Truly Inspired

 

O'Neill is headstrong, brave and reserved. Only Jonas knows why.

Carter is a know-it-all with inborn intution and thinks everything is obvious. Jolinar comes later.

Daniel is an explorer but also an Alcohlic. Not abrassive but pretty withdrawn.

Teal'c left to be with his people after K'Tano appointed him his successor. Jonas replaces him.

JONAS is O'Neill's closest friend and confidant.

Jack O'Neill walked hesitantly into his friends office. He was running late getting up to the briefing room, which he didn't like. He was even less comfortable with having a bunch of Russian soliders loligagging through the halls, innocent and carefree as you please. For the past year Stargate Command had been free, (compelled) to share knowledge and technology concerning Gate Travel with the Russian scientists or military who came through their door. And now, for once it seemed they had the same problem. Daniel Jackson's presence in the coming breifing would be a welcome addition, as he was the only one on the base to have met with their guests in any capacity. The problem was whether Daniel would shut up when he needed to...keep himself in check.

“I don't need to say, you're expected upstairs?” O'Neill put forth from just outside his friend's lab.

“Are you sure you even want me up there anymore?” Came the drier than usual reply.

“Listen, to your mind, you're not the scientist he once knew. To him, you're the only true scientist in our group. Answering your questions is more worth his while, because you ask informed questions. I'm not asking you to put on a mask and pretend the last 3 years didn't happen. I'm asking you to help us solve a riddle...and maybe break free of the last remnants of the cold war.”

“Alright.” Daniel replied standing up form his desk and following his commanding officer out of the office. “But assuming we even find what those guys were looking for...I'll take this one step at a time.”

And Doctor Daniel Jackson was indeed on his best behavoir as the three Russian military officers and his own counterpart Lieutenant Tolinev stood and explained the off world mision their government had launched a few months before. Apparently the legend of the eye of Tiamen, as well as five other jewels belonging to five other egyptian deities, had been enough for one particular Russian Colnel to gather his three closest friends and go off world, without orders to the desert planet of Nyeraka. Having just recently learned the actual coordinates of this planet, this group of loyal Russian officers proposed going after that team, to save them if they could, and figure out if they had been successful.

“It makes a certain sense doesn't it?” Captain Carter asked of the group, once the briefing itself had reached a lull. “Both that they would have stayed where they were, not knowing what happened on this end, and that we all should go after them?”

“It's ah, not that simple Captain.” Jack O'Neill stated lamely as he stared acros the table at Colnel Zuchov. “It's as much a question of how far are any of us willing to go to achieve our mision parameters, and what our ultimate goals even are, before we go through this mess together.”

“Forgive me, but should we not attempt to discover what has gone wrong and how, before we try to solve or address such issues?” Teal's deep, solemn voice was a welcome perspective and reality check, to the other officers present.

General Hammond sighed. “Right as usual Teal'c. Colnel O'Neill you are in charge of this mission. But try to listen to Colnel Zuchov as far as how to deal with or interpret the memebers of the initial team. As for the rest of you, I'm pretty sure we all have our assignments and priorities. Get going.”

It only took 20 minutes for the combined team to locate and enter the ziggorat in which they assumed the would find the mising officers. It was literally the only structure left standing within sight of the stargate. A short look over the inside of the atrium told Lt. Vallarin pretty much everything he wanted to know of the origianl intent of this temple. It had been dedicated to the Babylonian god Mar-duke, who apparently was even more of a tyrant than the rest of his race. His own priests eventually locked him away in a casket.

“Here it says the snake will eat his guts and peel away his flesh, as he lies awake in the tomb for all enterity.” Daniel remarked, indicating the wall to the left of the entryway. It was agreed that the tomb in question was in fact a sarcophagus, which is not something that would be on display for any visitors to see. They began to search the room with their flashlights, looking for other doors or hallways which might lead to any other rooms. They soon found a narrow corridor at the farthest corner of the atrium, on the right-hand wall. It was only after several minutes of quiet walking they found the comparitively small room which held the casket. There were a few bags of supplies and a metal box on the far wall in this room. But for the moment, what everyone noticed was the casket. It was clear no particualr honor was owed this 'god' by the end of his life.The normally gold sarcophagus had been painted black and the lid had been sealed shut with fused iron.

“The Goa'uld use this technology to heal sick, repair the injured and bring themselves back from the dead, right?” Lt. Tolinev remarked easily. O'Neill looked at her promptingly. “It doesn't seem much of a punishment, more like putting someone on ice for a lifetime or so.”

“...Unless the snake trapped with you isn't a Goa'uld parasite.” Daniel replied with a gentle laugh.

“How do you mean Doctor Jackson?” Lt. Vallarin posed calmly, obviously treadign carefully.

“Most people who worship the snakes as actual god's, don't realize they are actually snakes.” O'Neill responded firmly. “And anyone but me getting a creepier than usual feeling about this place?”

“No, not really sir.” Captain Carter answered quickly. “But it looks like the end of the line for this corridor and we haven't found any evidence of the original expedition. Let's get back to the lobby and follow one of the other corridors. If nothing else, it won't be so clausterphobic.”

Daniel could see either a question or a challenge in Colnel Zuchov's face and addressed the misconception. “One does not have to literally suffer that condition to be uncomfortable in tight spaces. And I second it.”

“Both the suggestion and the claustrphobia I take it?” Vallarin muttered to himself in Russian.

“Indeed so comrade.” Daniel replied in a gentle voice, in Russian. Walking up to the man he continued, as though bantering over a pint in a pub. “Quite simply, this room brings back unpleasant memories and I would much prefer to be gone from it. Also our task here is to find answers to questions. And there do not seem to be many answers to be found in this room specifically. It stands to reason we will find them elsewhere.”

“You have not lost you tongue, or your manners I see.” Colnel Zuchov commented in response.

“Come on, let's go, two by two.” O'Neill stated casually. “I tell you, and firmly believe something IS screwy here, no matter what the rest of you say.”

It was only after returning to the atrium and walking up to the entryway any of them reconsidered O'Neills assertion. And that was for the simple reason the door was now locked and barred.

“Are you getting the feeling we're not alone here?” Captain Carter suggested in a nervous tone.

“Nah, really?” O'Neill retorted.

“Actually she's right, but for the wrong reason.” A young, male voice answered from directly behind them. Every solider from earth turned around and raised their weapons. Daniel Jackson simply stepped in front of his teammates and asked for elaboration. Which it seemed the voice was perfectly willing to give. “You are not alone but that was not my doing. This place was redesigned as a trap after the uprising.The people who built this temple were pretty short-sighted. They couldn't imagine any one could come here and not be trying to resuce the 'false god' Marduke.” Here he chuckled a bit. “Having gone to such great lengths to free themselves, they naturally took equally extensive measures to stay free.”

“Well, that makes sense I guess.' O'Neill stated slowly. “What doesn't make sense is whover you are to have survived here this long, staying in the shadows like a ghost. And what's with the accent?”

“I don't recognize your weapons,” The voice began slowly. “I know that's what they are. Lower them enough so you won't shoot out my throat, and I'll come out. And this is how I usually speak.”

The American soliders did so at once. And slowly, each of the Russian soliders followed suit. There was a rustling sound directly in front of them, as though someone were standing up and pushing rocks out of the way to do so.

Pointing his flashlight where he judged the man's face would be Daniel was surprised to see, only a few meters ahead of him, a man very nearly his own age and with clothes made of natural fibers, but obvioulsy made by machine and not by hand. The red vest looked covered in dust and his pants were thick corduray. The beard on his face was very new, but he obviously had spent a great deal of time in the temple: his face looked worn.

“You're not from Earth are you?” Daniel asked in an almost nostalgically gentle voice.

“Never heard of the place for myself.” The stranger replied easily. “And introductions should come before explanations. My name is Jonas, Jonas Quinn.”

“Colnel Jack O'Neill Captain Sam Carter and the tall, silent one is Teal'c.” Daniel replied, indicating each of his friends in turn. “And I'm Daniel Jackson. Just call me Daniel if you like.”

“Thank you.” Jonas responded simply. O'Neill cocked his head to one side. “For giving me personal names as well as family names. You must be either very seasoned or very new at this to do so.” He saw in a moment this didn't suffice as an explanation. “Where I'm from this situation would not warrant personal names. Unless we already percieved ourselves as equals, family names would suffice.”

“How do you live so guarded and secretive?” Captain Carter inquired calmly. O'Neill cleared his throat loudly. And Daniel coughed into his hand. “Excuse my not letting Earth politics and preconceptions get in the way of understanding the culture of another planet.” Carter replied testily.

“Lt. Tolinev laughed softly. “Even I am curious how another culture explains such behavior.” She paused a moment. “Even if we have similar behavioral norms, we might not share the same reasoning for it.”

“Besides, it might be just this situation which suggests such a response. Perhaps at home things are different for his people.” Daniel reminded his Commanding Officer in a cautious tone.

Jonas put his hands at out at each side, palms forward. “Things are just more ritualized and formalized in Kelowna, espeically off-world things. I'm trying to break free of that...persisting annoyance.”

“Do your own people not serve the Goa'uld?” Teal'c inquired gently.

“We did about 600 years ago.” Jonas replied easily. “We've had access to gate travel for almost half that time. It was just a few...well it was comparatively recently we got over ourselves and our planet enough to pursue gate travel.”

“Conflict between nations?” O'Neill suggested more than a little sardonically.

“The other nations on my planet don't know or care about the stargate...and yes that's right.” Jonas looked rather hard at the other members of the team, those who had not yet spoken directly to him. It was a long, cold stare that lasted several moments. When Colnel Zuchov insited on an explanation, he gave one. “I assume you yourselves are of a different state or nation than these three?” He pointed to the human members of Sg-1. “ I don't just say that because your uniforms are different. My first thought is this a joint mission on your parts, meant as much to clear the tension between your countries as to find anything of value on this planet.”

“Okay, not denying that actually makes sense but...” O'Neill seemed at a loss for words.

“What of value could be found on this planet in the first place?” Colnel Zuchov answered.

It was an unwelcome reminder of the real reason any of them were here. Technically if Yazimov's team had gone to such insane risks for the jewel, it was worth searching for again, even risking the same fate befalling this team. Of course, no one felt any desire to explain this to a man who apparently had spent several weeks locked away in the middle of a crypt.

“I hope you don't think this rude or otherwise inappropriate...” Sam Cater began slowly. “How long have you been here? Have you seen anyone else at all before we came?”

“There was another group here, some weeks ago. They didn't last long though.” Jonas stated in a withdrawn voice. “Give me liberty or give me death must have been seared pretty deep into their pysche's. I tried to be their friend and their guide in these halls. I could tell they weren't very interested in history or exploration, strictly speaking...I even handed them what I thought they came here for. Nothing helped. They swallowed their own poison one by one. Although only the last one, Brin-ske called it that.”

“What you thought they came for?” Daniel and O'Neill persisted.

“Something called the eye of Tiamen.” Jonas answered at once. “It's back down a hallway, in that box. Not the safest place for it I know. But hiding these 'treasures' is not a very good stratagy for meeting friends.” From the glances between teammembers, it was clear to Jonas that his remark made little sense. Or maybe they just didn't see his meaning. “Follow me back, I'll show you.” He insisted. And two by two, with Jonas in the lead, the Earthlings walked the narrow corridor to the sarcophagus. It wasn't until Jonas led them to the far wall of the tiny room, and picked up the small metal box he'd brought with him, that they understood his words. It was made of what looked like polished silver, with a combination lock on the front of it. Jonas pressed on the top of it on either side and the lid popped off. He showed it to O'Neill first. “Anyone can have it far as I care.”

“Do you know what this supposedly does?” Daniel and Lt. Tolinev asked in the same breath.

“My government sent me out here after it.” Jonas replied, almost bitterly. “But my people don't need any more ways to blow themselves, or each-other, out of the sky.”

“I take it that's why you've stayed here all this time?” Captain Carter mentioned blithely.

“Well, yeah.” Jonas replied easily. “Plus I don't really have anywhere to ring TO.” O'Neill joined the rest of his team in growing very surprised looks on their faces. Noticing this, Jonas smiled broadly. “This little room was along one side wall and all the way down. Do the same on the other side, left versus right from the front door and eventually you'll come to a ring transporter. But from what I could tell those things basially beam a person UP...not across the land.” He hesitated a moment. “As a matter of curiousity, are you new at this, or are you pretty seasonsed travelers?”

“That's...actually an interesting question.” Lt. Vallarin replied slowly. “My group are fairly new at gate travel.” He thought for a moment. “The Russian members of this group, don't have much expereince in gate travel compared to the Americans...known as Sg-1. But we are learning.”

“In that case,” Jonas began, setting the silver box down finally and picking some kind of satchel up from the floor. “I have a feeling this thing, might mean more to you than to me.” He drew a small notebook out of the satchel and handed it to the Russian Colnel. It was accepted with a grateful bow of the head.

“Do any of you happen to know what date it would be in their calendar?” Jonas mentioned quickly.

“What is the significance of the date?” Teal'c pondered aloud.

“I'm not asking the Babylonian calendar.” Jonas replied at once. “I've been thinking in circles trying to carbon date this place but then I realized the Goa'uld probably have their own system anyway. And I know enough to know that your people, Teal'c, once served them...probably most of them still do. Either way, if I'm reading these symbols and the schedules right...we need to get out of here as if our feet were on fire.”

Right on cue the temple shook. There was sand coming down from the roof. Everyone bolted back down the corridor and into the atrium. Everyone followed Jonas across the room and down the corridor he'd mentioned. The room shook again and again. Tiny stones were flying everywhere. “The first two lefts, then three right turns and your there!” Jonas yelped, from behind them. Daniel Jackson, Captain Carter and the Russian team all followed his very sound advice.

O'Neill, having brought up the rear, stopped and stared at Jonas. “Aren't you coming with us?” He questioned.

“Yeah what exactly would I do in your world?” Jonas replied shortly. “Assuming you don't just send me back where I'm from?”

“I thought you were smart!” O'Neill yelped in a mix of shock and sarcasm. “It strikes me anything is better than being buried in this mess!” The room shook violently. Larger stones and boulders were falling now.

“I have to agree with you!” Jonas replied as he followed the others to the ring room.

The rings were wide enough to carry four of them at at time, if the went in pairs. As it was they went by teams: the four Russian members together in military formation and the four members of Sg-1 together, with Jonas in the center. They all materialzied within a few meters of the gate itself. Which, as Daniel would later note, made sense. The Goa'uld were both secretive and paranoid. Direct temple to gate access added to both interests. It wasn't until they actually made it through the gate and were back at Stargate Command anyone noticed Lt. Tolinev was lagging behind. The explanation was obvious: there was a gash in her head.

“I guess those people were pretty good at things when they set their mind to it.” O'Neill muttered.

Jonas nodded. “Whether planned by the Goa'uld for Ragnorok or insurance from the fearful, I'd have to agree.”

General Hammond walked to the bottom of the ramp, which led to the gate. It was only after noticing his presence that Jonas took his eyes off of his rescuers.

“General Hammond,” Colnel O'Neill stated formally. “May I introduce you to Jonas Quinn: the single bravest science nerd I have ever met off world.” O'Neill stood aside to let the medical staff through, careful not to get in anyone's way. “And may I present, the eye of Tiamen,” He continued, holding up the jewel. “the single most over-rated rock in the known gate-network.” He handed his superior officer the medalion.

“It's going to be a long debriefing people, we'll get you all checked out by our doctors and start in three hours.” Hammond stated in a cool tone. “Except you mister Quinn. I'd like to see you immediately after you're medically cleared.”

Jonas looked confused and slightly alarmed. At least, this was the impression Doctor Jackson got watching his reaction. “It's alright.” The historian told the young explorer. “The general thinks you can talk more freely to him when you're not worried about what the rest of us think. We know your character, he is more interested in your culture and history, how things are in your world.”

FIRST OF ITS KIND (for the Lunar Wolf)

 This team of five heroes knew nothing of their own legacy. Almost nine years earlier I had made a promise to earth's first defenders, two of whom I counted as my saviors, that I would fight alongside the power rangers as long as I could and as long as there were rangers. It was a promise I'd been having trouble keeping with this group. From what I had seen of them, they'd fallen into the same mental trap as Jason and his friends. They thought I was an innocent bystander and needed protecting. Jason's team were later faced with evidence to the contrary, which they accepted and understood. I made up my mind to change that same misconception deliberately, and a lot sooner.

“Carter?” I said walking up to the red ranger.

“How do you know me?” He replied at once.

“I don't really. I just know you and your friends are power rangers and under any other circumstances, you'd be obliged to take me back to the aqua-base to learn what I knew. Although I'm pretty sure I'll be going there at some point, I'd prefer it to be of my own volition.”

“You apparently don't get it, we're not rangers anymore.” Joel told me in his sardonic tone.

“Not officially, no. But whatever it is that made you rangers in the first place, is something those metal tin-cans will never have. Apparently some things never change.” I looked away.

“What do you mean?” Chad asked me in a sincerely curious voice.

“Those in power always trust the things they can control better than any who can think for themselves, until said control is lost. It is, as a friend of mine once said 'the logic of history'. I remain confident that...well I really have no way of knowing.”

“What are you talking about?” Carter asked me bluntly.

“Well whether you officially become rangers again has as much to do with all of you as it does the cyborgs. While I can't speak to what you ultimately decide, I'm certain the metal-mimics aren't as predictable as the higher-ups think.” I pointed to the high-rises to my left. “Tell Captain Mitchell as much or little about me as you want.” I told them, ready to vanish. “I have something to tell him myself.”

Of course I disappeared before I could explain that one. The most obvious reason was that they had something a bit more pressing to deal with. MY motivation was the simple truth that my message was just for Captain Mitchell. I got back home and sat down to listen to some music and that's when it hit me: there wasn't much time between their meeting with the Cyborgs and the past catching up to Mitchell. If I was to give the captain a warning about the past, before the promise was fulfilled, I had to do it soon. I can't go back so soon after coming home. Traveling anywhere so soon after coming home would be bad enough. Returning to the same set and segment? That just messes with my insides. Also I knew landing there again wouldn't help anything if I didn't have a better idea of what I wanted to say when I got there. Weird thing is, it wasn't three hours later when I found myself in the briefing room at the base.

“Captain Mitchell?” I asked him as though there was any doubt.

“Who are you and how did you get in here?” He asked me curtly.

“My name is Lisa and as long as I have the strength for it, physical as well as willful, I can go anywhere connected to the Legacy of the Power Rangers.” I answered him at once. “But it IS contingent on the rangers themselves letting me in.”

“How do you know of us?” He asked me in a slightly gentler voice.

“I've been alongside different groups of rangers for a long time now. It's the least I can do, to keep a promise. And I feel I should tell you...gosh I don't even know why I'm saying this...A Promise Stands.” He looked concerned for a moment. “I don't know why I say that so please don't ask. Call me back when you figure it out or it comes to fruition.” I passed him a sliver stone, about the size around as my fist. “Of course that offer assumes that you're even alright with my coming back.”

“You're doing this because of a promise?” He said softly. I nodded. “A promise to a friend, I take it?” I nodded again, more slowly. “I won't stop you fulfilling it. Come back when you can.”

“Thank you.” I told him simply. I disappeared again a moment later.

I remember the next time they saw me far more clearly than I should. I was pretty good at not setting off technological alarms. But for some reason I expected more people to be around to physically see me.

“Did you know about him?” Carter asked me as Ryan walked away from the base.

“The promise from Diabolico to Captain Mitchell is what I wanted to talk with him about.” I replied softly. “But if I'm any judge of anything, this is far from the end of his part in this story.”

“Yeah and how would you know about that?” He asked me curtly.

“I only want to talk with you and Captain Mitchell. And I'd prefer answering both of your questions at once. Otherwise there's no point repeating myself or being accused of deliberate omission.”

“You mean that's the best way to avoid such events. Follow me.”

“I'll meet you there.” I answered. I vanished, and showed up in the briefing room seconds later.

“You knew about this, didn't you?” Captain Mitchell asked .

“I knew that there would come a day that a sixth would show up, yes. But if you mean, that night on the bridge...Well, I knew about that too.”

“How could you have? The Lightspeed Rangers didn't exist yet.”

“Because I can see both sides of the equation for one thing. Also, Ryan himself is part of this legacy.”

“You mean he was basically predestined for this?”

“I mean he isn't the first ranger to be freed from a dark cloud over his head. I was never a ranger, but I went through it myself. Like having a dark veil or mask ripped from both my face and eyes. A mask I wore because I assumed I'd fashioned it on of my own free will. Ryan has come back, as himself I mean?”

“...He was back here for a while. He left to find a way to seal the demons back in the cave.”

“This is one part of history that I'm glad repeats itself.” I looked around the room to make sure we were alone. “I'll do what I can. I made my friend a promise and I'll keep it. But helping all of you out, doesn't mean I do anything you suggest. This two-sided coin gives me a particular wisdom...and secrecy.”

“I sincerely hope you're planning on explaining that sometime.” Carter Greyson said from behind me.

“I'll answer any questions you two have, if I at all can. If I shut myself up, please believe I have a good reason to keep silence.” Carter motioned to a chair close to me and I sat down. Captain Mitchell sat down across from me and Carter sat to me left. No one said anything for a few moments.

“What did you think was going on when you walked in just now?” Carter asked me in a calm voice.

“I thought Ryan had left to find out who he was, not left to seal the demons inside the tomb again.”

“What fuels your involvement in the legacy?” Captain Mitchell asked bluntly. “What is the promise you are keeping in the first place?”

I smiled at him and answered at once. “That one is fairly straight-forward. What feels like a very long time ago I helped a group of my friends fight the bad guys. There were five of them. A sixth soon showed up. But his mind was covered in a dark cloud that the other rangers freed him from. This same, sixth power ranger later freed me from this poison darkness of depression that if anyone asked me now I could swear had an external and malicious cause. I can't remember when in their adventures together I actually made my promise. But I gave my word that I'd keep an eye on them and their posterity for as long as I was both physically capable of doing so by my own assertions and permitted to by...your side.”

“You mean our side of the mirror, or our side of the conflict?”Carter Greyson pondered aloud.

“I would find that more than a little creepy if I gave it a chance. I don't mean this conflict at all. I don't need consensus from all six of you...just the two of you.” I said indicating the leader and the director.

“Why is that, exactly?” they said a breath apart from each other.

“You, Captain Mitchell are their mentor, and Carter is the leader in the field...in the world in general. I'm not entirely sure I like either of you. But I am kind of required to trust you, rely on you.”

Captain Mitchell sighed loudly. “What did you mean by 'both sides of the equation'?”

“...Any-thing having to do with this legacy...on either side of the conflict.” I told him slowly. “I'm not foolhardy enough to actually go there. But it does come to my mind every now and again.”

“The skull cavern, you can see into that place?” Carter was obviously surprised, and a little eager.

“I can, but I tend not to. Honestly I don't like where it takes me on an emotional level, so please don't ask me to for a while.” I replied softly.

Captain Mitchell laughed, almost bitterly. “I can't blame you for that.”

“You're about to vanish again, aren't you?” Carter told me simply.

“Most of what I see is like looking through a mirror, a mirror that reflects *either the Aquabase or the Skull Cavern. I can't line them up. Even if I figured that out, I feel like I would be giving you an unfair advantage. You don't need me pushing the clock forward, I won't be that much of a vigilante creep.”

“Another 'all in good time' scenario.” Captain Mitchell said in a defeated voice.

“Maybe I'm wrong but shouldn't your victory be your own, and in your own good time?” I told them both bluntly. “I have no doubt you'll prevail. Everyone will do their part. And if I'm right about this, even shifting dynamics within the queen's followers will have their role to play. And no, that's not me seeing into the future or any mess like that. The past two chapters of this legacy were helped, usually unintentionally, by lieutenants withing the supposedly 'pure evil' group they were fighting. I'm here to connect you to your own heritage and if possible to be more of a friend than an ally.”

“And, but, so therefore?” Carter told me coolly.

“Flat out telling you something upon which you will base your answer, instead of letting you discover either this truth or its significance on your own, is not being a friend OR an ally as far as I can tell.”

“I see your point. I agree with your assertion. But is there nothing you can say in consideration of your mission, that can help us with ours?” The captain told me plainly, and almost pleadingly.

“My first group of friends, earth's first power rangers, part of their experiences are reflected in Ryan. You can probably guess which aspect I refer to. I was closer to Andros' team than to even that group. Andros was a space ranger who taught four formerly Earth-bound rangers new tricks and new powers. Some of their most consistent enemies became/were revealed as their dedicated allies. Something which is rearing its head in this struggle. I can safely, though not with 100% assurance say things are working the way they should, without any input from me beyond what I already stated. That being the case, I better shut up.”

“You've said and done more than we could've asked.” Captain Mitchell told me in a pleasant voice.

A moment later I could FEEL my eyes growing to the size of grapefruits. “Oh my GOD! I can't tell you what's happening in the cavern. Even were I capable of it I would be taking your victory, your self-worth from you. So don't wait up for it. It's a personal belief of mine that Ryan's mission to seal the demons away, as opposed to trying to defeat them one by one was not only a good idea when he made it, but ends up helping out a lot when things come closer to full circle. But that's just me and I couldn't explain it very well anyway.”

“Don't fake this.” Carter said plainly, coldly.“ Even I can see you are not as unsure as you sound.”

“You're right, I'm not.” I said chuckling. “But until things come full circle, you'll have to continue your own lives and your mission, without constantly wondering what's going on in the skull cavern. Eventually those two worlds will collide, believe me. But I'm not a fighter in the strictest sense.”

“I'm sorry what does that...” Carter began.

“I am part of this struggle. I am in this fight as far as striving against the bad guys. But things are very different, than when I met up with Jason's team. I have changed much since Zordon was your...their mentor. I will not physically fight. I want you to count me as an ally. I want the same things you do and I am definitely working for the same goal. I must achieve this same end on my own course. I cannot join your struggles if it means actually doing martial arts around innocents. I draw a distinction between being part of a struggle and being part of a fight for the self-same reason.

“I can't blame you for that.” Carter Grayson assured me. “I respect the integrity of your decision.”

“You...never actually told me your name.” Captain Mitchell said passively.

“Lisa Weaver. Some people call me 'Sophie' I never got why. I'm not wise, smart or brainy. If I had a nickname, if I gave myself a name that I chose to me called they would call me 'Miri'....It implies a child's wisdom: unbiased and incomplete.” I vanished from their sights moments later. The first thing I did when I found myself back home was to lay on the couch and close my eyes.

Striding into STAR Labs

Through An Open Door

“Doctor Wells get to the cortex NOW.” I heard a young woman say urgently and forcefully, almost as a command. It didn't take a genius to see I was the cause of the urgency. I wondered it was an order?

“Please, I mean no harm.” I said weakly. “I..I'm just passing through.”

“Then stand down.” Barry Allen told me.

“If you mean by that, let myself get taken into holding, of course. But I can't actually stand down. I'm not exactly armed and dangerous to begin with. The field is a capsule, in case a different Earth has less than breathable atmosphere or something. Well, incompatible I mean. It happens.”

“Can you deactivate it?” The woman I know identified as Caitlin Snow asked me.

“Once you tell me the composition of your air and other details. I can't run the scans myself.”

“70% nitrogen 20% oxygen 10% mix of carbon, Xenon and other trace gases.” Wells said from the doorway. He carried a laser-type weapon that was pointed downward. His hair was as wavy and short as most other Wells. He was dressed in black and gray clothes that were simple but elegant. Not refined taste but made more for lonely brooding than fighting or having fun.

“So my skin might turn pink but there's enough oxygen I'll still breath alright.” I thought aloud. I pressed two fingers to the inside of my left wrist. The field faded. My head dropped as I adjusted. A few deep breaths later all three people in the room were starring at me. “That much Hydrogen with what I think is extra Xenon is like putting a skin tanning lotion all over me.” I explained simply. “It's all good.”

“You know, I doubt she has to go into the pipeline. I mean, as long as she stays as still as she is, we can just talk in the lounge or something right?” Wells said, almost reluctantly.

“I can't say I disagree.” Caitlin piped up. I started and stared at her. “What is it?”

“You really are Caitlin Snow.” I murmured. “Talk about the same but different.”

“Okay what's that about?” Barry Allen said firmly, but still calmly.

“With the silvery hair and ash-blue make-up, she looked like Frost to my eyes.” I explained simply. Blank looks permeated the room. “Dr. Caitlin Snow on my earth was the nicest but also one of the most reserved people I've ever met. She had a meta-alter-ego called Frost; basically a chaotic good type of wild child. Well, originally Killer Frost was a bad-ass bad girl. The metallic-whiteness of her skin, the ice-queen appearance, that was the frost alter-ego...who mellowed out significantly on my Earth. I honestly thought she was on the surface here...until now.”

“I am a 'wild child' here.” Caitlin Snow said pointedly. “That's all this is.”

“I apologize. It's just...I can't help but use what I know to interpret what I see. I'm human.”

“Plus la change.” Harry said under his breath.

“ 'The more things change, the more they stay the same'.” I said aloud.

“What do we have another mobile Gideon unit or something?” Cisco said as he walked in. His hair was in a pony-tail, but just as laid back and casual as ever. Except...I couldn't see eyebrows.

“Let's get someplace where we can all sit down and hash over everything.” I said I held my hands out in front of me, as if I was about to be arrested. “This compare and contrast is GOING to take a while. I sincerely hope you're interested in that discussion. Not fun but...usually worthwhile.”

Barry Allen led me into a lounge with tan walls, silver tables, that looked like they were made out of actual silver and overhead lights with blue ceramic-looking covers. I made my way to one of the metal tables and sat myself down. I gripped the arm of the chair a little tight as I sat down.

“Something for your nerves?” A young man with blonde hair and a light blue dress shirt asked cordially, from several feet away. I smiled at the bands he wore around his arms, just above his elbows. He was either very proper and very eloquent...or had no other purpose but to help out.

“A lemon tea or a mild wine please.” I answered at once. I smiled when I noticed it was Julian Albert. I my face froze when he turned around. He had a cybernetic implant up and down the left side of his face. “I take it he is who you meant by 'another' mobile Gideon unit. He wears one on his face as a...conduit I guess?”

“...Yes, essentially.” Harry stated in an almost subdued tone of voice.

“Wells, you and I can stay with her. I don't think we should crowd.” Allen said easily.

“Fixing the inter-cellular matrix of the velocity nine.” Snow said briskly.

“Improving the hydraulics of the speed-lab racetrack.” Cisco squeaked.

Julian came back with a tray of drinks: one glass of white wine, two goblets of red and a steaming mug of black tea. “Tea is for me. I know you guys like to share the experience, so wine seemed like the way to go.” He said, almost by way of explanation.

Wells took one of the red-wine goblets, a seat at a higher, smaller table to my right and a mini-notebook out of his pocket. Barry took the other goblet and sat down right across from me. I took a sip of the white wine, smiled faintly and waited for either of them to speak.

“I take it you're from another Earth?” Barry prompted me.

“Yes. I recognize a lot of your faces from that version of STAR Labs. Knowing doppelgangers can have different names, and not just from their family histories...Introductions?”

“Doctor Harrison Wells.” The Earth-10 doppelganger said, placing his palm flat against his chest and bowing slightly.

“Bartholomew Allen. Most people call me 'Barry'.” The Flash said, tapping his left shoulder with his right hand. “And that's Julian Albert. And you were absolutely correct about the implant.”

“Back home people knew me as Sasha. I man, on Earth one in Starling City and in STAR labs. Prior to 6 years ago, everyone knew me as 'Sarah'. Call me either one.” I said matter-of-factly.

“Why are you here?”

“I'm not visiting Your Earth, not specifically. I stride parallel to parallel to see beyond my own horizons and outside my own world. It's just the sort of adventures I have, across what I think of as the world's largest ocean.”

“Life on the road in the universes most expansive highway?” Wells said curiously.

“I wanted to see what else was out there. I was already familiar with alternatives to common variables.” I said what I'd meant to be jokingly. I smiled a little sadly when he blinked at me. “That was my attempt at humor, sometimes I crash and burn sorry.”

“It's more than alright, don't worry.” Wells said in a soft tone.

“Anyway, I spend as much time on my Earth as I do any other Earth. But this is how I prefer to spend my day. Stopping through, helping out, learning. It's not for the sake of the variations. Just to find new people to say 'hello' to, but not be completely in the dark about.”

“Is there a Harrison Wells on your earth?” Julian said, having sat down across from Wells.

“That's the weird thing. In the six years since STAR Labs went into operation, there have been four versions of Harrison Wells, from various Earths who stay as long as they are needed and return home...By and large. The man from they thought was Harrison Wells was an impostor...and died five years ago. The original...the actual Wells from our Earth...”

“...Was killed by this man, before anyone had met him.” Allen whispered. I nodded my head.

“This has the negative effect of each new Wells being compared to a man who, while super nice, turned out to be a murderer on at least two counts. The plus side is I have multiple Harrison Wells', that I met back home, to use as a template, comparison and interpreter for my travels now., as far as he is concerned.” I could tell this Wells wanted to hear more. And if I was interpreting Julian's facial expression correctly, he was sincerely curious. “Not to be a jerk but 'if you have questions, ask them'.” I said loud enough for everyone in the room to start paying attention.

“Was Harrison Wells you teacher?” This Wells said in a voice of which I could make nothing.

“Each Wells to join the team, year after year has a brilliant mind and relevant perspectives. No matter what his area of special concern, he knows what he's talking about. They can be ashamed or proud of their lives, indifferent hell bent fixing their mistakes, but our team is the better for having each and every 'resident wells' on it. One trust their advice...on life OR conflict.” I looked around and smiled softly. “I must specify something. When I say 'team flash' I mean my friends at Star Labs. I am not ON team Flash. But I am on their SIDE.”

“That's pretty much how I am here. I want to help if I can. And apparently I'm good at it.” This Wells said with a sincere smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

“You sound like H.R.” Without looking up I elaborated on my own statement. “He was the most normal, average and easy-going of them. He wasn't a genius and didn't really understand half the science-y things you dealt with. He was so simple you thought he was 'simple-minded'. Unfortunately I am using that as a collective/inclusive rather than a specific, impersonal pronoun. His 'stream of consciousness' approach to life was invigorating for lack of another word. And his 'leaping before one looks' saved the day.”

“Why are you sad about that?” Barry asked me, dropping his head to look me in the eyes.

“He used to say that if something was worth it you had to go for it, no matter the odds. I think he meant the odds of failure or the risks involved. When you needed him the most...no one expected what he did much less ask it of him...he gave his life to keep Team Flash together and beat the bad guy. To him it was worth the cost.”

“On that point he and I are alike.” Wells said in a faint voice. He got up and I thought it was to leave. Instead he just walked over to the bar and poured himself another glass of wine.

I turned to Barry and dropped my voice conspiratorially. “He is a valued, if not equal member of this team'?” I said, pointing my head toward Wells.

“Very much so.” Barry answered me, just as quietly.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see all of you together.” I said aloud, still trying to steady the cadence of my voice. Julian and I both chuckled at that, though presumably for different reasons. “On Earth-1 Julian left the team not too long after H.R.'s funeral. He's still within proverbial earshot. You keep in contact. But he's off doing his own thing for the most part.”

“I was the only one who could handle Gideon in my ear. I'm not as bothered by it as they would be. That's why I stayed. I don't mind it at all. It's actually a fairly illuminating way to live.”

I smiled faintly and continued as business like as anything. “To answer your question, about how I can control these things and trigger internal sensors? It is a series of on-off switches, medical implants I have in various parts of my internal systems. I have these little devices that monitor my epinephrine and norapanepherine levels and improve my endocrine/thyroid function...cleans my blood and cools my breath as needed. And to answer your next question this was prior to my decision to travel the worlds largest ocean. I'm living my life to the greatest and most profound degree possible. Not to extend my life by any sense, but so the days I have are worth living.”

My hands started shaking right around then. “Can I have some almond-cashew mix please? Or a turkey and cheese sandwich?”

“Is everyone on your earth this advanced in nutritional balance?”

“Only those who have a a completely separate list of things required for balance.” I answered at once, a little more curtly than I'd intended. “Most people are too busy trying to argue different diets and what is the most up-to-date dietary pyramid to realize those pyramids are not universal. The framework or understanding of what most people need or are said to need probably isn't that different from around here. I just happen to be different enough that it doesn't fit me. I need magnesium and tryptophan the way most women would need iron and B-12. Special diet means special care.” I looked around a minute. “The bitterness in my voice is because it's not an acknowledged special diet. People know not to give diabetics sugar. Not to give people with heart conditions caffeine. There are specialized diets for every physical or physiological abnormality out there. But no-one thinks someone with an emotional mental disability might need a diet AS different just as badly. Not even when nutritional science is there field of study.”

“Guys, can I have a moment alone with Sarah?” Wells said in a restrained voice. There were looks of agreement and acquiescence as the others cleared out. I motioned to the chair across from me and Wells sat down in it. For a moment neither of us spoke.

“You are both right and wrong about me.” He began slowly. “These people are my friends, the closest friends I've made in a long time. The distance you are sensing, what must seem like permanent uncomfortableness, is actually a new development.”

“You feel like you failed them somehow and you don't want to impose?”

“Rather the reverse. I recently suffered a loss and afterward I retreated into myself for a while. I didn't quite throw myself into my work. I just didn't socialize anymore, even while working. They' are trying to give me some distance until I can put my heart completely back into my work. Or until I can embrace team flash as a my 'friends as close as blood' once more.”

“I never asked, you are their Harrison Wells, right?”

“Yeah. They just call me by my surname though. It's...professional I guess.”

“I shall do so as well. It's a refreshing change. But...am I even welcome around here?”

“For as long as you would like to stay, you are welcome to.” Wells said firmly and warmly.

“For which I'm grateful. But it's not actually a matter of me liking to stay. I won't even have time to say goodbye when I leave. What I am asking is are these the kind of people...rather is it normal on this earth that being useful or non-threatening a yardstick by which I will be measured while I am here....however long or short a time that ends up being. Because kicking me out or me wanting desperately to leave won't pull me home any faster. And I will get PULLED home when my time here is over.”

Lex's Palace

 A Palace of Victory

Lex Luthor has 3 Superman clones who serve him faithfully. The varied nature of each of their duties and the fact that they were quarter in completely unrelated sectors of Lex's mansion made it extremely unlikely any of them would ever meet. And if they did, Lex would simply dismiss the more vacant minded one as a mindless drone, a robot patterned after his defeated slave. This explanation would likely be enough for someone who did not dare question their master in the first place. If the one being dismissed learned the truth and dared challenge him, that clone would be 'reconditioned' and the entirety of his memory simply erased. These cloned had been grown from the memories and emotions scanned, extracted and mined from the original Superman. Who now lay in a medically induced coma in one of the more comfortable rooms in his mansion. This arrangement allowed Lex to imbue his new clones with virtually everything that made Superman who he was. The information he had gleaned from his current servants had allowed him to perfectly recreate the original event which had brought the actual Superman to his knees. This clone however had altered memories. Lex was eager to see the results of the alteration...and whether the altered memories would hold under the emotional stress of such an event. This man was according to his memories an arrogant alien who lived above the world. Hardly bothering himself with the lives and difficulties of the humans he protected. He only ever allowed himself to be called 'Superman' or by his true Kryptonian name: Kal-El. Indeed he not only basked in the adulation these human gave him, he demanded it. In fact most humans were genuinely grateful for his protection. Nikita was the only person he considered worthy of his time. An almost equal for his glory. Which was not surprising as she was known to be something other than human.

“Sir, please don't!” Superman cried out. “Why do you do this, she's innocent.”

“Because your iron flesh negates the possibility of physically hurting you. Which means the quickest way to bring you to your knees was to threaten the life of the only person on this planet you seem to care about.” Lex put the control down.

“This is more than a threat, this is torture! You claim to champion humanity. And yet you do this, just to hurt me?”

“Of course, I don't see why not.”

Nikita gave another cry of pain. “What are you even doing to her?”

“A kind of neural solvent. I'm injecting her with micro-liters of a substance that for her physiology might as well be sulfuric acid. Honestly I'm a little curious why you care so much. As lowly as we humans are compared to Kryptonians, her race aren't that much better. And yet you care for her. It's the only way seeing her in pain could cause you this much pain.”

“Lex, Mr. Luthor please, don't punish her for my mistakes! If I'm the one you want, punish me. Take me. Bring me to my knees. There must be something that can penetrate my 'iron flesh' as you call it. I'll freely submit, just leave her alone!”

Superman flew up to the third floor west wing of the Luthor mansion. It was precisely seven minutes after he had left. Nikita was safe in her compartments at the watchtower. He spotted 3 large floor to ceiling window and flew up to them. He mimed tapping on the center window. The window actually slid horizontally away. He touched down lightly about 12 feet away from Luthor and waited. Lex merely glanced down at the floor. Without hesitation Superman sank to one knee, still looking up at Lex.

“One thing you will learn quickly is that I will be quite florid in my deprecation of you Superman. There is nothing you will be able to say or do to change my mind. That is not to say I actually believe most of it. It is simply a small source fo joy for me, knowing you of all people cannot and will not speak up for yourself. You will never contradict me. I am a more remarkable human than most, basking in the humiliation of my greatest enemy. And you can believe I will take every opportunity to remind you of your...reduced status in life as my humble servant. With your surrender, you have become my slave. And I will I never let you forget that you CHOSE to be my slave. Tell me what you think that means.”

“It means your will is not to be questioned, but obeyed. It means I have no right to refuse a direct order from you and there is nothing I posses that is truly mine. It means anything you do to me, is done by the right of a master over his...” Superman struggled over the word. “...property.”

“Go on.” Lex said simply.

“It means you can speak to me and do to me as you life. You do not need a reason. And I must accept – as I will eventually accept – that without you I am nothing.”

“Quite so Superman.”

“May I ask...what happens to me outside these walls? Or am I not allowed to leave them?”

“A most reasonable question. You will continue protecting the people of this city. Save people from burning buildings, stop speeding cars and put bank robberies to an end as efficiently as you can. But you will leave your floating palace to lie in ruin. And you will never speak a word against me in public again.”

“Of course, Master.”

“I'm not sure I will ever get tired of hearing that word out of your mouth. But as a rather decorative reminder.” He tossed a silver collar into Superman's lap. “Put that on.” Superman fashioned the collar to his own neck. “You will wear that every second you are under my roof, which you will not leave without my permission. This is made out of simple tungsten steel as is more ceremonial than anything else. But I have at least one other, made out of Nth metal from a planet called Swan Moon. That is something even you will not be able to break, even if you tried.”

“Yes, master.”

“One more thing, then I'll have someone show you to your room. I'll call you 'Superman' most of the time. But I need something else to call you as kind of a warning. To tell you to be careful or shape up. I need your actual name.”

“Kal-El. I...I'm having trouble believing you don't know that.”

“You do not have a human name?” It was the ultimate test. If Superman responded with 'Eli' it was proof he remembered. If not, it was the final proof that he truly believed the narrative.

“I don't believe so sir.”

Lex Luthor's domination of Superman, mind, heart and body was finally complete.

Superman looked up to the balcony where Lex Luthor stood, looking out over his estate. The man might as well have been standing on his dais looking down at a gathering of commoners. Lex finally looked down at Superman specifically and suddenly a change came over the man's face.

“You really have no idea who I am do you?”

In response Superman flew, almost glided to hover just beneath the floor of the balcony. He looked up at Lex, his eyes sincerely pleading. “I swear to you, I don't understand what is going on here. I understand you think of me as a monster. For all I know....I am one. But if that is so, I implore you, do not make anyone else suffer for MY sins. Whatever I did to earn the hatred I see in your eyes right now, take your revenge upon me alone!”

“I must admit some surprise that Earth's great protector would try to bargain with me rather than try to fight.”

Superman looked longingly at Nikita. “Sir, I don't fully understand this myself. No I am telling you the truth. I have NO reason to lie. I'm not sure I have it in me to lie outright. Nikita is the most innocent, compassionate and beautiful soul I have ever had the honor of knowing.” Suddenly Superman dropped to both knees, stretched his arms toward Lex, palms wide. “Sir, I am yours. I make myself your prisoner and your slave. All I ask is that you don't punish anyone else for my failures...most especially her.” Lex watched Superman impassively. This was actually getting boring. How could seeing Superman surrender himself and plead for the life of another actually get boring? Superman bowed his head low. “Sir, I implore you, do not let this happen again. Enforce your will upon me alone. I submit to your will for all time. I'll do whatever you ask, I swear it on my life. All I ask is that you...no I BEG of you: Let her go.”

“If you explain why you humiliate yourself so completely for her sake.” Superman bowed his head still further but gave no answer. “If you tell me this, and answer me truthfully, your request will be granted and I will finally release her. Explain your desperation and your passionate entreaties. Why DO you value the simple creature so?”

“She is precious to me. She and I have been friends for years. I would know that even if Hank and Jeremiah hadn't confirmed it for me themselves. I feel it in my heart. Losing her would_ ” He closed his eyes. “If you let her fall into that pool of death I will give up pretending to be a hero and would at least TRY to kill you.”

“And if I let you free her and take her home?” Lex prompted.

Superman looked up with a faintly hopeful smile. “If you let her live, if you will not only let her live but let her GO___You can do whatever you want to me__in payment of that debt.”

“Take her home.” Lex Luthor said simply. “Fly her home, wherever that is for her. Then return here to me and I will give you further instructions.” Superman lifted Nikita away from what he had rightly called the pit of death. He laid her gently against the wall to check her breathing. Satisfied she could indeed make a full recovery, Superman bowed his head in gratitude to Lex Luthor and flew away, carrying Nikita in his arms. Seven minutes later, Superman returned to once again hover only a few feet away from Lex Luthor.

“What will happen now?” Superman asked his patron.

“I have yet to decide if you will be quartered in a room as my guest or sleep in one of my isolation cells as my prisoner. But you ARE my slave.”

“I believe I understand...Master.”

“ 'Master Luthor' or 'Master Lex'. And for good measure, drop to one knee and bow your head before your true and glorious superior.”

“I understand and obey, Master Luthor.” Superman sank slowly to his right knee and touched his head to his left.

Lex's unease about the monotony of this victory was fading quickly. Because at last something different was happening. For the first time, Lex could sense anger coming off the man. “Would you take your decision back if you could?”

“You tricked me Luthor...Nikita is dead.”

Lex tried to cover his genuine surprise with a look of annoyance. “How the hell can that be?”

“Her body failed why I still had her in my arms! Her people live an average of 120 years and she was barely 82 years old. Which means you never had the real Nikita captive in the first place!”

“I did once, in point of fact.” Lex said simply. “I had the real Nikita here, suspended over what was for her people a vat of boiling tar. Superman surrendered himself to me in exchange for her freedom and her life. But that was more than two years ago now.”

“I'm not real either am I?”

“You are real, of course you are real. Perhaps you mean that you are not the original Superman. And I must confirm your conclusion. The real Superman is lying in a medically induced coma in the thrice-over sub-basement of an otherwise abandoned LexCorp facility. And with that revelation, you have permanently out-lived your usefulness to me.” Lex confessed his surprise. This had never happened before. In three years and 47 'new lives' That the individual he held over them was a replica of the real Nikita had never been discovered by any of his hostages. Then again, he did not keep the Nikita clone more than a few weeks beyond the initial surrender, which played out differently with each iteration. Lex admitted to himself that he truly enjoyed, delighted in forcing Superman's surrender again and again. New experiences were found in every attempt. The last recreation had brought an almost literal jaw-dropping revelation: That Superman truly loved Nikita. It was the only time so far that he had refused to release the Xavallen girl upon Superman's surrender. This time he had kept Nikita with him and used her as leverage any time Superman openly defied him. Quiet resistance would be dealt with using the Nth metal collar he had invented. It was a clean and efficient inducer of pain. But the greater acts of outright resistance and insolence, required more memorable correction. It was not unusual for 'Eli' to begin to disobey his masters orders. When this happened he would be escorted by guards armed with Kryptonite rifles to a room as wide as three football fields and ran the length of the mansion. It was flooded with red sunlight. Which meant within the walls of this particular cell, Superman was vulnerable as any human. Subject to thirst, hunger, pain, sickness and even death. Lex would punish him with at least three of these things until the former hero once again humbled himself before his Master and swore unyielding submission to his will. It had been more than a week before Superman had flung himself on his knees swearing his absolute and permanent submission. Lex had not relented until Eli swore himself as Lex's abject slave.

Story prompts

Actual bits of dialogue I have jotted down but until and up to now have absolutely NO context for. Hoping some feedback or thought-provoking stuff can come from posting them. So any ideas of possible context or exposition on these is awesome and well appreciated. I didn't know any other way of contacting so many of my friends, but only the interested ones at once.


"I never told you why we can resist without fighting?! It basically comes down to the simple truth that for my people, pacifism does not mean inaction. It means finding ways to join the fight without picking up a sword. We will ne-ver create violence. But we would rather die than live under anyone else's banner.”

"We all die at one time or another and I for one would rather die tomorrow and have it mean something than outlive my friends and lament a wasted life.”

"Death is final. Memory is eternal. they are not in conflict. We remember our friends long after they die. and THAT is why they are never truly GONE."

Let me be crystal clear about something. I KNOW you are an alien, biologically and natively. That just doesn't stop me from sharing, and here is why. I believe people are better than generally thought or described. Whether we like people or not, we can trust a lot of them, at least with basic stuff. almost like 'I know you enough to trust you, even if not enough to share'. For me personally, there's a very short list of people I truly trust with the deep stuff, because of exactly how 'deep' and far reaching this stuff is. And I trust you with it. To me knowing you're from another planet doesn't change that."

"Morganna may have your blood but she is not your heir as I reckon it. Maybe Arthur will never come to the throne but I would rather die fighting for him than waste away living under her rule...even if I end up only fighting for Arthur's memory."

Quentin Lance paused as he considered the ally before him. It had been a simple enough question 'who the hell are you anyway', but it was not a question that brought a simple, direct answer. He knew he was asking a masked vigilante and a former murderer that he'd hunted for over a year to take off that mask simply because they weren't QUITE so antagonistic toward each-other. So he figured the man needed a minute. But time was dragging on and the man hadn't said anything, not even an angry version of 'that's too much trust to give you'. Finally the hooded archer reached for something on his chest and deactivated his voice changer. "Tommy was my friend. That's why I was helping him. And his death IS why I've changed so much. As you probably figured Mr. Lance."

(Sasha Jordan Scott, usually known as 'Sarah' to her friends says a final goodbye to the closest friend she's made in the last five years...who asks if she's finally moving away)

 "I'm having trouble getting the words out but...Quentin... I cannot 'move away' in the strictest sense...I never lived in Starling City to begin with."

A blind girl has talked with a 'strong young voice' for over an hour before asking his name. Which he gives as 'Henry'.
"I knew a Henry once; I doubt you are he."
"Why are you so sure?”
“Two reasons. He would be an old man by now, if alive at all..”
“..Good reason.” Henry says absentmindedly.
“And he would be speaking French. Being raised around here he understood the king's English well enough, but could never speak it as a native.”

(An Alien friend of Superman's says goodbye to Clark...At his high school graduation)

“I don't know if the hero you become will line up with the man I knew or not. But you will be your own kind of hero and one of the finest men I've ever known. Nothing can change that now.”