Superhero wedding preparation (and other Earth-21 things)
“How nervous are you Barry?” Oliver Queen said with a slight smile in his eye.
“Nervous, I'm not. Confused. Yes. I really never thought I could be this happy. So why am I so on edge like I'm about to get shot at?”
“From what I understand literally everyone feels that way the night before their wedding. And I actually have someone in my own life to tell me that.” Barry looked over at his friend with a thoroughly perplexed look. “No, I'm not looking to get hitched any time soon. For one I think I would need a girlfriend for that. A man I think of as my step-dad asked me how I would feel if he proposed to my mom.”
“Whoa. That would do it, yeah. Is it wrong of me to ask if you gave your blessing?”
“Hey, this is about your special day, not ours. And I hate to say it but that feeling, might not have anything to do with the pending happiness.”
“My super-senses might sense something off about the world, and want me not to zip into my own little world, giving me a healthy dose of humility?”
“Barry, seriously personal vision check?” Barry Allen nodded and without taking a breath Oliver began. “You said you'd never known your father right? And the man who raised you died less than a year ago. You're not ambivalent about the wedding, you regret that Joe missed it. And it's weird being the one to tell you 'these feelings are normal', but you'd have to be an inhuman bastard not to feel sad about that.”
“Yeah, can't deny that. And here's another one for college library of everything happening at once, when I asked Harrison if he would stand as father of the groom he was flustered...Then asked if I thought his partner would accept his wedding proposal.”
“Are you freaking kidding me? What is in the air right now?”
“I think learning that things can get seriously screwed up so fast, and so frequently, pretty much everyone in our orbits has decided it's better going through shit hitting the fan with someone by your side. Let's face it, we both have our cities and our friends to fight for. Having someone we love by our side during that fight, makes it easier to weather.” Suddenly Barry turned red. “Oh man I'm sorry I...”
“It's okay. I let her go. The vigilante didn't get in the way, not really. My not being able to tell someone I needed them in my life was the problem back then. Something I will forever be grateful to you for by the way...letting me know feelings are okay and how badly some people need to hear 'how I feel about them' from me. I ...just haven't really found anyone since.”
“Then take her for coffee and dinner and SEE if you feel that way about her...when you find her.”
“Subtly is not your strong suit is it?” Oliver joked.
“Usually it is, actually. Just not to someone who already means so much to me.” Barry Allen smiled brightly, if awkwardly at the look of surprise his comment brought. They had gone through a-lot in the past five years, and had known each-other since middle school. As a result they told each-other everything. They saw hope and despair in each-others eyes the instant there was even a glimmer of it to be seen. It didn't hurt that they were only 5 years apart in age. Neither of them were gay, neither gave the other any love advice. But they did love each-other...as brothers and dearest friends. And tomorrow at 1 in the afternoon Oliver Queen would stand as Barry's best man as he married his other best friend...Caitlyn Snow of STAR Labs. But first Barry would have to calm his nerves and get a good night sleep. Something that, as fate would have it...was not in the cards for either of them.
Martha Jones sat quietly in her chair. A beautiful lunch had been set by her guide and traveling companion. She was hungry and some of her favorite foods were set out: ginger noodles and crisp green beans, things of that sort. The problem was she was hungrier for explanations than she was for sustenance. It had been a long time since Smith had agreed to sit and eat with her, just sharing a meal as friends. And while he had joined her at the table, he hadn't said a word.
“Is this a goodbye meal?” She asked eventually. “Is that why everything's so nice?”
“Neither of us expected this would last forever.” Smith replied stoically. “Which honestly is a welcome change.” He continued in a softer voice.
“What do you mean?” Martha queried.
“Most of my companions lately had this feeling or sensation that they and I would go on and on like this forever. Bouncing around in time, exploring both space and cultures, getting stuck in the middle of major problems, finding genius and risky ways out of them. The last time I believed that, my friend was killed. I haven't made that mistake since.” He stopped staring at his hand and looked Martha straight in the eyes. “If I don't say goodbye to you soon, I'll be weeping over letting you die. I prefer the perception of being a pratt than being a...whatever you call someone who leaves a trail of corpses in their wake.”
Martha Jones stared at her friend. Her mouth was firmly closed, to prevent looking like any more of a fool than she already felt. “I'm sorry Doctor.” She whispered. “I understand a bit now...What was her name?”
Smith looked confused. “HIS name. It wasn't a romantic relationship. In fact I didn't think much of him most of the time we traveled together. He'd been a con-man most of his life and I thought he should have been grateful I wasn't the time-cop he took me for. But dying in a hail of Dalek laser beams, just so I could finish my work? It changed my mind pretty quickly...Of course I never got the chance to tell him.”
“You know,” Martha began after a few moments of quiet. “You're right. It is time we parted ways. As long as we do so on good terms, I don't see a problem. But can you do something for me?”
“I'll do my best.” Smith admitted gently.
“Set me down in the United Kingdom, but not in England?” Martha responded easily. “I want to explore just a little bit, without feeling like a total lost kid.”
“Cardiff Wales alright?” Smith asked at once. “We're heading there anyway; a pit stop for what the TARDIS uses as fuel.” Martha nodded slowly. A few minutes of peaceful quiet later they heard the gears grind and then quiet down. They had landed.
Martha stood up, shouldered her backpack and smiled faintly. “It was good though wasn't it?” She suggested. “Everything we saw, every nook and cranny of different celebrated legends?” Smith gave one of his rare, genuine smiles, and nodded in return. “Come back sometime if you want.” Martha breathed. “We can't run forever, not in a huge stretch like that. But this goodbye doens't have to last forever either.”
“I''ll...see what I can do.” Doctor John Smith answered in a voice barely above a whisper.
As she walked out of the Tardis and into the clear blue air of what she judged to be a day in early autmun, Martha wasn't sure how she felt. She had known for a while she was living in someone else's shadow. That it was out of sorrow, not romantic love didn't change the distance she'd sensed from her friend. Was it enough to finally have an explanation for the hidden emotions nad half-answers? She decided it was.
“Excuse me miss, are you lost?” A male voice stated from a short distance to her left. She turned and saw a man in his late thirty's with dark hair and a very concerned expression walking up to her. He stopped a few feet from her and didn't say another word.
“Not lost, no.” Martha responded quietly. “I never know where I'm headed so I can't really lose my way, not in the traditional sense anyway.”
“A wanderer.” The man responded calmly. “Listen, I realize how weird this sounds but, are you traveling with anyone?”
“Not anymore.” Martha answered honestly. “It's going to take some time for me to get over it. And we might as well introduce ourselves. I'm Martha Jones.” She extended her right hand.
“Captain Jack Harkness.” The man replied, clasping her hand firmly in his own. “I uh...I'm not sure what to do now.”
“Meaning what?”
“I'm tempted to take you below to show you more of my life. The problem is...no one is supposed to see that. The alternative being getting a coffee around the corner, but that might be more exposure.”
“I hope you don't take this wrong but you're sounding like a Torchwood agent.” Jack's face flushed. “I know about them. I had a cousin who worked at canary Wharf. She told me more than she probably should have. So I wasn't too surprised at what happened there.”
“Now I have a lot less reluctance bringing you downstairs. Btu do us both a favor and follow me directly up to my office when we get there?”
“I'm fine with that.”
It was in silent confidence she followed her host down the elevator and through a couple of corridors before coming into a wide space filled with lots of technology and scanning equipment. True to her word she didn't say anything to the two men she passed as she followed Captain Harkness up some metal stairs to his office. There wasn't much to say. It wasn't til Jack had closed the door to his fairly-organized office and reached out a mug of coffee in one hand, a mug of tea in the other that she even found anything worth breaking silence.
“I'm seriously hoping one of these isn't drugged.” She quipped, only half-joking.
“Well, I will take whichever one you don't. I just never know coffee people versus tea people as quickly as I probably should.” The man replied with a smile.
“If it's caffeinated, I'll take the tea.” She did and they sat down. For a few moments they just sipped their mugs and stared at each-other.
“Why me?” Martha asked bluntly. “Why did you come up from the down under to say hello to me?”
“I didn't.” Jack admitted haply. “I thought an old friend of mine had shown up; I thought I had detected his ship's energy signature. After, well waiting a really long time to see him again I thought I'd find some answers from him. Apparently either my scanner still needs some tuning or I missed him by about 30 seconds yet again.”
“My thought is the latter.” Martha quipped easily. “
“Why do you say that?” Jack inquired shortly.
“Two reasons. One: You're Torchwood. You're entire organization was designed and brought together to protect Earth against alien incursions like Smith. It makes sense you'd know how to track alien technology like his ship. The other is...I don't want to sound like an intelligence agent.”
“You mean you don't want to be a Quisling. You know the Doctor and don't want to give him up to his enemies. Well, I have no way to convince you things have changed in this organization since the battle of Canary Wharf. But my personal motivations are different than those of my superiors. I don't wish him harm. And the questions I have for him...probably couldn't go on any official report anyway.”
“If I told you I've spent months of my life traipsing around the known and unknown universe with an alien who never speaks his feelings and has a binary cardio-vascular system...you wouldn't be floored?”
“That's the Doctor alright. And yes, I can track the TARDIS. I spent some time inside it actually, if you can believe that.” Jack added casually. “Actually, something is a little off here. The Doctor was one of the most passionate people I ever knew. The destruction of his home-planet might have had something to do with that. But he never hid his sorrow or anger very well at all. I don't suppose he told you how old he is?”
“He's ancient and forever.” Martha droned. “He's seen the universe grow old and never goes back to see how far we've come...You meant if he's older or younger as I know him than when you knew him.” She realized. Jack nodded slowly. “Jack, if you are who I think you are...he is definitely older now.”
“How can I confirm your suspicion without breaking his faith in me?” Jack Harkness pressed.
“Did you die in a blaze of Dalek laser beams?” Martha responded bluntly. Jack looked stunned. “I'll take that as a yes.” Jack nodded slowly. After a moment he found his voice, weak though it was.
“It's the last thing I remember, before the accident. I've been waiting for him to come back with some genius, half-cocked explanation for...whatever happened. Hence being sorrowful when I missed him again.”
“This all is pretty new to me.” Martha posed. “He and I had already decided to part ways when I found my answer, straight from his fairly unguarded heart. I guess I'm not making sense? I learned minutes ago that Smith plays things so close to the vest because the last time he trusted someone with his feelings, he basically lost control...or was devastated from the loss. I still can't read him all that well. I guess he decided it's better not to risk trust and friendship, if people are just going to leave you behind or die on you.”
“Martha, that doesn't make any sense.” Jack insisted. “You're making it sound like he's mourning the death of an old friend.” His mouth dropped open as the implication of Martha's words slowly reached from his ears to his brain. “He doesn't know I survived?” He breathed finally.
“Is there a reason he should think that?” Martha returned with feeling and desire in her words. I've met the Daleks myself. Nothing survives their weapons. Nothing that isn't one of them avoids their hit list.”
“It's just...I always thought he was the one who brought me back. Kind of a going away present and an 'I'm sorry' all in one. Which is why I was so confused that I've lived a century here on Earth without hearing from him. You're telling me I got all of that deeply wrong?”
“It must have been something or someone else to bring you back to life. Trust me Jack: He thinks you're dead. From what he said right before he dropped me off here, he's chosen this cold and detached life to avoid being hurt by the death of a friend. Once I figured that out, I was a lot more okay with leaving him by himself for the rest of my life...that i wasn't 'walking out' on such a lonely soul."
A young woman with straight dark hair and a police badge walked up the steps. She tapped on the clear glass door and waited. Jack waved her in. “We'd like to talk with you downstairs if you have a minute.” The woman said meekly. “Nothing really is going on, and hopefully it won't...But we need to talk.”
“I'll be right down.” Jack replied instantly and honestly. “Gwen Cooper, this is Martha Jones. She's set me straight on a few things. For once I'll be willing to listen.”
Gwen smiled and walked out the door and down the steps again.
Martha Jones waited. “I imagine you have a lot of questions about that?” Jack postulated.
“Let's get to your team. I get the feeling you'll have as much to say to them as to me.” Martha replied.
“With the exception of the use of one word, you are perfectly right.” Jack replied evasively.
Jack Harkness walked into the very middle of the room, with Martha Jones a little behind him. Gwen Cooper was on his immediate left. Two men, both fairly well-built and stone faced were right in front their leader. It looked strangely like the trial of a prisoner. The slightly stockier man, who clearly had no overabundance of patience, stepped forward.
“I won't beat around the bush. You are our leader when it comes to this work, you should not be our director when it comes to our lives.” He spoke as though he'd finally come to a conclusion, and looked away as if he expected a hammer to fall.
“Hopefully eventually I'll be able to drop that perception.” Jack muttered quickly.
“It's not a perception, it's a reality.” The other man stated in a small voice. “Even according this company, you're not supposed to have this much control over things not directly affecting our mission.”
“That's not what I mean Ianto.” Jack replied in a rush. “I don't want to be seen as a director anymore. And I'm not just saying that because we have company. I'd like to continue to be a leader. I was a solider most of my life and I know how to inspire both confidence and action. That's the point. I want to inspire confidence, and eventually loyalty...not demand it. I know I have a lot to do to convince you, of all this, especially you, Owen. But I promise, if you give me a chance, I will find a way to prove my intentions.”
“Uh, not saying we're not glad to hear that, but I have to ask...” The man referred to as Owen stated.
“It wasn't for regulations that I ran this place with near-military standards and extreme detachment.” Jack Harkness began quietly.” He seemed to realize Martha would have no context for his words. He turned to his guest and began.“I hope you understand I really am different than my superiors. As far as how we treat aliens anyway. I just wish I had treated my own staff with the same consideration.”
“Okay, I'm very lost right now.” Martha Jones admitted.
“I go against policy as far as how to deal with the threats my team discovers and deals with. I don't see potential enemies every time I meet an extra-terrestrial. I've made the same mistake with my team the last year as you just described from as Smith: keeping everyone at arms length. It's more understandable for us here, more natural I should say. We're a regimented and efficient organization for the most part. I've never seen a reason to make an exception...Until just now.”
“Because now you see where that choice leads.” Martha replied in a small voice.
“Well yeah. But also because you've shown me how wrong I was about him to begin with.” Jack said with a small laugh.
“I hate to admit it but I'm confused.” Ianto put forth easily.
“Join the club.” Owen responded.
“Torchwood was originally designed to protect the entire Earth from alien threats like Doctor John Smith.” Jack recited. “Actually let's sit down for all of this back in the conference room.”
“Hell with that let's sit down right here.” Gwen insisted. Everyone sat on the floor right where they stood, even Captain Jack.
“I traveled with this same Doctor Smith for a brief time. His binary cardio-vascular system and the fact that he carries a sonic tool better fit to build things than to kill things suit him well. He loves leading with the emotional heart and fixing things rather than attacking them. Something eventually cracked the shell that was holding back what his enemies referred to as 'the oncoming storm'. I was a few rooms down from him when flames shot up from all over. 'Electrical lightning in very small stripes both blue and red' would probably be a better description. What's weird is I had already been shot by the Daleks. I guessed that Smith had somehow brought me back to life. I've spent the last one hundred and forty-nine years wondering why someone who cares enough about me to restore me to life, wouldn't care enough to come back to see me again. Or explain why I can't die anymore.”
“And this woman set you straight on that?” Ianto queried.
“I'm Martha Jones. Smith just dropped me off a few minutes ago. And as I knew him...he still thinks your Captain Harkness died in that blast.”
Without Jack jumping onto the TARDIS and shooting it to Utopia, the year of terror in which Harold Saxon became president of Earth, never happens. Martha says goodbye to the Doctor exactly when and why she would have. But only then does she LEARN of 'the solider' the Doctor's greatest regret. And finds Jack Harkness 20 minutes later.
Rose 'suffers in silence' for the Doctor enjoying the holidays with Micky; the delusion of normalcy.
Donna
is a clerk-typist and has no memories of the Doctor; is compelled to
investigate the unexplained; writes her encounters on these cases as
fictional stories; is on her third anthology.
“My home planet has three continents, each correspondent to a state or nation: Thelia, Atridia and Tarsus (TH-el-ia, A-tri-dia, and Tar-sus). The former two grew up within sight of each-other, across only a peninsula. Tarsus was across an ocean almost three times the expansiveness of the Atlantic. When contact was first made they were considered anything from 'exotic' to 'backward'. Just because they had grown up without any other influences. But each nation-state draws its heritage from one of three sons of the Last King of Albion; our progenitor I guess you would say. The very fact that all three sons are still remembered and honored by all three branches of their descendant was enough to see our commonality and earn mutual respect. We're cooperative, connected but independent. Tarsus never had a caste system. We kept ours.”
“How far back does this history run?” I asked, ignoring my other question a moment.
“We count the last king of Albion to have passed from this life more than 15,000 years ago. Each of his sons decided to seek a new kingdom for themselves rather than to fight over or contentiously rule the one land that was all of their by birthright. That Island kingdom fell into the sea sometime later. It was 5,000 years ago that people from Tarsus crossed the ocean to meet the rest of us. It was for us like meeting the god of old or our primitive ancestors. That's what the archives say. As you might imagine very few of us crossed to ocean to see their homeland, except as an island resort or an adventurers challenge. 1,800 years ago we started to put all that behind us. And now we work separate but equal, out of many one. Which, as I understand it, is what the United States is supposed to be.”
“Yes we...are not doing a very good job of that at the moment.”
“All beings fear the unknown. Which is uncomfortable when you live next door to it. Most people don't try to get to know the stranger or 'the other', even when it's standing right in front of them. And so they live with their fear, letting mistrust and false assumptions fester...eventually acting on what little they think they know. I am a bit of a student on multi-cultural earth history. Not nearly so much the last 200 years or the history of the United States. Humans tend to look down on other humans...but most fight against that tendency. Or at least...acknowledge the failing.”
“And your people have a caste system?” I prompted her. She smiled at me.
“Nice lead-in. Yes, Thelia and Atridia have five 'kips' or castes in their culture. The first is basically Government leaders: those trusted with both the well-being of our society and the authority to use it wisely. The second are the 'business and science' sort. People who lead by example and do nothing but try to make our life better. They have the most economical and 'having ones voice heard' sort of power. Then there are the 'sin-ta-lai-en', craftsman and artisans. Who work with their hands but are not 'laborers' in the strictest sense. Which of course is the fourth caste. The farm workers...steel-miners and such. Unskilled labor, but needful for any society.”
For a brief moment I waited for her to continue. It was pretty clear she had not finished her description. But no further description came. I wondered if she was embarrassed, or just waiting for me to prompt her to finish her story, as a way to ensure I was truly interested in hearing the rest. After a few more seconds I decided I should probably just ask for more details. “And...the fifth 'kip'?” I said slowly.
“Domestics. Not slaves exactly but maids, servants, gardeners custodians. Anyone who keeps their heads down as they take care of someone else's place. Unlike the others one is not born into that sector of society. But they are put on hard times and take the jobs they can get. It's an 'I serve and am content to do that' sort of life'. And I take it you have a personal question you wish to ask me?” I nodded. “Then I suggest you ask it without hesitation. One would have to work very hard indeed to actually offend me.”
“Were you not...what caste did you belong to when you lived there?”
“I was born into the second of those castes. Ten years after coming of age I decided to see what else was out there. Most of what you see now, how I act around all of you...” she stopped mid-sentence, clearly expecting me to finish the thought. Which I did.
“...Is the result of the seven decades you have lived on Earth. Where you have not been seen or treated as an alien...only an extremely unusual human.”
“And slightly closer to the main point I was an adolescent by my own reckoning for 30 of the 40 years I lived on my planet. I was a legal and cognitive adult for the 60, almost 70 years I've lived on Earth. And I didn't always live in America. Before being captured and after being freed I lived anywhere from Cambridge to Honolulu to well, South-side National City.” A shadow seemed to pass over her face. “I meant what I said before: I prefer lively a simple, nondescript life. While I definitely don't want to be left alone, if you keep me away from needles and don't point a gun at my face, I won't WANT to leave confinement.”
“May I ask, why you look somewhat sad right now.”
“I was literally FREED from my confinement last time I was here. Henshaw's lefftenant was...he gave me hope for this world in the 'we're not all like him' sort of way. I was wondering what happened to him. I was about to ask you to look him up in your records...then I realized I never learned his name. Which made me even more sad.”
“Perhaps I could still find something in the data-banks.” I offered. If you can give me a time-frame and describe the man I might be able to find a match. Though you might not like what you find. From what I know of the original Hank Henshaw; he did not forgive easily.”
“Yeah but at least I'll know.” She said quickly. But perhaps there is another way. Brainy. Well firstly, may I call you that?” I nodded gently. “If you have an open mind, I can give you a mental photograph. I mean 'open mind' on a bit more physical level than most. But I can try. Or draw you a picture if that works. I was here for almost 7 months, the winter and spring of 2003.” She raised her right hand to the side of her face, indicating she intended to send the image in her minds eye directly to my conscious mind. “May I?”
“By all means.” I answered as soothingly as I could. A few seconds later my face froze. I could literally feel the muscles in my jaw harden and tighten. “I...believe I might know who that is. I...will have to conduct further research.”
“I take it you also have to consult with the resident expert on such things? Get a second opinion on...something.” I stared at her. “I don't read body language, too many non-emotional factors. I read voice intonation and facial expression. I can read yours like it's written across the sky in ink.”
“Alex and Kara...Who is usually known as Supergirl around here. I need to tell them what you've told me. And they must meet you as soon as can be arranged.”
“Then you should probably go and do so. I look forward to meeting more of you.”
The next morning, around 10 am Supergirl and Alex walked into the room assigned as Sasha's quarters. I followed a moment later but stood markedly apart from them, to Sasha's left and Supergirl's right. I smiled internally when Sasha actually stood at respectful attention as Supergirl approached her.
“I'm not that important around here.” Kara said with a chuckle.
“Your family is the closest thing to true nobility I have ever known. Whether you claim it here on earth or not, it would be and IS recognized across the stars. And I must respect it.”
“Nobility. The house of El?” Alex said in a voice shaking with excitement.
“You are people of honor, that is of rank, who actually are honorable, as in noble. It's rare in the cosmos. “I know the symbol of Hope Supergirl is for Earth. To many of us out there, Krypton is a symbol of true courage. The house of El an example of 'no matter the outcome, fight while you have strength'. I see that same spirit in you and will never stop honoring you for it.”
“Okay, not what I was expecting to hear.” Supergirl said solemnly.
“Not a conversation I was expecting to have.” Sasha quipped. “And we should probably get to that as soon as possible considering how much it seems to weigh on my friend here.” She indicated me. “When I showed Brainy the image in my mind of the man who saved me from Henshaw he reacted like...well like he couldn't believe his eyes. And that he needed to find an answer as soon as possible. I take it we are here to put our respective knowledge together to find that answer.”
“You said you were here for seven months.” Alex Prompted.
“And I was a science experiment as much as an enemy intruder. I mean that literally and figuratively. I spent as much time being interrogated as I did being examined for possible scientific breakthroughs and learning how I worked. At least the dark man treated me like that. His lefftenant was different. I could tell he hated how I was being treated, and hated going along with Henshaw just as much. He did what he could to keep Henshaw from destroying the very thing he was learning from. And showing me that even the smallest act of kindness can be the greatest thing in the world.” She looked down sadly and shook her head. “I doubt he was thinking of it like that. But that's what I took away from it. Then for three weeks I didn't see him. And I barely saw Henshaw. Then the man, the kind man snuck into my cell and showed me the way out of the compound. Cover of night in so many ways. But he didn't come with me. He stayed to cover my tracks. I don't know which one feels worse. The fact that I don't know what happened to him,...or that I never knew who he was.”
“Which is why you were almost relieved to find yourself back here.” Kara whispered.
I stepped forward. “Describe the man to Kara and Alex. I think he will mean something to them.”
“Alright, it might help me also, set this to rest and...” she closed her eyes and began to recite. “He had a wide, open face. His eyes were set a little bit deeper into his cheeks than most. Black hair, and stocky build, but you could tell he was more inclined to build a house with those muscles than get into the boxing ring. His face was...it's hard to describe. Like what he'd done or seen in his recent life dried his skin...recent rapid aging not natural and not chronological. He was only a very little bit shorter than Henshaw. And is now the second most soft-spoken man I havae ever met.” I smiled and turned a little bit away. I knew the man HAD been the most soft-spoken person she'd known, until she met me. “His voice was...wavy almost. He made no effort to sound un-rough. He his natural resonance was exactly that: resonant.” her voice started slowly down. She was getting caught up in her memories. One in particular it seemed. “Henshaw sounded like a bear or a tiger all the time, rough and guttural. Which made perfect sense because that's what he acted like. His voice matched the same type of literal animal he so clearly was. But I never saw him loose his temper...except once. Scornful laughter at Da...Danvers. That was the man's name.”
Alex gasped. Kara took a step back. Sasha's eyes snapped open. “I never remembered it. His name, because that memory was so scary. That tirade scared my friend off for three weeks. It's the only...” She looked into each of our face and seemed to drink in the emotional responses my friends were experiencing. “You loved this man.” was all she said aloud.
“Jeremiah.” Kara whispered.
“I don't understand.” Sasha admitted.
“Who is going to say it.” I asked of no one in particular. “I'm not going to say it.”
Alex stepped forward reaching to take Sasha's left hand in her own. “My name is Alex Danvers.”
“All this time I've been talking about your father?!” Sasha said, understandably stunned.
“Alex's father and...my adopted father.” Supergirl said plainly.
The last thing I could ever have expected to see happened right in front of me. Sasha started crying, as though in pain. Shaking in...I still don't know how to describe it, she backed away from us. “I'm sorry.” she sobbed. “I'm sorry, please forgive me.”
“For what, showing us our father was as compassionate as we thought of him?” Alex said in a high-tone. “Or being another alien he managed to get away from Henshaw.”
“For what happened to him...because of me. I know better than most how Henshaw would have treated betrayal. I swear I wasn't hiding...how could anyone be ashamed of such a noble man...I...no.”
“Sasha please forgive us.” I said to her. “But please understand, there was no way you could have known that Kara Zor-el was not known by her family name.” I said softly. I hoped reassuringly. “Or that anyone at the DEO. would have thought of your friend kindly. However, either you do not give us due credit...or you do not know how things really are here. J'onn has succeeded in reforming the DEO. We are here to defend ALL of Earth's citizens and to understand our alien brothers and sisters...to learn from them, not just about them. Jeremiah Danvers is truly the most human, human being one could ever meet. And he proved that when he saved J'onn from Henshaw...more than a year after your incarceration.”
“He's...he's still alive?” Sasha said, her voice trembling and shaky. “Are you...in earnest?”
Supergirl did her best to control her emotions, but was clearly shaking with excitement as she explained. “We thought he was dead for years. Even J'onn didn't think he'd survived that day in the jungle. He was...a prisoner in a place called Cadmus. He escaped, only a year ago...alone...and free.”
Alex took Sasha's hands in her own and squeezed them. Sasha touched her head to Alex's fingers in gratitude and joy. All I could really do was smile. I still wasnt' sure what else I could do to show both approval and releif. It was msotly on Sasha's behalf: that she found such welcoming and capable friends Just as Mon-el did when he came to Earth for my 10 years ago. I was almost as happy for Kara and Alex, that they finally had more of Jerimiah's life filled in. And knew from more than J'onn's account of him that Jerimiah, their father, was the kind of person J'onn said he was.
