This takes place when they're still young and innocent teenagers. They don't fall in love in one night, some of this is just hormones and finding someone in similar circumstances. Kilgrave is not a walking trigger yet. Neither of them understand the full scope of their powers. Please review and let me know if I should continue! Look up the lyrics for Nirvana's "About a Grl." Last, but not least, I do not own Jessica Jones.
Finally, there was silence.
Jessica breathed a sigh of relief as she took off her headphones and relished the peace the darkness brought her. Locking herself inside her room after school had become a habit. She and Patsy weren't getting along and that bitch who adopted her wasn't any better. After school, they tended to leave her alone for hours on end, but when they made it home, the yelling started.
Honestly, Jessica was a little surprised they hadn't made it on the evening news yet.
Jessica had fallen into the rather depressing routine of doing her homework, falling asleep to one of her CDs, and sneaking out as soon as they were in bed. That night was no exception. Jessica set her CD player gently onto her bedside table and got out of bed. She listened at her door for the sounds of Mrs. Walker creeping down the hallway after a few glasses of brandy. Instead, Jessica could only hear the silence.
Still, she stayed tense and ready to bolt as she eased her door open and continued down the stairs. She could just climb down the tree by her window, but she didn't want to risk breaking her neck. She made sure to skip the bottom stair and continued through the living room and into the kitchen. But she paused and crouched behind one of the cabinets when she saw him. Apparently, Mrs. Walker hadn't checked the locks before heading to bed, because a boy was rummaging through their fridge.
He looked to be around her age, at least from what she could see in the light from the fridge. What was weird was that he wasn't wearing a mask or in any hurry. He wasn't even looking for anything valuable, or at least not yet.
Something made Jessica approach him and tap him on the shoulder.
He spun around to face her with an oddly calm look on his face as he gets ready to say something. Little does she know, he's about to say, "Forget me and go back to sleep."
She put a finger to his lips and grinned mischievously. He stared as she bent to search one of the cabinets and offered him a bag of chips before taking a jar of peanut butter and a spoon for herself. She took his hand and led him back outside to the bench on the back porch.
She motioned for him to take a seat beside her before opening her jar.
"Why did you help me?" he asked her softly.
"There's no way you were going to find anything good in there," Jessica snorted before taking her first spoonful of peanut butter. "I thought it would be better to just help you find Patsy's stash. Her mom keeps the liquor in the top cabinets, doesn't go anywhere near the bottom ones."
"But why did you help me?"
"This isn't my house," Jessica shrugged. "I just know where everything is. I'll help you steal Mrs. Walker's jewelry if you want."
"I don't need it," he mumbled. "I just need a place to stay for the night."
"Stay in my room then. You'll have to leave before they wake up, but I don't see why not."
"I don't even know you. I could kill you in your sleep," he said. Or make you kill yourself, he thought.
Remembering the incident with the sink and noticing how frail he was, Jessica smirked. "I think I could fight you off."
Something in the bitter way she'd uttered that made him pause before opening the bag of chips she'd given him and saying, "I guess I'll stay here tonight then."
There was silence again, except for the crickets and the sounds of them enjoying their snacks. Jessica had always enjoyed the stillness of the night, and that hadn't changed after the accident. She had always felt as though time itself was absent even as the moon made its gradual journey across the sky. That, and the darkness gave her the freedom to pretend that the house behind her was her old one. If she turned around and went upstairs, she would hear her father snoring in the room by the stairs. The kitchen would be fully stocked from her mother's most recent trip to the grocery store. Phil might even be up playing video games. As long as she stayed out here with this guy and stayed quiet, she could pretend she'd sneaked out to meet a guy from school or something.
"Jessica," she said finally, knowing she couldn't keep up the ruse.
It took him a moment to realize she'd introduced herself without him telling her to. "Kevin."
"What are you doing out here, Kevin?" she asked.
"I'm alone," he replied. "My parents abandoned me."
Jessica frowned. "They left you? How long ago?"
"Two years ago. I left Britain this year when I decided to quit looking for them."
"But they couldn't have just left you like that," she insisted. "Did you call the police? Why did you come to New York?"
"I did, but I don't exactly trust adults after–" he stopped and grimaced. "Never mind, I just needed a fresh start so I came here."
"Still, don't you have a foster family or something?"
"Again, I did, but I ran away."
"Why?"
"Because I can make anyone do what I bloody want," he snapped.
"Bull," Jessica said, rolling her eyes.
"It's true," he assured her. "I could tell you to eat that jar, and you would try as hard as you could to fit it in your mouth."
Jessica laughed. "Prove it."
He was dying to. He wanted to tell her to go back to bed as he'd intended to earlier. But something stopped him. It had been so long since he'd last spoken to someone without making them do something for him. Commanding people to do things for him was making him paranoid. He didn't know how long it lasted, and he couldn't afford to stop. If he stopped, would they betray him like his parents didn't?
Maybe she could be his first friend.
"How?" he asked.
She grinned before closing the jar of peanut butter, putting the bag of chips beside it, and dragging him over to the fence. They took turns climbing over it before sprinting down the street hand in hand. They didn't have to run for long before they found someone walking their dog.
They stopped to rest on the grass and Kevin turned to whisper, "What do you want him to do?"
Jessica turned to look at the man. He was tall, balding, and, all in all, rather unimpressive. He was walking an old, black pit bull.
"Sir," Kevin called him. "Let my friend hold the leash."
The man handed her the leash and she rolled her eyes at Kevin. "You're going to have to do better than that."
"What do you want me to make him do?" he whispered back.
She thought for a moment as the man gazed back at them in confusion. "The chicken dance," she whispered back.
He snorted. "Do the chicken dance," he told the man.
Watching him, Jessica couldn't stop the giggles that escaped her even as she thought, he did it. He can control people. He can make them do anything he wants.
"Stop," Kevin demanded. Jessica gave the man back the leash. "Go and don't tell anyone about this. Forget this."
He nodded wordlessly and left.
"How does it work?" Jessica asked as soon as the man was out of earshot. "Does it ever stop working? Can you control it? How did you get it?"
"I have to be careful with how I phrase things," he said, amused. "It doesn't stop working. As for how I got it. . . I don't really want to talk about it."
"Alright," Jessica acquiesced. "But can't anyone ever just refuse to listen?"
"Not as far as I know," he shrugged. "I need this power to survive, though. If I didn't have this power, what guaranty would i have for three square meals a day and a warm bed to sleep in?"
"You don't think a foster home could give you all of that?" she asked him.
"Nope," he said. His dark brown hair, grown long enough to curl around the collar of his Oxford shirt, hid his expression from the light of the street lamps, but Jessica thought she saw his lip curl in a sneer.
"You don't trust easily," she stated.
"How can I when the two people I trusted the most left me to fend for myself?"
"Do you trust me?" she asked.
He turned his head to look at her. At first glance, she was as unimpressive to him as that man. With eyes and lips too large for her face and skin too pale to be healthy, she was still a teenager just like him. Those eyes were gazing back at him so earnestly awaiting his response. He couldn't afford to trust anyone he couldn't control, and he didn't think he could control her. He didn't want to. She was the only person he'd ever been able to be honest with.
He could tell her to walk away and forget all about him, but he didn't want to do that either.
"If you would tell me your story, I might," he said, careful not to force her.
"What's there to tell?" she asked uncomfortably.
"Why are you living with people you don't even like for a start?"
"Well, unlike you, I didn't have a choice," she answered. "Why are you breaking into houses for food anyway?"
"I like to pretend," he admitted sheepishly, waving a hand at the houses in front of them. "I wish I could have grown up somewhere so dreadfully normal. But I was sick, and most of my childhood was spent in either a hospital room or a laboratory. It wasn't long after I got better that my parents left me."
"The place isn't too different from where I used to live, but, at the same time, it's completely different," Jessica sighed. "My parents and my little brother died in a car accident not too long ago. I don't have any other family so Patsy and her mother took me in as a publicity stunt. I wouldn't mind so much if Mrs. Walker wasn't such a crazy bitch."
He chuckled. "Is that it?"
"Well, there's that and the other thing," she said.
He waited.
"After the accident, I got stronger," she said hesitantly.
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean emotionally or. . . ?"
Instead of responding, Jessica drew back her arm, balling her hand into a fist, before punching a hole into the concrete. Even she was surprised at what she'd done. She hadn't had too many chances to test her strength since the incident with the sink. Her knuckles were barely scratched.
Kevin took her hand and looked at her knuckles in amazement, and possibly even reverence. "How did this happen?"
"I don't know," she said, trying to draw her hand away, but he kept a tight hold on it as his eyes met hers.
There was a mutual understanding in their gaze as they stood there together on the deserted street corner. No more words were needed so she led him back to the Walkers' home and they put away the chips and peanut butter before going to her bedroom. When she left room for him on the bed, he slid in beside her without a word.
"If you leave before I wake up, leave a note," she told him.
"Ok," he agreed. "But only if I can come back."
"You can, as long as you don't try to control me."
"I don't want to."
And there they slept deeply and dreamlessly, back to back, as the night wore on.
They woke to Patsy screaming in the doorway. Jessica bolted out of the bed, but Kevin just sat up and groaned, "Shut up."
She did, but her mother wasn't far behind her. "Who the fuck are you?" she screeched.
"Jessica's friend, and I'm always welcome here, no questions asked."
"You're always welcome here," she repeated back with the friendliest smile Jessica had ever seen her give. Patsy glared back at him.
"Leave," he told Mrs. Walker. As soon as she was gone, Kevin turned back to Patsy. "I assume you're Jessica's sister, nice to meet you."
"Tell her she can talk, Kevin," Jessica told him.
"You can talk, but keep an even tone," he commanded.
"Who the hell are you?" she asked as soon as she could speak again.
"Kevin."
"Don't call me Patsy," she said. "And that goes for you, too, Jessica. You know how I feel about that."
"Then what do you want us to call you?"
She thought for a moment. "Trish."
"I like it, but really anything's better than Patsy," Jessica said.
"So, who are you?" Trish asked. "And how did you do that? Why were you in here?"
"He needed a place to crash for the night," Jessica replied for him. "The real question is: what are you doing in here? This is my room."
"We're late for school."
"Dammit," Jessica muttered before beginning her search for clean clothes.
"But how did he–?"
"None of your business," Jessica said before slamming the door in her face. After turning the lock, she found a clean pair of ripped jeans on the floor.
"You didn't have to lock her out," Kevin told her, still lounging on the bed.
"Yeah, I did. I tolerate her, I don't actually like her," Jessica grumbled. "She was there when I found about my strength, and I found out about her mother being a psychotic bitch. As long as I don't try to save her, we're good."
"You're not a morning person," he observed.
"No, I'm not. Don't you have to go to school?"
"It won't matter if I'm a little late."
"But it will matter if I am," she huffed before heading to the bathroom and leaving him alone in her room. He waited for a moment, listening for her footsteps, but she didn't come back. He heard the shower turning on down the hall as he stood from the bed and scanned her room. It looked like the standard teenage girl's room with clothes and papers strewn about the floor. He opened the CD player to find Nirvana's Bleach ready to listen to.
So, she likes grunge, he thought. He'd never heard anything like that. He mostly listened to the classics: Beatles, Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, etc. He'd never had the chance to listen to much else. Pop and rap tended to get on his nerves. He did enjoy classical music when he had the time and the inclination to listen to it.
He turned to look at her desk, a pitiful little thing in the corner with a few textbooks piled on the side next to her book bag. He walked over to flip through the notebook she'd placed in the center of the desk. It was full of observations she'd made of the teachers and the students. Her math teacher was having an affair with the science teacher. Both were married men. The head cheerleader did cocaine.
He whistled impressed before setting it down when he heard the shower turn off. On the surface her life was unimpressive, but beneath it all she was a detective in the making. She burst into the room with her hair still wet and the belt on her jeans unbuckled. He fought a smile as she searched frantically for her other combat boot.
He wondered vacantly what she would look like in silk and diamonds.
Finding it under her bed, she looked up at him with wide eyes. "You're still here."
"I'm trying not to be insulted," he said, but he was still fighting a grin.
"Don't be, I was just surprised. You want breakfast?" Jessica asked. "Mrs. Walker isn't some world class chef but her eggs are decent and I can fry bacon without burning it. Sorry, we don't have cereal, too much sugar for Patsy. Usually, we wouldn't have bacon either, but – "
"Eggs and bacon are fine," he assured her.
She gave a sigh of relief before attempting to fit all of her textbooks into her backpack.
"Jessica, Trish, you're going to be late," Mrs. Walker yelled up the stairs.
"It's too early to play Happy Families," Jessica mumbled by way of explanation as she tugged him by the hand down to the kitchen.
"Is it always this lively in the mornings?"
"It's not like this where you live?"
"It's usually quiet. I just wake up, go to a cafe or something for food, and head straight to school."
"Alone? I'm not sure if that's more or less depressing."
"I'm used to it."
He sat down at the table to watch her fry the bacon she promised him as Mrs. Walker proceeded to pile scrambled eggs onto his plate with a smile that bordered on disturbing. Patsy eyed him with obvious wariness as she ate her breakfast in small bites. She was the exact opposite of Jessica, pretty in a doll like way with delicate mannerisms. Jessica was brash where she was graceful. And still, Kevin found himself watching Jessica with more interest.
"So where are you from, Kevin?" Mrs. Walker asked.
"Don't ask about my past, Mrs. Walker," he demanded.
Jessica snorted and piled the bacon onto a plate before leaving it in the center of the table next to the eggs. Kevin took two pieces and ate them with relish. He hadn't had bacon in ages.
They finished breakfast without another word.
He followed Jessica to the bus stop and took her hand as they waited for the bus. She didn't pull away until the bus stopped and the crowd that had gathered around them thinned as they all go in. "Are you really coming back?" she asked him.
He hesitated. "Maybe not."
She frowned in disappointment, but she understood. Quickly, she pulled him down by the collar and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Thanks for a fun night."
Kevin watched, stunned, as she walked away with a wink, a smile, and a spring in her step. And it would be years before he would see that smile again.
