Hi guys, sorry again for the delay with this update, and sorry that it's a shorter chapter. Once again, I have been demotivated and utterly distracted. I hope you're all safe and well.

Black lives matter. Love and support LGBTQ+ people. Wear a mask. Try and have some empathy in this shitshow of a world.

Unexpected Developments

Jessica stands in the darkness of her apartment, the light from her laptop screen too dim to illuminate the room, and stares down at her printer with unfocused eyes. Photographs are slipping out of the machine onto the desk it sits on, documenting yet another affair for yet another heartbroken client. The whiskey glass held loosely in her fingers has been refilled more times than she cares to count, but she thinks that when she finally drags herself to her bedroom, the alcohol will allow for a fairly instantaneous transition into unconsciousness - sometimes that's all she can hope for in a day.

For whatever reason, work has been drying up a little in the last couple of weeks. She's only had a couple of clients, both with easy enough needs to meet, but once she hands over these images and receives payment, she'll be officially client-less. Maybe it's because more people have seen who she associated herself with the day of the attack, or maybe it's because word has spread after she attacked the asshole in Stark's lobby - either way, it means she's going to have to go to Hogarth and actively seek out a case, and asking that kind of thing of Hogarth always leaves a sour taste in her mouth. If Hogarth didn't benefit so much from Jessica's favours, she'd have most likely found a way to fuck Jessica over by now.

The printer churns out the last photograph and Jessica licks her lips, tasting the whiskey lingering on her skin. She gathers the photos and walks back to her desk, setting the empty glass down with a dull thud so that she can pick up a brown packet and slip the photos inside. The packet drops to the desk again, her hands reaching to run her fingers through her hair as she lets out a heavy sigh.

She has felt mildly on edge since the day she lashed out at that guy in Stark's lobby, the whispers coming insistently and especially cruel no matter how many times she mutters her stupid mantra. The shadows press heavier around her mind and threaten to drag her into them and never let her go again, but she has an issue with admitting these kinds of things, hence the absence of light in the apartment despite the suffocating darkness she's entombed in. So maybe she's extra jumpy, maybe she's had to catch herself a couple of times before literally, verbally responding to the whispered insults and threats, and maybe she's closed herself off more than usual so that she doesn't let anyone see the mess her mind is in, but at least- at least..

So maybe her life is just all angst and paranoia and self-loathing right now and there's not a single thing to claim as the silver lining. Whatever.

She slumps into her chair, pours another glass of whiskey - because what's another one glass going to do on top of the ten others she's already had? - and pulls her laptop closer to email her client that she's got everything he asked for.

The delay in the letters appearing on the screen after she types them is the only warning she gets before her laptop is commandeered and she suddenly has a face-full of an Iron Man helmet.

"God damnit," she mutters irritably, instantly hitting escape and trying to move the cursor around to find a way to close the video.

But Stark has taken complete control, apparently.

"Whatcha doin'?" his voice chirps from somewhere behind the helmet.

Jessica hits the escape key a few more times - fruitlessly, but the motion relieves some of her aggression nonetheless - and glares at the dirty fingers gripping the metal face in front of his camera. He must be working on something at the back of the helmet, but she's nowhere near interested in any of it. It's past midnight and she really does not have the energy to deal with him right now, but she had wanted to sit on her laptop for another while yet to at least finish the email to her client.

"Jones?" Stark sing-songs questioningly, though still remaining unseen behind the helmet.

Screw it - she can access her emails on her phone instead.

The snap of the laptop closing resonates gratifyingly deep within her soul. She lifts her whiskey glass to her smirking lips and reaches for her phone, but as soon as she opens the mail app, the screen is overrun by a video call from Stark.

She rejects the call.

She makes it to her drafts folder and has just tapped the email she'd started when he calls again.

She rejects it. Again.

Her fingers tap loudly against the screen, tense with irritation.

She has one fucking word left to type when he calls again.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something, here," she snaps as soon as the video loads.

The helmet is still at the forefront of the scene, Stark's head still hidden behind it - not that she's looking for his face or anything. Or, actually, maybe she is, because he's attractive enough to make the intrusion something nearly - but not completely - worth tolerating. Not enjoyable or welcome, but tolerable.

"Have I told you that your voice is like music to my ears?"

"I'm trying to work, Stark," she intones, a hand lifting to rub at her face.

"Alright, okay, you can have your laptop back," he concedes.

Jessica opens it up again to find that she is, indeed, back in control. But her eyes narrow at her phone screen. "Just my laptop?" she asks, even though she knows the answer.

"Well, it's rude to hang up on people," he muses, "And I'm a very tenacious person."

"So, if I hang up on you now, you're gonna keep harassing me," she translates.

"Is 'harassing' really the word you wanna use? I'm not sure if you're aware, but it has some pretty unfavourable connotations."

Jessica's lips twitch as she finishes off her email on her laptop. "It's not my fault those connotations match up with a lot of your characteristics."

"You're lucky I don't have a kink for leather-clad, grumpy-faced, strong-armed women constantly insulting me on a day-to-day basis."

"I'd believe that if you weren't constantly pissing me off," she retorts. Then her face scrunches indignantly. "Besides, I haven't spoken to you in a week, so it's not every day. If you can't handle an insult once a week then-"

"Yeah, what's with that, by the way?" he cuts in. "I thought you'd have swung by today."

"You trying to tell me you missed me?" she scoffs.

"I just wondered whether the psycho client had finally decided that if he couldn't have you then he'd just have to kill you."

The helmet clunks noisily against the surface he's working on when he lowers it, bringing his face into view. He blinks and draws his chin closer to his neck, an eyebrow quirking in confusion when he looks at whatever screen her video is displayed on.

"Alright, what am I lookin' at, here? Have you actually been kidnapped?"

Jessica smirks at the phone lying on her desk, pointing up at her ceiling. "No."

She watches as he leans forward and squints at the screen, his mouth curling with something that looks an awful lot like distaste. "Is this your apartment? Are you seriously sitting in the dark? That's a little overdramatic, even for you."

She tilts her head to the side and leans back in her chair, taking another sip from her glass. There's something almost calming about this set-up, where she can observe and irritate him whilst remaining hidden and unreadable.

"I don't like this. This isn't fun for me. Don't you wanna show me your face to reassure me that you've not been kidnapped or killed by your obsessive client?"

"I haven't been kidnapped or killed. That should be enough for you. Are you done?"

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, scowling like a child being refused a toy. "You're doing your face a disservice," he claims.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she frowns, leaning back towards her laptop even though her eyes remain focused on her phone.

"Well, it's a very admirable face. It deserves to be admired. You're not letting it be admired. Ergo, a disservice."

"You're ridiculous," she mutters, finally looking back to her laptop.

"Your face is ridiculous."

"Do you need something, Stark?" she asks sharply.

A glance at her phone shows his shit-eating grin, and she purses her lips and clenches her jaw to put a stop to the amused smile that threatens to break.

"Alright, all jokes aside, I really was expecting you to come by after King had visited."

Jessica takes a deep breath and rolls her shoulders back. "I probably would've," she admits. "If he'd shown."

Stark frowns gently and leans back in his chair, his fingers playing with a small tool. "Well, that's an interesting and unexpected development," he mutters. "You sure you didn't murder him?"

"Pretty sure," she intones, sending a flat glance at her phone.

"He hasn't contacted you at all?"

"No. I tailed him a few times through the week and nothing seemed different. I dunno what happened," she answers, frowning.

Stark sighs dramatically and leans his head back, exposing his throat. "Maybe he's found a new woman to stalk since you didn't show any interest in him. Or, maybe you did, and since the thrill of the chase is gone, he's gotten bored."

Jessica lifts her gaze from where she'd been watching his Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke, scowling when she registers his words. "I didn't show any interest," she denies irritably. "And that's not what was going on, anyway." She slumps against the back of her chair, sighing. "Maybe he realised I was talking to you and got spooked."

Stark spins his chair in a circle idly, still fiddling with the tool in his hands and letting his head hang back behind his shoulders. "What're you gonna do when he breaks into your apartment in the middle of the night to kidnap you?"

Jessica scoffs. "It's nearly 1am, Stark. And, anyway, he-"

"Yeah, you're right. He'll know your sleep pattern is all kinds of fucked up by now. What's the equivalent of the middle of the night for you, then? 6am?"

"He's not gonna-"

"Y'know, you could always use one of the unnecessarily-many bedrooms I have in this place to hide out so he can't kidnap you."

"He wont-"

"Unless you want him to kidnap you - is that the angle you're playing? I have to tell you, Jones, it's not the best plan I've heard, even if-"

"Jesus christ, shut up," Jessica groans, leaning forward onto the desk again.

She picks her phone up to hold it in front of her face, scowling at the video. Stark's chair spins round to bring him facing his desk again and he lifts his head up, lips pursed in an expression that exudes how distinctly unimpressed he is with the interruption. But then his gaze lands on the screen and a smug smirk stretches his lips into his cheek. He tilts forward in his chair to lean his elbows on his desk and prop his chin on his hands.

"There she is," he says quietly, eyes bright with amusement.

Jessica's teeth bite into each other as she attempts a deep, calming breath. She blames the alcohol corrupting her system for entertaining him for this long. "You infuriate me," she mutters, almost by accident.

He grins, all charming and relaxed and genuine, his teeth flashing and eyes crinkling, and she bites back an answering smile. The alcohol is definitely working against her tonight.

"You should probably have JARVIS keep an eye out for any stories," she says.

Stark's grin drops when he rolls his eyes. "I'm tellin' you, this guy wasn't interested in me. It was you he was focused on."

Jessica licks her lips on a sharp, frustrated inhale. "Then why didn't he show up today?" she challenges.

"He's working on a nefarious plan to kidnap and seduce you."

Jessica's face twists uncomfortably before she can hide it, and the playfulness in Stark's expression instantly sombers. Her eye twitches when a particularly insistent whisper ghosts across the nape of her neck. Stark's mouth closes tightly, the skin on his forehead scrunching, and she sees the regret in his soft gaze.

"Jones-"

"Look, just watch out for anything that might be King. I'll let you know if I come across anything," she mutters, her skin crawling with discomfort and paranoia.

She sees his jaw clench for a beat, his brow furrowing harshly. But then he nods and she ends the call, watching as his face and lab disappears and is replaced by the now-completed email she was working on before.

The darkness presses in around her again, eliminating any kind of positive feelings the brief conversation attempted to give her, and she reminds herself that there are no silver linings in her life right now. Positivity isn't consistent and is too easily suffocated by the paranoia and trauma and darkness to be of any use.

The fact that she's disappointed that Stark's banter can't act as a silver lining is certainly, as he said, an unexpected development.

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Over the next few days, there is a distinct lack of break-ins and attempted kidnappings performed by Thomas King, and she hasn't found any signs of him trying to leak the story about embezzlement to tarnish Stark's reputation. Jessica continues to feel on-edge and paranoid, and eventually, after nearly attacking a random guy when he bumped into her on the street and her mind instantly panicked that he was out to get her, she decides to track King down and confront him. She's had enough of speculating and arguing about intentions with Stark. The billionaire himself hasn't attempted to make any contact since their last talk turned dark, which Jessica is grateful for, but she's now also speculating about how much Stark has been able to piece together about her and her past from her behaviour and reactions, and it's doing nothing to ease her tension.

She reminds herself of all this when she finally sees Thomas King share a cheerful goodbye with his work colleague and step onto the sidewalk to head home for the day. Her skin is crawling with discomfort, having watched him converse animatedly with his colleague for the last ten minutes in a completely unsettling contrast to how he has behaved around Jessica the two times he came to her office. His movements have been relaxed and open, his expression morphing genuinely according to the sentiments of the conversation, and it's almost enough for her already-paranoid mind to question whether she'd just imagined the cold rigidity of his delivery in her conversations with him, because he seems like a completely different person.

There's a particularly quiet street that Jessica knows he walks down between his work and apartment, a street with a particularly secluded alleyway with a convenient lack of natural light. She follows him at a reasonable distance until they finally come across the quiet street, and then she stalks forward quickly to catch up to him at the mouth of the alley.

"What the hell are you-" he demands when she grabs at the back of his jacket and shoves him into the alleyway. He stumbles and turns to throw an incredulous look at her, but the confusion morphs into sheer panic when he realises who she is. "Oh god," he chokes out, tripping over his feet as he hurries away from her and helpfully further into the alley.

"Hey, Tommy," she bites out, striding after him to encourage him deeper into the shadows. "Where have you been? You missed our weekly appointment."

He pauses for a fraction of a second, and the glance he throws over her shoulder gives her plenty of warning before he springs forward and attempts to dart past her. She catches him by the lapels of his suit jacket and pushes him backwards until he slams against the wall behind him, and his cry of pain when his head hits the bricks makes her purse her lips with frustration. She hadn't expected to be so uncontrolled with him; she'll need to be extra careful.

His hand snatches up to try and push her away but she grabs him at the wrist, her other arm bending at the elbow to press her forearm over his throat warningly.

So much for control.

"Stop moving," she grinds out. "Or I'll break your wrist."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" he whimpers, face crumpling with fear and pain.

Jessica scowls, confused. "Why didn't you come by my office the other day?" she snaps.

"I'm just- I wasn't interested anymore," he stutters, his free hand raised at his side in a placating manner, palm facing her and fingers spread wide. "I didn't need the information!"

Jessica's mouth twists. "You gave me all that money just to lose interest?"

"I swear! I swear I don't need the information anymore, please don't hurt me!"

Jessica stares hard at him, trying to read his expression - but how accurate are her impressions going to be when he was able to act like a whole other person in her office?

"Why did you want it in the first place?" she asks, pressing harder into his neck.

"I didn't- I- you-" he stumbles, eyes glassy with fearful tears.

"Don't bullshit me," she snaps.

"Someone made me do it!" he cries out, squeezing his eyes shut after as if frustrated with himself.

Jessica frowns at him. "What? Who?"

"I- I don't know, I can't- they-"

"Did you tell them about the embezzlement?" she cuts in, her voice harsh.

"No, no, I didn't tell them anything you told me, I swear!"

Confusion and anger swirl in Jessica's chest. "Then what'd they want?" she scowls.

"I- I'm sorry, okay? They made me do it! They made me go to you!" he cries.

"Why?" she snaps, impatient. "Who made you?"

His eyes bulge in his head, his expression twisting desperately. "I can't tell you, I can't tell you!" he sobs, and now his free hand is grabbing at her arm.

Jessica's fingers tighten around his wrist, her heart hammering in her chest. The whispers are crawling up her neck and reaching for her ears, her vision pulsing with her rage and paranoia.

"You're gonna tell me what they wanted with Stark or I swear to god I'm gonna-" she's hissing, but a voice from the mouth of the alley cuts through the tension.

"Hey!"

Jessica growls out a noise of utter frustration and drops her hold on King, her teeth biting into each other painfully when the man takes the opportunity to flee from her back towards the street, cradling his wrist to his chest. The civilian at the entrance of the alley reaches out for King to try and help him, but he just shoves past the man and runs off.

Jessica uses the civilian's moment of distraction to stalk over to a door further down the alley, pressing her shoulder against it and shoving with some extra strength to break it open. She steps inside the dark corridor and shuts the door behind her again, glancing around with wide eyes until she figures she's in an apartment building. She finds her way to the street-side entrance and pushes out into the crowd of pedestrians, marching without a destination in mind until she puts a good enough distance between herself and the scene.

Her shoulders and neck are rigid with tension, her heart still thumping noisily in her ears, her breathing sharp and ragged. She doesn't care how she looks to the people around her - she needs to say her mantra.

"Main Street. Birch Street-" she bites out, fists clenched at her sides.

The people within earshot avidly avoid eye contact and give her a wide berth.

"-Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane," she breathes, hands slowly relaxing.

She focuses on inhaling and exhaling, letting the steady thumping of her footsteps create a rhythm to latch onto so she doesn't feel like she's flailing helplessly into a black hole of terror and rage. And, for the first time in years, Jessica finds herself wishing she could leap into the open sky and fly off to escape the claustrophobic clutches of paranoia.

Yet another unexpected development to completely and utterly ignore.

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Tony is stood at one of his desks, arms crossed over his chest as he peruses the different projects his Research and Development department are working on at the moment, and resolutely not looking over at Bruce working away on his own project a few desks over. The timid alter ego of the green rage-monster had arrived a couple of hours ago, allowed entrance by Tony's traitorous technological butler, and claimed he was only there for a simple change of scenery. Tony knew better, of course, and has since seen Bruce send off a not-so-discreet text to someone he imagines was likely Rogers or Romanoff, or both, just to prove his own, unspoken point.

Addressing the real reason Bruce is here would open the conversation up to pity and those looks that Tony hates and it all just makes him feel like a toddler that needs babysitting and he doesn't need them trying and failing to understand.

And, on top of it all, it's the third consecutive day that he has not settled on an appropriate text to send Jessica after he clearly struck a nerve the last time they spoke. He'd been constructing the latest attempt at a draft when Bruce had shown up, and he figured focusing his attention on the work of his company's most interesting department would be a decent distraction.

While Bruce's presence is nice in its own way, and Tony admittedly enjoyed the brief banter they shared before both getting to work, it also puts him slightly on edge because of what it means. Because it means that Tony is viewed as a liability, as someone who can't be trusted alone in case he self-destructs - and, yes, fine, maybe those assumptions aren't completely inaccurate; but it still makes him feel like shit.

And when his phone starts vibrating on the desk and the words The Not-Avenger Avenger flash up on his screen, Bruce's presence threatens to expose Tony's newfound camaraderie with a woman everyone else thinks hasn't been seen or heard from since the attack.

He snatches his phone up and answers the call anyway - because Jessica is phoning him and he can't imagine what sort of situation she'd have to be in before she initiated contact like that.

"Hey, you alright?" he asks as soon as he answers, turning his back to Bruce but catching the man's glance in the reflection of his glass walls anyway.

"I just cornered King," she answers.

He can hear the noise of the city in the background, cars honking and civilians chattering and shouting, but her voice is all he can focus on. It's tight with tension and anger, and he has to stop himself from demanding JARVIS find her location in front of Bruce.

"What happened?" he asks instead.

"Someone put him up to it," she says stiffly. "Wouldn't tell me who, or why."

Tony frowns. "Did he say why he didn't come see you?"

"He said it's because he's not interested and doesn't need the information anymore."

"But you think he's lying."

"I know he's lying. Someone wanted that information and now they don't. Maybe it's because they figured out I was telling you everything, I dunno, but maybe something bigger's going on."

"Maybe it was never about the information," he says, and he fully believes it, even if he's been joking about it to her the past couple weeks.

"No, don't-" she cuts in, an almost pleading note in her voice that has his body tensing. "Listen, I dunno what's going on and I dunno if I'm gonna be able to find out. You need to get JARVIS to keep an eye on King in case this secret puppeteer kills him or something so he doesn't tell us everything."

"Where are you? Are you still with him? We could bring him here-"

"Some fucking do-gooder interrupted our little talk," she spits out. The malice in her voice settles uncomfortably cold in his chest. "He's gonna be looking out for me, now."

"You want me to-"

"No," she says quickly. "No, just- let me handle it."

Tony purses his lips and sighs harshly through his nose. "You know you don't need to do it alone," he says quietly.

"Just get JARVIS to monitor him, his calls, whatever. I'll keep tailing him. If I can get him alone again, I'll get him to talk."

"Right, because that doesn't sound ominous, like, at all," he bites out, frustrated.

"We don't know what's actually going on here, Stark," she retorts. "The sooner we find out, the better."

"Yeah? And what if you're playing right into this big plan?" he challenges, gesturing a hand irritably.

"Then I'll find whoever's behind it and break their legs."

He huffs out another frustrated breath, lifting his hand to press against his forehead as he squeezes his eyes shut. "You don't think they'll be prepared for that kind of attitude?"

"They're after you, not me."

"They specifically went to you," he grinds out, eyes now blown wide with annoyance. Why can't she see that she's the most likely target here?

"Yeah, because they thought I hated you," she counters impatiently. "And now they must've figured out that I've been telling you everything, so they've backed off and might try a different angle."

"And you don't think a different angle might involve-"

"I'm the goddamn PI, Stark," she snaps. "You focus on keeping vigilant and I'll do the legwork and detective shit, alright?"

And she hangs up before he can argue any further.

"Damnit," he mutters, body tense with agitation, as he drops the phone to his hip and lifts his free hand to rub at his face.

"You alright?" Bruce's voice echoes tentatively.

Tony rolls his shoulders back and starts a brisk walk towards the door. "Feel free to stay as long as you like, bud," he says over his shoulder, risking a glance at Bruce's concerned expression. "You can see yourself out, right?"

"Tony, who was-"

"Great to see you, pal!" he calls as he pushes through the door. "Really. Come back soon!"

He marches towards the lift at the end of the hallway, face twisting at the emotions burning in his chest. He doesn't fully understand what's going on with Jessica, what she's dealing with, but he knows that it's been ramped up a notch the past couple of weeks, and he can't shake the feeling that it's going to build to a crescendo of destructive proportions. And, yeah, sue him, he's concerned that Jessica's going to wind up getting herself hurt in the process.

When he's safely in the lift, JARVIS speaks up. "Sir, shall I set up extra precautions and enquiries as Miss Jones suggested?"

Tony sucks his teeth for a moment. "Sure, whatever," he mutters finally. "But I think it's time we infringed on Miss Jones' privacy a little, too."

"Sir?"

He tuts irritably at himself, knowing she'd likely kill him if she found out. "I wanna find a CCTV camera that can sit on her apartment - if there isn't one, make one - and monitor her phone for any indications of foul play."

"Do you believe she's in danger?"

Tony's fists clench. "I dunno. But I'll be damned if I stand back and let her risk it."

He remembers the way she said that the puppeteer thought she hated him, as if the truth is the opposite, as if she doesn't just not hate him, but she actually likes him. And isn't that an unexpected development in their relationship.

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Lucky Strike's alter ego: sorry you've had to wait a bit longer for this update than last time, but thank you for your supportive words, I appreciated them a lot. I'm really glad you're enjoying this pairing! I'm still working out how everything's going to go down with Kilgrave now that Jessica's part of the MCU, but I'll just say that it definitely diverts from her Netflix story! Hope you enjoy x

Hearteyesmf: thank you again for your continued support, I love you! I hope this chapter added to the tension some more and I hope when Kilgrave shows up (likely quite soon..) that I manage to do the moment justice!