"Jessica!"

Kilgrave's voice, commanding but not too harsh, echoed through every room of his penthouse. It wasn't even a command, not technically, but it had been uttered so many times with the same context that it carried one specific meaning: come here.

And so come Jessica did, all the way from the bedroom, her hands hanging helplessly at her side over her floral-print dress.

"I'm here," Jessica said quietly, stone-faced.

Kilgrave looked briefly over his shoulder, arms crossed, before turning back to the window.

"Look at this," he commanded, pressing his hand against the glass and staring off dramatically into the distance. "It's really something, this view. Liberating, isn't it? Did you ever see Titanic?"

"Yeah," Jessica replied flatly, eyes fixed over New York's skyline.

"Terrible movie. Complete drivel," he snickered, shaking his head dismissively. "Still. 'King of the world'. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"No."

"Oh, never mind you."

He stood at the window in silence for another few moments, Jessica watching him from behind.

She could feel her fingers twitching, like they were grasping for a knife that wasn't there. It was so familiar, that twitching, almost like second nature. But that was as far as she could get before something stopped her, some kind of magnetic force that couldn't be overcome. The distance between the two of them was like an endless chasm that Jessica couldn't force herself across.

"Is this all you wanted me for?" Jessica asked.

Kilgrave seemed startled for a moment, as though he had forgotten she was there, and glanced over his shoulder again. "Hm? Oh, sorry. Come here."

The chasm disappeared, and Jessica walked toward him, stopping short at his side just before the window. Kilgrave wrapped his arm over her bare shoulders, the fabric on his suit coarse and scratchy.

"Just like old times, isn't it, Jessica?" Kilgrave murmured nostalgically, fingers rapping against her upper arm like needles.

"Yes. Almost exactly," Jessica replied.

"Oh, if only I could stay here forever… honestly, I should move that- actually, Jessica?"

"Hm," Jessica said, almost inaudibly.

"My armchair. Bring it over."

"Okay."

Jessica turned her back to him for the first time, wandering over to the slick brown armchair and gripping it with one hand.

The upholstery was leather and very expensive, a few thousand dollars at least. The penthouse's previous owner was some piece-of-shit stockbroker named Devon, and everything he'd furnished the place with reeked with pretentious overkill. Similar tastes to Kilgrave, actually.

Devon ended up in pieces at the bottom of a river. She knew because she had carved him up herself. Jessica thought of Trish for a moment, her whole head foggy.

"Oh, what- Jessica!" Kilgrave cried out suddenly.

She winced at her own name and looked at her feet. She had torn the rug dragging the chair over, having been completely lost in thought.

"For fuck's sake, Jessica, you've got the strength of an Olympian and you can't be bothered to pick up the damned armchair?"

She stared at the tear in the rug for a long while. "You didn't tell me to."

"Well- Christ- I'm telling you to now! Pick it up!"

She wrapped both arms around it and hoisted it cautiously off the ground, even though such care seemed unnecessary given that it weighed virtually nothing to her.

"Now set the damn thing down over here. Facing the window."

The chair clattered inelegantly onto the floor in front of the window. Steaming, Kilgrave slumped into it and rested his arms along its sides, still staring out the window.

"Well?" he spat. "Cover up the damn tear in the rug! Jessica!"

With a sigh, she crossed the room again, grabbing the side table that had formerly been positioned next to the armchair and moving it five feet to the right. The whole décor of the room was messed up afterward, not that the space was particularly homely to begin with.

Her task completed, Jessica hovered awkwardly around the table, not sure what to do next. Kilgrave took a few minutes just to stare out the window, his anger subsiding.

And then the doorbell rang, a gentle chime that only barely echoed past the penthouse's entrance.

"Oh, that'll be dinner," said Kilgrave, thrusting himself out of the chair. "Have a seat at the table; I'll join you in a moment."

Jessica walked obediently into the dining room and sat down at the far end of the intimately small table, the same place she sat for every meal. Kilgrave answered the door.

The waiter at the door gave a broad smile upon seeing him, doing his best to be courteous. "Good evening, sir."

"Yeah, hi, come in." Kilgrave waved him in with one hand, leading him to the dining room as he wheeled in the food on a cart.

The waiter flashed Jessica the same smile as he entered the room, lifting the large silver platter from the cart and setting it down in the center of the table. "Ma'am. How are you this evening?"

"Fine, thanks," Jessica said with a smile.

The waiter pulled a bowl from the cart, serving salad on china plateware.

"It's a lovely night for dining in, when you have a view like this," he said charmingly, pulling the lid from the platter. "The Margaux… and the duck…"

Kilgrave nodded slightly, waving his hand to move the process along, and so the waiter hurried to carve out the meat and pour wine for the two of them.

"Shall I leave the cheesecake for you, then?" he asked, taking a step away from the table to leave them to it.

"Yes, leave it," Kilgrave replied quietly.

"And for the matter of billing, would you like-"

"Quiet."

The waiter was silent immediately.

"Take the cart and spend the next ten minutes putting distance between yourself and this building," Kilgrave said firmly, digging his fork into his salad. "Then find a knife and put it through your temple."

"Yes, sir."

With a dignified nod, the waiter stepped away and removed the cart from the room, bumbling absentmindedly down the hall outside.

Kilgrave returned to his dinner, and Jessica stared at him with distress.

"…Why did you do that?" she shouted eventually, her disgust just barely winning out over her desire not to upset him.

"He knows where we live. I told you, Jessica; I'm trying to keep a low profile for the time being." Kilgrave shrugged, not pausing to stop his eating.

"So you had to murder him?"

"Oh, for the love of- stop posturing. I swear, you're just trying to be inflammatory." Kilgrave stopped talking for a few seconds to chew. "He's a nobody. Just forget about him."

Jessica winced from physical pain. His words were like a railroad spike in her brain, as she tried helplessly to obey an impossible command. His powers were stronger than they had ever been, and being unable to do as he said was downright excruciating.

"Relax, Jessica; you're killing the mood. Smile a little."

Jessica smiled, and the command to relax actually did ease her mind, however slightly. The one and only benefit of his growing stronger, Jessica had noticed, was that his commands could burrow their way into a deeper part of the brain. He had perfect command over actions, sure, but he was growing control over feelings, too. He wasn't always just making pure compulsions anymore, but real feelings. And sometimes, just for a few fleeting moments, he really could kill the pain with a command, if he wanted to. Maybe, eventually, he really would be able to make her forget- she longed for that, and she hated herself for it.

She dug into the salad, which was delicious and perfectly dressed. Kilgrave always seemed to appreciate the food he ordered less than she did, though.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only noise being the clanking of their silverware.

"Have you heard about Luke Cage?" Kilgrave asked eventually, taking a sip of wine. "Your old 'boyfriend', remember him?"

Whatever comfort Jessica had almost found was ripped away from her in an instant.

"Of course I remember him," she replied through gritted teeth.

Kilgrave narrowed his eyes at that. "Yes, well, have you watched the news lately? He's been a popular subject. Quite interesting, really."

Jessica sighed, having nowhere near the energy to start an argument. "I've seen a little, yeah."

"They're sending him to prison for something or other, after the whole vigilantism streak. I never would have seen it coming. Strong, silent type like him? Never really took him for the type to go gallivanting around performing super-heroics. But then, I could say the same thing about you, couldn't I?" He laughed wryly to himself, pointing his fork unthreateningly at Jessica before waving his hand and returning to his food. "Either way, it's long past due, far as I'm concerned. Someone has to put an end to an ego trip like that."

"I think you're wrong. He was doing something good for people."

"What, stopping bad guys and all that?" Kilgrave chuckled.

"Well." She downed her drink in one go- not exactly the most dignified way to drink $700 wine. "Yeah."

"And you really think that's why he was doing it?"

"I do."

"Ugh." He tapped on the duck with his fork, thinking. "I shouldn't have brought it up; I- obviously you wouldn't see eye-to-eye with me on this."

"Yeah. Obviously."

"I'm sorry if I made you defensive, alright? I don't mean to generalize. I know you didn't do it for your ego. You aren't that kind of person."

"No, I'm not."

"…Jessica, tell me the truth now. Do you wish you were still out there?" Kilgrave gestured broadly to the window behind the dining table.

"Still out there?" Jessica snickered. "Still out where?"

"You know. Out on the streets." Kilgrave put up his fists with a joking smile. "Like our friend Mr. Cage."

"Oh. Right," she sighed, shrugging.

He watched her carefully for a few moments before throwing up his hands. "It wasn't a rhetorical question."

"I don't know the answer," Jessica replied impassively.

"It's alright. You don't really need to. I know the answer." Kilgrave shrugged, chuckling quietly to himself. "I have to admit, it was satisfying, back when we did it together. Even if I'm no good at it. Why don't we go out tomorrow; have a go at it again? That should cheer you up."

"I thought you said you wanted to keep a low profile," said Jessica.

"I can still go out; it'll just be a bit trickier than normal. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let that stop me. What do you say?"

"I don't know."

"Jessica, I'm trying to accommodate you here."

"Okay."

She picked at her food reluctantly, brokenhearted by his insistence on rehashing her past. If there was a part of her that still wanted to help people, it was long buried, along with Luke and Trish and everyone else. But of course, there was no way to stop him from doing what he wanted either way.

With a loud groan, Kilgrave dropped his fork against his plate, throwing up his hands with blatant exasperation. "For God's sake, Jessica," he declared, "I'm really going out on a limb for you here. Honestly, considering the circumstances, what more could I possibly do to make you happy? What do you want?"

Jessica narrowed her eyes, compelled as usual to be honest. "I want to die."

"Jesus, so melodramatic…" He pressed two fingers against his forehead, exasperated. "You want to die now. Isn't that just fucking typical?"

Her throat tightened, making her voice almost raspy. "Yes."