A/N: Hiya! Well, I was trying to wait a bit until the site scraped together its own individual fandom for Jessica Jones, but it hasn't happened yet. So I wanted to go ahead and post this. Hope you all like it! I chose romance because that's honestly how Kilgrave thinks of Jessica.

ENJOY!

- Alyssa

A Little Distraction

She wasn't Jessica.

No, no, no... Not even in the slightest. In all truthfulness, the two were about as similar as concrete was to ice. That was to say, while ice was indeed solid like concrete, it was an illusion. The ice would melt rather quickly given the opportunity, and it would shatter under a fraction of the force needed to break concrete. Jessica was concrete - strong, delightfully unyielding. And conversely, this woman was ice - similar in only the most basic of ways. Not his Jessica at all.

But she did look like her.

At a first glance, perhaps one would not draw the same conclusions as he had. The woman had a dull blonde, clearly dyed, color for hair - very boring, so much so that he nearly passed her by without a second glance - and she wore a bright, floral-print, shapeless eyesore she considered a dress. Even Jessica's fashion sense was not so atrocious (though hers was rather awful too). Quite astounding really. However, most people were not he. Where they would see to total opposites, he saw potential. He rather liked potential, more so making use of it. You see, though the similarities between the two were easy to miss, they were clear to him. Every night and every day, he saw her face in the depths of his mind, so deeply embedded in his very being that he could not hope to escape her, not that he would really want to anyway. Therefore, when he noticed the delicate swoop of her nose, the clear porcelain skin, the shadowy brown eyes, Jessica's own face flashed through his mind at once, overlapping with the image of the girl before him. A second look told him that she was relatively the same height and size as well...

He wanted Jessica. A foreign feeling to him. For so a long time, he had been given every single thing he ever asked for, and there was no need for such a thing as wanting. That was what made Jessica so special to him. Quite literally, she made him feel things he never had before, and he had to have her for it. However, the time wasn't right for that. As of now, Jessica wasn't ready to come to him. She would be, obviously. But not yet. Good things to those who wait and all that.

And with that in mind, it was decided for him. She would do (even though she really wouldn't at all).

With an air of casual confidence, he waited with his hands in his pockets for the light to change before crossing the street. She was sitting in a window booth of a small coffee-shop, her legs crossed at the ankles as she tapped away at the computer sitting on the table in front of her. As he stepped through the door to the coffee shop, a bell tinkled overhead, and a rush of noise from the other customers flooded him, making him frown in irritation. If that got any worse, he would do something about it, you could believe that.

The imitation was so engrossed in whatever little project she was working on that she didn't even notice him until he slid into the seat across from her. Startled, her eyes shot up to him, her fingers finally ceasing that incessant tap, tap, tapping. When she didn't recognize him though, she narrowed her eyes, a frown settling into place. "I'm busy right now in case you haven't noticed," she snarked, nose wrinkling with disdain. "I don't have time for whatever it is you want, and no I don't want another coffee and especially don't need you to buy it for me." Her voice was pitched higher than Jessica's, but it did carry the slight nasally quality to it as well as the accent so prominent in the area. Close enough (but again, never really close enough. There was no one who compared to Jessica in his opinion).

Ignoring her dismissal, he tilted his head back just the slightest, staring at her as though she were a sort of puzzle that needed to be worked out. He crossed his ankle over his knee, leaning back in his seat. "What's your name?" he questioned, watching as her mind worked out the order he'd given.

"Annabeth," she replied, expression calm and placating, all traces of her earlier impatience missing.

"No it's not. Your name is Jessica."

"Okay," she agreed without a hint of hesitation.

See now, he was a little bit hesitant here.. Because she wasn't really Jessica, and that meant she wasn't really deserving of his favorite girl's name. The words had come out before he could stop them, and while he could take them back, he was trying to work out if that was what he really wanted to do. Finally, he gave a shrug of his shoulders and shot the imitation a little carefree half-grin. "Something to decide later, I suppose," he told her.

Glancing at his phone, he checked the time. 9:53 A.M. This little distraction had put him behind schedule for the day, but as far as distractions went, it was at least a pleasant one. He turned his eyes back up at the woman again, eyeing her hair disdainfully. Something would have to be done about that too if he was to get the full affect out of all of this. But first, he needed to meet with his photographer. Considering how keen he was on punctuality, it wouldn't do to be late. After, though, was a different story. There wasn't much to be done this afternoon, so he had plenty of time to enjoy this to his heart's content. And he very much planned on doing just that.

Without wasting another moment, he rose from the seat, sniffing. "Right. Let's go then, shall we?" The imitation moved to follow him, a blank look on her face. Frowning in irritation as he watched her, he snapped, "Give us a happy look. None of that plastic doll shit." A smile of genuine happiness pulled at the corners of her mouth, and the irritation from his own expression soothed just as quickly. "There. That's much better, don't you think?"

"Yes, definitely," the imitation agreed, her brown eyes, so similar but not quite enough so to his Jessica's. If he closed his eyes, he might even believe it. As she shifted under his scrutiny, several locks of gently waving dully blonde hair brushed across her collar bone. That really was gonna nag him until he fixed it...

No time like the present.

"Go to the nearest hair salon and dye your hair black," he told her as his eyes flickered back down to her clothing. "And get rid of that damned awful dress." Pulling out one of the pictures of Jessica he had received already, he added, "Find something like this, and meet me in Central Park by one this afternoon. If you're late by even a minute, try to claw your way through the sidewalk."

Of course, the imitation didn't protest, didn't hesitate to comply, not a flicker of, well, anything really in her eyes. Nothing beyond compliance at any rate. There was that whole ice and concrete thing again. Jessica managed to ignore him... The first and only. No one would ever compare to her. Never. But that didn't mean one couldn't have a little imagination about the whole thing. He grinned to himself with the thought, the edges of his mouth curling in self-satisfaction.

Yes, even he could do with a distraction every now and again.

~}0{~