Friendly Neighborhood Martian

 Jeremiah and His New Friends

Jeremiah would never part with Nikita if he had literally anything to say about it. Within 3 weeks of escaping the D.E.O. they were apprehended by a man who was CLEARLY alien...and a warrior. They have spent almost as long in an old room under his, literal non-sarcastic near silent care.

Nikita and I were alone but together for more than a week. The alien would come, feed us, ask us a few rather simple questions and then leave. I was having trouble making heads or tails of him.

“This is...I don't even know how to finish that sentence.”

“Nikita calm down, you'll only exhaust yourself.”

“I have...You're right of course. It's just our host, for lack of another word confuses me.”

“How do you read him? For holding us prisoner he doesn't seem particularly interested in us.”

“He's trying to make sense of us. More specifically, of me.”

“Does he know who you are?”

“In that I'm an alien. The rest of it, I think he has...a nearly accurate picture of everything. I'm starting to get the suspicion that I'm 15 degrees off of everything I know about him.”

“How do you mean?”

“Either he's extremely a-typical for his race or I got the two of them confused to begin with.” She looked down again. “Then again, he would have had even longer than I did to learn otherwise.”

Jeremiah looked sad a moment. “I take it by 'to learn otherwise' you mean 'to learn what living on Earth would have taught him'.” Nikita nodded solemnly, her straight auburn hair shaking slightly with the motion. "How long have you had to learn the ways and normality's of Earth?”

“I first landed on Earth not too long before you landed on the moon.”

“Okay one, you do not look that old. And two, how much older do you think he is?”

“My people live about 120 of our own years. I don't know how long that is in yours. And...he's been here for at least 300 years.”

“Okay how do you know THAT?”

“He's a Martian. No matter what else he is, he's a Martian. Which...I hate being so clinical about the damn thing but Mars has been...inhospitable for the last 300 years.”

“Wait, are you saying that depending on which race of Martian he is...”

“Jeremiah, if that man wanted us dead we'd BE dead.”

“Then why the hesitation?”

“Because I'd rather believe that the way he's been talking to me is a result of him living on Earth for the last 300 years and not because I got it wrong which race of Martian was which.”

“Okay, now you really do need to sit down and vague out.”

“That sounds like an exceptionally good idea.” She sat down on the floor, feet together, knees high, looking rather like butterfly or a very awkward spider. Her head dropped and she entered what Jeremiah knew to be a meditative state. A pose she maintained into the next morning. Her knees were almost as high as her head was low. She could have been sleeping except her eyes were moving around, she was clearly aware of her surroundings. She didn't even look up when their keeper walked into the room. Jeremiah could sense something was wrong. In the 20 something days they'd spent in his care, his attention had been split evenly between Jeremiah and his charge. If anything he had payed slightly more attention to the middle-aged human male than the unskilled but confident female with him. Perhaps he'd recognized the custodial role Jeremiah had in her life. Something was different today: the man's eyes never left Nikita's face.

“Come with me, now.” He said to Nikita, who still did not raise her head. “I'll not ask again.”

Jeremiah stood between his friend and their host. “Leave her alone.” The man raised his hand, as if to backhand Jeremiah. In the last instant he pulled himself back. Jeremiah gave a grateful look before continuing his plea. “Please, whatever you have planned for her, take me instead.”

“For all you know I'm about to take her away and execute her. Do you still volunteer?”

“No, but I know you're not going to do that. Nikita was right if you wanted either one of us dead we'd BE dead by now. What you want from us, what you've been after this entire time is answers.”

“Yes. And it's about time I get them.” He took Nikita by the wrist. Jeremiah grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away. The man looked both pleased and amused. “Your actions are heroic, if exceedingly unwise.”

'What do you want with her?' Why the sudden interest in her specifically?' 'Leave her alone you animal!' These expressions stretched themselves across Jeremiahs face in about 2 seconds. He said none of these things. Instead he held out his hands in an emphatically non-threatening posture. “Sir, and I call you that because I have nothing else to call you, for what must be almost a month by know we have been nothing but civil with each-other, though exceedingly impatient. A friend of mine told me that even enemies can give each-other compliments. And we've lived that, so far. If you hurt her, my restraint will go right out the window. And I will probably die trying to take you down. But I swear on my life if you let her go, you can do whatever you want to me__in payment of that debt.” This speech did not have quite the effect he'd intended. The green-skinned Martian actually backed away from his human charge and cast down his eyes.

“You, care for her?”

“This surprises you?”

“Among my people not to introduce yourself is extremely rude, even among enemies. Form what I understand that is a tenet across the galaxies. We have given you our names Sajen. I'd appreciate the same courtesy. Nikita's voice came as almost a balm to the conversation.

“I do not understand.” Jeremiah admitted.

“Neither does our host...at all. He is almost as blind as Henshaw himself and he can freaking read out minds to learn the truth of our souls!” Nikita's voice displayed no anger as she said this. The only emotion to come through her voice was...regret. “You've figured out I'm not Enkaren. You must have known I was not a threat. It follows you thought Jeremiah was...to me if not to yourself. To ask a question I have had in my mind since you started questioning me: Phobos or Deimos?”

“You know the difference?” The Martian inquired, astonished beyond measure.

“I know what they are, I don't know the difference...That was the entire problem on my part.”

“In the early days of Mars there were two brothers, Phobos and Deimos. Their rivalry and bloodshed was the reason for the split of the Green and White Martians.” I learned that from an Enkaren woman I once knew here on Earth. From which I understood that Phobos and Deimos were like Ishmael and Issac from the Old Testament. Except they split along such divergent paths they became two separate races rather than founding two separate religions. I never learned who was whose progenitor.”

“You never knew if my kind were...Ishmael or Issac?”

“I've never met your kind before in my life. And the White Martian I met was...Hank's favorite example of how dangerous aliens could truly be. She'd been in that cell for over a decade when I met her. No one could hold completely to their morals after that.” She spoke with unrestrained bitterness. “In case you haven't figured it out yet, Henshaw was a Creech-ta. If not a Chrish-naka Sareth. And until now you seemed equally blinded.”

“Why do I get the feeling that if you had known I belonged to Deimos... you would have...”

“ 'Deimos Pah, Tar-ek Ni-cha.' would have been the first thing out of my mouth 3 days ago.”

“Could someone provide me with a translation, please?” Jeremiah asked, nonplussed.

“What she said was that I've failed or disgraced the name of my progenitor. She just needed to know which of the brothers I came from before saying it. White Martians are...”

“Monsters.” Nikita finished for him. “I was reasonably certain of that because of my other alien friends. I just never knew who came from whom.”

“How in the name of rational thought are you speaking the Enkaren language so naturally if you are not, yourself Enkaren?!”

“Because it's my native language as well!” Nikita replied, openly laughing at her host.

“But you...you're not...” He rubbed his left forefinger against her temple, as if tracing something that shouldn't be there. “Are you Xavallen?”

“Why should that be of particular interest to you?”

The alien actually bent his back forward and backed away from Nikita. “I...my name is... J'onn Jo'nzz. And I must humbly beg your pardon.”

“I...do not understand. Please you owe me nothing.”

“Okay, I'm officially lost.” Jeremiah admitted.

“No less so than I.”

“You...you don't...” J'onn actually stammered.

"If you're referring to something about my being Xavallen, I wouldn't know about it. My parents taught me more about Enkarens, Brevaks, Martians and pretty much any other race in the galaxies than they did about my own kind.”

“Nikita, I was as wrong about you as Henshaw. I will find a way to make it right.” He walked away without another word.

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

“Getting a 'B' in self-preservation but an 'A' in protecting others, even strangers?”

“If I understand you correctly, yes.”

“I'm afraid I still don't understand your...attitude change.”

“Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races to each-other. Enkarens are – genetically speaking in trouble – but also far superior to humans in most respects. And apparently, along with the Atraxi, they all speak the same native language.”

Realization blanketed Jeremiah's face. “And she doesn't make sense for an Enkaren.”

(The implication being J'onn thought Nikita WAS Enkaren and it confused him endlessly)

J'onn nodded. “Xavallens are a protected species.”

“Wait, what?”

“Their home-world became uninhabitable over 200 years ago. Most of them are nomadic. But some have assimilated, to varying degrees, into other cultures. Jeremiah, – For one thing may I call you that? – Of course – for 16 of the 23 major powers in these galaxies, if I'd known what she was my interrogation of her without cause, without defiance sent would have been a crime.”

"They are...that protected."

“Most of us realize we need a voice like theirs in the chorus. And...her people are not good at making enemies. So most of us...really wouldn't see the point in conquering them. White Martians being the obvious exception.”

“No, Jeremiah he is absolutely 100% correct. White Martians are considered blind, militaristic assholes to any race that are not themselves militaristic and self-superior.”

“But the fight might have been taken out of the one we...Hank has in custody.”

J'onn and his Daughter

 Need to change that name. True J'onn DOES find a daughter here but this is also the far more natural and far more open conclusion to the five-part Dining on Ashes saga.

Nikita warmly greets J'onn who is clearly uncomfortable, and a little standoffish.

“J'onn I am asking as formally as I can for you to be direct and precise. Which if I know you at all, shouldn't be hard for you.”

“Do you recognize the name 'Hank Henshaw'?"

A dark look cast over Nikita's eyes. "Only as a complete jerk who tried to keep Jeremiah away from his family. And when I was here initially he 'didn't like me very much'. I am being polite. He must be dead now, long dead because I try to picture him and all I see is you."
"That might be because I am wearing his face. I met you and Jeremiah for the first time when you both served under Henshaw. Your word for him was Creech-ta. And it fits.”
"...It would have to; I wouldn't use it otherwise." Nikita said offhandedly.

"I can sense that something is weighing on you." I told her gently. "I don't need to be a telepath to read you either."

“J'onn, what happened between us?”

This caught me off guard. “Why do you ask? I am not surprised that you ask, but i want to hear from your perspective, why do *you ask the question?"

“J'onn, you are my best friend in the entire universe I know this. But I keep alternating between wanting to apologize to you and wanting to grab you by the neck and shake some sense into you. Which makes no freaking sense.”

"I...that is a much longer story than either of us have the time or emotional threshold for."

"Did I do something to offend you? Did something stupid one of us said linger for so long we are actually used to the distance?"

"God no and absolutely not." I told her forcefully. "Something did happen between us. Something we both regret and with the help of time and friends have managed to...learn the better of is the only way I know how to put it. But it was my fault. It was ENTIRELY my fault. The last thing I want you to do is blame yourself. But you are the kind of person who would do that." She looked at me with a curious expression. "I've known you for 8 years now and with your help I have learned two unequivocal truths. One: You give grace upon grace to everyone. Even me, even strangers. Two: You shoulder blame and responsibility that is not yours to bear. At first I thought you were simply interested in sharing the burden for the sake of easing someone else's shoulders. Like with Jeremiah or Kal'el. But it's more than that. You force the burden on to your own shoulders, whether it's yours to bear or not. There is nothing you could ever have done to offend me Nikita. You are my family here."

"Yeah the D.E.O. has become a family on Earth for both of us. That much I can see."

I shook my head. "No Nikita. You are my family. I never had a family on Earth, not a sibling or a lover until I met you. Now I have, not only a family but someone to care for. I love you like a daughter. I felt feelings of love, responsibility and protection I have not felt in over 300 hundred years. I'm sorry I never took the time to tell you."

"J'onn, EMPATH remember? Believe me, I knew."

"Is Mon-El around, has he come to see you?"

"He and I were together, alone but together for a long time, right?"

"You were best friends who became a couple. He asked my permission to ask you to marry him. I take it by the ring on your finger you said yes?"

"He is not living up to his reputation as a Daxamite. He's being a perfect gentleman. Maybe that's why I love him so much...he's Horrata. Proof that there are exceptions to the rule for every species."

"And Me'gann is further proof of that."

"I do not understand."

"Do you know who she is?"

"She...is complicated. She chooses to wear the skin of a Green Martian for the same reason you choose to look human...to put us at ease. But she knows I can tell the difference so it's not like she's trying to hide...from me anyway."

"I never did understand that. You can sense the presence of a White Martian?"

"J'onn do you remember when Mon-El first showed up? I knew the attacker was Infernian, not Kryptonian. And certainly not a Daxamite." J'onn simply nodded. "My Xavallen physiology reacts extremely negatively to the presence of Infernians and White Martians. It's a fact of my own biology, not my empathic powers. Me'gann can't help her ancestry any more than I can. But my empathic powers tell me...What I sense from her as an individual calms me down. She's...form an empathic perspective, absolutely beautiful."

“Elana couldn't tell the difference then.”

“From what I understand Me'gann chose to take the form of one of Elana's closest human friends and couldn't pull it off. But that Me'gann was a White not a Green Martian...she wouldn't have been able to tell.”

“But I doubt she would have been too worried. She's an empath and would have sense the same things you did.”

“There's that. And the fact that Enkarens, although maybe not half-breeds, could kick a White Martian or a Green Martian's ass if the occasion called for it.”

“Wait what?”

“J'onn, if Elana was entirely Enkaren, she would be in a cell like the one I lived in for five years. Henshaw would have considered her a perfect example of how dangerous aliens are. And he would have been 100% justified in doing so. A ticked off Enkaren is a scary thing to witness.”

Two VERY Strange Visitors

“I don't need a medic I need a mechanic.” The young woman says to the African American before her. Tapping her collar bone as if checking her heart-rate she continues. “I am not an alien. Well I am but... I'm also an android.” 

Four and a half hours later the woman wakes up, leaning against the back of a medical chair. She gives a cautious look around her, smiling faintly at the young genius to her right. A smile that vanishes when her eyes pass over the imposing man in front of her.

“Listen I don't know if it will mean anything, but I am not intentionally a threat.”

“Good place to start a dialogue from. Why are you here?” The director said.

“To live and through the act of living, to learn what I want out of life.” She said happily. Her face immediately took on a more somber look. “Are the three pillars of sentience intelligence, self-awareness and consciousness? If so, replace one of those with 'self-determination' or add it to make 4 and I would be considered a sentient being. My core intentional protocols are my personality. But my mission statement and my 'reason for being' are mine to discover and decide for myself. Essentially, 'what I want out of life' hasn't been written yet.” She paused and looked around the room, thoughtfully. “I don't know if my people look like this. But I do.”

“Why do you sound like a young child?” The younger man asked haply.

“Because as far as how long I've lived and how much of the world I've seen, I am. I have the same understanding of people and the world as an 11 year-old. I honesty haven't lived enough years to be called an adult. My embedded learning programs give me an understanding and wisdom of the world that would come from having lived at least three times as long as I've been conscious."

“I get the feeling I intimidate you.” The director said suddenly. The young woman started. “You seem confident of exactly where you are, you seem confident being here and yet seem skittish or unsteady when you look at me. And why say all of this at once, unsought?"

“Believe it or not Henshaw, you are known to me. How you see foes where there are friends and see sorcerers where there are but servants. I am doing my best to convince you that I am genuinely friendly.”

“...Then I should be genuine as well.” The human guise of Hank Henshaw faded away and J'onn J'onzz showed his true alien form. That of a green-skinned alien only slightly taller than he had appeared, in armor rather than military garb and with wide, open eyes. In response the woman sat straight up, inclined her head a little bit, as if to say 'thank you for that trust' and spoke in a language other than English. In response to which J'onn inclined his head to her and said in kind. “Thank you. And my name is J'onn J'onzz. This is Winslow Schott.”

“How many languages do you speak?” Winn said suddenly.

“It will take me a while to learn Earth languages other than English. But Earth languages aren't the only ones I know. That was Martian.”

I have a strong desire to shove you against a wall right now, or laugh in your face. And before you ask, the reason I don't is because something deeply nuts has to be happening, or about to happen that's so important...even more important to you than us getting along.”

“As it turns out Malcolm Merlyn IS alive. He's brought the wrath fo Rashe al Ghul, the head of the league of Assassins down on me. Anyone close to me is far game for them... that includes you. And side-note: The Arrow...Are you the one who called me that?”

“I've been calling you that for a few months now.” Captain Lance joked.

“I mean, did you coin the term, were you the one to give me the moniker originally?”

“Yeah, I did.” Lance said matter-of-factly.

“I have to say, I approve.”

“What are we making jokes now?” The Arrow visibly tensed at this remark. “You don't have to approve of my nonsense just because we are allies now.”

“Detective Lance. If I'm making jokes with you it's because I find it easier to be off guard with you now that you're not reflexively pointing a gun at me. Besides, whether hurtful or reassuring, you may be certain I actually mean what I say. I like being called 'The Arrow'. It's short and to the point...like me.”

“I appreciate the honesty. And I thank you for the...forbearance. Why do I feel like I pulled a dark memory to the surface, out of practically nowhere?”

“Dark is apropos. Malcolm Merlyn -The Dark Archer as he called himself- once suggested the vigilante should call himself something other than 'the hood'. He was all stealth and urban camouflage, dressed in black all the way around, he suggested 'Green Arrow', to set us apart from each-other.”

“Reminds me of catching the Captain.” Lance mused..

“...Second that.”

“You know it's weird. When we tag-teamed that day, solving such a weird mystery, I figured that old warehouse was halfway between Arrow base and my office. I never thought you'd park out underneath a dance club. Unless, it's a peaceful middle ground.”

“No Captain, this is Arrow central. I didn't see much reason for safety measures.”

Music begins to play that Lance recognizes, showing him exactly where they are.

“This is Verdant.” The Arrow simply nodded. “And Oliver doesn't mind you using his basement as vigilante central.”

“There's not too much I could do that could ever bother him. Mr. Lance, in 30 seconds, you will probably hate me. But you need to be able to trust me.” There was something in voice which made Captain Lance turn and stare...the sound of the man's real voice. The vigilante known as the Arrow pulled back his hood, revealing himself openly. Quentin Lance stood still, shocked but decidedly non-aggressive. Several moments of silence passed before Oliver spoke up again. “I half-expected you to deck me when you saw this. But no reaction at all...is almost worse.”

Hank Henshaw Learns and Teaches

    “Henshaw” Meets His Past

“Please. Whatever I have done to make an enemy of your person, it's between us.”

“Are you asking me for something Henshaw?” The alien commander said brusquely.

“Whatever I have done, leave her alone. There is nothing she could have done to deserve this. On that I would stake my life. I know enough to know what's coming, and I accept it. All I ask is that you do not make her suffer for who I was back then.”

“I must say, this is unanticipated. You showing concern for another human life.”

“You have no reason to hurt her, other than to force my cooperation. I imagine she is only here at all because you knew I would do anything to keep her safe.”

“More or less.” A woman's voice said from somewhere nearby.

“If this is because of something I've done, to other aliens, I implore you, do not make her suffer for it. She had no choice, she was simply following my orders. If you want to punish me for what I've done, let's DO that. Just please, don't make her watch.”

“Are you, responsible for her somehow?”

“In so far as I'm the reason her father is dead yes!” Hank effused. “Her father, the closest thing she's known to a father served under my command. And died saving my life. And yet every single day for 2 years she's served with honor and kept me sane. As a fellow solider I expect you can understand that.”

“To other aliens?” The man prompted, his face completely impassive.

“He means me.” Nikita said stubbornly. “I look as human as you do but I'm no more human than you are. Luckily for all of us I'm not Atraxi or we would have a seriously worse problem on our hands.”

“Okay, what does that mean?”

“Gama Zod jirtaa?” Nikita stated firmly.

“I am one of his people but I am not necessarily on his side.” The soldier replied.

“How may I address you then?” Nikita continued. The solider made no reply. “Among my people, not to introduce yourself is considered extremely rude, even among enemies. My name is Nikita, I'm Xavallen. And you?”

“My name is Lieutenant Non of Krypton.”

“And you're here looking for Kal-El.”

“Why do you say that?” Non replied with interest.

“Because I know someone who wears the symbol of the house of El on their chest. And about 27 years ago I knew someone who...” Nikita took the look from Hank's eyes and fell silent.

“Go on.”

“That was before anything that matters. I will say I knew he was Kryptonian when I first met him. I recognize the name of your planet...if very little else.” She finished in a biting tone.

“We are not here looking for Kal-El. But Kara Zor-El.” A woman said, stepping into the light. She had long brown hair that she wore loose down her shoulders. She was dressed in the same one piece black suit as Lieutenant Non. A geometric shape was outlined in blue over her left breast. “And you are the first we have encountered that could lead us to her.”

“Kara Zor-El.” Hank said thoughtfully. “Yes, a familiar name. But not one you'll be able to pry out of me.”

“Oh I think you'll be surprised about that. We have...other aliens that can help.”

“What is your interest in the house of El?” Nikita insisted.

“That is not how this works. You my friend are protected. Your taskmaster is not.”

“He is my commanding officer he is NOT my 'master'!” Nikita said with surprising feeling.

“It makes no difference.” Lieutenant Non barked.

“Ummata kootiif ni ta'a. Kana malees yoo garaagarummaa tokkollee hin fidne maaliif balleessuuf of dhiphisna?” Nikita rattled off.

“Hey, Nikita! Even I don't understand you.”

“The difference he dismisses does matter to me. And it says a lot about him if he dismisses it so completely. It literally takes nothing to respect a person's pronouns...and a prisoners native language while you are chipping away at the block that is Director Henshaw's mind.”

“We have no issue with Nikita. And no use for her other than to prove to the humans we are sincere in our intentions and our goals. We will show her the respect we would show any innocent bystander.”

Nikita straightened her back and pushed up on the armrest of her chair. “General, I thank you.”

Six hours later hank Henshaw looked down, tired but unharmed.

“I don't understand.” The gray alien said, clearly sincerely puzzled. “I can't read his mind.”

“I thought that's what your race was famous for.”

“Maybe he's playing you for a fool Non. It wouldn't be that hard to do.”

“I would never do that to you.” the alien said hurriedly.

“Or maybe you have no direct knowledge useful to us.” Non replied snidely.

“No, I can't read his mind...at all. You humans must have found some way to block us.”

“Human ingenuity is as vast as the spirit of hope. The only difference is ingenuity can be used destructively.” Hank Henshaw said blithely.

“I see your point there.” Non admitted.

“We should ask the Xavallen, Nikita.”

“You said she was protected from interrogation.”

“Which is why I will simply ASK her. She clearly recognized her name. And she might tell me just to spare this human more pain.”

“Kara. She recognized the name KARA.” Hank Henshaw corrected from his seat.

“The two of you are truly inseparable.”

“The implication being we would literally do anything to spare each-other any kind of pain. While that's probably true, that's not what's going on. I just don't want her interrogated for information she doesn't actually have. And besides I was there. Jeremiah Danvers, the agent that died under my command had two daughters. One of whom was...'similarly foreign to this planet'. Their names were...are...Alex and Kara.”

“You are taking a great risk telling me this.” General Astra informed him.

“I don't believe so. You don't wish her harm. Rather you want to see her again. I can tell.”

“But your usefulness to me might just have come to a very sudden end.” Astra said, putting her hand on Hank's shoulder.

“You hurt me, you'll tick off another member of the house of El.”

“And how do you figure THAT.”

“Because J'onn and I are allies.” Superman said literally racing into the room. “And I am telling you to let him go, now.”

“Kal-El, son of Jor-El.” Lieutenant Non said formally.

“Yes, I don't believe I caught your name?”

“My name is Lieutenant Non, this is my wife, General Astra.”

“Kryptonians?” Superman queried, looking at J'onn rather than his captors.

“Kryptonians extremely interested in the house of El; more specifically in Kara Zor-El.”

“What do you want with Kara?”

“I want you to tell her that her aunt Astra is here looking for her. And I want to know why you'd ally yourself with someone who hates us so much.”

“There's no bad blood between...”

“Apparently you ARE who you pretend to be Superman.”

“Astra, J'onn J'onzz has committed no crimes against you or any of our allies. More than that he my friend and my captain. You let him go, right now or I promise you there will be enmity between us.”

“Ba-shaa'am. Ac'andra.” J'onn Jo'nzz said amiably. Which was 'Good morning' in the Martian tongue.

“Release him.” General Astra said coarsely.

“But general...” Non began.

“We did not come here to start a civil war. Kal-El, take him and go.”

“What about Nikita?” J'onn asked standing up, rubbing his wrist.

“Nikita is safe. She will happily provide us answers. And if I'm reading the situation correctly, she knows the answers better than you do.”

Superman started to protest. J'onn pushed him back. “Trust me Kal-El, Nikita is not only safe, she is content where she is. She did th...was willing to do the same for me once.”

“Remind me to ask again about how you two met.” Superman said blithely.

Hank Henshaw learns AND Teaches

“Non please. Whatever I have done to make an enemy of your person, punish me not her!”

“You have done nothing to me Henshaw. This is for those aliens you've despised and tortured all these years.”

“Damn it Nikita IS an alien! She's Xavallen. She's also the most peaceful person I know. Whatever you want from me, I implore you, don't make her suffer any more. There's nothing she could have done to deserve this. On that I woulds take my life.”

“I admit I did not anticipate this. You showing concern for another human life.”

“If she's here, it's because you knew that she was under my command. It follows you would know that I feel responsible for her.” Hank said with a slightly tensed jaw.

“More or less Director.”

“You want to punish me, fine. Let's DO that. Just please don't make her watch.”

Non looked like someone had slammed his face with an Nth metal 2x4. “This goes above duty to a friend Henshaw. Why are you being so human all of a sudden? Why completely selfless for her?”

“Her father...the closest thing to a father she has known on this Earth is dead because of me. When he died I swore I would not fail him twice by letting any harm come to her. It's been a little over three years since that day. And she has never failed to keep me safe and to keep me sane. If you count yourself superior to us, prove it to me. Keep her safe.”

“Her father served under your command?” The woman's voice said from nowhere.

“Jeremiah freed me from the D.E.O.” Nikita said wearily. “He served under Hank for almost 6 years without once disobeying orders...that I knew of. But he could see I didn't belong there, couldn't turn away. He was the closest to what a father should be that I have ever known.”

“And I expect that as a fellow solider, you can appreciate my duty, Non.”

“That, I can do.” He waved his hand to a pale, mottle-skinned alien with 3 obsidian eyes. “Take that one to crew quarters. And make sure the walls are sound proof.”

The alien scientist half led, half carried Nikita out of the room. “Do not ask me for any further favors. You will receive none.”

“I understand. I shall not. Unless by some miracle you get me to plead for mercy.”

“That would be a miraculous sight indeed.” Non replied simply. An icon on Non's control board lit up. “That is taken care of. And now, to the business at hand.” He pressed a button on his control console and a metal restraint wrapped itself around hank's neck.

“Non__Thank you.” Hank sighed heavily. “Now let's get down to it.”

“I can almost promise that I will hear you scream before you sit up from this chair.”

“I can promise you that you better not be suffering from what we humans call 'mission creep'. That would be disappointing.” Non adjusted a dial and Hank seized up, briefly.

“Yes it would. Considering what this is going to be like for you.”

“We are here to get Kara back and find out what happened when they landed. NOT to wage war with the humans nor for your personal satisfaction, Non.”

“That doesn't mean I'm not allowed to take some satisfaction in making him talk.”

Six hours later Hank collapsed, unconscious. “He is a true solider.” Non observed.

“Why is Nikita protected?” Hank asked of his inquisitors.

“I'm sorry?” Non replied briskly.

“I look after her because I owe her a debt. You treat her as if she's politically immune to interrogation. I was just wondering why.”

“She is.” Non answered begrudgingly. “There are very few powers in the galaxies that could use her discomfort to force the truth out of another persons lips. If I had something against her, as an individual I could do what I pleased to obtain satisfaction. As it is...”

“Xavallen.” Hank realized softly. “That's what she meant. She wasn't just telling me she was different from Enkarens.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I once had an Enkaren woman in my charge. Half-Enkaren actually, her name was Elana. She was from Earth and no intentional threat to anyone so we released her from out custody. Nikita was...a lot less forth-coming. There was no torture but I could not understand the..significance of a lot of things she said. I didn't know what Xavallens were. She didn't seem to know either, which I thought was really odd if she remembered her home planet at all.”

“Xavallens don't have a home-world.” General Astra said curtly. “Not one that is their own anyway. They are the majority population on exactly zero planets in the 16 galaxies.”

“So Nikita's home-world...” Hank began.

“Planet of origin.” Non interrupted. Hank looked at him, his face displaying his confusion. “Is Earth her home or is this other place?”

“She speaks of Earth as her home.” Hank replied, uncertainly.

“Then say 'planet of origin'. It matters to her people as well as Enkarens.”

“She ran away from 'home', her planet of origin, when she was almost an adult. She's lived on Earth for more than 40 years. And Xavallens are...protected...in the galaxies?”

“For 16 of the 23 major powers in the galaxies Xavallens are considered innocents that do not keep secrets and should not be mistreated. If I had something against her, personally. If I felt she had wronged me, we could settle it as individuals. But to cause her pain, because of another individuals transgressions...is frowned upon to say the least.”

“And that's why she let me interrogate her. Why she never fought back, or even resisted. Because it involved her as an individual. And she could sense that I simply wanted answers.”

“You're getting quite an education HANK.” Lieutenant Non said shortly.

“It's been an interesting 4 years.”

“You have our attention.” Astra said, leaning in.

“Jeremiah. The man who died under my command. There is more to it than that. He died saving my life. Nikita says he 'gave his life to save mine'. I never knew the kind of man he was... until died protecting me, from a Martian solider. At that point I made it my mission not to misjudge anybody quite as badly as I did Jeremiah Danvers. And to listen to Nikita when she told me who to be on-guard around and who to deal respectfully with. And which alien races were like her own, happy and normal by human standards. The weak innocents.”

“A fellow solider died saving your life. That would shift one's perspective.”

Reading his mind works in one version not the other because in the first version 'Henshaw' is really J'onn Jo'nzz. In my Earth 21 story, as in the show Supergirl the Green Martian J'onn Jo'nzz assumed the identity of Hank Henshaw in order to reform the D.E.O. In Earth-9 (as I call my two stories) Hank Henshaw was never as xenophobic or angry. And he changed for the even better after Jeremiah's Sacrifice.

New Bonds of True Faith

Dressed once more as the Arrow, Oliver Queen moved through the cells at Nanda Parbat that Rashe had actually given him permission to do this didn't erase his caution. As far as his friend would know, the Arrow had broken into this fortress to rescue him. Which was enough to force caution into his movements. When he found the right cell, he knocked the door off its hinges with one well-aimed kick. Lance was sitting on a cot, his back against the far wall, his head down.

"Captain Lance, I need to get you out of here."

"Oliver." Captain Lance breathed. Oliver froze in place. "Save Oliver Queen."

Trying to conceal his relief Oliver stepped forward. "Don't worry, he's safe. He's the one who told me to get you out of here. And I intend to do that."

Earth-21 Oliver Queen is brought in chains and made to kneel before Rashe Al Ghul.

Rashe Al Ghul: Death comes to all things Mr. Queen. Even one as powerful as myself.

Oliver looks up with resolution. “Kill me. With me out of the way, the Arrow won't be a problem for you anymore. We both know why. But give the people of Starling City a fighting chance. Spare the life of Captain Lance.” He took a breath and closed his eyes a moment. “Quentin Lance. Let him go. I will BEG for it if needs be.”

“His life means that much to you.”

“If you wanted to force me onto my knees, all you would need to do is threaten his life. Like you I am many things; a liar isn't one of them. Please, don't punish him for his loyalty.”

“You have shown tremendous strength, fortitude, power. A sense of honor and integrity all but absent from the world outside the League.” Rashe sheathed his sword. “But you are mistaken. I don't want to kill you. I want you to take my place. I want you to become the next Rashe Al Ghul.”

“Malcolm Merlyn as he is known now chose family over destiny.”

“Malcolm was one of you?”

“After his wife died he drifted. When he killed the man responsible he felt even more lost. He came to us seeking a purpose in life. We gave him that.”

“And he found anew purpose, being there for his son. Or at least his daughter.”

“You know the man?”

“I am not eager to give you more people to use against me.”

“So long as he does not murder an innocent, Malcolm Merlyn and his family are safe from us. But that's not why you hesitate. You were talking about your own family. How is that so?”

“Tommy Merlyn and I were as close as brothers growing up. His father was nearly non-existent in his life. It led to Tommy's death two years ago. Forging his own path...and dying a hero in the Glades. Eight months later I learned that my sister, Thea...is biologically Malcolm's daughter.”

“That would shift ones priorities.”

“He felt he could correct his mistakes. That he could be a better father to her, than perhaps she had even known from Robert. And yes I call him 'Robert' anyway. They live as father and daughter.”

“Rightly so.”

“Will you let the Arrow rescue Captain Lance?”

“Why do you specify?”

“As Oliver Queen I could never successfully rescue him. But I was also asking if you will help me keep my secret. Let him think of the Arrow however he thinks of him. And let me don that hood at least one last time to rescue someone so...so important to both of us.”

“Tell me, do you ever get tired? I've been alive for 280 years Mr. Queen, I've never met anyone who spoke of their various identities as you do. Do you ever get tired, protecting as the hooded man and as Oliver Queen anyone important to either man?”

“In this case, that doesn't matter. Quentin Lance matters to the Arrow as much as he matters to Oliver Queen. But to answer your question... Yes I do get tired caring so much about everyone that matters to 'us'. But I only ever get tired from it not of it.”

“You speak quite wisely. You do realize I am still going to...”

“Yeah I kind of figured that.”

“Your audacity is as refreshing as it is unwise.”

“Somehow I got the impression that lying to you was far less advisable than being stupidly honest. Besides, I'm more concerned with getting Quentin out in time. It's kind of drowning out all other considerations.”

“Rescue the Captain. Go back to Starling City and continue looking after the ones you care about. We will continue this conversation another day. I don't have to tell you you have indeed given me another tool I can use to break your will IF I choose.”

“If that day comes we shall see what 'God in Heaven has in store'. Until then I will simply say, thank you, for your consideration...in letting me save my friend.” He continued pointedly.

Dressed once more as the Arrow, Oliver marched through Nanda Parbat. He searched through the cells as well as the open rooms. He heard a cough. Oliver looked through the bars of Lance's cell. The man was sitting up, holding tightly to the edges of his bed. He wasn't looking up. With one well-aimed kick Oliver broke down the door.

“Captain Lance, I have to get you out of here.”

“...Oliver.” Quentin Lance said faintly. Oliver froze in place. “Save Oliver Queen.”

“Don't worry, he's safe. He told me to get you out.”

Such a Fond Tale

 Balian found his father's people. Imad's conversation at the well was with another French knight, named Nicholas. Imad still calls himself 'Nassir'. For whatever reason, has sworn himself to follow Nicholas. 

One day, Almaric is heckling Nicholas in the street, just generally trying to provoke him to a fight. Almaric is perceptive enough to sense a fighter of some kind in Nicholas, a man at arms at the least and wants to see what he's made of. It would be considered just giving the guy a hard time. Getting almost no reaction Almaric quickly gives up. He turns to a Saracen standing nearby and starts hassling him much the same way; perceiving absolutely NO connection between two men. At which point Nicholas turns on him and yells in the sharp sort of voice which people hardly ever disobey.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Heads turn slowly toward Nicholas. Who seems suddenly super-focused on Almaric. “You tried to get a rise out of me and were disappointed when I didn't join the game. So you turn around and hassle a complete stranger you think will be more easily goaded into fighting. I'm not sure whether to call that cowardice or Idiocy. Either way, your issue is with me so leave him out of it.”

Some of the words he used are strange to them, but his intention and meaning are clear enough.

“So you are capable of fighting after all? More than that, you are willing to. It is...a little surprising to be honest. After all, what is he to you that you stand up for him when you will not even stand up for yourself?”

“That's what I was doing sir. You tried to goad me into fighting and I stayed true to who I was. I can fight and I'm good at it. I just need a good enough reason to do so. You didn't give me one before. I kept my temper to avoid lowering myself to your level. Then you hassled a Friend of mine for no other reason than you thought he would be an easier target. That is quite a different story. THAT is something I will fight you on. And I am fairly certain you will regret it quickly.”

Balian, who was standing nearby smiled at both his lefftenants mistake and Nicholas declaration of allegiance. A few on-lookers gave nods of approval at Nicholas reasoned argument, as well as his restraint at very subtly calling his antagonist an impulsive idiot. Nassir himself was thuderstruck.

Nassir was Nicholas servant, and that would have been enough to explain Nicholas protection of him. Nasir was Nicholas responsibility. The instant it was understood Nasir followed him in any manner the knight would be obligated to respond quickly and decisively. But Nicholas had risen to defend him declaring him his friend, not his servant at all.

In the weeks he had spent at the man's side Nicholas had never treated him with anything other than respect and consideration. But to hear his master, a man to whom he'd freely offered his allegiance declare him his friend was...unanticipated.

Even so, Nasir kept an even voice as he stated. “You are so eager to fight you do not measure your enemy nor the field. If there is one thing I have learned about Nicholas it is how difficult it is to provoke him. And what it means when you do.”

“Nassir Please!” Nicholas snapped in Arabic.

“It seems this has gone on long enough, wouldn't you agree?” Balian said, stepping between them.

Nicholas, who had been reaching for his blade immediately dropped his hand. “I am sorry, mi-lord.” He began in a meek voice. “I did not realize...”

“I was talking to Almaric.” Balian replied, thoroughly astounded. “Believe me you did nothing wrong.”

“Neither did he. I honestly think it would be best if Nasir and I were simply on our way, please.”

At this point Almaric could not keep the look of shock off his face. Then again neither could anyone else who was paying attention.

“Are you, sincerely asking for permission to withdraw?” Balian inquired.

“No, mil-lord. I am suggesting that Nasir and I be the first ones to leave this...situation for lack of another word and then everyone goes back to minding their own business. Which would have been a good approach in the first place I don't mind saying.”

Almaric started to apologize, Nicholas held up his hand. “My friend was trying to suggest to you that maybe you should judge whether you can win a fight before trying to start one. I'm merely agreeing with him that this is very sound advice. When I got here I wanted nothing except to be left alone and at peace. With the exception of Nasir's company, I hold to that.”

“As you please.” Balian said with what looked like admiration in his eyes. Mixed perhaps with a little bit of envy.

“As for you mi-lord, forgive me that I do not ask your name. But I hope I might see you again and learn it...on more equal footing and at a more appropriate time.”

“As do I Monsieur. What did he call you, Nicholas?”

The man bowed his head deeply and, with a quick nod to his friend that basically indicated 'follow', turned and walked away.

“He taught himself French.” Almaric said in a low voice.

“I'm sorry, what?” Balian replied.

“That's why Nicholas sounds like that. So precise and yet almost archaic? He taught himself how to speak French.”

“Then barring him being a foreigner, and I don't think he sounded like one,” Almaric quickly shook his head in agreement. “he grew up alone. That's why he prefers being left alone. By the by, what do you think of our friend?"

"Milord?"

"Nicholas. What do you think of him and his Saracen companion?"

“I think if any man save you was going to put me in my place, I'm glad it was someone like him.”

Arabic to French: Hakim is Sage. 

Sayid is Seigneur or monsieur

almuayid is supporter advocate/second/subscriber like “I support your cause”

Nasir is Supporter champion/supporter/backer “I believe in you.” “I'm here for you.”

Nasir's true name is Imad al-Din. (pronounced Im-ad al deen) He calls himself Nasir because he has chosen to follow Nicholas.