Hope is Everywhere

...Elana is of a race that once they set thier mind to something, whether to make themselves rich at all costs or live as a beggar, they do that thing to the fullest. They are extremely single minded once they've made up thier mind. She is also of a race that can kick a Martian's ass if they want. So staying out of their way, or not getting in thier way, really is self-preservation.

After treating Henry's wound and not batting an eye at J'onn's green Martian-ness J'onn challenges Eloise in such a way that she locks herself in her bedroom.

J'onn J'onzz: (Uncertainly) why do I get the feeling we just repaid kindness with betrayal?

Henry Allen: (sadly) Because that's exactly what we did.

Superman visits the DEO for the first time since Henshaw's change of heart. He stops in his tracks when he sees Nikita, who is starring at the symbol on his chest. After exchanging pleasantries she goes back to her room.

Superman:(in an undertone) She's broken.

Henshaw: With respect, you don't know what she's been through, she's stronger than you think.

Superman: (with x-ray vision) No I mean literally her bones aren't old; they're bro-ken!

Henshaw: (looking like he's seen death) Dear GOD.

Saren: you honestly have no idea do you? You are so set in finding answers you don't even see why the question is wrong. When I tell you this is unneeded I mean it. But also it's fracking pointless. You keep asking me what my home planet was like, my home town is 500 miles from here. You want to know what I really look like well, I don't look like the rest of my kind but this is the real me.

The second most popular question you guys have for me is How I know what I do? my people are more advanced in the sciences than you, my mother was a biologist at the university. I'm not being reticent-stubborn-obtuse or defiant, I can't answer where I learned it because *I* never did. I have all of my peoples knowledge and my families memories and I remember what it ALL was like. I never learned any of it, it's all in my head. experiences started 26 years ago in Salida Colorado."

Henshaw: What your people have sufficiently advanced technology to have embedded learning programs? Your spaceship downloaded you with these files?"

Saren: Oh come off it. My mother's people have genetic memory. And as far as my human appearance, if I was entirely of my mothers people I would be a lot more of a freak of nature. If I was completely of her blood the high cheekbones I have would be turning the color of your oceans right now. I mean they would be sea-green. When the hair on the back of our neck stands on end, we stand ram-rod straight and bristle like iron. What your physicians read as an unknown condition like Arthritis is genetics. You missed it because it isn't pure. My father was human, my mother was from the stars. I'M NOT."

Agent Danvers: I really think we should get her out of here. And by that I mean let her go.

Director Henshaw: For once Jeremiah, you'll get no argument from me.

Agent Danvers: Wait, are you serious?

Hank Henshaw: Our mandate is to protect Earth from alien threats or invasion. She's an enigma, but she's not a threat. You will be the first to agree I really screwed up this time.

Agent Danvers: Yeah me too. I made the same assumption, and was just as wrong about –about to say 'everything' he stops himself– What was right in front of my face.

(Holding her hand 3 fingers and thumb straight, bending her pinkie Saren takes an oath )  Saren: Nesente E se-kya Nesta-Za ke. I just took my oath of silence. All I can do.

Agent Danvers: you must be from a kind and unique people.

Saren: Actually most of my people would probably want to beat the crap out of you right now. But whatever ELSE we are, we are not liars. Because of what is taken from the world, murder is a worse crime than lying. But in my culture calling someone a liar is a far worse insult than calling them a murderer.

Hank Henshaw: In other words you could promise to kill me with your bare hands or to spare my life, and those are equally likely, but either way I can take you at your word.

Saren: Yes, Exactly.

The mission referenced happened on Supergirl's Earth also; Nikita is an original character. The assumption of Mon'el's character is true to the CW's Supergirl as well. But here Kara has not yet donned a hero's outfit and so Superman is the DEO's closest alien ally; and made that same mistake.

“Dining on ashes J'onn?” Kal'el said floating a few feet above the balcony.

“That's a new one.” J'onn Jo'nzz said distractedly. "From you anyway."

“If the dark and slightly brooding look fits...and it seems to.” Kal'el landed at J'onn's left and walked over to him, smiling warmly.

“Well if it means chewing on the dry bones of your own stupidity, it does.”

“What's wrong J'onn? I know this doesn't mean as much as it should but I've never seen you like this.”

“Nikita compared me to Hank Henshaw.” The alien said miserably.

“You mean the military jerk who kept her prisoner for five years and tried to execute you on the spot? That'll do it.”

“Believe it or not Clark, that's not the problem. The trouble is...I think she was right.”

Kal'el of Krypton, or Clark Kent as he was known by most people on Earth, put his hand gently on J'onn's shoulder. “I'm here to listen if you want to talk.”

J'onn looked at his compatriot. “Not here. This place has more ears than I'd like to admit.”

“My father's place. 68.4 north Longitude, 77.2 West Latitude You'll need a heavy coat or thicker skin.”

It took a moment for J'onn to react to his friends invitation. And a minute longer to understand it. “Well Clark I appreciate it. I'm just not sure...I'll see you there.”

“Welcome to the Fortress of Solitude.” Kal'el said amiably when he crossed the threshold into his second home. It was quite a beautiful place, a crystalline ice palace On Baffin Island just West of Greenland in the Arctic Circle. J'onn resumed his human form as soon as he landed, which made Kal'el smile slightly. “You don't have to hide here J'onn. We hold your people no ill-will. Besides...it is considered more honest.”

“...Very well.” J'onn closed his eyes and his skin quickly changed from that of a human African American male to the lime green pallor of his own race. His legs grew, his chest shrank slightly and his head sloped backward as it grew a good 12 centimeters.

“Master Kal, I did not know we'd be receiving guests.” A mild voice said from the near-distance.

“Kalex, fabricate some Rhown wine for me and my guest to share and then leave us to ourselves.”

Two champagne flutes of a carbonated beige colored liquid materialized on the pedestal in front of them. “Privacy mode initiated.”

“That's convenient.” J'onn said mildly.

“I didn't think this would be something meant for other ears.” Clark hesitated a moment. “And I get the feeling I should feel honored you would share this with me.”

Kal picked up a flute of the drink, J'onn raised his in a toast. “Tsu freynt, alt aun nay.”

“ 'To Friends, old and new.' ” Kal translated automatically. “I didn't know you spoke Kryptonian.”

“It's an antidote to arrogance and a reminder of our humanness that we can still surprise each-other, the 4 of us.” J'onn said with a slight grin. “First I have to ask you if Nikita ever told you the story of how we met. Rather to what degree of detail she shared the story.”

“That Hank Henshaw took her and Jeremiah Danvers on a mission to execute a 'particularly dangerous alien' a description she and Jeremiah both laughed at until Hank told her it was a Martian they were going after. That she was ashamed of her mistake when she actually saw you.”

“Because unlike the human inhabitants of this world, she knew both Green and White Martians existed. Jeremiah Danvers and I held each other in high regard. Now that I know he's still alive, I can assume we still do. That was entirely due to the fact that Nikita trusted me without hesitation. For the past 4 years she and I have been working to make the DEO 'more like what it is today and less like what it was when I was first brought through its doors'. How many times have we heard her say that? And yet I never stopped to ask her, or even consider what it was like when she was brought into the DEO. I realize I'm telling a story in a very bad order here but...I just listened to a more detailed description of what Henshaw was really like pouring out of her mouth than what I've heard from anyone at the DEO since I arrived. And along with stories of why he's such a blind arrogant idiot and why she holds Jeremiah in such high regard in the first place. But the best part: she told me exactly what it means to be a low-level empath. I always assumed it meant the signals or readings in her mind were faint, distant or easily muddled. It turns out she senses the literal thoughts and intentions of anyone she's within 20 meters of, their very nature and essence ring into her ears...into her mind's eyes. And nothing can convince her not to act upon it. Do you know there are two species in the 16 known galaxies that physiologically make her sick, no matter what she senses from the individual person?”

“I knew she reacted horribly to Infernians and White Martians; they make her double over in pain. It was Infernian to commit the attack for which I squarely blamed our Daxamite guest.”

“I found such a creature in her apartment, a White Martian. And their kind are monsters... abominations...murderers to me and of my people. Not only did she not let me take that thing into custody, Nikita stood in my way and told me to stand down. Among other things she said that her apartment, which she is beholden to me to be able to use is as much a sanctuary of peace as it is a sanctuary of life and that if I continue to disrespect that and use the wrong end of my anatomy I would quickly find out how thoroughly even a pacifist like herself could kick my ass.”

“White Martians are aggressive, relentless and egotistical.That's not just me repeating what you told me, my Kryptonian father said the same thing. Why would she defend one of them?" Kal-el mused. "And I am assuming this is at the core of this whole situation?”

“Nikita told me that as a White Martian, Meagan is shredding her insides. Who she is as a person she is calming me...Nikita...down. And that I was the one making her sick. I couldn't believe it. I still have trouble accepting it. When she told me I was the one reminding her of Hank Henshaw, I said what's probably the most thoughtless thing to ever come out of my mouth. I insisted that she remember I knew what Henshaw was like...after all she was there when we met and he tried to cut me down.”

“...And she reminded you that by comparison you were there for five minutes...she had to live under him for five years.” Kal'el finished slowly.

“Apparently he was a far more violent and thoughtless warden than I had given him credit for. And the one time she fought back was for Jeremiah's sake and not her own. She told me few days after we'd met that her treatment at the DEO had improved tremendously, but  it was still incredibly new to her. I'm sure she's told you the same.”

“She never stops saying it...but never says anything more either.” Kal'el agreed.

“I am seriously regretting never asking her before...what her life was like even a year before I knew her. Truth is I never even tried to think about what it had been like before, what it was like under Henshaw for her or anyone else. With Me'gann standing right there she explained how she and Jeremiah became such a close team. Basically they respected and trusted each-other so completely that Henshaw brought them on missions together...a military unit is supposed to have each-others backs and they did so quite naturally...the two of them I mean. Then she turned to look at me with the most devastated expression you could ever fear to see on someone's face and said 'I understand you might not want to see me again. And you probably won't want me working at the D.E.O.; and that's alright. But there is nothing you can do to stop me from being exactly who I am.' Then asked me to leave her house, leaving her and her guest alone. I've never felt so insulted and yet rightly-embarrassed in my life. When I got back to the D.E.O. I talked to a few other inmates and realized how greatly their lives improved once I took over. Understand I did nothing as director except make sure they deserved to be there before keeping them locked up and they got medical treatment they weren't allergic to. Today I've learned even that was an improvement from their treatment at the hands of that monster Henshaw. I thought I knew him because he wanted me executed rather than captured. But he was...”

“...Everything you don't want to be.” Kal'el finished lamely.

“Exactly. And well, do you remember how it felt getting 'dressed down' for bad manners?”

The oblique reference was not lost on the Kryptonian. “Thank you for putting it gently. I don't think I'll forget that any time soon: I assumed Mon'el was responsible for an attack he was physically incapable of and jailed him at the DEO without a trial...something Nikita rightly pointed out I didn't have the authority for. In the process reminded a former DEO prisoner of the treatment she fought so hard to overcome. Worse, I became everything the two of you were trying not to allow...and acted as if in control of the situation.”

“Okay, that part I don't know about.” J'onn said quickly.

“I speak as a citizen of Earth when I meet people from other planets; after all I was raised here. But when I spoke to Mon'el I spoke as though I was an agent of the DEO, as if my prejudices towards Daxamites was DEO policy. And as if it was with their--your authority I was detaining him. The dressing down she gave me was mostly for being so completely wrong about a person and misusing an authority I had no right to claim. She said I 'was the DEO's strongest alien ally but still an ally of the DEO, not a part of it'. And that 'If I was going to speak as one of us, I might want to get my perspective straight'. I never knew she had so much passion, I never knew her to speak with such fierce conviction. It threw me completely off. I asked her what had infected her with this much 'passionate intensity' and she said I should... 'ask the man whose face J'onn is wearing for that one.' Not exactly anyone's finest moment.”

“You can say that again.” J'onn said with a discontented sigh.

On Earth-27 Nikita has her own off-site apartment provided by the D.E.O. And several days after these events, Jeremiah stop by Nikita's place at J'onn's behest to learn if Nikita is ticked at J'onn for a falling out and what the heck even happened in the first place. Twenty minutes of exposition follow explaining the avoidable, if understandable missteps that cropped up at the D.E.O over the past 11 years, a lot of which played out, or RE-played out under her roof the last time she saw the Green Martian to whom she was beholden and with whom she was 'attuned'. Green and White Martins are thier own equivalent of what would happen if Isaac and Ishmael took thier people along such divergent paths that they became two separate races instead simply having 2 separate religions...And still pretty much hated each-other's guts. After explaining all of these things Nikita looks Jeremiah straight in the eye and says.

“Believe me, I know where he was coming from. But from my perspective he was still judging someone for their race and their looks instead of on their own merits, instead of seeing the individual before them for who they really were. Or even bothering to look. When we first met J'onn I could tell the kind of person he was, regardless of which breed of Martian he was, or that he was one. My inherent tendency worked to J'onn's advantage then. I simply extended the same courtesy, or rather proclivity and consideration to my guest. And that's the other thing. I ended up kicking J'onn out of my apartment, I flat out told him to leave because the alien he was so intent to drag away to prison was a guest under my roof and my responsibility. One thing that has been true for the last 27 years is that no one with a brain in their skull insults a friend on mine in my house.”

Nikita Realizes a Truth

 Earth-9: Henry Shawn Danvers

“I figured we'd have to have this conversation eventually.” I said to Henshaw when he was at the threshold of my compartments.

“I take it you know why I'm here?” He replied in a voice as full of restraint as of regret.

“To get to the truth of something that hasn't left your sight since...well for a long time. Not 'clearing the air' as much as a 'just so we're clear' conversation. I'd like it if Mon-el were to stay. For someone besides us to know why the assumption makes sense and why it isn't reality, might help us both. But he's not required to. Mon-el, if you want to go, you should go.”

“I'm staying. If for no other reason than to learn where you stand on anything, I'm staying.”

“Why don't you hate me?” Henshaw stated point-blank.

“There are two and a half reasons why I should. One is that I made the decision a long time ago that I'd rather feel sorrow than anger and disappointment than regret. And this is back on Atridia. Every time I made a fist ready to punch something I would transform that anger into kind of a sad, quiet feeling. It got to the point people thought I was incapable of experiencing or even understanding the very normal emotions of anger or hatred. In an entire species of empaths, the inability to feel emotions made me seem 'damaged'. Really I just didn't see the point of holding a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone. I carried that conscious choice here. It's not an oath, it's a way of life and it is NOT easy. I've spent my life being not just a person of peace but of restraint, self awareness and impeccable composure and forbearance. I don't see that changing. Ironic because 'change' is the other part of this.”

“What do you mean?” Mon El asked me simply.

“My people have a religious teaching that when put to its essence says that a righteous man who turns to rebellion and sin should not count on his former righteous deeds to save him from judgment. But likewise a sinner who turns from his rebellious ways and does what is right should have no fear; for by no means would his former sinful deeds be counted against him.” I turned and looked at Henshaw. “Unlike most people here, I know what you used to be like. But I also know who you are now, today. And that is who I'm dealing with so that is who matters. It sounds kind of new age and twisted but I don't sense anything in you that even resembles what I sensed from you before. And in case you don't remember, I didn't hate you back then either. Strangely enough that's actually the 'half' reason.”

“Okay...I'm probably going to regret this but what's the full reason?”

"When you told me what happened in Peru, I could sense you weren't lying, but I could also sense you were absolutely right. It wasn't just the truth as you knew it, it was reality...Hank if Jeremiah thinks you're worth DYING for I'm pretty sure you're worth forgiving!”

“Why are you so intent on finding someone who for all you know will kill you for seeking him out?” Mon-El of Daxam asked me bluntly. I had to give him credit fort waiting as long as he did.

“Things have not been adding up for so long; maybe now they finally will.” He looked at me as if to say 'you're being too cryptic for your own good. “I've always thought Jeremiah broke me out of the DEO and 4 years later he came looking for me, to tell em of Jeremiah's death. If there were four years between Jeremiah breaking me out and Henshaw finding me again...why don't I have four years of memories during that time?”

“That is...a very good question.” Mon'el said reluctantly.

“I take it you see why we both, he and I REALLY want answers.”

“Why did I say that?” I asked no one in particular as I paced the floor of my compartments. “What the hell was I talking about and why was I SO sure of it?”

Hank Henshaw walked into my compartments with Mon'el close behind. “Okay can we back up and expound on this a little bit?”

“White Martians are shape-shifters and telepathic. Both kinds of Martians are, that's how they evolved.” I slowed myself down and looked the director in the eyes. “Martians are a single species, two races one species and they stick out like a sore thumb for empaths; unmistakable.”

“Is that what you meant by 'Phobos and Deimos'?” Mon'el asked me.

“They were two brothers, who's rivalry was responsible for the split in their race. I remember the time I met a white Martian. It is not something I would easily forget. He puppet-on-a-stringed me to beat up an herbivoric kid. I don't mean a vegetarian human I mean an animal with four legs, no canines with smooth horns and white fur. And for an empath that's a lot worse than it sounds. I felt every blow I gave that creature. He snapped me out of it just as I snapped its neck. I told that thing in their that I've met examples of both races. I've met a Green Martian as well as a White. I don't remember meeting any Martians except that thing I just described. What I'm wondering...and very nearly freaking out about is... How can I know I met someone and not remember meeting them?!”

Henshaw looked uncomfortable. “Forgive the obvious but, why is it so hard to believe you've met a Green Martian on your travels? It's as likely as meeting a White, isn't it?”

“It isn't. Whites are blatantly aggressive, egotistical, self-superior assholes who as far as I'm told exterminated the Greens over 300 years ago. But I can't help thinking it's possible. I could have met one right? I mean...I know you have.”

Hank looked like I'd knocked him to the floor with this realization. “J'onn J'onzz was a green skinned alien. And if he was a martian like I'd thought...it would answer a Hell of a lot of questions.”

“You mean HE will.” I said emphatically. “Hank if we're right about this, I was there that night. I can think of no other time meeting an alien would have warranted that alien wiping my memory. You certainly weren't in the habit of keeping me in the dark about the people we met. No matter how a mission went, you wouldn't ret-con me to make me forget it. Hank, will you let me go find him, J'onn J'onzz I mean...so I can find some answers. We both know you can't be part of the mission. He'd flip to the ninth dimension if he saw you.”

“I'm not too keen on letting you go alone. Even if this man should be on our side. I mean even if we don't have a problem with him...He might not see it that way.

“Then let me go.” Mon'el of Daxam said stoically. “I look human and I can obviously handle myself if I need to. It should make him, whoever he is pause long enough to talk to him. Hank I can protect her, and I want to be there for he. Please, let me go with...you.”

“Nice use of non-third-person. I agree. He would have spared me last time because he could tell I wasn't native Earthen...Which means I wasn't a star in the ashes exception for your race. If I have someone similarly non-terrestrial with me...it might actually help.”

“Any idea where to look?” Hank said in a voice that made it clear he would rather put me in quarantine until I sobered up...but knew better than talk me out of finding answers.

“I've been getting an image in my mind, on an almost subconscious level the last few days. It's a map of Guatemala. Well, more like a picture of the country. Nothing but the word Guatemala on it and what I can only assume is a tiny little won somewhere on it's Southern edge: Arias.”

'Alright, you two have a go on this mission. But Mon'el I already lost one good agent to this alien. Make sure I don't lose another.”

“If that was your way of charging me with her safety, I think it's kind of implied.”

“Why does this mission mean so much to you? Why is Hank SO troubled by where you're going?”

“Hank has encountered this particular alien before. He hasn't been able to make sense of that night. Apparently, I was there to see it...and never knew I'd met the Man. J'onn J'onzz is called 'the Martian Manhunter. Hank has as many unresolved feelings about it as I have questions. It was the night Jeremiah Danvers stood up like a mouse to a lion...and died saving his life.”

“That, is an extra-dose of a good reason.” Mon-el said reluctantly.

“She's not a Daxamite.” I told Mon'el Sternly.

“And how would you know.” He replied just as shortly.

“Because I just gave a kryptonian slur against your people and she responded as if it was her national anthem. She knows your language, but not how you feel about each-other.”

“...Good reason.” Mon'el said, relenting.

“You are a telepath then?” The woman said with steel in her words.

“An Em-path, yes. Thoughts aren't picked up on; emotions are. Your people have a unique frequency as far as that goes...Martian.” The illusion of a humanoid female melted away to reveal a muscular, bipedal alien with off-white skin and sharp eyes sunk deep in the head. between narrow pointed eyebrows and high, rigid cheekbones. Aggression and intrigue showed equally in the alien's face.

“You are far more clever than I gave you credit for.” It said coolly.

“Assuming for the moment you mean that personally rather than collectively. I have to ask, I am not required to but I feel compelled to ask if the whole 'Phobos and Deimos thing is accurate...Or even a real thing.”

“And how, pray tell did one such as you come to learn the distinction?”

“Earth humans are not specifically empathic, though some posses a natural tendency toward such sensitivities and perceptions. And they've been living alone in their corner of the galaxy for most of their sentient existence.” I smiled broadly at the creature's puzzled stare. “I'm Xavallen, from Atridia. It wouldn't surprise me if you don't know it; my home planet is 50 miles past nowhere. But it isn't just my non-terrestrial origins that show me this, or the fact that I can pick up on your aggression as if you're deliberately projecting it toward me. I've encountered your kinds before. The taste you guys leave in my 'mouth' is not something I would easily forget.”

“You've encountered us more than once and yet live and breathe? I might reevaluate your race. And yes, I have heard o your kind.” He straightened his back and recited as if in school. “ ' If it is possible, in as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men'...Pathetic.”

“Is there something wrong with not wanting the whole world to be blind and toothless?” I shot back at it. And you're wrong on at least one thing. I've only encountered someone like you once. Greens are...well you don't need me to tell you they're a different story. But Greens and Whites have one thing in common from an outsider's perspective...outsider empaths anyway: There is nothing even remotely like you within 500 light years of this place.”

“What exactly are green and white Martians?” Mon'el inquired.

“When I first knew Hank, he reminded me a lot of a White. What Hank's become, the sort of person he's grown into...would feel to me closer to a Green Martian or Xerilians. He would be their favorite new chew toy if they could get their hands on him.” I looked around as if I couldn't see who was in the room with me. I can tell that from the look on Mon'el's face when I withdrew from the room without asking permission or even taking my leave. When they caught up with me I was still out of sorts...and in no sense of the phrase composed.

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.”

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.