hello I'm back! hope everyone's 2022 is going well so far, and hope you enjoy the chapter! thank u for reading x

Spinning Plates

The walls are closing in around her. She feels like a caged animal. A caged animal who is also struggling to spin more plates than she has fingers for. And standing outside the cage, watching her like she's some kind of freak circus act, is Kilgrave. There's no escape from it - drink, work, sleep, none of them get rid of the memories, the whispers, the fear that he's behind every corner, that he's controlling every person she passes on the street.

Even though she's realised what he wants to do, it hasn't brought her any peace. He's cunning in such a cruel way that not even Jessica can predict it. Which means she could still be caught off-guard. He could still beat her.

Tony had asked why Kilgrave would want to prove she's not a hero when she doesn't believe she is one, anyway. But it's more than what she thinks - it's about proving it to everyone around her, too. It's about taking her off that pedestal for anyone making the mistake of putting her on it in the first place. And, what she never said out loud to Tony and Trish, she thinks it's about bringing her down to Kilgrave's level - to make her think she's like him.

Jessica thinks that Kilgrave either wants her dead, or wants her to think they make some kind of twisted pair. She knows which one's worse; but while Hope is still facing murder charges, Jessica needs to stay alive, so she can't take the easy way out if it comes down to a choice.

On one spinning plate, Jessica's largest plate since it's her priority, is finding a way to prove Hope is innocent so that she doesn't go to prison. From that plate, she has a few others: one that symbolises her struggle to find a way to catch and contain Kilgrave in order to do the proving of innocence; one that symbolises her fight to keep Hogarth on the right track; and one that symbolises the emotional and psychological weight of an entire city eagerly rejecting a story with the same beats as her own. From the Hogarth plate, there's also another that represents the favour that Jessica knows she owes Hogarth, that she knows will be something she'll need to deal with no matter what when Hogarth could force her hand with a threat of abandoning Hope.

On her other hand, she has other plates spinning wildly out of control. One represents her desperation for Kilgrave to move his sights away from Trish again. One is the guilt of what happened with Luke and him not knowing what she did to Reva. Another is her fear for and of Malcolm and what part he's playing in this sadistic game. And then there's the plate for Tony and his incessant need to involve himself, putting himself more at risk than he knows. Never mind the plate worrying about whether Kilgrave will go bigger and end up becoming an Avengers-level threat, which would only drag more recipes for disaster into the mix.

The walls are closing in. There are too many plates to spin. And the shadows are wrapping around her ankles, dragging her down into an abyss that'll suck the fight and fire out of her until she's an empty husk who can't help anyone. It feels like Kilgrave's chipping away at everything keeping her going, determined to whittle it all away until she finally submits to him or dies.

To make things worse, she's had to add two new plates to spin today. One is Simpson, the cop that Kilgrave sent to kill Trish, who showed up at Trish's apartment today with a ram because he was certain he'd left a dead body on the floor. He seems more than eager to bring Kilgrave down, and Jessica does not have the patience to repeat her arguments with Tony with this stranger. But he's clearly shaken by what happened with Trish, and Jessica obviously can relate to that. She thinks she placated him, for now, when she had Trish apologise to Kilgrave on her show; but she isn't confident that she's seen the last of Simpson and his desire to set things right.

And then, the other plate. The Audrey plate. A well-off white woman claiming her husband is cheating on her and hiring Jessica to find proof. It could be legitimate - Jessica checked in with Hogarth to make sure Audrey hadn't lied about being recommended by her divorce lawyer - but it could also just be a very well-planned scheme by Kilgrave. She can't take the risk.

So, she has wedged herself in a narrow gap between two buildings, high up where no one will notice her, and she's watching. Carefully.

Which is why she almost ignores the call from Trish. But her concern for her sister trumps the job.

"I'm working," she answers. Concern doesn't necessarily equate manners.

"What if the apology doesn't work?" Trish asks.

"Then I'll deal with it. Look, I'm with a client right now. Sort of."

"How can you trust any client after what happened with Hope's parents?"

"I don't, which is why I've been following her since dawn."

"Following who?"

Jessica rolls her neck and sighs. "A jealous wife," she replies bluntly.

"Jess, come on, I- I need the distraction."

"Fine," Jessica intones, watching Audrey interact with customers. "A jewellery designer. Audrey Eastman."

"Overpriced, chunky enamel stuff? Well, if she is mind-controlled, that would explain some of her jewellery," Trish comments.

"It's not like she needs the money," Jessica replies. "Her parents died and left her a fortune, but all she does is work."

"Cheating husband," Trish pauses, thinking. "She's compartmentalising."

Jessica scoffs. "Useful skill."

"How will you know if she's Kilgraved?"

"His effect has limits."

"Right. Time and distance. But you can't follow her forever."

"I've never seen his voodoo last longer than 10 hours, 12 tops. If he doesn't show soon I'll do the job and take pictures of the cheater with his pants around his ankles. Nothing plays like pictures."

Trish is quiet for a moment, and Jessica takes a breath to try to calm the flare of worry.

"Can I ask you something?"

"When has my permission ever mattered to you for that?" Jessica snarks.

"Why are you putting so much time into something you don't need to involve yourself with when you could be looking into Malcolm and following that lead instead?"

Jessica's eyebrows scrunch tiredly, her tongue brushing her lips. "We can't all be celebrities with endless incomes like you and Stark."

"What is it that's stopping you, Jess? Are you scared to see what Kilgrave's done to someone you've saved? Or are you letting his punishment go on a little longer since he's spying on you?"

Jessica's frown hardens. "I'm not leaving him in Kilgrave's control to punish him, Trish. Is your opinion really that low of me?"

"You know it isn't."

She cracks her back against the brick wall behind her, pushing her feet harder against the opposite wall to stretch as much as she can in the confined space.

"Jess?"

Jessica sighs. "I don't know if Kilgrave's controlling Malcolm, or if he's just manipulating him."

"You mean whether he's using his power on Malcolm or just enabling his addiction?"

"Yeah."

"You don't want someone you saved using you as currency in a transaction for drugs."

"It's not about the saving thing," Jessica replies quietly. "He told me I'm a good person."

Trish sighs through the phone. "You're scared he hasn't been genuine with you."

Jessica winces. "I don't give a shit if he thinks I'm a good person or not. I'd prefer it if he didn't. It's just…" she shakes her head, shifting awkwardly against the wall. "It's hard not to look at him and think- and feel-" she cuts off, sighing harshly.

"You care about him."

Jessica rubs at her face and doesn't answer.

"It's okay, Jess. You're allowed to feel empathy for people. I'd be worried if you didn't."

Her head thunks back against the wall. "Caring is what makes me weak when it comes to Kilgrave. Look at everything he's done, Trish. Everyone he's targeted. He's using it against me."

"Caring isn't your weakness, Jess. I know that's easy for me to say and I'm sorry the situation won't exactly allow for you to see it. But I promise it's your strength. More than your powers are."

Jessica grits her teeth for a moment, pushing down the emotion threatening to rise in response to Trish's words. "Has anyone ever told you that your optimism is exhausting?" she snarks instead.

"You have. Multiple times," Trish responds, a smile in her voice.

"Maybe you should be the one with the powers."

Trish laughs, even if there's a melancholic tone to it. "The reluctant hero makes a much better story."

"Put a dollar in the 'H' jar."

Her laugh is a little less dignified this time, caught off-guard. "I hate you."

Jessica grins, pushing aside the lingering sadness from their conversation. "I hate you, too."

Fuck Hogarth.

Fuck her and her stupid fucking favour, getting dirt on her wife. And fuck her for calling Kilgrave's power a fucking gift. She's so abhorrently power-hungry and greedy she lacks any semblance of basic empathy, not even enough to see his power as anything but terrifying and catastrophically dangerous.

And fuck Kilgrave, too. Fuck him for using his curse on so many people. Fuck him for making her need to sit and listen to a handful of those people so they can build a bigger case to prove Hope's innocence. Fuck him for making Jessica relive it all. For putting Hope through the same thing. For threatening Jessica's sanity and safety all over again. For using a fucking child to deliver his message that Trish is safe now. For taunting her about Audrey.

There's so much anger searing through her veins. So much she doesn't know how she's managing to concentrate on anything else. It's not healthy, and it's not safe, but she doesn't have time to snap, to let it all out, to risk everything before she manages to get anywhere close to helping Hope.

But she has followed Audrey's so-called cheating husband to his so-called secret rendezvous, and Audrey has called her. And beyond the sound of her voice through the phone, Jessica can fucking hear her in the same fucking room her husband is supposedly committing adultery within. Which means Audrey fucking set her up. And maybe Kilgrave's in on it, maybe he's not - maybe she doesn't have the time to snap and let it all out and risk everything.

But the anger swells inside her like a fucking tsunami and completely obliterates any semblance of self-control she had left.

"Where is Carlo?" Audrey asks.

Jessica steps in front of the doors and pulls them apart. "He's three feet to your right, asshole," she barks.

The Eastmans both shit themselves, which is nice; but Audrey pulls a fucking gun, which isn't so nice.

"Get her on the plastic!" the woman commands urgently, standing over a large plastic sheet laid out across the floor.

Her husband stares at Jessica. "How?"

"I have a gun on her, for Christ's sake, Carlo."

"You shoot at me, I'll pull the bullet out of my ruined jacket and shove it up your ass with my pinky finger, and who do you think that's gonna hurt more?" Jessica intones.

"You're bulletproof?" Carlo asks.

Jessica shrugs, smiling wryly.

And Audrey fucking Eastman fucking shoots her in the fucking arm.

Jessica shouts out in pain, the bullet hitting her in a white-hot agony.

"Jesus!" Carlos shouts.

"Nope, not bulletproof," Audrey snarks.

"Audrey, this is insane. Honey, we don't have to do this. We can walk out of here right now-"

"She doesn't have laser eyes either, or she would have used them."

Jessica can't tell if she's running more on adrenaline, agony, or pure rage, at this point. "Laser eyes? Who said I had laser eyes?" she demands, clutching her wound. But then a memory filters through the flaring, red haze of her mind. "Oh, that dick with the Aston Martin. I served him a subpoena."

"Gregory Spheeris. I sell to his wife. They're very talky."

"Look, you're obviously pissed off about something, but I'm pretty sure, for the first time, this has nothing to do with Kilgrave. He's smarter than you two."

"Kilgrave? Who's Kilgrave? Is he another one of you people? How many more are there like you?"

Jessica pulls her hand away to look at the blood dripping from her fingers. "How many more what, private eyes?" she asks incredulously.

"'Gifted'. Stupid word," Audrey corrects. "It's like calling someone 'special'. They're not special, they're retarded."

Jesus fucking Christ.

"You're not gifted. You're a freak."

"What have we or the mentally challenged ever done to you?" Jessica asks, her face contorted with infuriated judgement.

"You saved the city. That's what the newspapers said. You were 'heroes'."

Jessica's rage flares at the whispers crawling her skin. "I'm not a goddamn hero."

"'The city was saved'. But I was there. That's not what happened. I saw my mother crushed to death under a building that you people destroyed."

"I know it-"

"I was trying to pull my mother out from the rubble, watching her bleed to death, while all around me, you people were raining down hell."

"Did you notice the goddamn aliens?" Jessica shouts, her anger fueling an ugly defensiveness. "The whole world woulda-"

"You destroyed the city and killed so many innocents. You need to be stopped!" Audrey yells hoarsely, her focus flicking briefly to the gun.

It's enough of a distraction and clue into Audrey's intentions for Jessica to act. She ducks quickly and grabs the edge of the sheet by her boots, lifting to yank it out from under Audrey's feet and throw her on her back on the bed.

The gun lets off another couple bullets in the carnage. Jessica shouts over the top of all the noise, stomping to shove Carlo away from the fallen gun when he crawls towards it. "You think you're the only ones who've lost people?" She grabs the gun and launches it at the wall so hard it explodes through it. "You think you're the only ones with pain?"

The rage fully overwhelms her. She turns next to the furniture, her hands burning to tear it all apart. "You think you can take your shit and dump it on me?" she yells, throwing a wooden chair at the wall next to the cowering couple, watching it shatter. "You don't get to do that! So you take your goddamn pain and you live with it, assholes!" She slams her fists into a large, ornate mirror hanging on the wall, shattering it into tiny shards that rain over her boots onto the floor. Audrey screams and Carlo swings her away from Jessica to protect her with his body.

"You lost your parents?" Jessica demands, enraged. "Welcome to the goddamn club! I lost mine in some random accident," she shouts, arms spread wide, stumbling around drunk on fury. "Do you see me trying to kill every shitty driver? No!" She bends and grabs the bed frame, tossing it up over her head to slam it into the wall before stalking to the other side of the room. "Because I don't work my shit out on other people!" she yells, tearing the radiator from the wall. "So keep your goddamn feelings to yourselves!" She launches the radiator through the doors, shattering the wood and glass panes.

The rage inside her calms like the eye of a storm, untethered in its ferocity but quiet in anticipation of its devastation.

"Ninety-nine," she says, low and quiet. "You wanted to know how many of us there are? The last time I counted, I had ninety-nine gifted friends in this borough alone. And now every single one of them is gonna know about this shit that you tried to pull. And they hate attempted murder. They really do. The cops hate it too, you know, because.. it's against the law."

"Please don't kill us," Carlo begs. "We- we- we'll leave you alone."

"There's only one thing that you can do to save yourselves."

"What?" Audrey demands sharply, her voice thick with tears and terror.

"Disappear," Jessica snarls. "Nobody, especially me, ever hears from you again. Me and my friends will stop by tomorrow to make sure you heard me."

She could punch them. Break them and watch them splinter. But the thought repulses her.

So, she leaves them cowering in the corner, and she walks out of the room, heading for the stairs. The loathing and fury thrumming through her every limb and buzzing loudly in her head is too overpowering to squash, to ignore. She needs to get somewhere private, quiet and away and safe.

But when she climbs to the roof and stares up at the darkness above her and breathes the open air, it does nothing to quell the energy inside her. She needs to move. She needs to expel all of it before she implodes.

She didn't think she'd ever see the day where she'd be leaping from rooftop to rooftop to navigate the city, but here she is. And, inciting a whole slew of emotions she is not interested in unpacking, she realises that at the crest of her jump, the highest point she reaches as she launches herself into the air, her body craves to keep pushing. If there's anything she knows for certain would have some kind of calming effect on the rage making her fingers shake, she realises now that it'd be flying. Just pushing out into that open air and moving faster and faster without any obstructions, without worrying about anyone seeing her, without caring how far she went. A small part of her tries to remember how it felt, how she made herself do it, but the memory feels just out of reach.

Before she can try any harder, she finds herself distracted because suddenly she's back on the street and she's running but she doesn't realise where she's running to until she slips through the glass doors into the lobby.

She recognises the receptionist and, evidently, he recognises her, but when he calls her name he's trying to tell her she can't go to the elevators. She ignores him and hurries into one anyway, punching the button to close the door and grunting out at the empty box through heaving breaths.

"I need to see him. Now."

There's a pause in which all she can hear is her blood pumping in her ears.

"He will meet you in the Team Lounge, Miss Jones."

Jessica grits her teeth and rolls her shoulders, but the motion brushes her wound against her clothing and she winces at the sharp flare of agony. "Shit," she snarls, twisting her head to try and see the wound. Her jacket's so thick that there's no way to get a glimpse of anything but rumpled, blood-stained material, so she starts unfastening it, her fingers grabbing and yanking angrily.

By the time the elevator doors open, she's got her jacket hooked over her left forearm, the fingers of her right hand pulling at the ripped, bloodied hole in her grey shirt to look at the wound. At least it was just a graze.

"What the hell happened?" Tony's voice calls out sharply.

Jessica lifts her head to look for him, her gaze flitting over what looks to be a smaller room nearer the top of the Tower with a basic kitchen and a bunch of seating and even a couple of arcade games. Walking towards her in jeans and a buttoned Henley, his hair neatly brushed back out of his face in a way that makes him seem different, Tony lifts his concerned eyes from Jessica's arm to meet her glare.

"Consequence of my own stupid goddamn decisions," she grits out, stepping into the lounge and throwing her jacket over the back of a couch.

Tony frowns, paused on the other side of the couch. "Kilgrave?"

Jessica scoffs. "No. Just a rich civilian wanting some justice."

Tony watches her carefully, his eyes alert under his furrowed brow. "You've got a real loud energy going on, Jones. You look pissed. What happened?"

"I got a new client," she snaps, eyes blazing. "I didn't trust her. Couldn't prove she hadn't been in contact with Kilgrave. So I followed her. Followed the husband she said was cheating. But she set me up."

Tony shifts on his feet, crossing his arms over his chest as he glances at her injury again.

"They'd clearly put some thought into it. Didn't wanna leave a trace, if the plastic sheet was anything to go by. Told me I was a freak. Told me that we'd rained hell and blamed us for her mom dying." Jessica licks her lips and turns away for a moment, that ugly defensiveness burning inside her again until the anger turns inwards and guilt churns her stomach. "She lost her mom because of the Incident and she decided to get revenge, and I was the lucky asshole she picked."

Tony's eyes flash. "She shot you because her mom died during an alien invasion?"

"A broke PI in Hell's Kitchen is easier to access than an alien army," she snarks bitterly. "And less heat if she killed me than the flag waver or New York's most treasured billionaire."

Tony's body goes stiff. "She tried to kill you because you helped protect the city."

"She saw it as more destroying than protecting." The anger swells inside her again and she stomps around the room to look out of the massive windows, her hands clenching and unclenching shakily. "I got shot because of my goddamn temper. Because I walked into that goddamn shitshow and got myself involved. And she chose now, of all times, to fuck with me. I trashed their goddamn room!" she shouts, wheeling round to glare at him. "I coulda broken every single one of their bones and left them there in that shitty building until they starved!"

"Tell me you at least called the cops," he says.

"I told them to disappear."

"Who were they?"

Jessica turns away from him again, her anger buzzing loudly. "I should've just evacuated with everyone else," she grinds out. "If I'd just walked away, Kilgrave wouldn't have been provoked by the news calling us fucking heroes, this bitch wouldn't have blamed me and shot me for her mom's death, Trish wouldn't have been attacked, everything would have just been normal."

"But more people would have died."

"You wanna know why I won't join your fucked-up little group of nerds?" she scowls, twisting to face him side-on, the anger surging up her throat. "Because I'm a regular goddamn person just trying to survive in this goddamn city, and you assholes have either never had the misfortune to live paycheck to paycheck or you've forgotten because now you work for some top secret pricks. Regular people who get dragged into shit like this suffer. Civilians suffer!"

Tony's eyes narrow, his head tilting slightly as the anger on his face morphs from having an unknown target, to targeting Jessica. He's got as much ugly defensiveness as she does. "What are you trying to say? 'Cause it sounds like you're agreeing with the asshole that shot you."

"You can't get it, Tony, because you grew up the way you did and you live the way you do. Most people don't have the freedom to just decide they're gonna join a superhero club!"

"But if you join then you'd be on the paycheck and it wouldn't be a problem?" he retorts, incredulous.

"What would I do on the off-days, huh? How'd I fill the time between world-threatening catastrophes?' she snaps.

"You could keep doing the job you're doing now, I don't know, why would-"

"No, Tony, I couldn't. Because then I wouldn't be a regular goddamn person and people would either wanna hire me to show up at goddamn birthday parties or they wouldn't hire me at all! I'd be a joke. A symbol for, what, white saviour syndrome? Class disparity? 'Here's an Avenger who's on a team with a literal billionaire, how about you pay her so she can get up in your personal business and find some humiliating shit to ruin your life with!' Nobody would take me seriously. I'd be done."

Tony shakes his head and throws his arms wide. "Then maybe you find a new job," he exclaims, exasperated.

"I don't want to," she retorts.

"Right. Because you enjoy taking pictures of cheating spouses? It's super fulfilling to build up blackmail on people for money?"

"It beats everyone forgetting you're an actual human being and putting you on a pedestal that you could never hope to live up to." Her face contorts and she runs a hand through her hair, catching knots on the way and ripping through them. "She might have been psychotic but she was getting at something, Tony. The city was attacked and a team of costumed idiots saved the day. A worldwide invasion was prevented. That can exist at the same time as the fact that people really suffered, and are still suffering, even if the mess is cleaned up and the buildings are fixed and the team moved onto the next mission. You put a lot of money into helping people; but that only goes so far. Their world changed. Their lives changed. They might have had the money for their business repaid to them, but that doesn't replace the people they lost. They'll feel the effects of it all just as long as you will, but they don't have the luxuries you have - they don't have the comfort, the time, the money, the space. A lot of them are working multiple jobs just to keep the roof of a tiny, shitty apartment over their heads. And now they don't have their family."

Tony stares at her, lips parted, eyes wild, brow gently furrowed. Jessica's chest heaves, her arm aches, and the anger inside of her is ebbing and flowing like she's on some kind of fucking rollercoaster, rising up to rage, hatred, aggression, and dipping down to guilt, despair, fear. All of her spinning plates are screaming in her head, and the anger is bellowing, and she doesn't know why she's here or what she wants or what to fucking do.

Finally, Tony takes a breath and licks his lips, his eyes tracing the ceiling as he gathers himself. When he speaks, his voice is calm and quiet, placating. "Alright, Jones. I hear you, okay? Your points are a little scattered - I'm not even sure what your main argument is or if you're more angry with me, the woman who shot you, or yourself - but I hear what you're saying. The Avengers had a shitshow of a time dealing with the aliens and doing what we could to protect the city and its people, and that can be the truth as much as us sitting pretty in our financial and cultural standing is also the truth. We might still be suffering, but normal people are doing the same in worse conditions." He takes another breath and slips his hands in his pockets. "And you consider yourself one of the normal people, which is why you feel you can't become an Avenger. Is that what you're saying?"

Jessica's face contorts, her lip twitching into a snarl. "I don't owe this world shit. All it's done is take from me. I work in the dirt and the shadow and I don't make any friends out of it. I'm an asshole and an alcoholic and I'm broke. I don't belong with the Avengers."

Tony sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "I feel like ninety percent of your problem is a low self-esteem sorta thing-"

"Jesus Christ, Tony," she mutters, her rage bubbling into another swell. She storms past him to collect her jacket, and he turns on the spot to watch her go. "This was a mistake."

"What are you talking-"

Everything in her quivers with fury. "This whole thing was a mistake!" she shouts, grabbing her jacket and stomping back to face him. "Walking into that goddamn battle was a mistake, entertaining any kind of conversation with you was a mistake, working with you was a mistake - even watching those stupid fucking movies with you was a mistake!"

Tony's eyes are wild again, his expression rigid with tension as he takes a step towards her. "Pretty sure it's not a mistake if you get somethin' positive out of it. Which you must have done, right? 'Cause why the hell else would you keep coming back? Outta sheer good-will? You? No, you get as much out of whatever the hell this is as I do, Jones, and you can lie to yourself about it until the Hulk takes up frickin' origami, but I can see right through your bullshit!"

Jessica shoves a hand into her jacket and rips out a couple of photographs - ones that she hasn't been able to leave alone. "You look at these and you tell me that this wasn't a mistake!" she shouts, slapping the photos against his chest, making him stumble back a couple steps.

"Whoa, alright, what the hell is going on?" a voice demands.

Jessica's head snaps towards the elevator to find two newcomers in the room, the elevator door closing behind them. One, she recognises instantly, is Pepper Potts, new CEO of Stark Industries. The other is a man in a black suit and an earpiece, walking briskly towards them with a taser pointed at Jessica.

"You good, boss? Who is this?" the man asks.

"Happy-" Potts starts.

"I was just leaving," Jessica grits out, making her way past them both to the elevator.

"She hurt you, boss? She a threat?"

But one quiet question from Tony is all it takes to make her stop. "What is this?"

Jessica closes her eyes and sighs, feeling all of the energy draining out of her. She turns her body enough to see him in her peripherals. "You texted me once," she answers tiredly. "Malcolm saw your name and he wouldn't leave it alone - kept asking who you were. I didn't know it at the time, but.. obviously he wasn't asking for himself. And now Kilgrave knows."

"Kilgrave?" Potts repeats, turning a frown between Jessica and Tony. "I've heard that name. They're talking about him on the news - that young woman said he controlled her and made her kill her parents. Tony, how are you involved?"

"This guy coming for you, boss? You need me to hang around and stand guard?" the suited man asks.

But Tony looks up and only meets Jessica's eyes. The fire seems to have died out of him, as well. "'Doesn't know the real you'," he repeats. "What does that mean?"

"The hero shit," Jessica answers hollowly. And Reva. "It also means you might be more at risk than I thought. If he wants to prove something to you."

He frowns at her. "Is that what this is all about? Trying to push me away again to protect me?"

Jessica turns her face away from him, taking a deep breath. There's only so much she feels comfortable saying in front of these strangers. "I don't know."

"I thought we'd reached some neutral ground where I got to help and you didn't have to worry so much."

"Sorry if the whole getting shot thing fucked with where my head's at," she snaps.

She has so much going on. She was on the verge of snapping anyway and Audrey Eastman just tipped her over. She's not healthy. She's not steady. She's a timebomb with a frayed fuse and Tony is… Tony. She doesn't really know why she came here. Part of her clearly blames him for something, but she's not sure what.

Maybe for making her care.

The plates are spinning and spinning and spinning and she doesn't know how to stop them. She can't afford to stop them. If she drops any of them, someone's going to get hurt, and it'll be on Jessica. If she drops any of them, Kilgrave wins. There's too much at stake and too much to do, and she's not good enough to make everything right. It feels like he's always one move away from winning, and it's exhausting. There's no room to rest.

"Shot? You're injured?" Potts clarifies, instantly moving for the kitchen. "We've got a first aid kit under the sink, hang on."

"You really don't-"

"I've stitched Tony up a couple times, it'll be fine. Besides, someone needs to do some explaining and Tony's terrible at opening up."

"You're not gonna get any further with Jones," Tony grumbles, staring down at the photos. Then he sniffs and lets them fall to the couch beside him. "Alright, I need to go tinker with something before I explode. I'll be in the lab if anyone needs me."

He turns and walks to the elevator without even looking at Jessica. It stings more than she thought it might.

"Uh- should I- would you rather-" the suited man stumbles.

Potts rolls her eyes as she walks back towards Jessica. "Go with him, Happy. I'm fine here."

"You sure?" he checks.

"What kind of name is 'Happy'?" Jessica intones, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He sends her a brief glare. Then, "Wait up, boss!"

Jessica turns back to Potts and watches her lay the kit down on one side of a couch, watching her expectantly. "Look, lady, I'm not interested in-"

"I'm not as easily scared-off as Happy is," Potts interrupts, smiling in a way Jessica imagines eases a lot of business deals.

Jessica rolls her eyes, but she drops her jacket on the arm of the couch and sits down. "I guess being Tony's assistant for years would earn you a pretty thick skin."

"You have no idea," Potts replies, sighing. "You might need to take your shirt off so I can get in at the wound."

Jessica gives her a look. "Just cut off the sleeve, Potts. It's ruined, anyway."

"Pepper," the woman corrects her, firm but not unkind. "Manners go a long way with the woman threading a needle through your skin."

Despite herself, Jessica snorts. "Alright, fair enough."

Pepper gives her an amused smile before she gets to work. She cuts the sleeve and cleans Jessica's arm, murmuring that it's stopped bleeding and isn't too deep a gash. The actual stitching of the wound hurts, but Jessica closes her eyes and lets it wash over her. It gives her a distraction from the chaos inside her mind, the lingering anger prickling at her skin.

"So," Pepper says pointedly as she works. "You fought in the Battle of New York, stayed here one night, and now Tony's caught up in this stuff with Kilgrave. How'd that happen?"

"Ask him," Jessica grunts. "He's the one who wouldn't leave it alone."

"Sounds like the two of you came to some kind of agreement, though?"

Jessica sighs deeply. "Yeah."

"And now you're yelling at each other and he thinks you're pushing him away."

"Jesus, you're as nosy as my sister."

Pepper gives her another amused smile. "I'm sure she just cares."

"That's the problem going round these days."

"What's her name?"

Jessica winces at a particularly sharp stab of the needle. "Trish."

Pepper pauses and looks up at her. "I heard Trish Walker talking about Kilgrave, too. She's your sister?"

"Adopted," Jessica grunts. "When I was a kid. Part of a publicity stunt by her mother."

"But you two are close, at least?"

"When we're on good terms. Do you always ask so many questions?" she scowls.

Pepper keeps her eyes on her work, but she smiles a little sadly. "Tony's been.. elusive, to say the least, recently. We've been worried about him up here all alone. But it sounds like you two have been spending some time together."

"Listen, if you're worried about us being together, I'm not-"

"You believe everything you read in trash magazines?" Pepper retorts, giving her a look. "I'm happy to know he's had more company than we thought he did. This Kilgrave situation just sounds really dangerous and he's still recovering from the Battle. We're worried about him."

Jessica licks her lips and takes a moment. "I'm not gonna let Kilgrave get to him. Or, at least, I'm gonna try. There's a lot of shit going on and I've got a lot of people to look out for, but I know the risks if Kilgrave gets to Tony."

Pepper sighs. "Ever since he came back from that cave he's been trying to make a difference. Trying to right all the wrongs he was a part of. Now that he's turned this corner and he's got this suit, it's like he thinks every bad guy's his responsibility. I think it's eating him alive."

"Well, Kilgrave's definitely my responsibility. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"I've been trying for years," she comments wryly. "When he sets his mind on something, it's almost impossible to pull him away. If he wants to help you with this, there's nothing you can do to shake him."

Jessica scoffs. "You underestimate how much of an asshole I am. I think this one takes the cake."

"You guys argue a lot?"

Jessica shifts uncomfortably at the realisation. "Almost every time we see each other."

"Why?"

Jessica grits her teeth and looks away.

Pepper hums to herself. "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say it's because you're both emotionally stunted."

Jessica turns back to her, eyebrows nearly at her hairline. "Tell me what you really think," she intones sarcastically.

"Just an observation," Pepper shrugs. "And there you go, all stitched up."

Jessica lifts her arm to peek at the handiwork. "Huh. A woman of many talents, I assume?"

Pepper tidies everything up and pushes off the couch. "You've gotta learn to adapt when you work with Tony Stark. If you don't adapt, he'll keep doing the shit he does anyway, it'll just cause you a lot more headaches than it needs to."

Jessica rolls her shoulder back and shakes her head. "Not unless I piss him off enough first."

"You mean how you told him everything was a mistake?"

Jessica rubs her face and says nothing.

"I don't think you pissed him off with that," Pepper says quietly. "I think you hurt him."

The whispers trace Jessica's neck and she pushes to her feet, rubbing angrily at the skin. She picks up her jacket and starts to walk out.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Pepper asks.

Jessica pauses and looks over her shoulder at the redhead. Her chest tightens, but she clears her throat and tries to force her voice past it. "This is the safest thing for him. If he stays away from me, Kilgrave will stay away from him."

Review replies:

EmyEnna: omg hahaha i'm sorry your streak was broken because my muse struck so immediately between the last chapter and the one before it, but don't you worry I wasn't offended or anything that you hadn't reviewed chapter 19! you always seem to put so much thought and care into them so i consider myself enormously lucky whenever you grace me with one! you're such an angel thank you for being so kind about the chapter i was a lil self-conscious about xx this one.. i did not expect things to go so downhill but.. we've got two kids with PTSD so they're gonsta be messy, sadly. one step forward, one step back :( i swear this story has a life of it's own so i've no idea what will happen or when, but there are plans, i can tell you that! thank you so much for reviewing and reading and being such a sweetie, i hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Hearteyesmf: eeep i'm glad you liked the soft moment between Tony and Jessica, poor lil touch-starved babies. hahaha yeah Trish, Pepper, and Rhodey all drinking and sharing their woes while Jessica and Tony are in the background burning everything to the ground is definitely something i want to see hahaha. thank you for always reviewing and reading, i hoped you enjoyed this chapter!

maskedwriterguy: hi! i'm glad you're enjoying the slow-burn, it is absolutely the slowest of burns, so expect a lot more of it hahaha. i'm sorry some things go over your head - i do really recommend watching the show 'cause it's amazing, but either way i'll try to do a kind of recap of the stuff that happens behind the scenes on this story but in the scenes of the show so you're not completely lost. tbh we'll probably be in JJ season 1 for another while, but things will end up deviating from the plot so will at least make more sense for you then. and i do have some vague ideas for the story beyond season 1 and into the MCU. hope you enjoyed this chapter, thanks for reviewing!