Jeremiah and Nikita

In a world where EVERYONE is the extreme of themselves, a very isolated J'onn Jo'nzz meets a stubbornly good man named Jeremiah Danvers and his charge, a human looking alien named Nikita. I'm giving an except first because each draft of the story begins basically the same way. And this is the biggest update.

“I was as wrong about you as this arrogant human you speak of was wrong about her. I am sorry. And I will FIND a way to make it right.” He left without another word.

A few hours later Jeremiah walked up the steps from the basement. Something he very rarely did. He saw J'onn sitting at a dining table, staring out the window.

“You escaped. You both escaped.”

“Yes...I thought we had established that.”

“If she's not Enkaren, what is she?”

“Xavallen.” Jeremiah replied with the sudden feeling that all reason had completely run away from the conversation.

“Well...I guess that explains it.”

“Okay, I'm a little lost. I don't mind saying so.”

“Everything that lives has an instinctual fear of dying. And you might think this a universal tenant of sentient life. Which it is. But the extremely well-developed need for self-preservation at all costs is unique to humans. Most of the time, self-improvement and self-preservation drown out all other considerations just as a matter of cause. She is different. If I was examining her on such a thing – I swear to you I was not but if I ever did examine different races in order to determine how SELF preservation is balanced against an interest in preserving all sentient life...Her people are the opposite of yours.”

“Wait you're telling me her entire race gets an “A” in protective instincts and a “B” in self-preservation?”

“If I understand you correctly, yes.”

“That does explain a lot.” Jeremiah said, his voice quiet.

“How do you mean?”

“...Back at the D.E.O. When I broke her free from that device. I was returning the favor. I was there for six years and I saw Hank do some pretty unspeakable things to aliens who...well who deserved it like the weapons manufacturers and drug-dealers of Thrombus and to aliens like Nikita. But no matter what he did to her, she never raised a finger against him, barely ever raised her voice to him. We were...there she was in a machine designed to lower her neural-synaptic threshold – I'm still not sure what that means – and Hank decided I needed to keep my sympathy where it belonged.” Jeremiah looked up at the man who suddenly had become his companion in evening talk. “He stuck me across the face. That's ALL he did. Nikita broke the machine, slammed Hank against the wall with her forearm against his throat. And told him that perception and empathy go hand in hand. That my 'bleeding heart' meant I saw things more clearly than he did. Then literally rested on her shins and knees waiting to be taken back to her cell.”

  Jeremiah and Nikita met a VERY isolated J'onn Jo'nzz

“My guess is if he wanted us dead we'd be dead right now, so what's his story?”
“I don't know. He's a GREEN Martian.” She said definitively. “I've lived on Earth for 70 years. 17 of them at the D.E.O. He's been on earth At least 3 times as long. He may have forgotten how to trust people, especially humans. Other aliens wouldn't be as hard.”
“That I can understand.” I said glumly.

Three days later the alien came to take me away. He grabbed me by the arm and started to literally drag me out of the room. “Stop it!” Nikita cried out. The green-skinned alien stopped in his tracks. He turned to Nikita with a prompting look. “He's done nothing to deserve this. I would think if anything you'd be after me.”

“Are you saying you'd rather die instead?”

“...Yes.” Nikita answered her voice low but distinct. “I would rather be killed than let him die. I would think if you'd be angry at either of us it would be a freak of nature like me. Not quite literally the best human I have ever known. So if nothing else at least that would make sense!”

A single look told Nikita the outburst had hit home. The man, the alien, instantly dropped his arm and released her friend. “There was no need for any of this. There never was.”

“I...I misread the situation.” The alien said as if he were a schoolboy getting dressed down for misbehaving. A feeling that would only deepen as the conversation continued.

“And that's the worst thing about all of this. All you had to do was ask. I would have told you. Hell you're a Martian you could have read my mind. I would have permitted it! How quickly we become the things we hate and we don't even realize it.” Nikita walked to the far edge of the room, sat down with her feet tucked behind her and turned away from her host. A universally recognized 'I don't want to talk to you' attitude.

“She's comparing you to someone who treated her like an enemy for absolutely no reason and literally tortured her to convince her to reveal the truth. But there was no 'truth' to be found. She wasn't a danger to anyone. And if Hank had looked at her for 5 seconds and seen anything other than a human-looking alien...he would have seen what was right in front of his face. Seen her for the innocent she was. Hank didn't bother to look. He actually got off on hurting aliens...even helpless ones like her.”

“And you broke her free.” Realization blanketed the strangers face. Followed quickly by a look of unmitigated shame. “You broke her free from the D.E.O.”

“ I couldn't stand by and let her get tortured for information she didn't actually have. I released her from...well she was propped up for enhanced interrogation and I shut off the device. I knocked Hank out and put him in that chair, which I kept turned off. She asked me if I wanted to come with her. She said I didn't deserve to be trapped in the D.E.O any more than she did. So we made our escape together.” He turned and squarely face the man. “You are the third alien and the 14th face we have seen in the 8 weeks since that day. And she is quite right. All you had to do was ask. She would have told you anything. Force, much less pain was never needed. She laughed at Hank for that assumption. To her, you're as blind as Hank...Blinded by your own preconceived opinions of others.”

“I was as wrong about you as this arrogant human you speak of was wrong about her. I am sorry. And I will FIND a way to make it right.” He left without another word.

A few hours later Jeremiah walked up the steps from the basement. Something he very rarely did. He saw J'onn sitting at a dining table, staring out the window.

“You escaped. You both escaped.”

“Yes...I thought we had established that.”

“If she's not Enkaren, what is she?”

“Xavallen.” Jeremiah replied with the sudden feeling that all reason had completely run away from the conversation.

“Well...I guess that explains it.”

“Okay, I'm a little lost. I don't mind saying so.”

“Everything that lives has an instinctual fear of dying. And you might think this a universal tenant of sentient life. Which it is. But the extremely well-developed need for self-preservation at all costs is unique to humans. Most of the time, self-improvement and self-preservation drown out all other considerations just as a matter of cause. She is different. If I was examining her on such a thing – I swear to you I was not but if I ever did examine different races in order to determine how SELF preservation is balanced against an interest in preserving all sentient life...Her people are the opposite of yours.”

“Wait you're telling me her entire race gets an “A” in protective instincts and a “B” in self-preservation?”

“If I understand you correctly, yes.”

“That does explain a lot.” Jeremiah said, his voice quiet.

“How do you mean?”

“...Back at the D.E.O. When I broke her free from that device. I was returning the favor. I was there for six years and I saw Hank do some pretty unspeakable things to aliens who...well who deserved it like the weapons manufacturers and drug-dealers of Thrombus and to aliens like Nikita. But no matter what he did to her, she never raised a finger against him, barely ever raised her voice to him. We were...there she was in a machine designed to lower her neural-synaptic threshold – I'm still not sure what that means – and Hank decided I needed to keep my sympathy where it belonged.” Jeremiah looked up at the man who suddenly had become his companion in evening talk. “He stuck me across the face. That's ALL he did. Nikita broke the machine, slammed Hank against the wall with her forearm against his throat. And told him that perception and empathy go hand in hand. That my 'bleeding heart' meant I saw things more clearly than he did. Then literally rested on her shins and knees waiting to be taken back to her cell.”

“Lowering a neural-synaptic threshold of an empath, what would you expect?”

“In most alien races it lowered their defenses and made them more...pliant is the only word I can think of.”

“A non-chemical way to produce the same 'I know what I'm saying but I don't care' response as truth serum.” Jeremiah nodded. “The only thing keeping an empath from causing anyone physical damage is that they would feel it as well. The full awareness of how senseless violence is. If they no longer care about what they are doing...”

“...They no longer hold themselves back from whatever random and potentially destructive thing that pops into their heads.”

“I believe SHE understood. Keeping you safe was simply more important to her. I knew why you seemed so passionate about protecting her. But until now I didn't understand why she seemed at least as adamant about protecting you. She saw you as Alana-Kai.”

“Most humans, most races in the galaxies at all no matter how much they try to lift the head of another and put the needs of their friends first, would still put their own life, their own survival before anything else at need. Xavallens don't. They are, by comparison to their brethren, Friars and Philosophers.”

“I'm sorry, but I still don't understand the connection.

“Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races to each-other. Enkarens are...genetically speaking in trouble but also far superior to humans in most respects. Xavallens are, by comparison to their brethren philosophers and friars. They still speak the same language.”

“And she doesn't make sense for an Enkaren.”

J'onn nodded. “But more than that, Xavallens are a protected species.”

“Wait, what?”

“If I had known what she was, laying a hand on her to get You to talk would have been a crime. And I would have begged her forgiveness.”

“Sir, I don't know where this comes from. But I know her, she holds you no grudge, for any of this.”

“And what about you?”

“You didn't know. And besides, it was as much my choice as hers.”

“I can see why she loves you so much.”

“...Loves me?”

“Like a father.” The man's face became concerned, and amazed. “You didn't know?”

“I didn't really have the chance to get to know her, until about 3 months ago.”