It's been almost a month since I last updated and I am very sorry about that! I'm not able to procrastinate at work and write anymore because now I'm in the episodes and need to have them playing while I'm writing to make sure I'm getting scenes right and keeping track of the plot etc. I've also been trying to enjoy the sunny weather when it's deigned to show itself since it's so infrequent, and the travel restrictions in Scotland let off earlier than expected so I've been able to go home and see my mum after four months and have a distanced catch-up with friends outside of my region, and it's all been very lovely and very much needed. (Also I've become completely obsessed with Dimension20 and it's very hard for me to divert my attention in the evenings from that lol whoops..)

I hope all of you guys are doing well and keeping healthy! Also hope you enjoy this chapter and the Tony POV x

Crush Syndrome

Tony is an impulsive, impatient, and reckless person. He knows that. Was it made worse by getting kidnapped and imprisoned in a cave without daylight, surviving on a car battery with a threat of execution on his head? Probably. And was it then made worse by the thing he made to save his life slowly killing him unless he magically created a new element to fix everything? Sure. And then again by the whole near-sacrificial-death-by-nuke-through-a-giant-space-portal-during-an-alien-invasion thing? Without a fucking doubt. It's why he dove into new suit designs, it's why he ignored the King problem when it seemed to target him and then hyper-fixated on it when it seemed to target Jessica, and it's why he has covertly added some security measures to her life that she'll for sure thank him for some day, but probably not right now.

But, all things considered, Tony would like to think that he's actually done a pretty - relatively - good job maintaining some semblance of control over his impulsivity and recklessness. He could have gone to SHIELD, who must know something about Jessica's past to have flagged her as a potential Avenger, and stolen all their information on her. He could have had JARVIS hack into some police records for whatever incident it is that haunts Jessica and must be related to whatever's going on now. He could have been watching her every move since King died - instead of an estimated 70%. It might not sound like much, but it is an honest achievement for him. It's been a fucking trial, holding himself back from completely overhauling the situation, but he's done it. Because Jessica keeps begging and, even if it makes him more insistently curious with each desperate plea, it does give him pause whenever he realises he's crossing a line. Not that he hasn't already crossed several.

He's pretty sure the three close friends he has would rather laugh themselves to death out of sheer spite than claim he possesses anything close to self-control. But he really has been trying. He isn't certain he wants to analyse what that means about himself and the strained relationship between him and Jessica and why exactly he's put more effort into maintaining that than any other relationship, so he's not going to. He won't. If he starts to analyse things, he might not like the deductions, so he's happy to continue existing day-to-day on a much easier surface level than whatever subbasement he'd inflict upon himself otherwise. He's got bigger things to worry about than self-analysis.

"Sir, Miss Jones has concluded her visit with Hope Shlottman. She appears physically unharmed."

Things like the 19-year-old college student with a sparkling record and loving family who shot both of her parents to death in the elevator of Jessica's apartment building.

The pencil in his mouth squeaks when his teeth dig a little deeper into it. "Fantathtic," he mutters around it, his lip curling when his tongue catches the dirtied wood.

He is standing in his newly-reconstructed personal workshop, a few floors up from the R&D lab he'd commandeered while the top portion of the Tower was being rebuilt. After the apartment on the floor above was finished, the workshop was next on his priorities - it would have been the other way around if not for Pepper and Rhodey harassing him about having somewhere sufficient to eat, sleep, and keep his personal hygiene at an appropriate level. Now that the workshop is done, the crew he'd hired can focus on the floors above the apartment. He's got big plans for those floors - big enough to provide another distraction to keep him busy and stop him from lingering on hypothetical traumas he may or may not have experienced within the last two years. Hypothetically.

Point is, his fingers are buried in a hologram of his latest design, drifting over essential and non-essential features and pulling out the latter to cast them into the air beyond his attention. The aforementioned pencil is between his teeth and a stack of tracing paper is between his knees, crumpling every time he shifts and remembers at the last second to keep his knees together to avoid dropping the paper.

Tony hums to himself, his head tilting, as he considers a piece of weaponry nestled in the panels above the shoulder blades. He pinches the segment of hologram between his thumb and forefinger and removes it from the body of the suit, flicking it away somewhere to his right. One hand snatches the paper from between his knees so he can take a couple of steps back, and the other hand lifts to remove the pencil from his mouth.

"Alright, how are we lookin', bud?" he asks, eyes narrowing at the hologram while he wipes the saliva from his pencil on his Henley - it was covered in questionable stains, anyway. It could also be his third day in a row wearing it, but he's been a little too preoccupied to worry about such trivial things as his appearance and potential stench.

"Total mass has been reduced by 12%; however, combat efficiency has also been reduced by 23%," JARVIS answers.

"Agility?" Tony questions, turning his back on the hologram to move to one of his many desks.

"Increased by 9%."

Tony sniffs and splays the stack of paper out on his desk. "We can bump that up a little more, I think," he mutters. "Taking the weaponry out means we can slim down a lotta sections - that's gotta make a difference."

"A slimmer body would succeed in increasing agility."

"And you said Jones was physically unharmed after her session with the killer cheerleader?"

"Hope Shlottman is on the track team; she is not a cheerleader. But, yes, Miss Jones did not have any visible or implied injuries. However, she still seems distressed."

"Slim down the spots that aren't housing weapons anymore and let's see what we've got," Tony instructs, moving to a different desk that facilitates a miniature hologram of the uppermost section of the Tower. "Did I ask Potts if she wants an apartment here?"

"Three times. It would have been five if Miss Potts had not asked me to remind you of previous attempts whenever you considered the suggestion again - does this count as six?"

Tony rolls his eyes and spins the hologram of the Tower petulantly. "Sometimes I wonder if I should make you a body."

"I believe you have threatened to create a vessel for me, purely for the satisfaction of punching it, a total of sixty-seven times over the last few years."

"Yeah, I meant it every time," Tony mumbles, leaning in close to the Tower's hologram and inspecting a particular room above the common area he has planned. "You think Barton and Romanov even want big rooms? I'm not convinced they don't just sleep in a box between missions."

"Adjustment complete - agility increased a further 14%."

"See?" Tony perks up, glancing over at the latest rendition of the Mark XV body. "Sneaky's comin' on a treat. Where's Jones headed, now?"

"Adding 'Sneaky' to the Mark XV designation field. Miss Jones appears to be travelling by taxi to Midtown Manhattan."

Tony is hit suddenly by an urge to contact the woman. It's not the first time he's had to immediately search for something to occupy his hands with since JARVIS flagged a 911 call reporting a shooting in Jessica's building. There is a camera in the lobby, at least, that provided him a view of Jessica alive, but not exactly well, before the police took Hope and her away to the station. He hadn't known the situation, so he hadn't come to her rescue this time - he also didn't have an alibi for her, though he'd have probably been able to fabricate one and erase all evidence of her having been present at the time if he'd really wanted to.

Additionally, there's a possibility that whatever the hell is going on with Hope Shlottman has nothing to do with Thomas King, and Tony isn't exactly sure their sorta-kinda-friendship allows for unrelated check-ins.

But it's also the second time someone connected to Jessica - this time multiple someones - has died, and that just nags at Tony. He wants to ask JARVIS to comb through every aspect of Jessica's life to see if there have been any other similar instances, figure out a pattern and translate the secrets buried inside. He wants to hop in a suit and fly over to her office and kidnap her and keep her in the Tower until she explains what the hell is going on and he figures out what he can do to help. Part of him even wants to just do as she asks and ignore the problem and no longer be plagued by confusion and intrigue and, sure, fine, maybe a little concern, but he knows that's not going to happen. There's no way he can just drop this. Not now.

So, he drums his hands on his desk to stop himself from reaching for his phone and he sucks his lips between his teeth to stop himself from instructing JARVIS to do anything Jessica would rip his arm off for. He stares at the hologram of his latest suit design, trying to force himself to concentrate on what more he can do to achieve a suit as stealthy as he's planning for, and his attention slips to wondering where Jessica's going. Because it could be to her apartment-slash-office-slash-lair-of-angry-depression, but it could be here, too. Or somewhere that isn't those two places, he supposes.

He takes a sharp inhale, straightening his back, and smacks his lips noisily when he frees them from his mouth. "Y'know what, I don't think it'd hurt if we just-"

"Apologies, sir, but before you make a suggestion, you might like to know that it appears that Miss Jones' destination is, in fact, the Tower."

Tony blinks and his eyebrows quirk upwards in pleasant surprise. "Well, whaddayaknow. I get to keep my arm after all." He steps away from his desk and twists in a circle on his heels, glancing over the room. "Make sure we hide anything that'd clue her in to the whole violation-of-privacy thing."

"Of course, sir. Would you like the receptionist to send her up to the workshop?"

"It's not like a conference room would suit better," he responds distractedly.

His fingers have sought out his phone without permission, bringing up the two images he's collected in relation to King and Jessica - one he sent to her, and one he has kept to himself out of sheer uncertainty; one directly related to King, and one picked up via his monitoring of Jessica's day-to-day life without seeming to have any correlation to King.

One of a well-dressed man, tall and slim, and one of a more haggard man in clothes that look dirty and crumpled, tied off with a blue and white scarf.

Tony's expression twitches and he clicks his tongue, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "On a scale of one to ready-to-impale-me-like-the-big-alien-monster, how d'you think she looks? Emotionally?"

"I'm surprised she didn't rip a lampost from the street on her way from the taxi into the lobby. Perhaps she has a smaller impaling device concealed on her person."

Tony stares flatly into thin air for a moment, lamenting his decision to give JARVIS any kind of personality. "The lack of respect in this place is mind-boggling, I swear to god," he mutters.

"Perhaps it is contagious."

Tony smirks dryly and moves back to his new design's hologram. "I'm thinking all designs moving forward should be capable of being controlled remotely, at least by you for now. Means if I'm across the world and in sudden need of, say, a stealth suit, you could send it out on same-day shipping."

"Is your aim to make a small collection of suits, each specialised in different characteristics?"

Tony blinks, the exhaustion in his bones weighing a little heavier, slowing his eyelids and stinging his eyes. "A small collection," he echoes hollowly.

"A strategic move, sir."

"Thanks, bud."

He has almost lost himself in calculations and estimations regarding the Mark XV design when the elevator pings and the swoosh of the doors opening catches his attention. He opens his mouth, distractedly constructing a casual greeting, but Jessica beats him to it.

"Don't try to be cute. I'm not in the mood, Stark."

Tony shuts his mouth again and pouts, eyebrows quirking curiously at her accurate expectation. "I don't think anyone could blame you, considering the day you've had. Or multiple days would probably be more accurate, right? Maybe even weeks?"

"What d'you know about my day?" she asks, her tone flat and unimpressed.

Tony flicks the arms of the Mark XV suit back to its sides and spins the hologram before he twists on his heels to look at her. He's ready to make a quip about difficult teenagers and their innate rebellious natures, but there's something under the exhaustion and irritation on Jessica's face - something that gives him pause. Her fingers are clenching into a fist at her hip and unclenching again and she licks her lips, her gaze breaking contact with his to dart around the lab. She's on-edge, and the tick in her jaw tells him she knows he's seen it. She always seems uncomfortable when he clocks something under her mask.

Tony pulls the corner of his mouth into his cheek dejectedly, sighing through his nose. "Who is she?" he asks quietly.

Jessica gestures a hand aimlessly before letting it slap back to her side, her head shaking a little. "She was a missing kid. Her parents came to me. I found her." Her skin is even paler than normal, her hair unkempt, her brow furrowed gently.

"D'you know why-"

"You don't need to worry about her, alright?" Jessica interrupts, quick but not abrasive. "That's not why I came here."

Tony bites back an irritable sigh. "Alright, then, shoot."

Jessica's jaw clenches. She glances at him as if a little surprised that he isn't intent on pursuing the Shlottman conversation, but then quickly schools her features into something more firm. "You haven't let it go," she says. She sounds drained and frustrated and her chin lowers a little to pin him with darkened eyes.

Tony stares back at her, pouting thoughtfully as he attempts to wrangle together an appropriate answer. He gives her a little shrug. "I told you I couldn't."

Her eyebrows twitch into a furrow, her eyes narrowing. "Seriously? You think that's enough of an excuse for me to just let this happen?"

He's never been good at being told he can't do something. "What I think is that somebody's after you - somebody willing to kill to keep their intentions hidden - and your plan is to plug your fingers in your ears and walk on by," he retorts mockingly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jessica's eyes narrow further, her mouth twisting with disbelief. "Jesus, you were so happy to ignore the issue when you were the one King was after and now that you think it's me, you wanna be a hero."

"First of all," he says, taking a step closer and pulling a hand from under his bicep to hold up a finger, "Hero is kind of my default state, being Iron Man, so I can't help it." Jessica's face scrunches and she opens her mouth, but Tony lifts another finger and speaks up loudly. "Second of all, it's much harder to come after a globally-renowned billionaire with one of, if not the most, technologically-advanced security systems in the entire world, than it is to come after a woman who thrives off of alienating herself from everyone around her and spends the majority of her days chugging whiskey and passing out on her desk."

Jessica's expression flattens angrily. She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, her top lip curling upwards to bare her teeth a little, and Tony watches her eyes flare when he waggles his two fingers tauntingly. "I don't need protection," she says eventually, low and sharp.

Tony rolls his eyes, tucking his hand back under his bicep. "That's not what it is."

"Then what is it?" she scowls. "Pity? Patronisation?"

Tony can't stop the indignant scoff that bursts up his throat. "Yeah," he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I feel sorry for the woman who can impale a giant fucking monster through the head in a pair of mom jeans. I pity her, absolutely."

"Then what the hell is it?" she snaps, throwing her hands out to her sides, fingers spread wide.

Tony glares at her. "Is it seriously so much of a crime to wanna help keep someone safe?"

Jessica scoffs this time, and there's a wildness in her eyes that is bordering on desperate. "Don't try to feed me that bullshit. This isn't about me. Don't make it about me. This is about you and your intentional lack of respect for what other people want. It's about your obsession to not feel responsible for-"

She cuts herself off suddenly, her lip curling with anger again as her tongue pushes at her cheek. She turns her face away from him, her hands clenching into fists at her side.

Tony's hands slip out from under his arms and fall to brace against the desk in front of him. He can feel his own lip twitching into a snarl, anger blazing in his chest. "Responsible for what?" he mutters stiffly.

She turns back to him, eyes wild but as perceptive as ever. He can practically see her weighing her options in her head, deciding whether to salvage the moment or barrel on and risk destroying it all. And then her face hardens. "Responsible for any more death."

Pain flares in Tony's jaw when his teeth grind together. One hand curls into a fist on the desk and his knuckles turn white from the force of it. "You are a tremendously difficult person to have any kind of relationship with, you know that?" he bites out, his voice cold and devoid of any hint of playfulness he'd normally be able to employ.

"So stop trying," she retorts emphatically.

Tony's chin drops to his chest and he heaves a sigh, his brow furrowing. Through the haze of his anger, the rearing head of nauseating guilt, he has a sharp moment of clarity. "You'll seriously hit as low as you can just to put people off, huh?"

The understanding eases the burning anger to a quiet simmer, and his fist unclenches again. His fingers ache a little after being curled so aggressively, so he stretches them out to place his palm flat against the cool metal. Jessica might have hit way too close to home to be reasonable with that comment, but he knows why she did it - not out of malicious intent, but a need for Tony to back off of his own volition. She knows she can't simply ask him to stop trying to help, because, well, she knows he has an obsession for preventing as many deaths as he can in an attempt to begin to right his past wrongs, which means that she needs to manipulate him into choosing it himself. The surest way to do so, in her mind, is to make herself as undeserving and undesirable of his help as possible.

Tony lifts his head again to look over at her, at the contorted scowl on her face and the blazing eyes piercing into him, and he takes a moment to be completely honest with himself. "Fine," he says, tilting his head concedingly. "Maybe I'm so burdened by the responsibility of an unknowable amount of blood on my hands that I have an obsessive desperation to not drench them even more, and that means I can't let this shit go."

Jessica's eyes flash and her jaw clenches. For a second, he wonders if the shadow that crosses her face is understanding. But then her gaze drops and her shoulders hunch, and he sees the raw discomfort he's put on her by being so explicit about his issues.

"But that doesn't mean that I can't just wanna help you at the same time, Jones. Believe it or not, when we're not at each other's throats, I actually enjoy our back-and-forth. We've got a fun dynamic. It's not a sin to admit it. I'm allowed to wanna make sure that doesn't stop 'cause someone put a bullet in your brain."

"Jesus," she hisses, turning to walk a few steps away from him, burying a hand in her black hair.

Tony pushes himself up straight, his fingers slipping from the desk, and runs a hand down his face. "I don't wanna pass the blame, but you could've easily turned King away that first time he came to see you, or just never let me know something was going on. You had a chance to cut all ties and you didn't take it."

Jessica sighs and turns her body to face him side-on, though her eyes are stuck on his feet. "I've got too much shit to deal with already without having to worry about-"

"Exactly, you don't have time to deal with the guy behind King, so why shouldn't I use my infinite supply of free time to do it for you?"

"Because I am dealing with him!" she snaps, scowling at him again with that piercing, burning gaze.

It leaves him quiet for a moment, analysing the panicked edge to her voice, the visible shake in her fingers. "So, it's connected, then?" he asks carefully. "King and the Shlottman girl. This guy's behind both of them?"

Jessica's eyebrows scrunch desperately and she turns away again, punching a fist against her thigh gently.

Tony's self-control is slipping. "Who is this guy? He's a ghost, we couldn't find anything on him."

Jessica is quiet for so long, he thinks she isn't going to respond. But, then, "You won't."

Tony frowns at her. Clearly she knows who this guy is. She has encountered him before, in some kind of capacity - enough to understand the implications of his involvement in both situations. She knows who he is and that knowledge could help Tony find him and find a way to stop him. "If you think this enigmatic schtick is working for you, it isn't. You're not being cute or mysterious. You're just pissing me off."

"Says the guy who won't back off when he's asked, over and over again!" she shouts, whirling to face him fully once more.

Tony's face twists. "Yeah, old news!" he snaps, striding a few paces towards her. "There's clearly something going on here, Jones, and you're not exactly the kind of person who can swallow their pride and ask for help. You're more likely to get yourself killed because you insist on doing it alone!"

"It's not pride, you jackass!" she spits, enraged, taking the last few steps to bring them a foot or so away from each other. "I'm not trying to prove anything or become some fucking martyr, alright? I'm trying to stop anyone else from getting hurt!"

"Well, Hope's parents only croaked it last night, so what's your excuse for the rest of the time?" he challenges, throwing out a questioning hand between them and nearly hitting her arm. He snatches it away from her space quickly, his lip curling unhappily at almost crossing the one boundary he's determined not to cross unless absolutely necessary: the physical space she so-clearly despises being breached.

Jessica's eyes track the movement of his hand before snapping up to meet his gaze again, her lips parted in a lingering expression of indignation and her chest steadily rising and falling with angered breaths. Tony's eyes feel as wild as hers look, his blood thumping in his ears, and he suddenly finds himself aware of the heated rigidity of the air between them. Tension crackles up the skin of his exposed arms.

"They aren't the first to get hurt because of him," she says quietly, her eyes flicking between his. "But I can try and make sure they're the last."

Tony realises it was understanding he saw earlier. It's hard to read her accurately when she refuses to divulge any kind of context to him, but he realises that the people that have been hurt by this guy, Jessica feels responsible for it. She could see his obsession with preventing anyone else from dying because she suffers the same guilt, the same accountability. It's a new layer to her that he hadn't quite appreciated until this moment, and it catches him off-guard. He'd already thought they had an uncanny amount in common.

His body and mind feel like they are pulling in several different directions at once. It's never easy for him when someone reads him so explicitly, when they cut him open and spill his most-concealed secrets on the ground before him, and part of him wants to sweep the exposed nerves under the rug with a clever quip. But there's another part of him that is seeing this familiarity in Jessica, this kinship, and the relief that floods his veins elates him to the point of dizziness - because it feels like she is the one and only person who could possibly understand him at his core and part of him wants, for once, to be seen and accepted in the way only Jessica could.

And as her gaze trails across his face, analysing his expression in that relentless and rough way she does, the tension crackling up his arms starts to heat into a steady burn, searing across his chest and up his neck. She's so close that he could reach out and pull her against him by the hips, wind an arm around her waist, reach up to cup her face, communicate with her in a way that he doesn't have to speak, in a way that he knows she'll understand because that's what she does - she hears everything he doesn't say. But that would require breaking that boundary he has promised himself he'll only break if it's to save her life. If anyone's going to cross that line, it's going to have to be her.

So, he stands where he is, and his voice drops to a quiet rumble. "I don't wanna insult you. You're capable of looking after yourself, obviously. I'm just tryin' to say that you don't have to do this alone."

Jessica licks her lips and he thinks her teeth scrape the bottom one inside her mouth, and it makes the burning tension singe its way down his chest and over his stomach. Having flickered to her mouth, his eyes return to her gaze, and he recognises the change in the darkening hazel. She doesn't step away.

"I know," she mutters. For a brief moment, the corner of her mouth quirks wryly, but then it settles into a somber line again. "But it's not just you I'm trying to protect."

Tony's brain falters on the word protect. He doesn't feel emasculated, doesn't feel threatened or belittled, doesn't feel indignation or anger. Instead, the heat swoops lower and he inhales sharply, his fingers scrabbling to slip into his pockets to stop from reaching out. The thought of Jessica utilising the insane amount of strength hidden away in that deceptive build of hers to protect him - while also, on some level, touching a sentimental part of him that inspires a smugness at having achieved some kind of cared-for status - sparks a surge of searing fire in his veins. Reeling his imagination back in takes some amount of concentration.

"I get it," he responds. "We're familiar with the concept of collateral damage, here at The Wayward Home for Freaks and the Self-Absorbed."

Jessica smirks and Tony is helpless against mirroring the expression. She tries to subdue the amusement, turning her face away, and he takes the opportunity to appreciate her side-profile. His gaze skims the smooth curve of her nose, her plump lower-lip, the lines of her jaw and cheekbone, the curl of her thick, black hair behind her ear. They have always been too busy communicating on a much deeper plane of understanding for there to be time to spare for the more surface-level admiration, but it almost feels acceptable now, like they've earned it. When she turns back and catches his wandering gaze, her smirk twists again, and her eyes dance across his face. Tony has to consciously stop himself from crowding into her space.

"Sir, apologies for the interruption, but Colonel Rhodes is calling."

Tony turns to look into the empty space of his lab, his awareness of his surroundings suddenly expanding from a two-foot radius to encompass the entire floor. "Put him on hold, he loves that," he replies distractedly, removing a hand from his pocket to wave it dismissively.

Jessica clears her throat and it draws his attention back to her, and the burning tension in his veins cools considerably at the look on her face. She has taken a step backwards and her eyes are cast somewhere off to the side, her jaw clenched and brow twitching inwards. When her gaze flickers to him quickly, he realises there's a kind of guilt there. Whether it's for putting the space between them, for enabling the closeness in the first place, or for something else entirely, he has absolutely no idea. But he purses his lips into a flat line, gives a small nod, and takes a step back as well.

"I just wanted to ask in person again that you stay away from this whole situation," she says, her tone successfully steady and firm. "I'm not ignoring it anymore."

Tony takes a deep inhale and rolls his shoulders back. "Alright, I'll stop investigating," he concedes. He almost smiles at the way her shoulders slump into a more relaxed position. "I wanna make sure you have all the information I can give you, first, though."

She frowns at him, wary. "What d'you mean?"

Tony turns and walks towards his hologram of the Mark XV, wincing a little when he knows she can't see his face. Then he twists to look back at her and asks as nonchalantly as he can muster, "Are you aware that you have a stalker?"

Jessica's face twists in disbelief. "Are you about to reveal it's you?" she asks pointedly.

Tony's lips purse briefly. "Uh, no. No, it's actually this guy," he replies, pulling out his phone and swiping the image of the man towards the hologram. JARVIS understands his intention and projects the image in front of the Mark XV body, large enough for Jessica to see it from that distance.

But she doesn't just see it.

"You know him," Tony realises. There's a lot of confusion on her face, but he can tell it's more about how or why this guy might be stalking her, not about who he is. "Well, that's good. I'm glad you have some observational skills since he lives in your building."

He watches her face as she processes the information, cycling through disbelief and shock and confusion and concern and something that looks an awful lot like panic. "How can you be sure?" she asks quietly.

He has a feeling this will be something else she refuses to bring him in on, and he finds his irritation flaring again in anticipation. "Well, the following you around for five days consecutively and frequently taking pictures of you was a dead-giveaway."

"Shit," she hisses, but it's not as angry as he would have expected. She's staring at the picture of the guy, Malcolm Ducasse, with some amount of wariness, but also a healthy dose of compassion. Enough to make her eyes water. "You haven't done anything about this?"

Tony sighs. "No."

She meets his gaze and says what he knows she's going to say, anyway. "Good. Don't. Just stay out of it all."

"Yeah, figured. I'd remind you that I am also involved in whatever the hell is going on, thanks to Thomas King, but I know it wouldn't make a difference."

She frowns at him, holding his gaze. "Tony, that is why I can't let you get any more involved. It's dangerous enough as it is. If you keep pushing, something's gonna push back. You don't want that. You've no idea how much you don't want that."

No thanks to you, he wants to snark. But he doesn't, because that solemn look has come over her again, the fear creeping back into her gaze, and he can't find it in himself to make this moment any harder for her. "Alright, Jessica. I'll leave it in your capable hands."

xXx

There's a certain kind of exhaustion that manifests because of emotional and mental turmoil. While difficulty sleeping shows in heavy eyelids, achy muscles, and maybe a headache, this kind of exhaustion feels like lead in the bones, poison in the blood, and a suffocating abyss wrapping itself around you from behind to try and slow you down, pull you under. It feels like shadowed hands clawing at clothes and skin, gripping ankles to stop your stride, wrists to stop you reaching out, covering your eyes to blind you and squeezing your throat to silence you. It feels like something has wrapped around your heart loose enough to let it beat, but tight enough to make it painful.

Exhausted isn't quite the word for it. It's more like a looming paralysis, a threat of powerless inertia, and it's dogging Jessica's every goddamn step. Kilgrave is alive and looking to make her suffer; Hope killed her parents and is going to be blamed for it if Jessica can't prove her innocence; Trish is relentless in her attempt to help, as proven by the man she sent to fix Jessica's door, and at risk of becoming a target; Malcolm is being used against her and might end up dead if she isn't careful; Tony is scarily capable of figuring everything out and throwing himself into the mix, which could only end in death and destruction; Hogarth is unsurprisingly demonstrating an infuriating lack of moral fibre and Jessica doesn't have any ins with other competent lawyers to make sure Hope doesn't go down; and, finally, there's whatever the hell happened in Luke's bar last night with a fork that was definitely jammed into his neck but bent back on itself rather than piercing the skin - which, yeah, maybe not completely Kilgrave-related, but it's still piling on the let's-fuck-with-Jessica's-mental-stability train.

There's still a part of her that just wants to turn and run while she still has control, but the guilt would eat her alive - there would be no life worth living with those abandoned people weighing her down. Besides, Kilgrave would probably manage to track her wherever she went, after murdering the few remaining people she cares about.

He is harrowingly ruthless. He either leaves in his wake dead bodies for Jessica to see haunt her, or he leaves people who wish they were dead for Jessica to feel guilty about not killing. The memory of Reva's sternum cracking under her fist, or the memory of the EMT's distress when Jessica told him she couldn't give him what he wanted and end his suffering. She's starting to think she'll never be free of the nightmare.

But, somehow, treating this like a case and following the leads is keeping her grounded to enough of an extent that she hasn't lost her sanity to the terror and paranoia - not yet, anyway.

So, she glances one last time at the headshot of the professor on her phone before locking it and tucking it away as she approaches the door to a lecture hall. There's a voice growing louder as she walks up to peer through the window, a little muffled by the door, but carrying well over the hall and the scattering of students attending the lecture.

"The average score of the multiple choice section was a staggering 62%," Kurata is announcing as Jessica lets herself in.

She watches his morose underlining of the number on the chalkboard, the dejected manner in which he places the chalk down and claps the white powder from his hands, and decides on taking a seat a couple of rows from the back of the hall to observe him some more.

"So, if you don't know the difference between an allele and a chromosome by now, there's nothing I can do for you," he says, shrugging, his hands tucked into his pockets.

And then he catches Jessica's eyes and seems to falter. At first, she wonders if it's just because he knows who his students are and recognises she isn't one of them.

"The, uh… um-" he stumbles, his voice trembling slightly, and a flash of shock and fear strikes across his face. "The short essay questions," he continues, a flustered, nervous echo of the professor she'd seen mere seconds ago, "were worth five points each, um.."

Jessica glances to her side, looking to see if any of his students are as confused by his behaviour as she is. It's as if he recognises her, which is strange in itself, never mind the fear that seems to be steadily overwhelming him in response.

"But because there are six questions that account for 25-" and he barely even finishes his last word before he's bolting away from his desk towards the door on his right.

Jessica doesn't need to listen to the confused exclamations of the students to know that this is some fucking weird behaviour. She pushes out of her seat and hurries after him, her boots clattering noisily down the steps at the side of the lecture hall.

She follows him through a short passageway to another hall, ignoring the other class as she bolts up the stairs after him, wondering what the hell he's going to do with his life if he manages to escape because he'll have to explain his behaviour to his students and colleagues, and she'd bet her best whiskey that the explanation is something to do with Kilgrave, which most people would never believe.

They burst into a hallway and she sprints after him, watching him push a student out of his way - and, yeah, he's definitely going to have a difficult time explaining his way out of that. He barrels through a doorway that leads onto a stairwell and starts hurrying down, a flight of stairs below Jessica when she catches up and checks on his progress over the railing. He doesn't say anything, doesn't call out for her to leave him alone or show him mercy or ask who the hell she is and why she's chasing him, and it just makes her all the more suspicious.

Eventually she follows him into some kind of basement. It looks empty and there are several passageways that go off in a few different directions, and she can't hear any pounding footsteps to help her track him down. She picks a direction at random and strides forward, cocking her head as if it'll help her hear better. And then there's a clang of metal from behind and she whips around to try to catch a glimpse of whatever caused it.

She moves towards the origin of the sound, stepping from a well-lit area into one more shadowed and ominous, and she huffs out a sigh because of course she's chased a guy down into the darkness. For all she knows, he's just led her into a trap. Maybe Kilgrave anticipated her tracking this guy down.

She figures there's no use in guessing. "Doctor Kurata?" she calls out, moving slowly and cautiously against a wall. "Look, you obviously think I'm going to do something to you. I'm not. You don't even know me." She waits for him to give her something, some kind of explanation or clue as to what awaits her, but all she gets is silence. "Okay, I'll start," she concedes, sighing. "You were the best transplant surgeon in the Tri-State area and now you're dissecting frogs with undergrads. You're hiding." She moves to the edge of the wall and glances around, struggling to make out many shapes in the darkness. "Why?"

"Is he here?" he asks, his voice echoing out from somewhere to the left.

"Who?" she frowns. "Kilgrave? He's dead according to the death certificate that you forged."

"Is he with you?"

Jessica suppresses a shudder at the thought, scowling at the phrasing and trying to rein in the whispers dancing across her skin. "Why would he be with me?"

"He had pictures of you," Kurata says, and Jessica's blood runs cold. "He was obsessed."

She takes a moment to mentally dodge the memories flashing like white-hot lightning in her mind. "He's not here," she says, both to placate Kurata and to reassure herself.

It does the job. She spots movement behind a nearby pillar and watches as Kurata skirts the corner to step into the dim light. His shoulders are hunched, his chin tucking close to his neck, and the position looks as innate as an animal constantly primed to flee from a predator.

"You did a surgery on the EMT, Jack Denton," Jessica says, watching the surgeon-turned-professor's posture change from submissive to something a little more defiant.

"He made me," he insists.

"I know," Jessica says, trying to sound understanding in the face of a morbid excitement to finally get close to some answers. "Why? What shape was Kilgrave in? How badly hurt?"

"One of his kidneys had been destroyed in an accident," Kurata answers.

Well, it's not quite death, but it's something - something that might give her something. Jesus, she needs a drink.

"The other one started to break down. It's known as crush syndrome."

That explains why Jack Denton donated both of his kidneys. "So, he grabbed you," she prompts, hoping to glean all of the details she can.

"The EMT did," Kurata corrects. Jessica frowns at him, waiting for him to continue, and Kurata seems to jump at the chance to explain himself to someone who believes, who knows. He walks quickly towards her, words spilling out of him with more conviction and emotion than she saw in him earlier. "I told Kilgrave that he could survive with one kidney, but he wanted to be made whole again."

"Jack happened to be a match?" Jessica cuts in, impatient to brush his bitterness aside.

"Any kidney can work temporarily. He'll have to maim someone else in a couple years."

She can't afford to wait a couple years for his stolen kidneys to become a liability. "No other weaknesses? Injuries?"

"I've never seen such strong will," Kurata exclaims shakily, a threat of hysteria in his voice and expression. "Ten hours of surgery. Kilgrave watched me the entire time."

What? "He was awake? No anesthesia?" She had just assumed that his influence had continued to work through the unconsciousness.

"He did the whole thing with an epidural. He refused to be put under."

"He's a lot of things and a masochist isn't one of them," she says, the cogs in her brain spinning in an almost dazed flurry. "He didn't want to be unconscious." If he didn't want that, then there had to be a reason - to undergo something like that, there had to be an important reason. Maybe she'd assumed wrong. Maybe unconsciousness does affect his influence. "But he sleeps," she rationalises, feeling the burning coals of anger simmering in her chest at the confusion and false hope.

"It's different," Kurata responds, and Jessica's brain falters. "Surgical anesthesia, like Propofol or Sufentanil, it shuts down different functions."

Jessica stares at him.

Sleeping is safe, is an acceptable state of unconsciousness, completely ineffective against his influence. She would have assumed that induced unconsciousness would have worked the exact same. But it doesn't, and Kilgrave refused it, which means he knows it doesn't.

Which means it is effective against his influence.

The revelation hits Jessica like a rush of fresh, crisp air though her sternum and up her throat into her mind. It topples her back a step, nearly surges out of her in a choked sob of relief, twists her vision in a euphoric daze. It has been a long, long time since she has felt such an elated sense of hope.

"That's it. That's his weakness," she says quietly, her blood thumping ecstatically through her veins. If she can pump him full of anesthetics, she can get a confession out of him, or a demonstration, or something that can provide evidence to Hope's case.

Her fingers scrabble in her pocket to pull out her phone. Hogarth's number is in her recent calls list and she taps it hurriedly, pulling the phone up to her ear. When the receptionist answers, Jessica strives to keep her voice even. "Jeri Hogarth, please." She looks at Kurata's confused expression and tilts the phone away from her mouth to explain. "She's an attorney. You're gonna tell her what happened."

"No!" Kurata protests immediately.

Fear seizes Jessica and she lashes out, grabbing at his clothes. "Yes! What exactly do you have left to lose?" she demands, panicked.

She watches him battle with himself, and then he admits, "My mind."

And Jessica understands that. She truly does. She looks at his desperate expression and sees the potential for another victim of Kilgrave that she can't protect, or put out of his misery.

"Hello?" Hogarth asks in her ear.

But Hope could lose her life.

Jessica goes to answer Hogarth, but her compassion urges her to acknowledge Kurata's situation. "I'm sorry, but this is happening. You're gonna help people again, starting with me."

"Jessica, is that you?"

"Hogarth, meet Doctor Kurata," Jessica says, and she reaches out to press her phone against Kurata's ear.

His fingers move up to hold it there when Jessica's pull away.

"Start at the beginning," Jessica instructs.

He watches her with crazed eyes for a moment, a terrified twist to his brow and mouth. But Jessica holds him in place with a stare channelling all of her apprehension and desperation, her rage and her horror, and she takes a step back from him.

Kurata clears his throat, and he begins to talk.

Jessica's mind is thrumming with information and theories and hypothetical plans. She finally, finally, has something that she can use against Kilgrave - something she's confident will work because why else would he so adamantly undergo a full ten fucking hours of surgery without anesthesia? He refused it for a reason. It has to shut down the part of his brain that enables his control, otherwise he would have had no qualms about being put under for the surgery.

For the first time, Jessica's reality feels surreal in a good way.

Hogarth has another victim to back-up Hope's claims; Hope has a real chance at escaping the fate Kilgrave set out for her. And Jessica has a lead for a weapon against Kilgrave and his power, for something to give her the control.

He has a weakness.

Kilgrave has a fucking weakness.

xXx

Time for some review replies!

kenriot1214: Wow, Tony coming in Kool Aid man style is such an incredible image, thank you for that! Gave me a good giggle. It's not quite as dramatic, but he has certainly intruded a little on her life in this chapter! Hope you enjoyed it and thank you so much for reviewing :)

Hearteyesmf: Thank you so much for your praise, you have no idea how much it means to me that you think I've got a good grasp on Jessica. It's so daunting but so worth it when I get feedback like this! Really glad you enjoyed the last chapter even though Tony wasn't really in it, and I hope this chapter's interaction was entertaining at least! Thanks again so much for reviewing, it makes my day!

EmyEnna: Omg, dude, this review meant so, so much to me! I'm so beyond happy that you understand my reasons for keeping Tony at bay for a little while longer, and you're absolutely spot on with that analysis! Don't worry about gushing because honestly I was totally thrilled to read this review and see that you got what was going on. I hope that this chapter gave you a little more insight into what was going on from Tony's side of things, and satisfied that craving for him to do something about all of this. Ohh I can't wait for him to find out what exactly is going on and who Kilgrave is/what he can do.. it's gonna be a moment, that's for sure! I'm glad you enjoyed that bit with Malcolm - horribly funny is kind of what I was going for, hahaha! Thanks for all the feedback about the Luke situation - I'll take all of that onboard for sure! I think I'll stop her from sleeping with him again, but my vague plan is to still have him involved right up until the end.. we'll see how it goes! I hope you're having a lovely day as well and, again, thank you so, so much for leaving your review! Brought a smile to my face :)

Ellixwolf: Omg, hello! So wonderful to see you again on a new story! Aw I'm sorry your fanfic account was being iffy with following me, but I'm very glad to have you here with me on this journey as well :) it was a joy to read all your reviews as you caught up with the story - I hope you had a lovely sleep after you stayed up late haha! Thank you so, so much for your kind words and your enthusiasm for this story and pairing. I really, truly appreciate it. I hope you're keeping well and that you enjoyed this chapter :)