The Victorious 'Dead'

These next several entries will all be part of the same story. They will tell the tale of Jeremiah's Offer, Hank Henshaw's change of heart and how both found peace. This is at the end of the story. And the beginning fo the rest of thier lives.

Green skinned alien: You would give up your freedom for this man's life?
Jeremiah Danvers: For his freedom AND his life yes.

Sure I felt like a prisoner at first. Sarrin said I was a captive in that I could not escape. She wasn't wrong. But I'm not about to...break faith with you.”

“Do you honestly believe that's what you'd be doing by checking up on a friend? Sarrin felt –and told me– what Nikita meant to you.” J'onn's eyes went wise with realization. “The oath is invalid if you are staying here only out of obligation. Do you not see that?”

“For maybe the third time since I met you, I'm not understanding you.”

“We will always be brothers Jeremiah. You don't have to stay at my side for that. You said once that even your son was not enough for you to want to leave. I assumed there was no one ELSE out there who could pull you away. Please understand if you have someone in this life who needs you, I would never knowingly keep you from them. That is at least part of what 'brotherhood' means, isn't it?”

“I...cannot find the means by which to argue with you.” Jeremiah tried to stop himself from smiling. There was so much truth in his friends words. “I'm glad we think alike.”

“Come on, I'll fly you to National City. Just let's say goodbye to Sarrin first.”

It gives more weight to J'onn's feelings later when they meet Jeremiah in the present day: That Jeremiah was the first human who treated him as an equal, knowing who he really was. To J'onn, Jeremiah was an angel in an unlikely den of wolves. And he thought Jeremiah died that day. Turns out he was captured by Cadmus...along with Hank Henshaw.

Arias Guatemala only exists in one of my two sets of alternate Earth stories: the one on Earth-9. In it Jeremiah Danvers was brought here to live and to stay after the mission to terminate a particularly dangerous alien went the way it did. Jeremiah stayed with J'onn as kind of a willing captive. Exchanging himself for not only Hank Henshaw's life but his freedom. He asked J'onn to not only let Hank live but let him go. He's a captive in that he cannot escape but his life is otherwise perfectly normal. Basically he has every liberty except liberty himself. Elana and Martin Stein practically stumbled upon them, as Arias  4 years later and that in turn encouraged or spurned Jeremiah to visit the D.E.O and find some closure on how he feels about...anything. 

He tells J'onn he wants to see for himself if Nikita really is free to do what she wants and chooses to stand my Hank's side. Or is simply following orders, voicing a party line when she serves as Hank's lefftenant And they actually do use that word. He needs to check in on her and then he can find some closure and move on with his life. By this time Jeremiah and J'onn have become the best of friends. Jeremiah Danvers feels bound by an oath tying him to J'onn. "I promised I would never leave your side. From what I understood that was a til death do us part oath of loyalty, if not brotherhood."

Nikita drew herself to her full height. Which still was barely 5'10. She looked the prisoner in the eyes. Or rather just above them. “May Tex Kolar Daxam.”

“You honor me.” The woman replied, likewise drawing herself to her full height. “Even if you don't really mean it.”

“No I didn't. And if you were who you claimed to be you'd never have accepted it.”

“I don't understand.” Mon-El of Daxam said from a few feet to Nikita's left.

Nikita kept her attention squarely on the woman on the other side of the door. “You're not a Daxamite. Much less the queen of that planet. Who the hell are you?”

The human-looking woman and sea blue dress faded away to reveal an individual with thick muscles, rough skin, deep-set eyes and monstrous teeth.

“How did you know?” Mon-El asked his friend.

“I gave a Kryptonian slur against your people, standing straight as if it were some kind of salute and se responded as if it were her national anthem or something. She knows who your people are, but not how you feel about each-other.”

“You're smarter than I gave you credit for.” The woman begrudgingly admitted.

“I have to admit, while not intentionally cheating, I had an advantage.”

“If you were a telepath I would have known.”

“I am an empath. But that's not what I was referring to.”

“What are you Xavallen or something?” The prisoner snorted derisively.

“Yes, I am.” Nikita turned to her compatriot. “If Director Henshaw isn't already on the way down here, will you page him please?”

Hank Henshaw walked through the door a few moments later. “So who do we have here?”

“A White Martian. I have yet to ask her name.” Nikita professionally reported.

“A White Martian.” Mon-El echoed.

“How did you know?” Hank Henshaw asked his subordinate.

“You remember how I reacted to the Infernian in Brooks Square? White Martians are the other race of whom my physiology is so completely sensitive. It is something that is EXTRELELY UNIQUE to my people.” Nikita smiled wryly. “Also I've met one before. It doesn't feel quite the same as when I'm around an Infernian but it's pretty unmistakable.”

“And did he make you cry?” The Martian in the cell taunted.

“He took control of my mind and made me beat a four-legged farm animal to death. He restored my self-awareness just in time for me to see my hand end that creatures life. As an empath I felt every blow I gave that creature and THAT made me cry.”

Nikita addressed herself to the entire room. “My people are...well we tend to offer a loaf of bread sooner than we'd offer either an olive branch or a sword. We do not know how to fight, not compared to a lot of other races out there. We are pretty damn good at fighting with our words not our fists. Something people like Bre-vaak's and the planet of weapons manufacturers that is Thrombus consider a sign of weakness.”

“Your race is as pathetic as I always heard.”

“Is there something wrong with not wanting an eye for an eye to leave the whole world blind?” Nikita retorted. “More than any other race my people have learned not to answer a threat with another threat. Something by the way that human are no where near advanced enough to understand. The difference between my people and theirs is that they have more to overcome. And so they try harder than we ever had to.”

Hank and Mon-El looked at each-other. This was the most open-book Hank had heard her when not talking about Jeremiah Danvers. It was the most open Mon-El had heard her at all.

“I don't suppose you've ever bothered to learn another species language.” Nikita said, her gaze fixed on the White Martian. “But listen to this. Mian soreth, nolet forseth. Breq-torec noreth. Elesaar Mian. Estarra Forseth.” Nikita's eyebrows raised and her gaze lowered. “Thank you, for that.” She said in a wavering voice. She turned and walked away from the cell.

“Nikita, what just happened?”

“The, the words were of memory and remembrance. I was using them differently. It's usually more like a benediction for those who have passed than a 'remember remember the time of the fires'. Mon-El, what's today's date?”

“April 18^th.”

“Hank, you and I have a glass of whiskey to pour for each-other when evening falls. Some humans have a similar tradition.”

“I'll be there.” Hank answered. “Meantime I'd like you back in the control room.”

Mon-El followed Nikita to the central cortex. Nikita walked up the the main view screen and began typing into the controls, doing her best to ignore her compatriot.

“I use English accurately but without the conventions Americans have learned.” She offered. “I would not say 'a bottle of whiskey' unless I intended to drink the entire bottle with him. Which I don't. We will pour each-other a glass...to remember a friend of ours who is no longer with us.”

Whatever question Mon-El had on his lips died on his lips.

“I'll go see if Winn needs any help down in processing.”

Nikita smile faintly. Mon-El had been working at the D.E.O. as a volunteer for almost 2 years now and still referred to the computer lab as 'processing' or 'the processing center'. She had to admit given the processing power of computers as well as the inherent fact that the computers were a core component in keeping things proceeding, the name made as much sense as anything.

Everyone gave her space for the rest of her shift. Not because she was hostile or worked up but because she carried herself with sadness. It almost rested on her. Some who knew her, like Winn Schott perceived something incredibly personal must have happened recently. They were only half-right. The man who freed her from the D.E.O. and saved Henshaw's life had died 4 years and one day ago.

Nikita sat on her bed waiting for Hank Henshaw. Her thoughts were full of what memories she had of Jeremiah. It was part of her commemoration to honor the man's life on the anniversary of his death. Rather than simply 'a life lived, a life ended'. The problem was, she didn't have very many memories of the man. The most important memory she had of him was the last time she ever saw him. She heard a tap on the door frame. “Come in.”

Hank Henshaw quickly stepped inside. Nikita motioned for him to take a seat at the breakfast table by the wall. He did. “I can't believe it's been four years already.”

Nikita smiled as she poured two glasses of whiskey. “Not one for beating around the bush. You know I kind of admire you for that.”

“Occupational hazard I guess.”

“Hank, may I call you Hank?”

“When we're off duty yes.” The man replied

“Hank, something I've been wondering since I met this new you. Aside from disagreements about me, did the two of you get along? Or did he constantly fight your decisions?”

“We got along fine. He would often object, try to offer alternatives. But he would never really fight me. We were working together for a cause and left it at that. He never let anything compromise his dedication to his values. I admired him for that.”

“Did it get him into trouble? When he helped me escape. Did you... punish him.” She couldn't bring herself to say the words aloud but her face finished the question.

“I had to put in his file that he did not do everything possible to prevent your escape. I didn't say anything else about it. He acted according to his own convictions. I couldn't punish him for that. Like I said, I can respect a man who stands behind his true beliefs. Besides, he was right."

"Hank, I hope you know – he wouldn't have regretted it."

"How can you know that for sure?"

"You're amazed and in shock that he was as loyal to you and the D.E.O. as he was. It follows that he wouldn't have regretted honoring that loyalty. He thought you were worth it. He thought I deserved to be free and you deserved to live. It seems to me he died how he lived: With honor."