Jeremiah smiled as he watched realization spread over the director's face. The quarry they'd been hunting came out of the brush and tackled the man named Hank Henshaw. The director lay stunned on the ground. The alien was only slightly taller than Jeremiah himself with lime-green skin and black body armor.
Jeremiah watched the stranger, keeping his hands visible and still. The alien walked up to Jeremiah, silently and steadily. “Please wait.” Nikita whispered urgently. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but please hear me out. My name is Nikita, my people are low-level empaths; a skill director Henshaw used to his advantage. I tracked you here. I didn't have a choice and I will do what I can to keep you safe, and undo whatever damage I have caused. Jeremiah is no threat to you and, despite the uniform, is no more a willing part of this than I am. Tie his hands if it makes sense, if you need to be certain he cannot fight you but Please don't hurt him.”
“Is this true?” The alien spoke, in a gravelly voice, his eyes focused on the man in front of him.
Jeremiah's voice was soft but steady. “I work for an agency called the DEO. Our job is to protect Earth from alien threats. Hank Henshaw was my immediate superior...and a blind fool. I swear I would not hurt anyone who wasn't trying to hurt others. And the DEO honestly believed you were a threat.”
“Get out of here.” The alien said, to Nikita. “I want nothing from you. You have no reason to listen to them anymore. So, don't.”
“If you take Jeremiah with you,I'm coming too.” Nikita said firmly. “He and I have each-other's backs. Henshaw brought the two of us with him because he saw how unswervingly, almost recklessly we defend each-other. To be clear, I was not assigned to protect him, I do so freely. I made my choice almost seven months ago now: I will not leave his side.”
“Nikita I...” Jeremiah began shakily.
“You have great regard for your...caretakers, here.”
“I have great regard for all sentient life and so does he.” Nikita slowed her speech down and looked sidelong at her friend. “My being an empath is what makes me a good field asset; not that I now general patterns of individual races but that I can sense their intent and what comes naturally, instinctively to them. Whatever he,” she gestured to the alien “thinks of us is, well, not something I could find out if I wanted to. But regardless, he is closer to being a protector than an assassin. We are safe with him.”
“You sound as if this surprises you?” The man said coolly.
“Henshaw said you were a martian. The only martian I ever met, the only kind I ever heard of did not look or act very much like you...AT ALL.”
“He must have been a white.” The alien said, with only the slightest hint of sorrow in his voice.
“And your people—We should get out of here.” Jeremiah looked up sharply. “There was a second Thera...support team. More for protecting us than anything to do with our...Target. We should find some deeper cover. After this creep, this, I'm actually going to use the word Kreec-ta gives up the chase, we can each leave all of this behind.”
“Do I want to know what that means?” Jeremiah inquired.
“I basically just called our boss an ignorant, arrogant asshole.”
“You'll get no argument from me.” Jeremiah said flatly. He walked up to the martian and said his peace. “Nikita trusts you. If for no other reason than that, so do I. I'm Jeremiah Danvers, you can consider me a friend.” He extended his right hand. “It's a greeting, and a sign of trust.” He explained simply.
“I am...J'onn J'onzz.” The warrior replied as he accepted the handshake.
Twenty minutes later Nikita woke up in a strange house with a stranger host. Jeremiah Danvers was no where to be found. And Hank Henshaw, as she knew him, was on his way to retrieve her.
Around 3 in the afternoon Jeremiah Danvers rested comfortably in the arms of Superman. Clark was holding him loosely but firmly as they moved through the air toward the DEO.
“Are you alright?” Clark asked as he slowed himself down.
“I never thought I'd be back here again. I'm not sure what to expect.”
“There's nothing I could say that could sufficiently prepare you for this place, so I won't even try.” Kal replied. “If I'm going to help at all I should say that J'onn will probably be the first person you see and you will be welcomed here by him; he's director now.”
“Okay an alien in charge of the DEO when did that happen. More accurately: how?”
“Martians are shape-shifters...he looks human now.”
“That would explain it.”
They touched down on the balcony on the next to highest floor. They clearly were not expected. A young agent, the equivalent in experience to a Air Force lieutenant walked up with his hand on his gun. A dark haired, pale-faced young man standing beside him simply smiled and waved with his left hand. “Superman, good to see you again. Who's your friend?”
“Winn, find director J'onzz have him meet us in the conference room.”
“That won't be necessary.” Came the smooth calm voice that resonated from a man known to most as Director J'onn J'onzz. “I think I...” His gaze met that of Jeremiah Danvers. J'onn did not say anything more for several seconds; neither did anyone else.
“J'onn, is that you?” Jeremiah finally breathed.
“I think we need to go up to the conference room. We have A-Lot to talk about.”
Kal-el, J'onn J'onzz Nikita and Jeremiah Danvers all gathered in the situation room overlooking the main operations center of the building. For a moment no one said anything.
“Someone should say something before even Kal ages.” Nikita prompted.
“Jeremiah...I never thought I'd see you again...I thought you were dead.”
“Apparently you're a little too good at wearing his skin. I let people think I died...so Hank Henshaw wouldn't come after me. I have an apology to make you, Nikita...not sure how to start.”
“For believing I was dead? We're both guilty on that one.”
“For assuming you were better off believing I was dead. For assuming you were out there alone and wandering, better off than you would be with me...for never telling anyone you existed.”
“If you didn't know I was here why come back?” Understanding flickered across her face. “Clark overheard the two of us talking and brought you back here to clear things up. You didn't know where I was until today...and you thought Henshaw was still in charge of this place.”
“I have to admit I'm more than a little confused right now.” J'onn said blankly.
“No less than I am about all this.” Superman quipped.
“I experienced the best and worst of humanity for 11 months the first time I was here.” Nikita said automatically, almost mechanically. “Both of them were with me when I met you, J'onn in the mountains that day. I learned all I needed to know about you to trust you as soon as I saw you shake hands. I knew you were the one picking me up from Clark's house, because you weren't being an ignorant arrogant asshole and still recognized Jeremiah's name. I've never met anyone on Earth like Jeremiah before...no one else who was born here. And now that explanations and easily-remedied mistakes are cleared up, can we get to the actual reunion part? I also never thought I'd see you again...I never thought get a chance to talk with you both at the same time...we need to find a patio bar and a place that serves cuba libre's.”
“I'm sorry, what?” Kal-el said blankly.
J'onn J'onzz stepped up. “Kal, Jeremiah, Nikita and I saved each-other from Hank Henshaw. That's actually how any of us met, including you and her. Until now at least some of us thought the others died that night.”
“You do realize I can't get drunk.”
“You realize I would never try to get myself drunk?”
Superman landed without a sound on the front yard of a very familiar house. He was dressed in his standard uniform, so he had come to think of his costume. Being raised as Clark Kent, he preferred that name to his birth name of Kal-El, preferred normal clothes to his kryptonian suits. But the speed and silence of flying required the non-terrestrial look of his assumed identity. So he came to see his old friend dressed in full superman regalia. Before he'd even gotten to the front door, Jeremiah and his wife Eliza walked out of the house to greet him.
“It's been way too long my friend.” Jeremiah said with a warmth familiar to both of them.
“Jeremiah, can I talk with you a minute?”
“Kal-el of Krypton when have I ever, not wanted to talk with you?”
“Well to be perfectly frank this conversation will end with me asking you to come back to the DEO.” In an instant Jeremiah's warmth hardened.“And what exactly makes you think I'll go with you? I left that place for a reason and they think I'm dead. Which, in case you didn't realize it is the only reason I can stay gone.” It was a sign of the tremendous respect and friendship the two shared that Jeremiah's voice remained calm and firm while expressing his disdain.
“ 'They think you're dead'. Superman repeated, his tone ringing with a thoughtfulness that surprised his friend. “An ironically appropriate choice of words.”
“Okay, you have my attention.”
“I'm not here for the DEO, or even because of them. As an entity I don't understand them. I'm here because the new director of the DEO and one of their former alien prisoners seriously need to hear from you. They are the only people I wasn't raised with that know who I am and they know you. I'm finding myself feeling a little stupid about her. I have been listening to her talk about her hero, a former agent of the DEO for almost six months and I never figured out it was you she was talking about. It wasn't until Mon-el of Daxam showed up that I saw the depth of her feelings about the place. And two weeks later I overheard her reminisce about the good-bad old days.” Kal-el took Jeremiah by the arm in a gentlemanly embrace, holding him enthralled to his next words. Jeremiah sensed the need behind his action and did not resist. “I'm here because J'onn J'onzz and Nikita think you're dead.”
“Eliza, take care of the girls...I have an old friend to visit.”
“You can get me to track them, you cannot get me to hurt them.” Nikita stated firmly, planting her feet solidly in place. “Director, I couldn't tell you if my people are pacifists but I AM one. In case you've forgotten there is no-thing you can do to get me not to be true to myself.”
“Have you any idea what we're facing here, what we're here for?”
“We are here to make contact and meet for the first time an alien you see as a threat.” Jeremiah Danvers said shortly. “Her role here is to find the man and talk to him, and help us know how to deal with him. Fighting him is not in her job description.”
“True enough, but this creature is the farthest thing from being a man you can imagine. He's a martian, a monster from your worst nightmares.”
'heard that one before'. Jeremiah thought to himself, though he said nothing of the kind.
“I never thought I'd say this,” Nikita began. “but...you have a point. Even so, if I never knowingly hurt YOU Hank, what makes you think I'll sit by while you hurt a complete stranger?”
“You don't have to watch. But you do have to find him for me. That is you're role here after all.”
“I'm doing it!” Nikita cried out with a passion she did not usually display. “I'm here to do a job, to help you succeed. Efficiency is better than its opposite and you need someone like me when you meet those you refer to as 'creeps'. The fact that I haven't moved from this spot should tell you something.”
Jeremiah smiled as he watched realization spread over the director's face. The quarry they'd been hunting came out of the brush and tackled the man named Hank Henshaw. The director lay stunned on the ground. The alien was slightly taller than Jeremiah himself with lime-green skin and black body armor. Jeremiah watched the stranger, keeping his hands visible and still. The alien walked up to Jeremiah, silently and steadily. “Please wait.” Nikita whispered urgently. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but please hear me out. My name is Nikita, my people are low-level empaths; a skill director Henshaw used to his advantage. I tracked you here. I didn't have a choice and I will do what I can to keep you safe, and undo whatever damage I have caused. Jeremiah is no threat to you and, despite the uniform, is no more a willing part of this than I am. Tie his hands if it makes sense, if you need to be certain he cannot fight you but Please don't hurt him.”
“Is this true?” The alien spoke in a gravelly voice, eyes focused on the man in front of him.
Jeremiah's voice was soft but steady. “I work for an agency called the DEO. Our job is to protect Earth from alien threats. Hank Henshaw was my immediate superior...and a blind fool. I swear I would not hurt a man, woman or child who was no threat, who wasn't trying to hurt others. And the DEO honestly believed you were a threat.”
“Get out of here.” The alien said, to Nikita. “I want nothing from you. You have no reason to listen to them anymore. So, don't.”
“If you take Jeremiah with you,I'm coming too.” Nikita said firmly. “He and I have each-other's backs. Henshaw brought the two of us with him because he saw how unswervingly, almost recklessly we defend each-other. To be clear, I was not assigned to protect him, I do so freely. I made my choice almost seven months ago now: I will not leave his side.”
“Nikita I...” Jeremiah began shakily.
“You have great regard for your...caretakers, here.”
“I have great regard for all sentient life and so does he.” Nikita slowed her speech down and looked sidelong at her friend. “My being an empath is what makes me a good field asset; not that I now general patterns of individual races but that I can sense their intent and what comes naturally, instinctively to them. Whatever he,” she gestured to the alien “thinks of us is, well, not something I could find out if I wanted to. But regardless, he is closer to being a protector than an assassin. We are safe with him.”
“You sound as if this surprises you?” The man said coolly.
“Henshaw said you were a martian. The only martian I ever met, the only kind I ever heard of did not look or act very much like you...AT ALL.”
“He must have been a white.” The alien said, with the slightest hint of sorrow in his voice.
“And your people—We should get out of here.” Jeremiah looked up sharply. “There was a second Thera...support team. More for protecting us than anything to do with our...Target. We should find some deeper cover. After this creep, this, I'm actually going to use the word Kreec-ta gives up the chase, we can each leave all of this behind.”
“Do I want to know what that means?” Jeremiah inquired.
“I basically just called our boss an ignorant, arrogant asshole.”
“You'll get no argument from me.” Jeremiah said flatly. He walked up to the martian and said his peace. “Nikita trusts you. If for no other reason than that, so do I. I'm Jeremiah Danvers, you can consider me a friend.” He extended his hand. “It's a greeting, and a sign of trust.” He explained simply.
“I am...J'onn J'onzz.” The warrior replied as he accepted the handshake.
After knocking Henshaw thoroughly unconscious, Jeremiah led J'onn and Nikita through the woods. 30 minutes later Nikita busied herself at a fire while Jeremiah and J'onn sat 12 feet apart from each-other.
“That's good for now.” Danvers said. “We don't want...” He waved his hand around in a circle. Nikita saw what he meant and sat down on the forest floor as close to the fire as she could. J'onn did his best to stay in their line of sight but it was clear he was genuinely afraid of the campfire.
“When we get out of here,” Nikita began. “What comes next?”
“I'll find a place to be useful...somewhere out of the way but still populated.” J'onn said in the gravelly, deep voice he had.
“I would want to go home.” Jeremiah said quietly. “couldn't stay there long, but it would eb nice to see Alex and Kara again.” He looked sad for a moment.
“That's why you said with him? I always wondered what you were doing at his side.”
“The DEO needed help. Henshaw needed me.” Jeremiah said shortly. He looked caught out for a second. “Alex and Kara are the names of my daughters. Kara is...like Nikita a bit...from the stars. Henshaw threatened to take Kara into DEO custody...I volunteered to work for him instead. Well, work for the DEO I guess, it's not like they didn't need my help. But Henshaw was...just plain ignorant.”
“ 'Ignorant, arrogant asshole'.” J'onn said slowly, a clear question in his eyes.
“ 'Kreec-ta' is one of 3 words my people do not use unless we absolutely mean them. And not just as an intention, unless we believe they apply. You have to understand our use of language. You call people 'bastards' as a mild insult without knowing their parentage. We would not use the word unless they were an illegitimate son or daughter of their parents. Kind of hard to call a biped a 'son of a bitch' by the same token. These 3 words are more serious and descriptive, which is why I hesitated using one, even for Hank. 'Ignorant arrogant asshole' is the description given in that word. How old is Alex?”
“She'll be turning 17 next week.
Twenty minutes later Nikita was asleep under a psychic blanket, J'onn was standing over a wounded friend and Hank Henshaw was lying dead by the fire.
Around 3 pm in the afternoon Jeremiah Danvers rested comfortably in the arms of Superman. Clark was holding him loosely but firmly as they moved through the air toward DEO headquarters. “Are you alright?”
“I never thought I'd be back here again. I'm not sure what to expect.”
“There's nothing I could say that could sufficiently prepare you for this place, so I won't even try.” Kal replied. “If I'm going to help at all I should say that J'onn will probably be the first person you see and you will be welcomed here by him; he's director now.”
“Okay an alien in charge of the DEO when did that happen. More accurately: how?”
“Martians are shape-shifters...he looks human now.”
“That would explain it.”
They touched down on the balcony on the next to highest floor. They clearly were not expected. A young agent, the equivalent in experience to a Air Force lieutenant walked up with his hand on his gun. A dark haired, pale-faced young man standing beside him simply smiled and waved with his left hand. “Superman, good to see you again. Who's your friend?”
“Winn, find director J'onzz have him meet us in the conference room.”
“That won't be necessary.” Came the smooth calm voice that resonated from a man known to most as Director J'onn J'onzz. “I think I...” His gaze met that of Jeremiah Danvers. J'onn did not say anything more for several seconds; neither did anyone else.
“J'onn, is that you?” Jeremiah finally breathed.
“I think we need to go up to the conference room. We have A-Lot to talk about.”
Kal-el, J'onn J'onzz Nikita and Jeremiah Danvers all gathered in the situation room overlooking the main operations center of the building. For a moment no one said anything.
“Someone should say something before even Kal ages.” Nikita prompted.
“Jeremiah...I never thought I'd see you again...I thought you were dead.”
“Apparently you're a little too good at wearing his skin. I let people think I died...so Hank Henshaw wouldn't come after me. I have an apology to make you, Nikita...not sure how to start.”
“For believing I was dead? We're both guilty on that one.”
“For assuming you were better off believing I was dead. For assuming you were out there alone and wandering, better off than you would be with me...for never telling anyone you existed.”
“If you didn't know I was here why come back?” Understanding flickered across her face. “Clark overheard the two of us talking and brought you back here to clear things up. You didn't know where I was until today...and you thought Henshaw was still in charge of this place.
A Genuine Harrison Wells has led Team Flash for 3 years before confessing his crime to the team.
“In Gideon's original records I died tonight, supposedly helping you fight your newest 'big bad'. But I knew that was just the official story, a cover-up. I knew you'd killed me, for what I'd done to you. Anyway six years from now you discover something called the time vault and within it purely theoretical plans from an inter-active artificial consciousness that takes you less than a year to bring into reality you call her 'Gideon'. The ship I found had a copy of her program.”
“And you integrated her into the Star-Labs mainframe.” Caitlin said in a strange voice.
“I figured it would be helpful having a future computer around, help interpret and analyze any threats, meta human or otherwise we come across. You can do the same thing if you want. Now can we get down to it please...What happens to me?”
“We record your posthumous confession, get my dad out of prison, burn your house to the ground, make an official report that you were inside of it, that one of your experiments must have quite literally blown up in your face, you leave Central City and NE-VER come back.” Barry said as calmly and emphatically as if he were rewriting history by sheer force of will. “You were doing what you thought was needful, and didn't even delude yourself into thinking it was justified. I don't know anyone else who could have done that. I read the report, speed-reading comes in handy sometimes. In the history Clariss revealed your secret, and I killed you in blind rage. That's why you 'needed' to tell me before hand isn't it? To help me avoid the kind of mistake that cannot be corrected short of screwing with the timeline.” Harrison Wells did not verbally respond, but nodded his head thoughtfully. “Listen, you're amazing. I wasn't wrong about that. But I cannot see myself ever wanting to see you again. So after tonight, we get and stay COMPLETELY out of each other's lives. Agreed?”
“Agreed. And...thank you.
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