Kintsugi: for Kilgrave
a Jessica Jones/Torchwood crossover
AU – takes place after the conclusion of season 1 of Jessica Jones. In this universe Children of the Earth never happened and Kilgrave isn't dead.
Kintsugi (golden joinery) – the art of mending broken pottery with gold. Kintsugi can be seen as part of the wabi-sabi philosophy – that there is beauty in imperfection. An object mended with gold is rendered more beautiful. The same can be said of a human being. But before Kilgrave can be mended, he must be broken. More than broken. He must be shattered.
WARNING: this story will go to some dark places. If you are easily triggered by child abuse in all forms, bondage, humiliation, corporal punishment and references to rape or if you're homophobic you might want to stop now. If you're one of those people who think Kilgrave fans are excusing rape just stop now anyway. I really don't want you reading my work. (there is no excuse for rape and there's no excuse for falsely accusing people of excusing rape either) Also, this isn't an S&M story although it does have some elements of that in it. I will admit to a certain amount of schadenfreude at Kilgrave's suffering, after all he does deserve to be punished. But again, this is NOT an S&M story. Sometimes someone needs a taste of their own medicine. As for what it's really about, read it and see. Just hold on to your feels. Hope you enjoy it. This story is going to take a long time to write and there will be a while between chapters as I'm being VERY careful with it.
The floor was cold. The floor was always cold. But that was nothing, really. Nothing he had ever suffered compared to this.
Starting with waking up in the cold glass booth in IGH Lab, needles being poked into him, the techs casually speaking of the fluids in the syringes; rendered products of his own aborted baby. And all the while he could only lie there like a good little paralytic.
The cracking sound of his own breaking neck revisited him day and night. Circular thoughts built around it, like a gradual growth of dust particles around some insignificant pebble deep in space. The dust particles made the pebble grow and the bigger it got, the more overpowering the memories and emotions revolving around it became. This did not make his pain more significant, but less, just as he himself knew he was not more than human as he had once believed, but less. His pain mean nothing because he was nothing. Less than nothing.
After all, there he was, a lab rat again. Just as he'd started out. He couldn't remember not being a lab rat from his earliest memory, and then he'd been one again. Lab rats were not by definition human. Fucking IGH Labs. The same ones who had paid dear old mum to inject chemicals into him even in her womb — he had discovered that little nugget of motherly love in the file left out when he was only seven, obviously forgotten to be put away by his parents. Paid her and his father to further experiment on him. Kept him locked away. The expression 'like a dirty secret' didn't apply to one Kevin Thompson. Kevin Thompson wasn't like a dirty secret. Kevin Thompson was a dirty secret. A dirty secret in so many ways. IGH paid good money to make it so. And little by little Kevin Thompson died in that lab. Became someone else. And then we was free to walk the earth, and oh, how powerful he'd been as Kilgrave. Until that snap of the neck and all had gone black and he's woken in IGH labs, a lab rat again, not knowing how the hell he'd gotten there.
But he wasn't there anymore. It happened so suddenly, and still the man who now kept him hadn't explained everything fully. Kilgrave suspected the withholding of information was part of his punishment. Looking back he remembered being in restraints on a gurney, even though he was still paralyzed. Now and again someone would come and inject something into his veins and into his vocal chords so he couldn't speak. They talked about him like he was just a thing, not even a person. He hated them for it. Just a lab rat again.
A tech was drawing up drugs in a syringe for him when it happened. At first it seemed the air conditioner had maybe gone wonky, blowing papers everywhere, but then there was a noise, a funny grindy-screechy noise, and there were soldiers in red berets and uniforms that said UNIT kicking doors down, and then a big blue box just appeared in his cell. Out of it came an older man and a younger one, the latter with cool blue eyes. He wore a World War II great coat and a savage expression on his handsome face. He spoke not a word, but freed Kilgrave from his restrains, lifted him from the gurney and looked at the older man.
"Doctor," said the younger man, "You sure you can do this?"
"So little faith, Jack, when did you lose faith in me?" the older man replied. "By the time I'm done with him he won't be able to tell a dog to fetch without permission from you. The question is, are you up to the task?"
"I learned some pretty tough techniques during my days as a Time Agent, Doctor. Not exactly proud of it. But it looks like I finally have a chance to put that particular skill set to good use."
"That's why we're here," said the older man. "This lab will be shut down as of tonight. This fellow isn't their only product, you know. They've done too much damage, gone too far. UNIT can take care of the super-soldiers they have here. But this fellow, he's beyond anyone's power to control. Anyone without extensive psychic training, that is. We have to get him out of here. You know how humans are, Jack. The only solution they'll see is his death, or trying to control him and weaponize him and I can't have that."
The man carried him into the blue box. He must be hallucinating at this point. The box was much bigger on the inside and crammed with strange machinery. The older man busied himself with various knobs and switches. He flicked his eyes at the younger man.
"Why are you just standing there holding him, he needs medical attention before we can psychically alter his powers, take him to the med bay." he grumbled. "The TARDIS will show you how to use the bone and neural knitter. It won't alter his powers, unfortunately. He's been changed on a genetic level. If we try to undo that damage we could kill him. The TARDIS will heal him, however."
The younger man only nodded and carried Kilgrave to another room. Another gurney and more restraints, then. Why, when he couldn't move? The man pulled a screen closer to himself and perused what he found there, afterward pulling cables and straps down from a set of hooks hanging above the gurney. He fastened the straps to various parts of Kilgrave's body. He pulled down a long cable, attached a needle to it and jammed the needle into Kilgrave's neck. He flipped a switch.
Had Kilgrave's vocal chords not been paralyzed he would have screamed a good five minutes before passing out.
When he came to he could feel a presence in his mind and knew it was the older man. Knew the older man was not, in fact a man. This was no human, Kilgrave could feel the alien-ness of him to the core of his being. The alien was in his head. In his head! As if he hadn't had enough people dicking around in there since his earliest memory, now he had a fucking alien dicking around in his head!
The alien seemed to be installing things in his mind, things like switches, and disabling other things, like disconnecting circuits or putting circuit breakers on them, installing command switches, fail-safes, on-and-off buttons. Kilgrave felt more like an appliance than a human under the power of this alien. As if being a lab-rat wasn't dehumanizing enough, now he was being fine-tuned like a machine. The alien continued installing switches and re-routing circuits in his psyche. And overlaid on each and every one were the images of the alien and the young, handsome man. Some of the switches had other faces as well, faces he'd never seen before. He tried to push the alien out but nothing happened. The alien went right on doing whatever he was doing, pausing only to send a psychic wave into Kilgrave's mind that let him know he was to keep still and take what was happening to him as the price paid for all his wrongdoing. When it was done the alien presence left his mind. It happened with a suddenness that left the impression this was not how it was usually done, as if the alien, the one the younger man had called 'Doctor', couldn't wait to get out of Kilgrave's mind, as though being in his mind had somehow dirtied and disgusted the alien.
As though to confirm this, the Doctor pulled a kerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands. "Now, then, Jack," the Doctor said, "He's healed—and quickly, too—must be something in his DNA that makes him heal better than normal humans—and able to speak now. Why don't you try a little test run, as it were. Let's see what happens. And to be honest, I just want to see the look on his face."
The younger man stepped forward and removed Kilgrave's restraints. "Get up," he said, voice even and calm. That attitude unsettled Kilgrave. These people seemed aware of his powers. They had obviously just used some sort of advanced technology to heal him. Now they were letting him up and seemed to have no fear whatsoever of his powers or so much as an inkling of what he could make them do. And they were setting him free? Stupid, stupid move.
Swinging his now working legs over the edge of the gurney, he stood up and stretched his limbs. God, it felt wonderful to be able to move.
"Thank you." he said. "Thank you so much for rescuing me from that awful place. And thank you for what can only be described as a miraculous healing you did on me. Broken neck, very unpleasant. There. Never let it be said I'm ungrateful. And now that that's out of the way, you in the coat. You're carrying a pistol, I see. Aim it at your friend's head and don't stop shooting until he's dead. After that, you'll take me back to New York. I have unfinished business with Miss Jones. Once you've taken me there, shoot yourself in the head."
The Doctor looked at the younger man and the two of them had a good laugh. After that, things really went down-hill.
"Get down on your knees," said the younger man.
And Kilgrave did. Not only did he, he felt overwhelmed by the need to do so. As if the world might just end if he didn't do as he was told. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? "What?" He looked up at the two men from his place on the floor. "How? How are you doing this? What's happening?"
"What's happening is a reversal of fortune, so to speak," said the younger man. "You don't get to control people anymore. Now you get controlled."
"But that's not...it can't..."
"Hush, now," replied the younger man. "The Doctor has put me in charge of you. I would say you're my prisoner, but you don't even rate that descriptive. More like property. My name is Jack Harkness. Captain Jack Harkness. You will address me as 'Captain' or 'Sir'. Now say 'yes, Captain'".
And the words spilled right out of Kilgrave's mouth, "Yes, Captain." An odd feeling of this both being the natural state of things as well as being overwhelmingly humiliating washed through him.
"The Doctor has decided your worthless life should be saved and we should try to bring you back into the human race. It's my job to see it done properly. You aren't going to be having much fun, Kilgrave," said the Captain. "Because to do my job, to rebuild you, I have to break you first. As confusing as this all is, the Doctor and I are both aware of your above-average intelligence. Now tell me how much you understand about what's going on."
"You aren't obeying me so I've lost my powers. But I'm compelled to obey you, so the Doctor did something to me that makes me obey you. And the two of you have decided to make me conform to normal standards of human ethical behavior. I'm now your slave."
"Oh, Kilgrave," the Captain said, a sad smile on his face. "You really are a twisted little ticket, aren't you? You got some of that right. Come here. On your knees."
Kilgrave crept closer, still looking up at the Captain, unable to look away from those icy blue eyes. Part of him wanted to rush forward like an attention-starved puppy, part of him wanted to die of embarrassment.
The Captain cupped his chin and looked into his eyes. It wasn't out of affection, but Kilgrave did sense a sort of concern. He found it puzzling. "Listen now," the Captain said. "I guess I'm expecting you to understand too much because I know how clever you are. I forget that you're also very sick. Yes, I am going to break you. But then I'll rebuild you. That's why you have to be my property. It's not so you're a slave to serve and amuse me. It's because it makes me your keeper and the one responsible for helping you to become the man you should have been to start with. It's going to be hard work for both of us. And not fun. Especially for you. I doubt you understand how much you deserve to be punished. I doubt even more you understand how much you need a second chance. Whether you deserve it or not. I got a second chance. I changed. I'm a better man than I was. And I'm going to make sure you become a better man now."
Kilgrave was robbed of any response he may have wanted to give by a thump as the thing – whatever this was he was in – shook as though it had been dropped and had landed. Kilgrave fell on his ass hard.
"Cardiff" announced the Doctor, "Thank you, Jack, for your help with this. You probably won't thank me. Or at least not for a while, anyway. I know you're up to the task. So if you would, please take this nasty bit of humanity off my ship and get to work on him, will you?"
"Consider it done, Doc," Jack grinned at the Doctor, giving him a half-salute and a naughty wink. He looked down at Kilgrave. "Thank the Doctor. And say 'sir'."
"Thank you, Sir," Kilgrave said, reacting with instant obedience. He had just thanked the alien and didn't even know what he was thanking him for, he just knew he needed to. Wanted to. Just had to.
"On your feet," the Captain ordered. Kilgrave stood. The Captain held out his hand. "When we're not in the Hub, you'll hold my hand like a child," he said. "You're under my care. Expect to be reminded of this constantly. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," Kilgrave said, taking the captain's hand. He felt a blush rising to his cheeks as he was led out of the doors and onto the grass around a fountain. "Sir, where are we going?"
"Torchwood," the Captain replied. "I call it home. You'll probably think of it as prison. At least for a very long time. Hush now, and come along."
"Yes, Sir," Kilgrave said. The Captain led him through the crowd. Kilgrave could hear a few sniggers behind him as they passed. He looked down at himself and noticed for the first time he was wearing pajamas. Pink and blue pajamas and those sock-thingies they put on you in hospitals.
"You're blushing," the Captain chuckled. "Poor baby. This isn't even a hint of a scratch on the surface, sweet cheeks. Be grateful I don't have a collar and leash on you."
Kilgrave gulped. Because no way was the Captain making a hollow joke with that remark, As humiliating as it was to have to hold the Captain's hand, he gripped it a little tighter as with each step he took, his heart sank a little closer to his feet.
A kind of numbness had set in completely different from that of being paralyzed. In the back of his mind he was screaming to pull away and run. But overlaying that sat a deep-rooted fear of letting go of the Captain's hand. Of relinquishing control. He remembered a time when he was very small watching a rabbit in the lab that had just been injected with one of the drugs Mom and Dad had been developing for him. The rabbit had scurried about its cage in a panic, slamming against the wire in a bid to escape until its head had been a bloody mess. Was he that rabbit now?
The Captain led him across a plas and onto a walk in front of a tower where water flowed in a silvery sheet. He was stood on one of the paving stones and felt his body jolt as it sank. It was taking them – where? He looked about, unconsciously moving closer to the Captain. He looked about as they reached their destination. This was, what? Some kind of subterranean...oh God, not another lab, please! It was dark in here and hard to tell what kind of place this was, and the Captain wasn't being forthcoming. His hand was released. Somehow he didn't want to let go, though. The Captain pried his fingers loose. His upper arm was grabbed instead and Kilgrave got a taste of how strong the Captain's hands were. He was pulled and pushed until they were in a small office. The Captain guided him around a desk and forced him to the floor.
"Stay there," he snapped. "That's your place, at my feet. You don't move until I say so. Not to eat, drink or go to the toilet. You do nothing without my express permission. I'm only going to control you by compelling you for so long. Because that's too easy. You're going to do this the hard way. You'll learn to do as I say not because I psychically compel you to do so. You'll do it because you're mine to command and to care for. Say goodbye to the old Kilgrave. It's going to hurt, feeling the old you die an inch at a time. I won't make it all bad, mind you. You are kind of cute. And you do look good in purple. I like purple. Let's hope you don't have to have too many bruises that color because I won't hesitate to give them to you."
He sat on the freezing floor at the Captain's feet in silence as he'd been told. His legs got crampy and his back hurt, so he moved around a little, but not too much. The Captain, for his part, ignored him, going through files on his computer. Some of them were from his own childhood, though how the Captain had acquired a copy was a mystery. An amused glance from those blue eyes showed the Captain must know what he was thinking. But the only explanation Kilgrave got was, "We're Torchwood." Kilgrave was held by that steady gaze for a few moments. "Time for you to stand up and have a stretch and a drink of water and go to the toilet."
He groaned with pleasure as he stood and stretched. "Thank you, Sir," he sighed. Wait, what was that?
The Captain had noticed it, too. One brow rose in amusement. "I didn't compel you to say that. Why did you thank me?"
Kilgrave drew a blank. Unable to answer, he looked at his feet.
"Come on now, answer me. And look at me when I'm talking to you. Don't make me compel you. And don't make me force you."
But Kilgrave couldn't make himself raise his eyes. A confusing whirl of emotions fluttered inside him, near-dizzying in its intensity. He heard footsteps, felt a strong hand grasp his face, forcing him to look at his captor.
"I said answer me, and when I say look at me when I'm talking to you I mean it. Do not disobey me again." There was a cool anger in the Captain's expression now. Kilgrave swallowed. He was thirsty, and his throat clicked.
"I, well, Sir, I'm not exactly sure, I just...usually I would," he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. He'd almost said 'usually I would have told you to walk off a building or go kill your best friend' but he didn't think it wise to be so forthcoming just now. Yet there was an honest answer. And Kilgrave somehow knew the Captain would sniff out dishonestly like a bloodhound. Best to be as truthful as possible then. After all the Captain did have the power to compel him to tell the truth anyway. "It's just that it's so cold on the floor and I was hurting from staying in the same position so long and I was listening to the recording you were playing from when I was a child and when you turned it off and said I could get up I felt so much relief so I just...I was grateful, Sir."
"There's more to it than that," said the Captain, releasing the hold on his face. Kilgrave could have looked away but couldn't bring himself to. The Captain now wore a half-wry, half grim expression. "You just can't see it yet. But you will. Come on, toilet's this way. And yes, I'll be watching your every move for quite a while. Get used to it."
The temptation to balk was there, but his bladder practically sang to be emptied. "Yes, Sir," he said, voice now hoarse with thirst. And it was embarrassing. Horribly so. Still, he'd been raised in a lab. No privacy there, either. He would have to find a way out of all this, but for now...
"Come on," the Captain said as Kilgrave tucked himself back into his pajamas. "Let's get you hydrated and measured for clothes."
He was taken out into the larger area of what the Captain called 'the Hub'. There he met a man, introduced as Ianto Jones and instructed to address as Mr. Jones, and a woman called Gwen Cooper whom he was to address as Mrs. Cooper. He was to show them respect at all times upon pain of punishment, but wasn't told what that punishment would be.
They glared at him as if he were a diseased rat. The woman in particular gave him venomous looks. The Captain reacted with a cool "Later, conference room." He was led to a small kitchen and given a glass of water which he drank quickly until the Captain took it from him. "Slow down," he said. You'll make yourself sick. Take sips. Sit." He indicated a chair at a table. The Captain made himself a cup of coffee, then a cup of tea and handed the tea to Kilgrave. "After today you'll be doing this for me. You'll make my coffee. You'll bring it to me. You'll prepare my meals. You'll do the cleaning. You'll do whatever the team needs you to do including cleaning up after the weevils and Myfanwy. You'll be doing a lot of things. All of it's for a reason. Ianto! Tape measure, please. If I have to be around this little shit all the time at least he's got to look nice."
So after he was allowed to finish his tea Mr. Jones more or less snatched him up by his upper arm and measured him. It was done roughly and coldly, not as a tailor would do so. He felt more like livestock being fitted for a harness.
The Captain led him about the Hub after that. Not all of it. "I'm saving the cells with the weevils for later," he said. This with a slightly sadistic smile. "There's where we keep the cleaning supplies. You'll be using them daily. The kitchen will be kept spotless or Mr. Jones will make you sorry, and he's very picky, so do a good job. That's called a rift manipulator. Don't touch it. It's extremely dangerous. Laundry room. You'll be doing my laundry. Down there is where we'll be sleeping. You'll keep it tidy, too. A word about my coat. Take special care of it. Brush it daily. Check the buttons. If any are loose, I'll give you a needle and thread so you can tighten them up. You will polish my boots. You will..."
And on and on and on. He had to get out of this some way. Manipulation, rebellion, whatever it took. He couldn't live like this!
When the clothing came he was taken down a manhole—the Captain's sleeping quarters which, he was told, they would be sharing—and shown where to keep his attire. As the items were taken out he couldn't miss the fact that each one was the same. The same purple jeans, the same plain purple tee, the same purple jumper, purple socks and two pairs or purple...converse? Really? The Captain didn't even allow him the dignity of undressing himself and putting on his new clothing. Instead, he had to be undressed and dressed like a doll or a child. Kilgrave could feel the fury in him rising and squelched it down. Not yet. He wasn't on firm footing. He knew nothing about these people or his surroundings and was in the custody of a man capable of compelling him to do anything he pleased, and who had also threatened to beat the shit out of him. But his time would come. Oh, yes.
He was led back out to the main area where the Captain paraded him him before the others, smirking. The woman giggled. "Ianto, you did that deliberately, didn't you? Not just tight jeans, but stretchy ones that show everything he's got?"
"Wait until he stoops to pick up rubbish from the floor."
The woman wadded up a piece of paper and tossed it on the floor. "Oops," she said. "Oh, dear. I guess you'd better pick that up, then."
Kilgrave knew they could see the displeasure on his face since they all had a good laugh. He crossed his arms and glared.
"Do as she says," the Captain barked. And this time he was compelled. Well, then, the Captain had meant what he said about obeying them all. It was obey them on his own or obey by compulsion. The odd desire to please overcame him again. He wanted to please the woman and now felt unhappy he had denied her.
When he bent to pick up the paper they all hooted and whistled. As he stood back up the Captain gave his ass a slap. "Now, see?" he said to the others. "It's not going to be all bad. For us, anyway."
Great. Just great. So he was what? Going to be a sex toy, too? Well, it was what he deserved, he supposed, according to some.
He felt his cheeks burn with the humiliation and bit his lower lip with frustration. The Captain ordered him to follow and they went back to his office, and then it was to sit back down on the ice cold floor while his belly cried out for something to eat. He supposed he would be fed in good time. But for now, all he could do was sit shivering on the cold floor in misery and wish he was dead.