Brothers and Sisters Fighters and Friends

 Sasha in the D.E.O.

“Please leave me be.” I told the man as he entered the room with a plate of food. “I just want to rest, I promise.” He smiled sadly at me. I felt something from him. He was strange, in a good way. He was more concerned for me as a victim than as a street person. He was afraid something had actually happened to me. Either that or he was worried he personally scared me and that thought troubled him. “I don't want to be a Kleese...a burden. I just need a minute.”

“You're either from the Middle East or another planet.” he said with a smile.

“My home planet is called Xa-Valla. But I've learned English as a second language. I just use it differently than most, because our language was formed and based more on image and emotion. Finding the right word rather than an accurate word is what mattered to us. Well English has hard constructs and concrete ideas. Ours is more fluid...transitional.”

“How long have you been here, and please, eat something.”

I picked up the turkey sandwich he had made and started eating it. I got halfway through the sandwich before I spoke again. “On Earth, 48 years. But I've spent more time in the Himalayas and the East coast of Africa than I have in Chicago or the Andes.”

“You know this isn't an interrogation, right? I'm trying to learn about you to help you.”

“One thing you'll pretty quickly learn about me is I see no reason for any beating around of the bush. My people are direct, plain-spoken, unadorned and have no use for obfuscation unless sparing people's feelings are involved. And that's probably not going to be the case here, is it?”

“Well, that's true, but why are you so...sensitive to that then?”

“It's because my people are low-level empaths. I can sense your intentions and reactions. Whether you are concerned, suspicious, angered or scared of me. I don't read thoughts, I wouldn't if I HAD that power. But I never saw...well why would subterfuge even work...seriously?”

“Okay that makes sense I guess.”

I couldn't understand what had made him so uncomfortable. “I'm sorry did I, misunderstand the source of your confusion? I know you are not scary. In fact if more humans were like you this world would be a much nicer place. I'm just 'weary, worn and sad'. It's a physical thing, not an emotional thing, me being this twitchy. Within 30 minutes I'm going to fall asleep. You won't be able to wake me up for anything for 5 hours. I sleep 5 hours every 36 hour cycle; it's just how my body works.”

“Then I should leave and let you get some sleep, as you say.”

I woke up in the medical bay. The man who'd found me was standing a few feet in front of me next to a thinner, pale skinned man with really short black hair and a calm, open expression on his face. “You're alright, you're safe.” The first man told me, trying to calm me down. "I imagine you have questions about where you are."

“I'm at the DEO, that much is obvious.” I answered placidly. “As long as it's closer to a barracks than a laboratory, I'm fine with it.”

“Uh, what?” The younger man said, intrigued more than upset.

“This is the med-bay right? Intake? I don't mind and I will not fight being locked away. As long as it's more in a prison than a laboratory. I just want to be tucked away from everyone. To be a little more blunt about it, I want to avoid...” I motioned around with my left hand.

“A more intense version of this room.” The youthful stranger finished.

“You've been here before, at the DEO I mean?” My benefactor asked of me.

“Almost 20 years ago now. My people live...I live simply but with joy. Dry, safe in the middle of freaking nowhere. It's what I've gotten used to. I honestly would not mind being left alone in a quiet corner of this place as long as I'm on my own and actually getting something done. Not like what... last time I had A-Lot of that but the rest was...Just please tell me I'm not a lab-rat okay? Hell you didn't even know I was an alien until now, what could be learned from studying my biology?

“Absolutely nothing.” The man called James said quickly. “You are here so we can learn *from you, not *about you, I promise. Do you remember your planet?”

“I spent the first third of my life so far back there. But my planet of origin is not my home. And aren't we ignoring a MAJOR part of getting to know each-other: learning all our names?”

“Mon'el.” The paler, young man told me, pressing his palm against the top of his chest.

“James Olsen.” The darker man said, extending his hand.

“That's exquisitely appropriate.” I said as I accepted the handshake. He looked at me as if I'd just splashed his face with ice water. “The Olsen part I mean. Olsean is a tree we have back home. I grew up in a desert region a lot like your American Southwest. Olsean is a desert plant, strong and solitary that withstands anything and never withers. But it is not 'straight tall and proud' like your great oak. It grows kind of sideways which allows for flora and fauna to flourish in its shade. As I said, it never withers. It could stand up to anything except maybe a jaguar to use the closest analogy. Anyway, the description of being strong and protective seems to fit you. Most people call me 'Sasha'. I find 'Nikita' is closer to the mark. But I answer to both equally.”

“Names are descriptions for your people not simply distinctions.” A third man said in a deep enough voice to sooth a jaguar of a savage beast, except it did not have that effect on me. I looked up at him and I KNOW my face turned to ash.

“Well, this explains it.” I said in a weak voice. “Why Olsan would be working with you is beyond me. But this explains his interest, and his reluctance. Come to get an answer to 'the last of your questions', go ahead. But I guran-tee you Olsan will get better answers simply by asking.” I know my tone was as dark as a horror movie or a cemetery. I know because Mon'el looked very freaked out by my tone. I personally did NOT consider this an over-reaction.

"There is something I am not seeing." Mon'el said aloud.

"I take it you are no more from 'here' than I am?" I told him. Mon'el simply nodded.

It's amazing, both of us pass, but you're not considered a Klesse. Is that because you're a warrior?"

Mon'el looked concerned. James looked confused. Henshaw looked stunned and hurt.

“Am I missing something here?” Olsen said slowly.

“No not really but...I think I AM.” I answered even more reluctantly. “You're different, aren't you?” the solider nodded once. “Last time I saw you it was in an interrogation room which you tore through like a tidal wave. You tried to pull my mind apart. And probably would have succeeded, and only to your detriment. But now you're...a duty bound warrior of honor. And more of a traditional warrior than a professional soldier. Restrained and proud, but not arrogant. What could...”

“You've...you were here before.” Mon'el said in a tight voice. You knew Henshaw?”

Hank Henshaw raised his hand with all five fingers bent inward. “My name...is J'onn Jo'nzz."

"A shape-shifter?" I inquired. J'onn nodded. “...You took his place. The DEO is different than before because you changed it. Well, whoever you are you have my admiration...and my gratitude.”

“Low level empath. Your use of language comes from not needing ways to show feelings. The adjectives and superlatives, what they convey, are implied...self-evident even...” He paused.

“...Which is why I use so many adjectives and superlatives when I talk. And why I almost never have the right keyword.” I finished. “Arabic makes more sense to me than English. English is my primary Earth language. Until left the DEO I sounded as native born American as anyone. Every thing else that I know, everything I've learned since then I learned in voluntary exile. Which has the ancillary benefit of my having lived more in 20 years than most people do in 70. And even if I'm not fluent, I understand a hell of a lot of earth languages now...from experience rather than studying.”

Partners in Heroism

 Officer Lance stood sentinel as the vigilante known as the Arrow questioned the man back from the dead. Malcolm Merlyn had died at the Arrow's hand and yet was apparently sitting in front of him, zip tied to a steel chair. But either Malcolm brain had gotten scrambled when he was brought back from the dead or this guy was just a dead-ringer for him. Suddenly the hooded man pulled himself back.

“Let's try a different approach: what IS your name?”

“I call myself Jack Harkness. It's been my name for as long as I can remember.”

“Well, fair enough. But where are you from?”

“Cardiff, Wales, and a lot longer ago than I'd care to remember. And is there a particular reason you all the sudden believe I'm not this Malcolm Merlin person you took me for.”

“Try to shoot an arrow, you wouldn't split mine would you?”

“Uh, probably not if you're as good an archer as the original 'hooded man'. And forgive me but that doesn't answer my question.”

“Answering this next question will settle the answer: What is a good nick name for me, or call-sign if you prefer?”

“I'd just call you the hooded man, after Robin Hood. But I imagine that would get pretty damn old after a while. Why, what do they call you?”

“I call him 'the Arrow'.” Quentin Lance offered lightheartedly.

“I guess that works.” Jack said simply. “But why...”

“Malcolm Merlyn was a Dark Archer, he literally called himself that. He told me I should call myself the Green Arrow...I mean he suggested that name for the vigilante once, not knowing I was listening. Believe me, if you'd been the man we thought, you would have come up with the same answer.”

“I take it the guy is very much dead?”

“I kinda was the one who killed him, so yeah.”

“Jack, are you an officer?” Quentin asked suddenly.

“Uh, I served in the British Army for a while. I call myself a 'Captain'...Lieutenant was the highest rank I ever actually achieved.”

“Lieu-tenant?” Lance prompted.

“Not everyone in the British Isles pronounces the RANK that way. The term 'lefftenant' was originally a person's 'left hand man', most trusted assistant. Referring to being an 'aide-de-camp' I'd call myself that. Not as a rank and position in the army.”

“Yeah, I actually know all that.” Quentin Lance said smiling. “I was just wondering if you did. Ten pounds six-shillings and all of that.”

“Dang, you know you're history!” Jack said laughing.

“Any time you feel like looping me in.” The Arrow said, obviously miffed.

“Here in the states it's a common misconception that British officers pronounce the word 'Lieutenant' as 'lefftenant' no matter the application. We only pronounce it that way when using it properly. At least, around Suffolk. 'Ar-kansas' for the state and 'arkan-saw' for the river type stuff. It's a famous World War II story that a couple German spies, were arrested because they didn't know the British monetary system, which was pretty damn confusing to foreigners...”

“The ticket agent asked for 'ten and six' meaning ten shillings and sixpence. The soldier dolled out ten *pounds and six *shillings, completely without hesitation. Literally the rest of Europe thinks they know...and since that day the Brits laugh at the presumption.”

“I really need to stop under-estimating you Detective.” The Arrow said grimly.

“It's officer now.” Quentin Lance said automatically.

“Not to me, and not to Ms. Smoak.” The man said definitively.

“Listen, I don't want to be a jerk but...can I get out of this now?” Jack Harkness pressed.

As the vigilante bent down to cut the zip-ties he whispered into the man's ear. “And Malcolm Merlyn knows who I really am, you don't recognize me.”

“I figured as much.” Captain Jack whispered back. Standing up he shook life back into his hands. “How long exactly have you two been collaborators?” He asked looking between the cop and the hooded man. “I mean, this seems like a pretty new partnership, one I do NOT want to get between.”

“You're free to go if that's what you're asking.” Oliver Queen said from underneath his hood.

“To quote a friend of mine, but with FULL sincerity: Be empowered and direct your own path!”

Captain Jack Harkness walked out of the bunker underneath the nightclub, Verdant. He couldn't help thinking either fate or the Doctor must have had a sense of irony. He'd shown up in Starling City just for a drink and an escape. Promptly been tranq'd and woke up interrogated by the city's defenders. In whom he'd found a pair of crime-fighters who pushed past their history and listened to their hearts. But also didn't have any problem accepting the impossible when confronted with the impossible. Being a time traveler from the future and former captain of all tht remained of Torchwood, he knew how rare that was. And how lucky he was to have been found by such folks.

(Later that evening at the bunker)

“The Arrow. You're the one who called me that.”

“Uh yeah, I've been calling you that for a while.”

“No I mean, you coined the name...I have to say I approve.”

“What are we...you...making jokes now?”

“It's a lot easier for me to be off my guard when you're not pointing a gun at me." Quentin Lance gave a 'good point' nod. "And I really do like the name; it's apropos and straight to the point...like me.”

Superman Finds Connection

 The scene opens in the Fortress of Solitude where Superman and Nikita stand talking with the living memory of Superman's Kryptonian father, Jor-el. Superman narrates.

“I don't understand why you're leaving.” Sasha Jordan Scott said to her friend.

Joe smiled faintly. “Sasha, you have already risked enough on my behalf. And I...I honestly don't know how to thank you. But I cannot put you in any more danger. Especially from the general. What was it, Elling?”

“Listen to me. I seriously need you to understand this. The instant I welcomed you under my roof you became a guest in my house and my responsibility. It's a lot like being in custody without being under arrest. And regardless of that, you became...you are my friend. And no one with a brain in their skull insults a friend of mine in my house. But if you really want to leave, I can't stop you.” Nikita took a breath. “I appreciate what you are trying to do for me.”

“You saved me from that fanatic. I wouldn't be a very good guest if I didn't at least TRY to return the favor.” 

Nikita looked sad. 

That's when I realized they were no longer quoting the day of their meeting. Something else clicked. “It didn't work did it? He came anyway.”

“Five days later.”

“By Rao. I am so sorry.”

“Jor'el...I met two dear human souls who finally knew who I really was...because I got arrested. They knew, and I met them at all...sitting in a cell at the D.E.O. Because of what happened that day.”

“I can sense there's something else about that. One does not need to be an empath to read you.”

“I've been wondering. Did you send the message to me? I mean was it intended for me alone?”

Jor-el looked thoroughly caught off guard. “Yes...of course. Did you not believe so?”

“Six years ago when I first met,” she motioned toward me. “Superman as he is known on this planet, I recognized the symbol of the house of El on his chest and put him together with the charge to keep I had. It was kind of hard not to put the symbol of the house of El together with a message in your head 'This is Kal'el of Krypton, please protect him and deliver him of evil.' But until a little over a week ago, I never put that message together with your visit. And now I'm feeling kind of like an idiot about that.”

“Why is that Nikita?” I asked her. “I mean, why would you feel silly about that? You said yourself you never knew his true name, or what planet he was actually from.”

“There was no electronic recording of that message. I was literally the only one to hear it. I spent so long wondering who could have known Xavallen physiology well enough to send a signal I could pick up. After all, we don't have dog ears for sound and we're not telepaths. The rest of the time I kept searching my mind trying to figure out who would trust me that far. Out fo the very few people who knew what I was, who would ask me to take care of their son? I couldn't work it out in my head. It didn't help that when I received the message I wasn't even capable of helping myself. I was...in a prison for dangerous aliens at the time. Once I was freed I couldn't think of that memory without knowing I'd failed the man-- and his wife given the word our infant son-- that had put so much trust in me in the first place.”

“You realized that this particular alien you once sheltered would have trusted you that far. No you didn't realize it. You must've already known that. It follows then something must have helped you recognize me.”

“Not you, no. But I did recognize him because of you. The man who rescued me from that alien prison, his name was Jeremiah Danvers. He reminded me a lot of...Well, you Jor-el.”

Suddenly I felt panicked. “Nikita wait!" Jor-el and Nikita both turned to me. "I am sorry father. There's something I have failed to explain." I felt like hanging my head as I turned to Nikita. "Jor-el ...doesn't know who Jeremiah is...to me.”

Nikita put her hand over her mouth, then balled it into a fist as she pushed her teeth down into her skin. It was the single most horrific thing I have ever seen.

"My son, I require an explanation."

"Jeremiah Danvers...Is the man who found me when I was little. He raised me as his son. The only reason he agreed to work for the D.E.O. – The organization that had captured Nikita – was so the leader of that organization wouldn't come after me. Wouldn't turn me into a solider...Or worse."

"Jeremiah had worked for Hank Henshaw for almost six years when he broke me out of that place. And Hank was not Elling. He was a man of restraint and duty...just misguided. He was willing to do any-thing to protect his people from those he honestly believed were a threat. Something he eventually changed his mind about.”

"Well, what exactly constituted a 'threat' in the first place anyway." I muttered.

"Quite so. When a man you don't think anything of good or bad shows you boundless courage, true fidelity and dies saving your life, you tend to re-examine your assumptions on such matters. I now serve under Hank Henshaw. I have for several years. A free choice and one we have all accepted. The particularly dangerous alien they had been pursuing gave Henshaw the memories of Jeremiah's death; out of the belief that it as the only way to keep both himself and Jeremiah safe. We have only quite recently learned the truth of that matter. That Jeremiah has been, essentially under house arrest and living with a man -that is a GREEN Martian named J'onn Jo'nzz - in a remote community called Arias.”

“This is...an almost unbelievable amount of truth to learn.”

“That's pretty much how I felt when I realized that the two dearest souls and truest-hearted people I have ever met on this planet, the two BEST men I have ever know are in fact the biological and adopted fathers of one of my closest current friends!”

I use the French rules of address when I write my stories. This is especially evident when I write stories about Superman or other aliens. In French you would call someone not by how you regarded them but by how you were speaking of them in that moment in that statement. It goes beyond addressing the person directly. Superman speaking to his father Jor-el naturally called him 'father'. But in that same conversation, talking to Nikita who was standing there called him 'Jor-el'. It's because in that moment he was not speaking of Jor-el as his father but as an individual. That's why they switch modes of address so often in the same conversation. If 2 truths are possible which truth you speak depends on which truth you are speaking of. The royal 'we' for royalty only applies when the monarch is speaking of themselves as a king. When they are speaking of themselves as a person, they say 'I' like everyone else. To put it another way, if I was talking to General Lane, who happened to be my father, I might call him General Lane and 'father' several times in the conversation. It would depend solely on whether I was speaking to him as a general or as my father. Because obviously he's both. In that example I'd presumably call him 'General' more often.

Kal-El Becomes Earth's Hero

In this story Clark was adopted by Johnathan and Martha Kent when he was already a teenager. He wears what we think of as his Superman costume because it connects him to his heritage. he has not yet decided to be Earth's Great Hero. And he is wearing civilian clothes.

Kal-El struggled with his chains. They were clearing made out of some non-terrestrial metal or they would have shattered easily. “Excuse me sir, I really wouldn't bother. If you try to escape he'll just hurt you again.”

“Escape? This a prison?”

“One of the more ancient and secure in 16 galaxies.” The man said calmly. As his eyes adjusted he could make out a man in the cell across from him. The man looked like a middle-aged human with light blonde hair and very thin eyebrows. He spoke with simplicity and confidence.

“Who are you and what brought you to this?”

“I was a farmer. And then I became a thief. And now I'll die for it.”

“And what planet's government sends you to death just for stealing.”

“My jailer claims Kryptonian authority. This place is a Kryptonian jail for the worst criminals in 16 galaxies so he is sort of right but this__Krypton has NO death penalty for any crime.”

“You spent some time here before...I take it?”

“I was a smuggler for a cycle and sentenced here for 12.” Kal-El looked dejected. “It is fair, and I do not question the judgment. But I could wish they'd tell me for what new crime I've been re-arrested.” The man said in an even voice.

“You are here to pay for your original crime Nomatar.”

“I am NOT nameless.” The man said with surprising feeling. “My name is Narek.”

“Do you prefer I call you 008429?” the guard said indifferently.

“You can go ahead and execute me. But you cannot take my name from me.”

“I have already done that Nomatar.” the helmeted guard turned to his Kryptonian guest. “It means 'nameless'.” He explained casually.

“Under whose authority do you execute him?”

“Under my own authority you simpleton. I am the only surviving guard left to keep our oaths and continue enforcing justice.”

“Perhaps you will do me the courtesy of telling me where I have been imprisoned?”

“This was Fort Rozz. Designed to hold criminals from 16 of the 23 known inhabited galaxies. And now you Octavius will face true justice.” A thin man perhaps 26 Earth years of age was taken from the cell beside Narek's. His skin was sea green his hair matted and greasy. “Prisoner 008428, you have been found guilty of assault, theft, piracy and conspiracy to commit kidnapping. The sentence declared is death. To be carried out immediately.” No sooner had these words been spoken than Octavius was forced to his knees and beheaded.

“Octavius was his real name?” Kal-El asked of the man across the corridor from him.

“Yes. Why does that surprise you?”

“Why is he allowed to keep his name and you are not?”

Narek chuckled. “I was born on Star Haven. To them a name is a possession, a gift. Anton as I call him knows how demoralizing it is that even my name is taken from me. Laserites like Octavius don't particularly care.”

“So he does it as simply a final insult?”

“I suppose so.” The resignation on the man's face was heart-breaking.

“That's it, I'm getting you out of here.”

Kal-el burned the lock of his cell door with his heat vision, silently thanking whatever God existed that his jailer had not bothered to flood the cell with red sunlight. He pulled the door to Narek's cell off of its hinges. But was thrown backwards against the wall.

“You seriously have no respect for justice.” the guard growled darkly.

“I believe very strongly in Justice.” Kal-El retorted. “But that's not what this is.”

Narek ran to the wall and took a rifle from the weapons locker. He pointed it at Anton's temple. “You should seriously reconsider your current course of action. I will shoot you, if I have to.” He said in a wavering voice.

“So much for being a man of peace.” Anton taunted him.

“Oh I am a man of peace Anton. But we always had to defend our fields from rampaging herds and ravagers alike, which means I know how to use a weapon. And right now I'm defending a FRIEND, which means I will use it without hesitation. So I say again: Stand down.”

The guard instantly dropped his hands. “Why did you bother giving me the name Anton?”

“You mean why  that particular name for you? It means 'Solider of Duty'. It seemed to fit.”

“That it does. And I surrender myself to justice.” He turned to Kal-El. “I would go down on my knees and accept my sentence. But you won't kill me, will you?”

“No, I won't. But I will find you the most isolated cell in this place and lock you away in it.”

“The fourth sub-level on the twilight side.” The guard replied. Kal-el looked at Narek.

“It's for prisoners who would actually think about what they've done.:” The man explained casually. “It's called twilight because the constant levels of low light and quiet sounds, lends itself to thinking and reflection.”

“For criminals who would do their time without incident.”

“Yes, forgive me I did not even ask your name.”

“I suppose you would call me Kal-El.”

“...I see. Then you must forgive me but, may I ask what happens to me?”

That's when it finally occurred to him. The guard had not flooded his cell with red solar rays, because he'd had no way of knowing his race, neither had Narek. And this prison had once been run by Kryptonians. Which is why Anton had surrendered so willingly. To the simple, straight-forward mind of a prison guard, Kryptonians were in charge of their own prison.

“Where is home for you? On Earth I mean.”

“Colorado State University, Colorado Springs.”

“then hold onto me. That's your next stop.”

Narek wrapped his arms around Kal-El's torso. Four minutes later they were over the astronomy building of the university. Narek stumbled a bit as they touched down.

“I am quite grateful that I did not acquire the ability to fly on this planet.”

“I'm still getting used to it myself.”

“You're letting me go?”

“Yes. That's the general idea.” Kal-El said slowly.

“I don't understand. Why would you do this?”

“Well from MY understanding you've served your time. And even if not, I'd say your actions today earned you an early release.”

Narek took Kal's hands in his own, shaking in pure joy.

“Thank you Kal-El. I could never repay you for this.”

“Yes you can.” Kal-El said with a smile. “Lead a good life. Keep being kind.”

“I promise I will.”

 “What do you teach here anyway?”

“Can you not guess?”

“I'd say linguistics but...The stars. You teach humans about the stars.”

“The one thing I know better than anyone else on this planet. Beside most humans, aren't interested in learning alien languages.

“And Earth languages would sound...more than a little strange to you, naturally.”

Narek turned his head away, looking at his liberator only through the corner of his eye. “Kal-El, would it be presumptuous of me to say you have redeemed your family name today?”

“I do not understand your hesitation. The question itself for that matter. I was raised here on Earth. I don't know my own Kryptonian culture any more than I know – a Laserites.”

Narek picked on a stick started digging into the grass. “This is the symbol for the House of El. Which I take by your surname to be your family. They are - humans would say they have their noses firmly in the air. None more so than one named Zor-El. He sentenced hundreds here without a thought.”

“Including you.”

“One wrong cannot be negated for better OR worse by committing another Kal-El. When I said I accepted the justice of my sentence, I meant it. But I stole a sum equal to almost a year's pay. There are those who got my sentence for stealing the contents of a farm house.” Kal El turned away, dejected. “As I said,” Narek continued hurriedly. “You are not your family. And you have done a great thing here, that if I have anything to say about it, will be what the house fo El is remembered for.”

“That is both praise and an affirmation. And I thank you for it.”

Flash Originally Made

 "As Good a Wells as Any."

The original name was even more of a pun because I needed to let myself know that this version of my True Harrison Wells story is better than most and unique. But obviously no one else would know that. So I chose a name that still sets this Wells apart but only from the other Dr. Harrison Wells of the show. There is something different about this edition of this story of mine and I don't want to forget that I need to keep it. But also, the main character Harrison Wells is himself as good__no worse than any...And better than most.

Earth 42 STAR Labs March 17th 2019

“Detective, how are you?” Harrison Wells said from the 'entryway' to STAR Labs.

“I'm alright, Dr. Wells, thank you. I was hoping I could enlist that huge science brain of yours to solve an annoyingly enigmatic case of mine, and catch a killer in the process.”

“Are you asking me because I'm a scientist or because I'm the biggest enigma you know?”

“Both actually. He is...one of the wild-world of weird cases we've been busy chasing down.”

“The reason you don't want Barry on the case taking down this particular bad guy with us?”

“The case is the murder of Nora Allen...Barry's mother.”

All calm and humor evaporated from Well's face. It actually took a few moments for him to speak again. “Why don't we get to the science-y part of this building. We've some things we need to discuss. Wells led Detective West into the anteroom of the facility he built. Within an hour Joe West and Harrison Wells were consumed with analyzing the physical evidence, and implications of a murder that had brought Joe's family together...and led to the Particle Accelerator and the meta-human hero known as the Flash.

“Is it possible that someone with Barry's abilities killed his mother?” Joe asked bluntly.

“Now we reach the core.” Harrison said coyly. “You want to know if my particle Accelerator had anything to do with creating this monster. Do I assume correctly you've had this notion in your head the entire time we've been talking?”

“I didn't believe Barry's story. For 14 years I thought Henry Allen was guilty, because I couldn't believe that sort of impossible even exists. But Barry does,stuff right out of the Twilight Zone is a weekly occurrence now. I have to consider the possibility it existed back then.”

“But my Particle Accelerator didn't.” Wells said pointedly. “Joe, someone or something impossible killed Nora Allen that night. He killed more than just Barry's family actually. And yes, my accelerator created the meta-humans we deal with on a daily basis. These freaks were my fault, I can't deny that; I haven't. But my work is not the only source of trouble for this city, and not every wild and weird story comes out of my experiments.” His voice took on a dangerous edge. “I'm fairly certain that monster had nothing to do with me, no one knew who I was yet.”

“The timing is more than a little suspicious don't you think?” Joe said is cold hard tone, openly challenging the genius who wormed his way into their lives without a word of his own origins.

A challenge that was met with a steely glare. “Ask the man in yellow for why he showed up when he did, outta the blue. He thinks for himself and changed the world overnight. Whatever drew him here, why we've never even seen him since...” Harrison Wells took a physical step back. “Yeah, the timing is less than coincidental. But if you're looking for explanations, I don't know the why...and as far as the how I'm as in the dark as you are.”

Detective Joe West stared at the normally unflappable man who had unraveled before him. There was not a lot that could rile a self-possessed, professionally restrained man like Harrison Wells. It was one of the reasons he'd felt safe coming to the man with his suspicions, that he knew sounded like accusations. Somehow Joe had a feeling that it was something way more personal than his rush to judgment that had animated him so completely.

“You've seen him too.” Detective West realized aloud.

“Once, 17 years ago now. He's why I moved to Central City in the first place. The night I saw him is why I created the foundations for STAR Labs when I did. What he took from me, is why it took 15 years to create the place.” Sinking into a desk chair Wells put his hands over his face. When he looked up, Joe was staring at him with an expression he'd never shown the man before: a look of compassion. “Joe, Barry doesn't know my story. He's been through enough trying to catch up with this creep. I know him well. The fact that my work caused more suffering and more monsters is something I live with. THIS monster, I want him and answers; as badly as you do. But I don't have them Joe. If your chasing the Man in Yellow, you cannot find a stronger ally than me. If you want answers about MY life story, look up Tess Morgan. More specifically, look up where she was December 21st 2002. Then decide if I have a good enough reason for keeping my past to myself.”

When Detective Joe West walked into the Cortex at precisely 7:03 pm that evening, he looked like he wanted to bury his head in a bag of potatoes. He didn't sit down, only tapped on the door-frame to signify his presence. Wells waved him in but did not verbally acknowledge his presence, until Joe placed a box of very expensive Irish Whiskey on the table.

“I take it you're not here to make more accusations.” Wells said briskly..

“Doctor Wells, I don't know what to say. I looked up Tess Morgan... I had no idea. I remember what you said about why you keep going, after such a 'spectacular public failure' as the accelerator. You wanted to adapt, evolve and tries to push through, but you weren't talking about Star Labs were you? You meant losing her, your wife.” Wells motioned for Joe to take the seat beside him. He didn't say anything. Because Joe wasn't done speaking. “Something must have created this monster, and the accelerator created a lot of them. I'm not trying to make excuses I hope you understand why I squirrel brained. Finding answers based on what information I have is in my job description, as a cop.”

“And finding answers to life's greatest mysteries is in mine; as a scientist.” Wells offered.

“I understand the need to understand everything Joe. Detectives who follow leads and geniuses who need answers both have a tendency of getting obsessed. I also understand this was personal for you. What little emotion I show in my daily life, I understand trying to keep your family safe.”

“And she was yours.”

“What took me almost 15 years working on my own, she and I together could have done in 5.”

“What was she like?”

“Strong, brilliant, had the most musical laugh. We were married to the work as much as to each-other. Making a facility like STAR Labs was something we were thinking about anyway, we just couldn't find a place to put down roots that wouldn't turn into a media-government circus if we ever got it up and running. When she died, I decided to move here. The best place I can think of to build our dream. Even if she could no longer see it. I later learned the car accident...wasn't an accident. Someone or something tried to kill me that day; I'm still not sure I even understand why. But while I survived, Tess...Tess didn't.”

“You're chasing him to.” Joe said stoically.

“Ironically enough I think if I ever meet the man I owe him a thank you. If I hadn't moved here, I wouldn't have had Cisco and Caitlyn on my team to help make that dream a reality... completely awesome friends to stand beside me when it fell down like a house of straw. And I wouldn't have been around to help Barry. Until the accelerator exploded Barry was the only person to believe in the impossible, I imagine he got teased for it quite a bit.”

“Yeah, and I was one of his most vocal critics.”

“ What you did with what you knew doesn't matter. Only what you do now that you know better.”

“I appreciate it.”

“And now because of my failed experiments, the world has a meta-human hero, a guardian angel for this city to help deal with the craziness inherit in life. Unless the man in yellow was messing with Tachyons there's no way he could have originated from something I...hadn't even built yet.”

“Okay...what's that look on your face?”

“Tachyons, little bits of time-travel. That is how he did it! Barry and I need to find this creep and kick his speedster ass back to the Renaissance. Failing that we need to train him, Barry I mean, to be the hero this city needs right now. Are you with me, Joe?”

“I am completely supportive of anything that shows the world a hero to look up to. And proud that that hero is my son. So just to confirm, we both know, that someone with Barry's abilities did exist back then. I don't have to convince YOU of Barry's otherwise insane story. Somehow it makes me feel a hell of a lot more comfortable trusting you.”

“Detective, I am asking if you can help the team be the heroes they naturally are...and let me tell them my story when I'm ready.”

“You have no idea how easily I can support you there.”

“...Thank you Joe.”

“Doctor Wells, can I talk with you for a minute?”

“I'm always here to help Barry, what's up?”

“You seem different, like something's weighing on your heart that wasn't there before. And if this is because of Ronnie...what happened to him.”

“Barry, Ronnie's death was a noble sacrifice and a freely given choice. I don't feel anything for him other than he should be an example we all aspire to emulate given the opportunity. But before he...the last conversation we had together was very different...and you know how people regret never having the chance to say things or 'take them back'. Because of his death, I will never get the chance to tell him I actually heard what he said!”

“Do you mind telling me what it is he DID say?”

“Ronnie found out my 'deep dark secret' and told me to stay away from you.” Wells replied as straight-forward as ever. “The people who died or were changed in the accelerator are my fault. Even if I couldn't have seen it coming. But there is one death that can be placed ENTIRELY at my front door. Ronnie discovered this and told me to stay away from you. Something I admire him for, he wanted to protect you. I can't help thinking he had a weird sort of a point. If keeping you safe really does mean keeping my distance. And if it does, I'll do it.”

“I'm the one who decides if I want you in my life Harrison. And I want you in my life. If you want to leave fine. But don't leave because someone who barely knows you-barely knew you- thought you didn't belong in a fellowship of heroes."

“Barry, I'm here as long as you need me. But if the day ever comes that I feel like I can no longer run from my past...I wanted you to know...”

Completely misunderstanding his hesitation, Barry put his hand on Harrison's shoulder. “I know Dr. Wells. I know.”

KING Uther has a Guardian

 Nikita-Sasha had lived with her friends in Camelot at one time. She is now confined to the wood between the worlds. She loves them but cannot be with them. Hence the distance in her POV but personal familiarity in her account

Merlin stepped out into the road, his hands stretched apart, his palms open. “You promise you will leave him in peace, alive and free? I have your word on that?” His voice was flat but sincere, a feat only he could have pulled off.

“I give you my word, if you come with me now, he will leave free.”

“...Then leave him alone, and keep me.”

Quick as lightning Morganna shoved Gwaine aside and wrapped cords around Merlin's wrists and mouth. As the Queen dragged Merlin away Gwaine's head lifted, as though looking around for the source of a sound. Merlin must have sent him a message in his mind. Gwaine was the closest friend he had, save perhaps Arthur himself, and had always considered Merlin his only friend. So whatever Merlin wanted to say, if anyone was going to hear a silent message it would have been that amazing knight of Camelot. Gwaine kept himself still until Morganna and her people were out of sight. When he stood up again he had a very confused look on his face. “Where do I even begin to look?”

“Is someone there?” a voice croaked.

“I guess so.” A young man whispered. “Are you who I'm here for? Have I found Arthur's father?”

“Yes, that much I can claim. Please come out of the shadows.”

Gwaine followed the man's instructions and stepped into the room. He quickly sheathed his sword and bowed his head to Uther, who did not respond except to raise an eyebrow. “I realize I am probably the last person you want to see.” Gwaine said plainly. “Merlin told me to find you. And I think he asked me to care for you. What can I do to help?”

“You can stand up straight and look me in the face.” Uther said briskly. “You owe me no special honor, no one does. And as for the other part...Whatever disagreements we had before are certainly irrelevant by now, would you agree?”

“Yes I suppose so. It will be difficult to unlearn something I've lived with all my life however. And I don't mean knowledge of what nobles expect. With the exception of your son, I have always hated and distrusted nobles, royalty even more so. I will be better than that in time...but it will take time.”

“By the graciousness of your words and peace in your eyes I'd think you were born a nobleman.”

“I was sire. But I rejected that life long ago. I learned from my father's life that titles don't mean anything. And never found a nobleman who deserved that title until Merlin insisted...” His voice caught. “When I first met them, when I was carried into Camelot over a year ago, Merlin would not stop insisting that Arthur was different, that he was indeed a noble-man and worth dying for. At first I thought he was only saying that to make the best out of a bad situation...or that he was just easily swayed. Then I saw it for myself: Arthur is different. Eventually I decided that if Merlin thought he was worth dying for...”

“What has happened to him?” Uther said suddenly. “You would not have this pained a look every time you mention his name if something wasn't sad about that story. What has happened to him?!”

“...He gave himself up...to save a friend.”

“...And for a chance to make things right with a friend.” Uther said with a queer smile. Gwaine looked at Uther as thought he thought the man was talking nonsense...or had finally had too much to drink.

“Forgive me sire but, what do you mean by that?”

“Arthur is Morganna's prisoner. The last thing Merlin and I talked about was how much he regretted, I would almost say hated himself for not going back for Arthur. If only for a final chance to see him. I told him he'd never make it all the way to the dungeons without being caught.”

“So he had them bring him to the dungeons, knowing he could sneak around from there! That actually makes me feel better.”

“Gwaine...how well do you know Merlin?”

“I know he's the only friend I had in the world. I know he is tireless and endlessly patient. I know his heart carries a secret weight and if he doesn't want to share it with me I'm in no place and not of the inclination to press him on it.”

“Very wise. I should tell you he shared that secret with me. The night before he left he told me he needed to share something with me. That there was something about him I needed to know or at least he needed someone in this kingdom to know. Then he went off to right one last wrong and speak openly with Arthur, come what may. Now I think I should tell you. You should probably sit down, it will be easier for you to hear what I have to say.”

“Sire, how can you be sure he would want this?”

“Well for one, he spoke of you as his closest friend in Camelot and of all the knights you are the man who thinks most like him and stands by him through everything. From the way he talks about you, you are the only friend he has to whom he would share so much of himself, and would trust you with it. Also, he did give himself up to save a friend. I think getting inside the castle was an ancillary benefit to saving you from Morganna's clutches.” Gwaine smiled shyly. “To be perfectly forthright Gwaine, I think you're the only person in the kingdom, other than my son for whom Merlin would gladly give his life. Now sit down and listen I have, an amazing story to tell you.”

Author's Note: Lancelot is still alive. Although Uther doesn't realize it, Merlin does not speak of sharing this part of himself with Lancelot, because Lancelot already knows!

Uther's Protector

“Why would you do this for me?” the former King Uther Pendragon asked of the young man who had sheltered him for nine weeks without complaint.

“Forgive me sire, I do not understand.” Gwaine/Merlin asked the man.

“I cannot command you. I would not ask this of you if I could. Why are you being so kind?”

'There are many good reasons why I should sire. Arthur is one good reason. I do what I can to help him. I would follow him to my death if I could, he asked me to care for you and I don't really have any reason not to...” The young man bowed his head, embarrassed. “You did as me to speak without restraint or overly-tempered words.”

“Indeed, and I'm glad to see you finally followed that instructions...and that is what it was.”

“I don't...You mean it wasn't an order from a king, just an instruction from an elder?” Uther nodded vigorously. “Yeah, it really does make sense. Arthur liked that about me anyway.”

“You speak of him as if relaying a story that has come to its end.”

“I don't mean to sire. He's still alive. I'm just not with him in the same way I was...back when we were always traveling together and I seldom left his side. And even back then, he always liked that I didn't use false compliments or courtly manners.” The young servant's eyes grew distant, as though remembering the good old days, knowing they would never come again. Uther decided to leave the man in peace with his thoughts. A few minutes later Merlin shook himself out of his thoughts and smiled faintly at Uther.

“Seriously the last order Arthur ever gave me was to do what I could for you. I won't deny I think Arthur would make a better and more worthy king than you were. He would outshine you in forbearance as justice every bit as much as you overshadow and tower over, in those principles, the woman who has the throne now. How Morganna has managed to justify the things she's doing. It not only makes me sick I...I hope you'll forgive this...”

“It puts my reign in perspective.” Uther finished for the lad. Merlin's head shot up to the roof. Staring the former king in the face, he waited for some explanation to come forth. “I don't actually disagree with you Merlin! I don't understand what happened to her, but Morganna is as consumed with selfishness as she is with the lust for power. And Arthur is ready to be a king and his reign will...he would be a better king than I ever was. I have no reluctance about admitting that! Stop tip-toeing around the basic truths you and I have come to see so clearly.” In response to this admission Merlin put his head down and looked at his own feet. “What is it Merlin?”

“it's time I told you as much of the truth as I ever learned...as much of it as you wish to know. What you think of me after this...it will be a revelation before the evening is done, I can assure you of that...is entirely your affair. But I want you to see the complete picture...and know exactly how long ago I figured most of these secrets out.”

“Starting with the secret of Arthur's birth.” Uther prompted.

“And that Morganna was your natural daughter.” Merlin replied instantly.

“...You have my attention.” Uther breathed.

Merlin pulled a small bottle of wine out of his satchel and poured the drink into two small cups that would fit on tea plates. “Raspberry wine. I think we both will need it before too long.” After handing the king a mug he sat on the floor and motioned Uther to sit back against the wall. “Morgouse was a liar and an enchantress. But her deception was made all the more powerful because there was a streak of truth to it. Arthur could not have forgiven himself if he'd...done what he was about to do, so I pulled him back from it. But I have known since that day why Arthur has no memories of his mother.”

Uther actually smiled at that. “Your perception and insight have ever been as sharp as an eagles or lioness. I have always said so.”

Merlin's eyes flashed briefly and Uther pushed his lips closed, sensing this was a difficult thing for Merlin to say and he needed his concentration...and the courtesy of not being interrupted in his story. “Morganna's birthday celebration was the next...revelation. When her head was cracked I...I heard what you told her when you sat with her. Strange thing is...I think she might have heard it too. Either that or she found out pretty soon after. He face was a mask but not just a closed door, there were dark things behind her eyes after that. I'm sorry, I really have no other way to describe it. She was one of the first people I met in Camelot who talked to me without barking orders, including...actually especially Gaius and Arthur. She didn't' mean well to any of us anymore. I didn't know what to make of it, or what to do about it...so I did nothing at all.”

“I don't even think this was intentionally Morgouse's doing.”

“I'm sorry but –WHAT?!!
“Morgouse wanted to right the wrongs done to her kind under your rule. Morganna wanted to make you pay for lying to her and take her 'rightful place' on the throne. Morgouse showed her that she wasn't a monster, and she came to see you as one. Morgouse would rather you be forgotten or dead. But that would be the end of it. From her perspective she's interested in justice not vengeance. Making you suffer before you die was never her goal. And she...she has a head on her shoulders compared to Morganna that surpasses the same comparison for Arthur and myself. I honestly think Morgouse makes sense by comparison!”

“Merlin, why are you squirming in your own body as if you were afraid I'd attack you for telling the truth? I should be thanking you for being so completely open with me. I do notice I seem to scare you. It makes sense and was the most natural thing in the world when I wore a crown and asked you to keep an eye out for witches and wizards. Given what you told me keeping silence could not have settled well with your honest heart, keeping quiet from me to say nothing of how close you are to my son. He would have hated you for for thinking this. But Morganna is queen now and I do not wear a crown. Like I said, I cannot command you to speak much less have you thrown in a dungeon like I did a long time ago. So, why do you still seem so scared of me?”

Several silent moments passed.

“The third reason I come as often as I do...” Merlin actually fussed with the tail of his shirt. “Sire if I continue, if I keep saying these things in a few minutes I will be begging you for leniency.”

Uther looked confused and stunned. After a moment he chuckled shakily. “Either you have a very awkward sense of humor or a very loose grip on reality.”

“Gwaine and Arthur know without a shadow of doubt that I would jump down a dragon's throat to save them, if I didn't trip over my own feet first. You were the first person in Camelot to know how far I would go to keep him safe, to defend Arthur from his enemies. But they don't know how much I could do trying to defend them. This should give you an idea.” He picked up the plate upon which he had served the king his supper, holding it eye-level on his left hand, and raised his right hand high above the plate. He said a spell in his mind and the exact meal Uther had just finished reappeared. The same except for a few extra pieces of fruit and darker red jam for the bread. He turned to face the fire pit at his left. The flames were almost down to embers. “Enthal.” he whispered. Suddenly the flame grew brighter and stronger. The next moment he pulled himself to his knees in front of Uther and bowed his head.

“What do you mean by this?” Uther asked with a kind of stern kindness. Merlin raised his head with a face even whiter than usual. “What do you think you need my pardon for? To be clear, which do you think is worse being a sorcerer or keeping quiet about Morganna's true intentions?”

“To be honest, neither.” Merlin answered after a moment. “Morganna was too precious to others, and wore her mask of happiness so convincingly nothing could have come from trying to tell people the truth. Not to mention it would have gotten me beheaded or exiled. If I hadn't overheard her talking with Morgouse one night I wouldn't have believed it. And I will Ne-ver regret being what I am. What I'm asking you to forgive is my plain cowardice...that I didn't do more to fight Morganna when she seized the throne. And for leaving Arthur languishing in that cell when I could so easily break him out and guide him here to be with you..”

“..It wouldn't be easy and I think you know that.” Uther interrupted him. “Unless you can literally turn yourself invisible you'd never get tot eh cells. And without revealing your powers to him, you could never tell him how you rescued him at all.”

“But...isn't that cowardice?”

“No matter how powerful, one man cannot move the earth. Are you sincerely asking that?! Preserving your friendship with my son and choosing instead to follow what is by your own words the last order he ever gave you, and looking after me? I know how you must hate me. And I now know why I scare you so badly: You were helping me with your magic and hiding in the corner, hiding your power so I'd accept your help. Merlin you are probably the bravest man I know!”

“...I don't hate you sire.” Merlin fumbled with his words. “You scare me, or at least intimidate me, sure. But I couldn't hate you if I tried, not for doing what you honestly believe is best for your people...not after knowing what trusting magic cost you. Frankly, I'm gonna ask you to please, NOT presume to know my mind if that's the kind of thing you think is in my heart.”

“I...I honestly don't know what to say.” Uther Pendragon stammered, starring at the man who'd stood by him for almost 11 weeks and cared for him as a doctor cares for his patient, or a father for his young son the entire time. This wasn't the thought in his head however. The first thing he thought of was 'am I in a delirium or was I always completely wrong about him'?”

“Was I always wrong about you...Or are you really as selfless as you seem?”

“And THAT is the reaction I'd expected you to have about this.” Merlin stated flatly. “Not all people with magic want destruction and death. My powers don't corrupt me. Morganna's magic unto itself didn't corrupt her. I learned from Gaius the purpose of my skills and that magic should only be used for great deeds. All Morganna ever heard was that magic was evil and 'those who practice magic should never be trusted'. Is it any wonder when someone taught her to accept herself she turned her back on the people who so shunned people like us...because believe me if she learned I had magic she'd be asking me that: Why I don't stand with her, why I won't stand up for 'people like us'. Btu I'm not like her just because I have magic, any more than I'm like Morgouse, Nimweh or the old druid for that matter. My mother made me who I am, my loyalty to Arthur gave me purpose and had things been different I would have been honored to call him my friend...If I'd been able to look HIM in the eye without fearing what he'd do if he found out that magic lives in my veins. Well, it does, literally. And that changes nothing about me...except in the eyes of people like you.” Having been staring Merlin in the face the entire time he spoke, Uther of course noticed that Merlin's mouth did not move along with his last few words...his mouth hadn't moved when he'd said them. Those words were his thoughts, which he had sent to the kings mind, unable to keep the anger out of his voice any longer. A moment later he realized the truth: Merlin was showing him the extent of his powers and proving he would never use them to cause pain, not even to a man he had every right to call his enemy.

Uther blushed red and bowed his head in shame.