El. "Excuse us for a moment."

"What was the memory?" Nikita looked at him with deliberate blankness. "I saw your conversation and a mention of a particular memory. What was the memory?“

"I will tell you about it...when the memory itself is the focus of the conversation. It's when things changed. Hank decided he could trust me to a certain point, and I decided how much I would do for Jeremiah, that I would literally do anything to protect him. Although it turned out I wasn't very good at that part.“ Nikita said with self-directed contempt. “You know, someday you're going to tell me what happened.“

"I don't understand. You were there. You did everything you could to protect Jeremiah from me. I gained at least one friend that day because of you.“

"But I don't know what happened to him!“ Nikita exploded. "I know he died that night. And given how you talk about him and the fact that I saw Henshaw's body, he probably died saving you from that monster. But I don't know what happened to him. I was a little busy being unconscious at the time.“

J'onn looked like someone had tried to strangle him with a whip. "You...You don't...“

Nikita looked tiredly at him. “J'onn I know Jeremiah did not survive our mission. That is ALL I ever knew.“

A Journey to Heaven

Taking place in an alternate timeline where Morganna kept power after season four of Merlin. The opening note is from a friend names Sasha who had been with them since moment one. Arthur himself narrates the story.

Arthur asked me once why I never bring up Merlin's four words in conversations he can remember. Those four words being “I don't want that.” His refusal to prop himself up over Prince Arthur. My answer is the same as it was the first time: It's his business whether to share that stuff! Come to that, Merlin never has been one for recognition. “Better to serve a good man than to rule with an evil one.” One thing I was able to detect was Arthur's place in this new world. And how he stood with and worked with one of his former knights.

“How do you find your life? The queen inquired.

“It is honest work and a quiet life. I like it well, thank you majesty.

“Is your instructor treating you well?”

“Elyan has much wisdom to share. And he is patient with me, yes.” My head burned behind my eyes, but I tried to remain calm, and respectful.

“Elyan.” Morganna called sweetly. When Elyan had walked up and bowed briefly, she turned to him. “Is your apprentice's work satisfactory?”

“Indeed yes Majesty.” Elyan answered steadily. “He has much to learn but he IS learning. He is an able student and knows his...place. Thank you.”

You are telling me he earns neither knocks or favor from you?” She said with a queer laugh.

“Majesty, any student to the trade needs shaping up. I simply meant he is needing very few lessons and is shaping up quickly.” At those words I dropped my jaw in half-genuine shock. I knew he was probably saying what he thought Morganna wanted to hear. The words stung anyway. “Majesty, if I may, how did you find my last sword?”

“It was well-balanced and clean-cut. Did you work every step of the process yourself?”

“In forming and melding the metal, yes. I used my aides help sharpening and pressing the steel. He might collaborate with me on such work pretty soon. But I wanted to see if...”

“You didn't want to disappoint me by using a novice without telling me about it. I more than understand Elyan. And you are quite correct, he needs to do as much as he can to help you. Perhaps after your next project. I have a sword I need you to make. He can watch to learn, but I need your attention to detail on the etching of it. This ceremonial sword will have a very special job to do.” Morganna tossed Elyan some coins. “Come to the citadel later tonight. I'll fill you in.”

“Yes, majesty.” Elyan said with a bow. Morganna walked away.

A moment later I turned back into the house. I sat on the mattress and sighed. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to be alone. Elyan walked in a few moments later. He looked at me, almost nervously. I waited but he did not speak. “If you have something to say, just say it.” I told him tiredly.

“Can you ever forgive me? I feel like I'm so busy keeping my head down that I forget who I am in my heart. When she speaks I feel like squirming in place or ripping her head off.”

“Elyan...are you saying what I...think you're saying?”

“You are MY prince and my lord sire. The way of the world has changed, my loyalty to you has not. And I cannot think of anything that would change it, EV-ER.”

I couldn't help feeling flustered. This was beyond surprising, and more than a bit humbling. “For your own sake you had better start calling me 'Arthur'.” I said with a smile. “Since you don't want to degrade me and cannot affirm me, simply call me by my name.”

“Very well, thank you...Arthur.”

I smiled as strongly as I could. Apparently Merlin wasn't the only friend I'd ever made who would stand fast with me whatever came. I just hadn't noticed the same devotion in the others before. “Do you know where Gwaine is?”

“Sasha sent him on a mission. He didn't tell me anything else.”

“Wait, Sasha is still around?”

“Arthur, as long as Merlin and Gwaine are around, Sasha will never be far away... And we never told you about that.”

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“Do you remember when Merlin and Gwaine left to rescue Sasha from the red cave?”

“Of course.”

“We heard A-lot about it when we were locked up together. Sasha held Morganna at bay, she put up some kind of...well Morganna couldn't enter our cell and she provided food for us but took very little for herself. Eventually she grew weak, even more unguarded than she usually was. She told Morganna to her face that if either Merlin or Gwaine were in danger she would literally do anything to keep them safe. That she valued the two of them higher than anyone else in Camelot. I have never seen Gwaine as speechless as he was in that moment.”

“If anything could shut him up... I wish I'd been there.”

“She told us that Gwaine gave her her name. I don't understand what she meant.”

“I do. Elyan, when Sasha first came to Camelot, her name was Nikita. She said it meant 'hidden strength'. She had made a deal with my father...well you know all this already but as far as anyone but my father, Gaius and myself were concerned, Nikita died in her cell the day before she was to be executed. She walked away, into the dawn. She said she'd come back once she sorted out who she really was. It was a little more than a year before she returned. And Gwaine had just been banished. When she showed up again, she called herself Sasha. She never explained what it meant. But it must have been a name Gwaine had given her. Suggested for her at least. Anyway after that we met up with Gwaine at least 2 more times, including right before the army of the dead. She was there both times and I had never seen her so...entirely committed to the fight. It makes sense to me she would and does value Gwaine, above almost anyone except Merlin. But it goes beyond that, doesn't it?”

“They are completely devoted to each other, the three of them.” Elyan agreed.

“Nikita...Sasha, she kept quiet around me in the later days. She didn't want to 'mouth off' to me and so she was keeping herself quiet. And when she finally does speak...”

“She speaks with power, with not only conviction but certainty. With a previously...”

“...Hidden strength.”

Naser and Imad

 I tried to write down what little I remembered of a story that once flashed before my eyes. It was written down LONG after the fact not created as a starting point or a framework and it shows.
Nasir, as he is known is traveling French back roads with Balian. They hear Hannah reading a story aloud in English. Neither of them understand English but they sit and watch her. She is expressive with her body language nd fluid with her vocal intonations, reading from a collection of papers. When she stops she asks in halting French if they liked the story.
“I enjoyed listening.” Balian responds. He looks at Nasir who smiles and nods with enthusiasm. “Can you tell me what the story is about?” Balian asks the girl.
The girl explains the former king, Uther is visited by a man who always carried himself like a knight but as a commoner could never be one. Gwaine, who was as loyal to his friend Merlin as he was to Prince Arthur is here to honor Merlin's final request and 'care for our king'. Morganna, the kings daughter has taken the throne and captured, presumably imprisoned Arthur, a true role model for his people..”
“Role model?” Imad asks aloud, to Balian.
“A person you would choose to be like or would want to make proud of you, or both.” The girl explains. “In this story Uther, while he was king, executed even those suspected of the crime of sorcery. Morganna is a witch in the truest sense of the word: vile, dark and self-obsessed. Merlin has a...servant's heart. And has never told anyone he has magic. For fear of losing that person as a friend.” she looks from one friendly face to the other and for a moment goes back to reading her story.
At one point Balian says something to the effect of 'will you finish it for us'. Sasha answers that she does not want to keep them from wherever they are going. After confused and uncertain glances, Nasir smiles slightly and explains to Sasha. “I think what my master means to ask is 'will you come with us, to our home and be our guest for a few days...finishing the story and sharing others that come to mind'.
The girl stammers, in English. “Forgive me, French is not my native language. Some things are instantly recognizable and others get completely lost. Maalik or Mudaris?” Prompting surprise from both men.
“...Closer to Hafiz.” Nasir finally answers.
Resuming French she replies. “It would truly warm my heart to have a chance to cheer yours. And to learn how this beautiful accident came to be.”
Nasir blushes and smiles. “Then let us go.”
“Nasir,” Balian says with a smile. “You do understand that you do not have to walk behind or bow to me in public. I was not...they do not know me as Godfrey's son here in the first place.”
“Nasir.” Hannah says with a soft smile. “May I ask you a fairly personal question?”
“I suppose so.” The man said slowly.
“man hu lak-a?”
“Wait you don't speak French easily but you speak Arabic?” Balian pressed.
“I speak French *easily*.” Hannah corrected him shortly. “But sometimes not *properly*. Because English is my first language and I never even learned its 'proper' use. And there are a few things it's helpful to be able to say when the occasion calls for it, in any language. I...I once dreamed something impossible and the person I was dreaming about taught me to break down walls of communication with 'the other'.” She hung her head, clearly embarrassed and unsure.
“If you believe this is a gift of God, that is all I need to believe you.” Nassir said softly. “Besides, I would be...something worse than a fool...to deny you are helping me understand you.”
"Well, neither question you've asked makes sense to me." Balian said fairly irked. He did not take his eyes off the stranger as he continued his conversation. "Nassir, what exactly is she asking you?"
“She wanted to clarify the word 'master'. She asked if you were my teacher or my owner. Was I learning from you or did I *belong* to you. The second question in French would be qui est à toi (who is yours). Or rather qui est-il pour toi (who is he to you). She just wants to know how I feel about you...apart from whatever my station or position is in regards to you."
"Don't you think you should answer her?" Balian said with an almost impatient humor.
"Al-rafiq." Nassir answered. “And do I assume correctly you know exactly what that means?”
“I think...friends as close as blood...He is dear to you...closer than what 'Sajiq' would say.”
x