Chapter Text
Before he left for the day, Kilgrave had lingered at the threshold of their room. His stormy gaze reflected something akin to the sentiments he had confessed for her the other night. It was a look of warmth that transformed the hard angles of his face and induced conflicting doubts regarding her immediate plans.
Did he suspect anything? Was she taking the right step by leaving? Should she not stay and keep his evil streak at bay?
“I am really happy you are in my life, Jessica,” he murmured, shattering her chain of thought. Why were his words making her sick? Surely, she should be happy he is too infatuated with her to be suspecting anything.
She did not say anything, but instead grabbed his collar in a sudden move that stunned him. Despite the recent physical developments in their dynamics, she was not one to initiate such displays apart from that one night in the club.
Her kiss was rough, almost punishing, not allowing his lips much freedom of movement. And indeed, she was punishing him.
Punishing him for messing everything up, for starting whatever sick thing there was brewing between them on the wrong foot, for being a depraved prick in the first place when he had the chance to be so much better. With his power, he could actually make a difference in the world. Hell, a whisper in the right man’s ears might end wars and get humanity on track for once.
But wishful thinking aside, even without him capitalising on his superhero potential, he could have been better. Because in an alternate world, a British cheeky snob would not have been her first choice for picking up in a bar, but at least they would have had the chance to be something healthy, not this confusing fuckery which both exhilarated and disgusted her.
She ended the kiss with a bite to his lips. First on her agenda provided a successful escape, was booking an appointment with a psychiatrist.
The fucker grinned and wiped the droplets of blood from his mouth. His cheeks were flushed with arousal. “If that was foreplay, I’m all in. My plans be damned.”
Jessica ignored his hoarse voice and feigned indifference as she opened the fridge door to grab a drink. “Don’t get any further ideas,” she said as warning.
Kilgrave shook his head and chuckled as he put on his coat. “Life with you is never boring. See you later for dinner.” He smiled and finally left the penthouse.
Jessica threw the unfinished can in the trash and threw up in the sink. Though her hands had a slight tremor and her courage wavered, she had to be strong.
“Trish, are you home?”
Jessica swung the duffel bag from one shoulder to another. It was carrying the few personal belongings she had managed to pack in her rush. Naturally, she had ignored the mountain of crap she had amassed over her stay, imprisonment with Kilgrave.
Jessica impatiently knocked on the steel door, resisting the urge the look behind her for any sights of the purple-suited maniac. Anxiety was churning within her.
It felt like she was doing something wrong, and try as she might, she could not help the misplaced guilt of running away. For fuck’s sake, how pervasive was his brainwashing?
Her knuckles rapped on the door again, trying not to leave indents in the surface of the heavy-duty door her friend had installed for her apartment. “Trish, it’s me, open up,” she perked up when she heard shuffling on the other side and after a long series of complicated locks, the door swung open, revealing the face of the only family she had.
“Trish,” her voice almost trembled, it had been so very long since she had laid eyes on Trish and so much has remained unspoken for her safety, before gaining control of her emotions. “We need to run.”
For a terrible second Trish stared at her as if seeing a ghost. And she might as well because some of the old Jessica had forever died that cursed January night when she had stumbled upon Kilgrave.
The blonde recovered promptly and began shrieking at her, while ushering her into the home, “Jessica, what the hell? You have barely returned my calls and now you–”
“I know, I am an asshole,” she admitted promptly, her eyes looking anywhere but at Trish. “Look, I owe you a ton of explanations, but please, you must listen to me when I tell you that now we need to get the fuck out of New York. I am in trouble and because of this you are too. I am sorry.”
Green eyes clashed with concerned blue ones. Trish pursed her lips, finally noticing the duffel bag swung over the dark-haired woman’s shoulder and the anxious fatigue pulling at her eyes. Jessica looked haunted. Her anger subsided at the sight of her usually tough friend in such a deplorable state. “How bad?” she whispered.
“On a scale of one to ten, it’s pretty grim.”
“Are you certain it can’t be handled by the NYPD? I have connections with the Chief, his daughters were fans of the show–”
“Hell no. Trust me on this, Trish, please.”
Credit to Trish, she was taking everything in stride as she listened to Jessica’s order and pulled a trolley from storage. “You so owe me for this one, Jones.” The blonde paused in the hallway. “Last time you picked up the phone, you had met someone, he sounded great for you. Wild guess, but does that have to do with anything?”
Jessica’s laugh sounded hallow even to her own ears. “Yes, a real work of art that one. I am a magnet for shitheads and psychos. Look, I will tell you everything once we are on the road. Get moving.” The brunette was already opening her friend’s drawers and emptying out the bare necessities on the bed.
“You bet on it,” Trish sounded displeased but went along surprisingly docile with what looked like the beginning of a meltdown from Jessica. “I just need to go to the bathroom. Grab some cash from the safe, you know the password,” the blonde pointed to the safe behind the painting in the living room and disappeared from view.
Jessica nodded and shoved the blonde’s passport and a selection of low-profile clothes, challengingly sampled from her friend’s extravagant wardrobe, clearly being a child celebrity had left some marks, into the travel trolley.
“Trish, hurry up already!” Jessica yelled, displeased with how long her friend was taking in the bathroom. What if he was already home and looking for her? Her hands clamped on the zipper of the bag, willing her heart to stop racing.
“I will go to your concierge and order us a cab. If you’re not ready by then, I will drag you out,” she yelled to the blonde heading downstairs.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, the woman made a beeline for the receptionist who after some underhanded threats, finally relented and forwarded her request for a taxi ride to the nearest airport despite the snippy remark “we only place such orders when there is at least one resident present to vouch for it”. For a split second, Jessica caught herself wishing for Kilgrave’s presence.
Jessica stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, grateful to have a moment of respite before uprooting their life. Aware that no one would dare steal their luggage in the posh residential area that Trish was living in, she closed her eyes and tried to envision their next steps.
They would have to lay low for a while, most likely somewhere where no one would recognise Trish and her days of Patsy stardom. They might even have to sort out some fake identities, change appearances and avoid CCTVs in some forgotten corner of the world. And perhaps, after long enough time had passed, he would forget everything about a woman named Jessica Jones. And perhaps, she too would forget about a frightening man named Kilgrave who could bend the world to his will and who told her that he loved her.
One could only hope.
At last, she will escape him and whatever madness he had inflicted her with.
“Leaving without saying goodbye, my love?”