A Stranger than normal Friend

Earth-21 Elana Morris (Later to be Elana Stien) Receives a surprisingly civil visitor.

“Martin, come in, please.”

“Thank you. I just came by to see how you are feeling.”

“The atmospheric specifications are holding. Things are filtered, diluted enough I can breath way easier than before. Now all I have to do is De-atrophy my muscles.” She rubs her leg, half-grinning. “But that'll take time.”

“Something I imagine you'll have a lot of. I'm still somewhat surprised J'onn let you out.”

“Well, if anything does go worse, I'll call. But, well for one, relax Martin. No standing on ceremony when we're off the clock. Forgive me is that how you prefer to be addressed?”

“I'm confused.”

“You're the kind of person I'd feel happy calling by their first name. But with the intense academia of your demeanor and just the fact that I know you as a doctor/scientist first, I thought I'd check.”

“Well as you say, we're 'off the clock', Martin will do just fine.”

“Cool. I'll make us some coffee.” Elana took grounds, water and filters out before Martin could say anything.

“Why not a glass of red wine?” The spoon stopped over the carafe. She didn't look away and continued filling it.

“Don't have any right now. Besides I need to clear the fuzz out of my brain.”

“Makes sense.”

A few minutes later Elana handed her guest a small mug of black coffee. “I have to say, I'm not sure J'onn would understand this.”

“He'd think something was 'going on' between us just because we're having coffee?”

Elana pulled her hands behind her back and said in a clipped tone. “I do not believe J'onn J'onzz would understand this, not at first anyway.”

Martin Stein put the mug on the table. A moment later the appearance of Martin Stein vanished and in his place was a petite, green-skinned alien with four digits on her fingers and a very confused expression on her face. “What gave me away? If you were telepathic or empathic you wouldn't have been fooled for a minute. Something must have given me away, what was it?”

“Red wine.” Elana said simply. “It's one of two alcohols I keep around and usually I would have it on hand, and you picked up on that. But Martin wouldn't have asked for it; he  doesn't drink red wine...only white.” She chuckled. “Believe me, I did not actually do that intentionally. The coffee really is for you.”

The woman picked up the mug, sniffed it briefly and drank. “I must admit, you seem to be taking this remarkably well.”

“I figure if you wanted to hurt me, you'd have done so by now. So why don't you tell me who you are and what you want.”

“My name is Me'gann Mor'zz. I'm here to learn about J'onn...and by extension the D.E.O. Are you seriously not bothered by this?”

“Like I said, J'onn would have a problem with it. I don't care.”

“As peaceful an alien as J'onn himself.”

“Well you should know better than most not all aliens are assholes to each-other. By the way, is the air as thin for you as it is for me? I never learned Martian physiology well enough to tell.”

“You should know, this...isn't my true form either.”

Elana stood to face her guest squarely. Holding her hands away at  from her sides. “If you met most of my people YOU would be running away in fear.”  Elana began twisting her arm and her fingers in ways that would break her bones if done to her, or if she were human. “Are you scared of me?” Me'gann gave no answer. “The consideration I give, I also ask for: The possibility of exceptions to the rule."

“Okay I appreciate the sentiment but I'm not sure you understand. This isn't my natural form either.”

“I'm EN-KARE-AN.” The Martian who had first appeared as Martin Stein backed away a step.

"On my mother's side." Elana continued. "My father was human. Do I correctly believe that if I was entirely of my mother's people you would have a reason to...make an extra effort NOT to tick me off?"

"You believe extremely correctly. And this explains why you knew what J'onn's reaction to me would be. You know what I really look like?"

"J'onn's the last of his kind. If another of his kind existed, they wouldn't need me as an intermediary."

My story about 'Dining on Ashes' and the rift that developed between J'onn and Nikita originally stemmed from this hurriedly written scene. But I lost it as soon as I'd written it. Like by the time I wrote the whole 'Another Chapter of Time' story...well literally this was a faded memory. I later wrote the story with Mon'el and Nikita on a romantic getaway and it served well enough as an origin or a 'chapter one' to Dining on Ashes.. But this disguised visitor surprising the hell out of HER host is what I had in mind, when J'onn and Kal were commiserating and Superman consoled him counseled him about the one time his face made sense. I stumbled upon this just tonight, for the first time so many months after it was written. I wasn't even sure I'd gotten it down. I wasn't looking for anything else in particular. Just a document to paste a short conversation from something else onto. Which is serious serendipity. 

"Mon'el, she didn't torture me."

"She was crawling around inside your head, inside your memories!"

"No, she was walking among them as I would walk down a cobbled street or a hallway at the DEO. But that's just because her people are psychics. If I could look into the mind of another I would see the neuronal pathways of thier mind like literal pathways: streets or corridors or something. Green and White Martians both share that ability and they have the strong minds required to compartmentalize and sort what they see. But she stayed in my mind for 3 solid hours and I couldn't take it. I'm an empath, not a telepath."

"You've had other people inside your head?" The woman asked. I could tell Mon'el was thinking it too.

"Well, sort of. J'onn told me that you're people send thoughts and link minds, share emotions, dreams...memories. So occasionally he'd look into my mind to make sure he understood what I was trying to say. Or so he could SEE the memory rather than rely on the description of it. Especially when it was a memory so important to us both. Our first meeting around the campfire and the 11 weeks leading to it was such a time. But that only took a few minutes and he had specific rooms he was looking for. My body simply wasn't strong enough to handle another person's mind inside of it for such a prolonged length of time... opening THAT many doors. So many memories reawakening. I'm a receiver not a transmitter. I can't send my own thoughts. Which means unlike for most humans who experience this a door once opened can not be stepped through in either direction. I've actually shut down the part of my mind that would want to try."
"Then why did you..." Me'gann seemed at a loss for words.
"If I'd said 'look in any rooms but these' what would you have done? If I'd put any kind of a limit on where or how long to look...the point was to be open-minded and to show you that I didn't have secrets. Secrets profit strangers nothing. Lies even less so. But please, I ask you once more, and hopefully for the last time: What do you intend to do with us?"

"I saw enough to know you're not with Henshaw. I knew you were DEO agents and under the command of their director. I assumed you were here looking for me. Why ARE you out in the middle of nowhere?”
 "We were heading for a place...a cabin." Mon'el responded. "We were taking a vacation." Some color crept into his cheeks as if he was being called out in front of an auditorium. "And I would have proposed by the fire. J'onn gave me his blessing."

"I imagine he was pleased when you asked his permission." Nikita said with a smile. "J'onn is the closest thing to a father I have here." She explained to her host. I'm 78 years old and he takes care of me." A look of realization passed over the Zavallen's face. "Hank Henshaw has been dead for nine years Ma'am. J'onn J'onzz assumed his identity after...After a mission very much like the one you thought we were on."

"Henshaw hunted him. J'onn defeated him." 

"Yeah. I was on that mission. I still shake my head at myself for assuming the Martian we were pursuing was...Phobos not Deimos."

"Then Mon'el is correct. This situation is incredibly similar. And my name is Me'gann M'orzz."

In front of Me'gann, Mon'el takes Nikita's hand and asks

'Will you take me as your husband?' Nikita says I do.

“My people agree that there is a creator. We don't believe in fate so much as providence. And our favorite thing to do is discuss our own beliefs and conclusions about the nature of the divine being that crated the universe. We have conferences of like-minded people, but we don't separate ourselves by our faith. Certainly not by how we feel we should honor our One God.” Elana looked sideways at Martin. “All Abrahamic faiths make perfect sense to me. Their view of God lines up perfectly with my won. But I happen to think they line up with each-other too. To me all Islam, Christianity and Judaism are is vastly different traditions and concepts on how to perceive or relate to the same God of our-all of your ancestors. You shouldn't call people stupid for thinking or even being raised differently than you. Back home we would have gotten that.”

“I'm sorry but, 'back home'?”

“My mom raised me with everything she would have learned in primary or secondary school in Teresina. It's my ancestral homeland on her side. This also means I know how my people would have viewed or interpreted almost anything I see here. WE all had different religions. Or actually we didn't form religion around our spiritual beliefs. Very different from Kryptonians or Martians, they literally all worship the same God. Heritage and culture, well you know as well as anyone how much the two get blurred together sometimes...And the kind of strength that can give a culture.”

“Yes, indeed I do.” Martin said hesitatingly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It's fine, refreshing actually.”

“To know someone who doesn't mince words but insists on being respectful as they refuse to?”

“Well that plus just talking about things either of us feel like talking about.” Martin looked around nervously. “And do I assume your shadow is still very interested in you-slash-us?”

“I should say that whatever has given me these visions, I've learned to trust it. That even if what I see isn't happening, I'm seeing it for a reason. And yes, whoever was SO interested in someone like me, is still around. But I'm not entirely sure he's not wearing a mask, using an image in my head that's so fresh for me, having just received and being so focused on what I saw. Also, I cannot for the life of my fathom why I got an early-warning system about him in the first place. What I saw is so fantastical, even by DEO standards, it's not like I'll be able to convince anyone I'm right about him?”

“Perhaps it was more for his sake than yours?” Martin said thoughtfully. “So he wouldn't have as much explaining to do. Or so that someone else will be able to consider- that is give weight and clarity to- his his 'fantastical' story?”

“So I can clarify & confirm what he says when I do bring him in? Trust me, he should want to come. I hope to heaven that you are right and that he's not wearing that kind of a mask. For one he shouldn't exist anymore than J'onn should have. So without a warning or some kind of head's up  *I* wouldn't believe this story. And *I* wouldn't have believed it out of his or anyone's mouth.”

“Okay, that one you are going to have to explain.”

“That J'onn shouldn't exist? Well obviously he should exist but when the DEO first encountered him they were wrong about what he was. I mean...Well, you know who J'onn is right?”

“He's a shape-shifting alien who reformed the DEO into what it is, as opposed to under his predecessor. Also a Green Martian, a steadfast warrior...an a man of honor by all I can tell of him.”

“Exactly, he's a Green Martian...And he never told you that part. Oh...crap.” Elana looked down, clearly dejected and thoroughly displeased with herself.

“We should get going. We should head back.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Time to breath DEO air again...literally and non-sarcastically.”

“You mean you can't breath unfiltered air for long?” Marin said putting $20 on the table. “Not a complete shot in the dark. J'onn told me that you are not asthmatic; but the result is the same.”

“ 'There's not enough air in the air'...is 10 degrees off. More like there's too much of something else and I can't breathe -- and thereby I can't process the 'air' of this atmosphere either. In human physiology if oxygen bonds with sulfur you can't process oxygen. Same for us with the... Aeon? Argon in the air. It's like breathing in smog. It's smothering. Eventually my breathing goes shallow. Hyp-O-ventilating essentially.”

“Adding to the list of reasons you don't usually leave the D.E.O.”

Nikita simply nodded.

Ten minutes later they were in their car and heading back to the DEO. Elana in the front passenger seat of Martin's Impala. “How much do you know about when J'onn and Nikita first met? When the original Hank Henshaw was still around and the impressions everyone left on each-other?”

“Very little I'm afraid. I know Henshaw was a close-minded jerk who saw all aliens as potential enemies. I know Nikita had been a prisoner at the DEO but with the help of a sympathetic agent, who means a great deal to her she was became more of an asset than an inmate. She was in custody but here to do a job. I know that J'onn was an alien they had to go to the northern Canadian Rockies to find. And neither Director Henshaw nor the other agent were said to have survived.”

“After that mission Nikita was invited to become a full agent of the D.E.O and J'onn took Hank's face and identity in order to reform the D.E.O. And Superman has been 'in' on their agreement and intention since day one. Listen, I can tell you everything Nikita told me, she wouldn't mind it. I cannot say anything that was not contained in her story. These will be Nikita's words and feelings. I feel that to give my own, or anything of J'onn's story that I myself have learned, without permission, would violate J'onn's trust.”

“Well, okay.” And when she was done Martin was looking at her with a new admiration. “You really are in-tuned with emotions...even those not actually your own.”

Elana looked at him thoroughly thrown off balance. “Of course, I'm Enkaren.” Martin's face showed his lack of understanding. “My people's empathic abilities are such that traumatic hypnosis would be a thing if I were full-blooded.”

“Could you run that by me again in elaborated English?”

“You know how I get when I sing a song? If you have an open mind you see it in your mind's eye as well. Or here..” She put her left hand to the side of her own face and played an image of cool winds blowing over fields of wildflowers. “If I were entirely of my mother's people, that wouldn't have been in your minds eye. You would have whole-heartedly believed you were there and never questioned it.  It would be a full-sensory, even physical experience; indistinguishable from the ground and surroundings in which you truly stand. Not to say it was always a weapon of war. We would use it to calm a troubled sea or stir up a tempest. But in general using our minds as a weapon against our enemies would be the first thing we'd think of. That is why my people are so feared among alien races. The only difference is that my mother never taught me to use my abilities that way. She wasn't that kind of person. Even if I were pure-blooded traumatic hypnosis would be a misnomer.” Elana looked away, sadly.

“...What happened to her?” Martin asked in a weak voice.

“Nothing bad. She was an old woman when I was born. She died when I was in my 20's. I was 31 years old when I attacked an assailant – someone who was beating someone else up – and ended up doing enough damage he died from his injuries. That man turned out to be a cop. And I got arrested being so disregardful of law and order that killing a cop was nothing to me. If a persons position is such that wronging him is a worse crime than wronging a civilian he should be required to Identify himself. Maybe he was supposed to but he never declared himself. I sure as hell didn't mean to kill him. That was the result, not my intention. And no one could figure out how a little shrimp like me could have caused enough damage to kill him -someone as fit as a police detective- unless I'd knowingly or willfully use enough force to do so. It's not like a pacifist can accidently kill a solider, right? So I spent 15 years in a DEO cell. Wondering why I wasn't sent to a normal prison if they didn't know I was an alien? Turns out it was because one man did figure out what I was. And that chances were good table-salt would burn me or I'd react to a normal painkiller like it was a powerful sedative or even hallucinogen. At the D.E.O. I was cared for by people who knew who I was and I met J'onn J'onzz when he was doing his rounds. In him and then in you I have found someone actually willing to talk to me just for the sake of talking...All because a man like Hank Henshaw actually saw what was going on...and no one else did.”

A few hours later when it was time for the evening meal, Nasir joined Almaric and a few other soldiers at their table. The meal was made up mostly of chicken, bread and root vegetables. With mead served as well as water. A fact which made the guest of honor smile shyly.

“What's the matter?” Almaric inquired, sincerely concerned.

“You know Halal that well?” Was the quick, soft answer. “Mead is the only...celebrant, inebriate...we are allowed, after our book. More than that...it matters to you?”

“It is only practical to serve food that all can share.” Almaric stated smiling. “And this isn't so different from what is normally served. We wouldn't kill a pig for this anyway, and mead is mellow compared to red wine.”

“I count it as consideration. I thank you for it.” Nassir replied. Almaric could see he thoroughly meant it. 

They sat down. Nasir had decided to say a silent prayer, with no outward sign. Then he saw that each of them had bowed their heads for a prayer as well, and therefore would not be put out at his own sign of gratitude toward God. With an abbreviated prayer and a nod of thanks, he ate.

“How did you meet Balian?” Almaric asked him presently.

“My former master decided to challenge the man he saw as nothing but a lost peasant for possession of his horse.” The Saracen replied almost at once. He slowed his words as he continued. “Mummad Al Fais was on horse charging Balian on foot. When Balian declared himself the Baron of Ibelin, it was only right to even the playing field. My master, my old friend, soon lost that skirmish.”

At the end of a personal conversation about the earliest memories of her life, Sasha starts acting out motions to a play, singing 'Good King Wenceslas', facing North when her friend is standing East. It's something Merlin has never seen in her before. He didn't know she had such a wellspring of knowledge, of memory. It wasn't drama, it wasn't art or theater. It was a hidden memory not a hidden talent and he got that. She smiles at him, warmly, appreciatively, even though he literally said nothing and made no outward sign. She explains her smile and her song by that statement. What happens next in the conversation?

After effusively defending the alien menace she's harboring, Sasha Jordan Scott turns to 'Joe'

“That wasn't posturing you know, I was serious. I trust you a lot more than I trust him. He is breaking our laws coming into a private residence without permission, searching the place without prob--a reason to think something illegal is going on. Also I know enough about you to trust you. You are both a guest in my house and my responsibility. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. No one with a brain in their skull insults a friend of mine in my house."

“Do you remember how__ you became who you are now? Do you remember how___it felt to breathe without gasping With all your might?”

“What does that mean?” Superman asked.

Once I realized he was asking me not her I answered. “She was repeating something earlier, a chant or a song. It seemed like she was trying to tell us something important. And she is. This lyric must have something...You can breathe but the air is too thin for you. It hurts to talk...because you run out of air?”

Not thin__Contaminated.

Superman looked like someone had just slapped him in the head with a 2x4 made of lead. “There is something in our air that literally hurts you. You gag on our atmosphere. Which is why we can't hear you, or they can't. But why would that...” She held up her hand to say 'wait' and started writing again.

The resonance of my voice with your air. The 'air' resonates differently with my vocal cords. You can hear me...kryptonian powers here on Earth. But while not my native state, in these conditions my voice is subsonic...Or might as well be. Yet giving others super-hearing isn't the only answer.

"And for her people, for Enkarens that was very A-typical. They were warriors born. Not aggressive, not tyrannical by any means, but fighters all the same." She looked over to her friend. "Like I told you Martin. My abilities being weaker, my emotions being diluted and not in pure form, is the result of my mixed heritage. That I actually have control over my 'quick temper' and why my 'hot blood' is never very explosive...that's because my mother raised me right." Elana blushed. "Well, it's because she raised me as she did. In a way most Enkarens wouldn't consider to be right and natural thinking.  And in a style, with a set of values most races who've even heard of us wouldn't think of as 'Enkaren'.

Elana stares hard and Querl Dox. A moment alter she shakes her head. "Director, Nikita would be a better help to you than I. And not just because my head is full of air right now." 

J'onn looked at his friend with sympathy. "You should go to your quarters and lie down."

Querl Dox looked with concern as Martin took Elana by the arm and half-guided, half carried her to the room that served as Elana's quarters at the D.E.O. "I am afraid I do not understand is she...ill?"

J'onn Jo'nzz glanced back at the visitor. "Do you know enough about Enkaren physiology to know why the air itself is slightly toxic to them?"

"Enkarens would use an argon gas chamber to execute criminals." Querl said immediately. "The amount of Argon in Earth's atmosphere would make them feel like they were breathing in smog...And the air filtration systems here at the D.E.O would allow her to breathe what would be for her 'pure air'. without any apparatus."

"You really do know a lot about practically everything."

I realize Elana introduced me to you as Querl Dox. But I would actually prefer to be addressed by my designation, Brainiac-5. My friends just call me 'Brainy'."

"Not close to your family?"

"A less formal name implies a familiarity I find...comforting. And for my people calling one by there individual name is...actually setting them apart from the rest of thier family."

"You're related to Indigo." J'onn realized quickly. "How is that possible."