stands_for_hope | The Double K Farm for At Risk Youth

Bani smiled gently, guiding them into the kitchen. "Some of what I can do isn't visible. I remember everything with perfect clarity, but my best is scent. I heal more quickly than humans do. But mostly, I can change my shape. Here on Earth, you have a few things that can almost do it, but not quite like I can."

They held a hand out toward Meghan, who put hers out - and then Bani's arm was shifting to match her purple tone, fingers elongating until they matched. And then they shook their arm, bringing it back to 'normal.' "The drawback is that not everyone wears the same size clothes."

"I remember everything too," he admitted, "and I don't know if I heal quick cause I've never gotten hurt. I can't change my shape, though."

He smiled.

"That's super cool."

"I couldn't find anybody who had exactly your abilities, Clark," Michael explained, "but I found people who match."

"Except for me," Meghan giggled, "but I just had to come meet you. I thought that maybe you might answer some of the-- Well, see, we do know of something. We know a lot of different alien races have come to Earth at some point or other, and we suspect others, and so we've been compiling some information - stuff we've been very careful about because a lot of other people are gathering information, too, and they're not all... You know. Good guys."

Clark swallowed hard at that.

"My dad said he tried to get some of the metal from this tested," and he pulled the little command key on a sling out of his shirt before carefully undoing the thong around it and holding it up. "And they didn't know what it was. Would it um..." he looked at his mother, "would it help you guys if you could look at a space ship?"

The lot of them glanced at each other before Bani shook their head. "I'd like to see your artifact, there, but we won't pry that far into your privacy."

Meghan nodded. "I'm glad you offered, but the thing is, we don't know if it's a match or not - not yet, anyway. See, nobody can get to the thing we're talking about. It's too deep in the Arctic ice pack. I mean, we could get a lot of equipment and start digging and have a lot of people up there, but it's in Canadian landspace, and that means we'd have to get all kinds of permits, and the moment we got permits, we'd have to disclose what we were looking for, and then we'd end up with a bunch of media and paparazzi and conspiracy theorists who go on TV and talk about things like aliens building the pyramids."

"And that's racism," Emin put in, with Ahdri nodding behind him. "Not aliens."

He frowned, pressing his lips together tight.

"Okay." He put the little key back on the leather string he wore it on and tucked it away. They didn't have all the answers. Maybe they had some, but he'd still have to go looking.

"What... what did you come for then?"

"We came to tell ya what we know," Neala said, hand coming to rest on Clark's shoulder. "And to tell ya that while we might not be able to reach it now, we've got our eyes on it. And when we can reach it, kiddo, you'll be the first to know."

"We have pictures," Emin offered. "Satellite images, and some ground-penetrating radar scans."

"I crafted a model," Ahdri whispered, her voice still otherworldly. "You can have it."

"Does it look like the one in the basement?" Clark asked curiously, looking up at Emin. He wasn't disappointed, exactly. This was still super neat. But he'd hoped that maybe Michael would find the people who'd given him up. Michael was good at everything, it seemed like.

Ahdri half-uncoiled there in the air, stretching a hand out toward him - a hand that became one outstretched finger pointed at his forehead but not touching. "I can show you," she offered, "and you can tell me."

He nodded firmly and closed his eyes, steeling himself for how it might feel to have someone inside his head.

She didn't go far. The moment her finger touched his forehead, there were images. An elongated form, the top almost seeming like a beetle, the underside more bumpy, bulgy, with sharp points, perhaps weaponry, protruding from the front. It looked sleek enough to fly through air, but had parabolic contours that proclaimed it certainly unearthly. "I was able to explore it in my sleep," her voice echoed. "It's so graceful. And old."

His eyes closed, he nodded slowly and while he was no psychic, he tried his best to bring the image of the ship that'd brought him to the forefront of his mind, let her see it. The similarity in engineering was almost uncanny, given how old the other ship must have been.

"I think it must be from your world," Ahdri mused, only looking at what she was shown. "I showed the symbols inside to Bani. After we eat--"

"If he wants to show me," Bani said, "I'll look, and I'll tell him if the symbols match."

Clark nodded and turned around to hug Ahdri, then Bani. He was careful with both of them.

"Thank you!"

Ahdri felt tiny and fragile in his arms, but Bani felt resilient and elastic - and it was Bani who patted his back. "No matter what, Clark," Bani promised, "as soon as we can really reach the ship, we'll let you know."

He nodded and looked around at the lot of them.

"Is there anything I can help you guys with? I can do lots of stuff."

The answer came from Emin. "Benchmarks. If you don't mind."

He shook his head firmly.

"What do you need me to do?"

And then he looked at the table, set as it was, and blushed.

"...for after dinner."

Which was when he started to seek out Mike to sit down with as Martha gathered Bucky to sit with her.

Bucky had been quiet for a reason. These people intimidated him, for one. And for another, they weren't here for him. They were here for Clark. It was like the few times he'd been with Steve in the hospital - when someone was there for Steve, he kept quiet and stayed to the side. When Martha gathered him up, he found himself grateful.

Mike put a hand on Clark's shoulder and sat beside him without any hesitation. That was his place. His hair had finally started to grow out of the military cut, something that made him feel more like a person instead of a little Army drone, and today, he was glad of it. Even if he was wondering now just what special whatever it was he had.

But person by person, the table filled up. Even Ahdri sat down instead of hovering over her chair, somehow looking more solid once she came in contact with something.

"A few moments," Neala said, "for those of us who like to give thanks."

Clark nodded and bowed his head, closing his eyes as he listened to the various murmurs. Martha said a quick prayer herself and kept her head down until everyone was done. Clark gave Mike's hand a squeeze as they waited.

Mike squeezed in return, listening. Martha's, he was used to, as well as his dad's, but Ahdri, Neala, and Emin all murmured their thanks in languages he couldn't place.

Bucky was staring at Neala, though. He'd heard that language before. In Steve's house.

But when everyone was done, they all exchanged smiles, and then everyone was reaching for things that still smelled so very good. Bucky and Mike met each other's eyes across the table, and with the both of them working together, they apprehended the mac and cheese to put in front of Clark.

Clark noticed and he gave them both the warmest, happiest smile. They always looked out for him, Steve too even if he wasn't there that day. Maybe he could help them too.

He took some of the mac and cheese before putting two of the peppers on his plate with a warm smile over at Michael. Then he tilted his head over at Neala.

"That was Gaelic, wasn't it, ma'am?"

"Sharp ear," she praised. "Irish Catholic, straight from Ireland."

"Steve's mom speaks Gaelic sometimes," Bucky put in. "Sometimes she sings it."

Naela smiled. "There are some good old songs. I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one that knows them."

"She's been teaching it to Steve," Clark said, mostly to Bucky. "Maybe he'll show you too."

"I already know some." Mostly the parts that meant she was tired and needed them to make sure to be quiet.

Neala smiled. "Then it might be easier for you to pick up the rest."

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