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My Favorite Martian

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Summary: Yahf/Genderbender - "Something was left behind. Kid, you were left behind."

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
DC Universe > Young JusticeBronzeBaboonFR18830,96057828,6617 May 1231 Jul 14No

Chapter 5 - I got cabin fever...

My Favorite Martian
Chapter 5 - I got cabin fever...
Disclaimer: Elements of this story have been taken from BTVS, DCAU/DCU/YJU, and the work of Charles Addams, and are very much not owned by me. The plot...may be mine. But probably not, as it borrows from both Young Justice, Buffy, the General DCU, and at least inspirationally from both common literary and Fanfiction authors whose work I’ve enjoyed in the past.
Feedback: Is appreciated...(most of the time)
Author’s Notes: Thanks go out to OneWingedShark (’s Shark8) for help rewriting a pesky pair of John scenes in this chapter. On another note, there is no update schedule for this bit of fan fiction, some chapters will come quicker than others. Though my apologies, all the same, for the time it took to complete. Between it, rewriting chapter four to make it suitable for the pit, my job, and other projects, this one got a bit away from me for a time. On another note, I could not find an address, beyond some blurry numbering, for the Harris household. As such, I made one up, if however, my research is faulty and there is indeed one someone points out for me, I will endeavor to correct that in future versions of this chapter.


(FRI, 11/07, 04:20)

The room was small, sparsely furnished, mostly comprised of a futon, a small beaten up dresser, and several cardboard boxes stacked neatly in a corner. The only occupant an oddly proportioned green skinned figure sitting at the edge of the futon, staring longingly as a pair of images alternated hovering over a small silver cube he held carefully between his not quite human like hands.

The first image was of a small form, an infant, barely discernible beneath the large blanket that covered it nearly head to toe, reminiscent of an Indian’s papoose, with only the face peeking out from the wrappings.. Still, he stared at it, his eyes tracing over the lines of the child’s face, its small button nose, and searching eyes.

The second was much different; where the other one had a great deal of sadness tinged with only a little joy, this carried a great deal of joy tinged with only a little sadness. The sheer happiness painted on the obviously alien woman’s pale green face was, and would always be, infectious. The woman seemed to dance in the air, a multicolored dress, layered and cut in a exotic, unearthly pattern swirling around her, she had a lithe figure, thin, but seemingly strong, her arms held behind her back and the faintest hints of a smile on her face, her eyes shining red, not unlike rubies, the crest of her head reaching back and up to form an odd point.

Standing up, the man’s form shifted, shortening in places, while broadening and gaining definition in others, becoming more and more human. His skin losing it’s unearthly green, darkening until it became an almost chocolate brown. His eyes going from their stark red to a pale white before gaining a more human iris of dark brown. The crest of his head folding back, and smoothing again and again until it took a more human shape, as his hands and feet gained a complexity of form they’d previously lacked, before a simple black suit and a pair of leather shoes, seemed to bleed into existence, covering him.

With an almost palpable reverence, John Jones set the cube down on top of the dresser as it returned again to the image of the woman, before whispering one bittersweet word, “M’ryi’ah.”


(FRI, 11/07, 06:50)

A small head of short blonde hair peeked out of the front door of the Harris home, cautiously looking out across the porch, and then towards the yard and street beyond, before it was finally followed by a body dressed in an oversized white t-shirt advertising something called ‘The Tick’, and a pair of baggy black cargo pants.

Closing the door behind herself, the blonde girl let out a small sigh, stretching as she stared out towards the street, “Swear, I was gonna start quoting Muppet Treasure Island if I spent too much longer in there.”

Settling into the lone plastic lawn chair on the porch, the girl smiled to herself as she pulled a pair of earbuds from her pocket, placing them in her ears, before fiddling with a slightly beat up old green ipod.

“I got cabin fever, I’ve got it too...” The girl sang off key to herself, as she relaxed, leaning back in the chair, just staring out at the sky overhead.


(FRI, 11/07, 7:00)

“So...” A certain bookish red head turned to look at the girl walking beside her, a bit of nervousness seeping into her tone, “You, well, what, umm, happened last night? We lost connection and then I couldn’t reach you, and, well, I almost thought about heading over to your place. But, it seemed like a bad idea at the time of night, and...”

Raising a single black eyebrow, Buffy answered in what was becoming her usual monotone, “Nothing of note. The demon didn’t have much to say, and didn’t speak English.”

“Oh. Um, have you...” The redhead began to ask.

The dark haired girl, cut her off with a shake of her head, “Not yet.”

After chewing on her lip for a moment, Willow ventured, “Will you...”

A slight smirk crossed the slayers face at the question, “Soon.”


(FRI, 11/07, 07:14)

A small gust seemed to pick up as a tall, lanky brunette approached 804 North Clovis Drive, a small disgusted frown on her face as she took in the exterior of the Harris home.

“Yard hasn’t been mowed in a few weeks, back half of a flamingo sitting under one of the windows with no sign of it’s front half, a sign promoting the Gore/Lieberman campaign, and someone asleep on the porch,” The brunette shook her head slightly as her gaze lingered on the short haired blonde snoring loudly on one of the lawn chairs, “Place is as classy as ever.”

Making her way up through the driveway, avoiding the yard itself, and whatever it’s overlong grass might’ve been hiding, the girl tucked a long lock of brown hair behind one of her ears as she moved to stand in front of the blonde.

“Hmm,” The girl ran a finger along the blonde's shoulder, “Well....that doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t taste like the Halloween incident either. Curious.” Grabbing a hold of the blonde's shoulder, the dark haired girl shook it once, “Time to wake up.”

“Hnn, no Fezzik, not the rubber chicken!” The light haired girl groaned in alarm, blinking blearily as she slowly started to regain consciousness.

The brunette, for her part, just snorted and watched the other girl come around, before asking as the girl slowly righted herself, removing a pair of ear buds from her ears, “Have a good nap?”

“Huh, muh.” The blonde blinked a couple times stifling a yawn as she slowly managed to turn her attention towards the girl standing a few steps away from her, “Huh, muh, Am-err, Was I asleep? Sorry. Came out to enjoy some fresh air, must’ve nodded off somewhere along the line. Eh, um, and you are?”

“Amy Madison, I’m here looking for a friend. Tall, dark haired, kind of dorky, you know him?”

“....Isn’t my...Dad a little old for you?” The blond girl asked, staring up at Amy, a look of concentration in her eyes, as she tilted her head slightly. Seemingly try to puzzle the other girl out.

“Not unless your Dad is a High School junior named Xander Harris.” Amy shot back, a bit of humor in her voice now.

“Well, maybe, no....No, that’d just be weird. Al’s my cousin, I’m......Regan. Al’s up north with his parents visiting some relatives. Me and my dad have been watching the place while they’re away.”

“Really?”, Amy asked smirking, arms crossed, not buying it.

“Yup.” Regan smiled back, still selling it.

“Hmm...” Amy tapped her chin, as she thought over what the blonde had told her, “Regan, Regan, no, I can’t recall Xander ever mentioning any Regans.”

Regan sighed slightly, slumping deeper into her chair as she grumbled, “That’s disappointing. Not exactly unexpected though, I suppose. Took the boy three years to admit his best friend was a girl.” Giving a slight snort at the thought, the blonde girl shook her head, before looking back up at Amy, a strange glint in her eyes, “That really can’t stand though, can it? But how to get back at him for not mentioning his favorite cousin. Or at least I better be his favorite cousin, hmmm.”

“Right.” Amy nodded, shifting slightly, before moving to lean against one of the posts that held up the overhang over the porch. “Who is your Dad if I might ask?”

Scratching her chin, still apparently thinking about ways to get back at her cousin, Regan chuckled at the other girls question, “Rory. Rory Regan.”

“. . . And that would make you Regan Regan?” Amy asked, arching a single eyebrow.

Regan nodded.

“That’s....” Amy stopped, honestly finding herself lost for words.

Regan’s chuckling broke into full blown laughter, nearly causing her to tip over in her seat. Settling down almost a minute later, she shook her head, “My parents. I’m just thankful they had that small spark of creativity that let them look at our last name, rather than just resorting to their fallback plan of ‘Girl Regan’ or ‘Baby Regan’. Heaven forbid either one of them have another kid though, now that Regan’s taken though.”

Nodding slightly, and seemingly a little more unsure of just what was going on, Amy looked down at her watch, biting her lip before turning back to Regan, “Listen, I’ve gotta run, school and all. When you talk to Xander next, make sure he knows to call his friends asap. Pretty sure if he doesn’t soon, he’s going to find himself needing the jaws of life to get Willow pried off of him when she does find him.”

Regan nodded, waving as she watched the girl leave. Once the brunette was out of sight, Regan frowned deeply, scratching her chin as she mulled over the girls parting words, “Well, this is gonna be fun to explain.....Knew I should’ve told Giles just to spill it to them from the start.”


(FRI, 11/07, 08:07)

“Joseph Belmont.” Sunnydale’s Chief Forensic Specialist said by way of introduction as he held out his hand.

The man was tall, thin, and thoroughly bald. He also looked like a good wind could tip him over without too much trouble. The effect was not entirely helped by his nervous and, at the moment, slightly frightened manner, as he addressed the taller, black man now standing staring at the rows of cabinets that lined one wall of the Precincts morgue.

He continued as if he abruptly remembered that he’d paused, stuffing his unshaken hand back into one of the pockets of his labcoat, “Detective Jones, what can I do for you? I, well, I was told you’d probably have little interest here, other than to possibly confirm a few things in the old reports?”

John didn’t immediately respond, but when he did his gaze didn’t move from the cabinets, though he did raise a curious eyebrow, “Indeed? I am curious as to who provided you with such an assurance?”

“The, uh, well, The Chief.”, The man answered quickly, fiddling with a bit of paperwork in his hands to avoid looking at the Detective.

John nodded slightly at that, before finally turning to face the man a contemplative look to his features, “Odd, it was he who asked me to consult on the Bank case from yesterday and give my opinion, as we tend to get more crime of this type back in Dakota.”

“Ah, he, well, he didn’t inform me of that…” Joseph nodded, turning back he walked over into a small office only to emerge a moment later with a clipboard, “This is an odd one though.”


The specialist simply nodded in response, flipping through a few pages on the clipboard, before stopping, apparently having found what he was looking for. He glanced between the cabinets and the clipboard, as he made his way almost halfway down the wall, before stopping. Then, bending low, the man produced a set of keys, unlocked one of the bottommost cabinets, and pulled it partially out.

It was, of course, a body. Covered in the standard blanket, John couldn’t help but notice the unnatural position of the body… as if it were forced to bend into fitting onto the cabinet’s tray. This was only reinforced as Belmont pulled the cover off the body within before standing back up.

A slight frown crossed John’s face as he stared down at the gold plated features of the lone casualty of the previous days robbery, glancing back at the other man, he asked, “Jennifer Hester, yes?”

“Yes. Age: Twenty Seven. Only living relative is a sister who currently resides in Tennessee. Moved to Sunnydale a little over three months ago, after quitting a job working as a programmer for Queen Industries.”, The specialist nodded, reading off the clipboard in his hand. “Queen, Wayne, Luthor and the bunch are a bit on the paranoid side about any real employment positions, so we have a very detailed medical record.”

“No genetic abnormalities, and the only real exceptional thing is about how normal she is... was.” The specialist scratched his head as he looked at the corpse, “The exception is a missing little toe from a skiing accident eleven years ago, on the left foot.”

“No criminal background to speak of.” John nodded, the only things on that record were two arrests for public drunkenness, during her college years, and four speeding tickets.

“And what else?” John asked, shifting slightly where he stood, to get a better look at the woman.

Joseph let out a growl of frustration, “And I’m having trouble identifying just what she’s covered in! I’ve got so little to go on; about the only thing I know is that it looks like gold, though I’m very sure it’s not… when I used my voltmeter to measure the resistance it was way too high for gold. Hell, I have no idea what it is, how it was produced, how it was applied so uniformly – look at how thick a coated strand of hair is! – and by eye-witness accounts the perpetrator walks around covered in the stuff.”

Now Joseph let out a sigh of frustration,“I’ve sent some samples down to a lab in L.A. that has more equipment, but it’ll be at least two to three weeks before they *might* have results.”

John nodded, mulling over the man's words, while Joseph replaced the blanket over Jennifer, before closing and locking the drawer once more, “Was that all, Detective, um, Jones?”

Pulling out his wallet, John shook his head, “No. Not quite.” Digging for just a moment, the Detective eventually produced a small card handing it to Joseph, “I would like some samples sent to that lab, as well. I’m acquainted with their Chief Specialist, and I will ensure he makes it a priority.”

“Central City?” The Forensic specialist mused aloud, contemplating Johns request, “High rate of unusual crime. I’ve heard they’ve developed some unique testing methods. Sure. Just make sure to run it by the Chief.”

John gave the man a curt nod before turning to leave the morgue.


(FRI, 11/07, 12:10)

Looking up from her lunch, as someone took the seat across from her in the faculty lounge, Jenny Calender found herself smiling, “I was just thinking about you.”

Coughing into his hand, in a very apparent bid to hide the slight blush spreading across his face, Rupert Giles gave the woman a small nervous smile as he started unwrapping his own lunch, “Yes, well, I do admit I came here hoping to find you.”

“Oh?” The woman’s smile deepened, “Really?”

Glancing up as the only other occupant of the lounge, a long haired man in a lab coat, got up and left, the librarian remarked, “Yes. Things seem to be settling a bit with, well, you know. I’m not entirely certain whether it’s for the better or not yet. But she does seem to be taking things in stride, which has me hopeful. Beyond that, I, well, I had a question I thought you might be able to answer.”

Taking a sip from her mug, the woman gestured for the man to continue.

Giles nodded slightly, using a plastic fork to delicately cut the sandwich his unwrapping had revealed, “It’s quite silly. I’m not even sure why I’m bothering you.”

“Well, I would think you’d know by now, I like silly. It makes life just that much more enjoyable.” The woman responded with a chuckle, “I like you after all.”

“Um, right.” The man nodded, “Well, then, I suppose the question is, what can you tell me about a group, at least I assume it’s some sort of group, called the Justice League?”

Leaning back in her seat, the woman let out a surprised chuckle, “The Justice League?”

“Yes.” The librarian nodded, “Or are you not familiar with them?”

Jenny shook her head negatively, “Oh no, I’m familiar. Just surprised you’re not. Where to start....”

“The beginning perhaps?” Giles offered, trying to help.

“Too many of those to know who or what to start with....You know, give me till this afternoon. That should give me some time to print out some basic information on the team and it’s members, maybe some photo’s. That sort of thing. I’ll bring it by after my last class lets out, sound good?”

“Yes, quite.” The librarian nodded. “Thank you.”


(FRI, 11/07, 15:15)

Hearing the phone ring, Xander, in her blonde form, reached across the couch, answering, “Yo Harris home and garden, this is Regan, how may I help you?”


“Ha. Ha. Very funny. No caller I.d. on this phone Unc.”


“Yeah, so tomorrow we’ll get those taken care of? Does that mean I actually get to go out and about? Yippee!”


“No, I haven’t tried anything since you’ve been gone. Did use my phone to get some pictures of my ‘Regan’ form, as you oh so cleverly named it, for reference. Made it a little easier to change back this morning.”


“...Alright Uncle Rory, I’ll see you in a bit.”, setting the handheld back on it’s hook, Xander turned her focus to the television across from her. Picking up the remote, she turned it on, flipping through channels until she came to a report on a series of foiled muggings up in Washington, where the perpetrators had been pinned in place by arrows, “Huh. Wonder if they’ve got vamps up there too.”

After listening to the report for a few minutes, she continued her channeling surfing, eventually stopping to watch skateboarding on ESPN2, only to be almost immediately interrupted by a series of three loud knocks at the front door.

Getting up, the girl chuckled as she opened the door, “What, did you forget your keys or something?”

“No, I did not.”, The dark haired girl now standing opposite Xander in the doorway responded flatly, looking up at the blonde.

Staring down at the other girl, Xander tilted her head, taking her in, about 5’4, fairly average if attractive build, an impish face, a black blouse and slacks, and her jet black hair, pulled back in a set of pigtails. It took a minute, but squinting slightly, it finally came to her, and Xander gasped in surprise, “Buffy?”

A small, almost menacing smirk seemed to develop on the other girls face at hearing her name. “Xander, then?”

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