When things become difficult, too difficult for humans to cope with without help, they tend to turn to mechanisms to keep themselves sane and help them continue on with the new burden added to their life. Ginger snap cookies seemed to be one Norville 'Shaggy' Roger's coping mechanism as the brunette 23 year old sat at the tiny apartment table of one J'onn J'onzz one morning.

Shaggy had found his way to the tiny apartment through various leads, insistent questionings and just generally making a nuisance of himself until people had broken down and told the young man where to find the last surviving Martian. And now J'onn had a grieving human with the metabolism of Wally West and the sweet tooth of Santa Claus quietly working his way through his sixth plate of cookies as he cried into a cup of cinnamon and tarragon cocoa, which he'd made, J'onn didn't know the difference between cinnamon and pepper, let alone how to mix ingredients to make what Shaggy was drinking. The cookies were made from a packet, thankfully. He could follow those directions.

J'onn was, frankly, surprised at the nature of Shaggy's visit more than the fact the young man had found him. A detective who used to work with Batman, all things considered J'onn wasn't surprised. What did surprise him was Shaggy's story; a few years ago he'd met a Martian woman who was visiting earth to see if it was a threat or not. They'd fallen in love and while she'd had to return home, they had kept in contact, though it had recently been lost. Was J'onn really the last survivor of his race? Unfortunately for both of them, yes. And now here they were, Shaggy eating through his depression and J'onn guiltily happy he finally had someone who knew exactly what he was going through.

J'onn placed another plate in front of Shaggy, who nodded his thanks and continued eating the cookies numbly. It almost seemed that if he stopped, he'd really break down, and so he just kept eating. Not that he didn't need the food, he made skeletons look healthy. J'onn carefully worked an old polaroid picture from under Shaggy's hand on the table, to get a better look at the human form of Crystal. Shaggy had never learned her real name. The young woman beside a younger Shaggy (obvious only by the slightly shorter hair and the not-quite-grown look of his gangly arms and legs) looked Native-American, with a hippy vibe. They were standing in a flower field with arms around each other. It hurt to see them so happy, Shaggy so happy, when J'onn only had to put the picture down to see the obvious suffering of a broken heart on Shaggy's face now.

A few hours ago, J'onn had been uncovering the secrets of properly making a human bed when there was a knocking on his door. He'd felt extreme emotions of depression emanating from the other side, and worried for the person with that much sadness, had opened the door. Not to a suicidal teen like he'd thought, but a young man who just needed to be consoled. Which, at least, they could do in spades for each other. Shaggy had just wanted to know exactly what happened, and J'onn realized what he needed was someone who understood a little of a Martian's ways.

They became friends, the cowardly ("That's why I loved her, man. She like, thought I was brave") detective and the Martian man who pretended to be a human detective. When people asked if Shaggy was the reason that J'onn was able to cope ("Knowing someone knew us, knew who we were, it was a great gift") with the loss of his people, and if Shaggy was able to get over Crystal's death because J'onn was there to talk about it, they agreed. It was better to have the next best thing, than be alone to deal with loss.

J'onn J'onzz found that for most living things, when things became too difficult to bear alone, they would turn to mechanisms to keep themselves sane and help themselves move on. J'onn's coping mechanisms were a lanky 26 year old detective named Norville 'Shaggy' Rogers, and ginger snap cookies.