Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, only the crazy ideas in my insane mind ^^ '
The fanfic starts from episode 1x8 of' Jessica Jones' 'AKA WWJD' ... it was a little strange that I hadn't approached yet to my favorite episode; but then it degenerates, it degenerates without any restraint and, knowing me, no, this is not so strange XD
sorry, no beta... bear my bad English, please ^^'
I: Not sweet at all
That 'I love you' still echoed in her head with the force of an explosion.
All those months of thinking that he hated her for abandoning him, that he just wanted to kill her and then ...
She remembered every word he had said, what he had said to her, the way he had told her.
She remembered his sweetness.
Wait a minute. His sweetness? Killgrave?! Had she perhaps gone mad? She must have had too much alcohol or perhaps too little.
Killgrave ... sweet!
The bedroom of her apartment still smelled of death… the death of an innocent…, whom Killgrave had ordered to kill himself and for what? Because he had disturbed him while he was hiding his gift.
How it had hurt to listen to Robyn explaining that her brother Ruben was very sensitive on the neck, that same neck that without any remorse Killgrave had made him cut, enjoying the show while he ate the dessert that Ruben had prepared to impress her.
She felt like she was dying, just as she felt when the upstairs tenant refused her attempt of comfort.
'This is all your fault. We were fine before you came here. '
Hateful vitriol that hurt her more than a bullet, because those words were true.
These were Jessica's thoughts, on that taxi that was taking her there, to 'start at the beginning', as stated in the blue post-it that Killgrave had left in her diary, hers from when she was a young girl, the one she had not been able to recover before Dorothy took her to the Walker house, only because she didn't remember the floorboard under which she had hidden it.
He must have found that floorboard.
And he had stopped at nothing to achieve his goal.
No. Killgrave was not sweet at all.
There was nothing remotely human about its boundless cruelty.
Maybe spending time with him would help her find some weakness in order to hit him, or figure out if there was a way to reset him, format him, like you do with computers when they have a virus.
After all, he had a virus, indeed.
These were the intentions with which, once at her destination, Jessica had entered the wolf's lair.
A rather smiling wolf, dressed so unusually casual, in that black V-neck sweater that took away all his usual pomposity and made him look more approachable.
A rather tame wolf who was patiently showing her every corner of what had been her childhood home, perfectly recreated in every detail.
A not indifferent job, a job for someone moved by a powerful feeling.
Jessica had pretended she didn't care, but the truth was that she was impressed when he showed her that he remembered asking her where her happiest memories were, but more importantly that he remembered her answer.
She thought that, at the time, it was just a cuteness to take her to bed, not that Killgrave needed those little devices, she went to bed with him by command.
However, the fact that he remembered that place meant that he really had listened to her, it was something swe...
No, Killgrave couldn't be sweet at all, that was out of question.
He hadn't been sweet as he had proved to her that this time the bodyguard and the staff he had provided to himself were paid, a lot, and he had taught her a lesson about how important it was to give a second chance.
Jessica would have never given him a second chance.
He hadn't been sweet when he hadn't finally opened Phillip's room when she had objected, because it was going to hurt her too much.
"You're not all hard edges, Jessica Jones." he had told her.
Oh, if only he had known that the dark sunglasses she'd been wearing in the cab on the way to that house had given her the luxury of indulging in a short, quiet, cleansing cry, nothing that a little makeup and some concealer well applied couldn't hide, before getting out of the car.
Jessica Jones was nowhere near as tough as she wanted to make people believe.
That wolf was smart and he had guessed it, but she didn't trust all that coaxing.
She knew he couldn't wait to savage her.
-
"I care if you die. The rest are fungible."
Not sweet at all.
This was what Killgrave had told her when she told him there was a bomb in the basement.
A 'brilliant' plan by that Simpsons idiot who was going to ruin everything.
No, Jessica hadn't told Killgrave this, but he'd already guessed it.
That wolf was smart.
Somehow even generous, when, as they both were engrossed in what seemed to be the unrehearsed parody of a breakfast between newlyweds, he had sacked the boastful liar, Jessica's old neighbor, humiliating her deeply, avenging the offenses she had inflicted on his beloved's family.
It was enough to show him even the shadow of a semblance of gratitude for that wolf to take more liberty, with a paw ... or rather a hand on hers.
She had made it clear about it: he shouldn't have touched her. Never again.
A rather heated quarrel ensued, until he, as he had already done during breakfast, had started talking about his parents, until he made a decision, taking his USB stick.
That same stick that he had made her recover, at the cost of breaking her fingers digging in the asphalt.
That stick that had cost her Reva's death.
And Jessica was shocked when she saw the contents of that stick, the experiments that Killgrave, no, Kevin, back at the time when it happened, had been subjected to, at an early, very early age.
Kevin. Such a little suitable name for a wolf.
And it was at that moment that Jessica had opted for plan B, aka to format him.
Could there still be something of Kevin inside Killgrave?
"So no one knows you exist, except your parents, if they're still alive. " she had cunningly returned to that main topic, while he, looking a little bored, had abandoned himself on the sofa, turning on the TV.
No. Bored wasn't the right word.
Killgrave was disappointed.
Disappointed that after confessing to her the truth he had buried for years, just as that stick that contained it had been buried, she had not understood him.
She, who basically had not had a fate so different from his.
Living with special powers because they were forced upon themselves.
The difference is that Kevin had welcomed them as a gift, a liberation, while for Jessica they were a curse, a condemnation.
Perhaps that was precisely what kept her from understanding him as he expected.
"Probably. They were young. They ran away. From promising careers, and their ten-year-old son " he had sighed, without even looking at her face, pretending to pay attention to the screen.
Abandoned by his own parents, when he was only ten years old? Forced to take care of himself, relying only on his power, with no one to help him understand what was right and what was not?
Was it what had happened to him? Had this led him to become Killgrave?
Jessica was so shocked by that news.
"You're not ten anymore."
Killgrave had whirled around to look at her.
"What ... what did you say?" he had asked, wide-eyed, his dark eyes even bigger than usual.
"That you are no longer ten years old." Jessica said, confused.
Killgrave had jumped off the couch, running towards her.
"No, what you said earlier, repeat it exactly, word after word," he had asked, no, he had mostly begged her, with an anxiety and a desperation that didn't belong to him.
"'I said 'you're not ten anymore', but I don't understand why you're acting so..." she mumbled, before jumping to not so irrelevant conclusion.
"Hey, wait a minute, I repeated it to you because I wanted to, not because I felt obliged ... yet you gave me an order ... why?"
But Killgrave now had other problems, while his head had begun to ache tremendously.
"Oh please, I can't control you since the day of the bus accident," he replied hastily, regardless of it, as he clutched his temples, "But that's not the poi..ooohhhh!"
It wasn't clear if he had been screaming in pain or in surprise for the strange, eerie golden light that was pouring from his chest.
"What do you mean you can't control me anymore? And what staging are you setting up now? Did Alva and Laurent help you? Or some lighting technician you enslaved like your usual?"Jessica had pestered him with questions.
She was a detective, for Christ's sake! She needed to understand.
"Nooo ... slavery is the worst condition that a human being should live in and I will also set Alva and Laurent free, if first they make me a chocolate cake, noooo even better, a banana cake, there is nothing better than a banana, you should always go around with a banana! You can benefit from all that pleasure with an intake of only eighty-nine calories, a trifle if you think that the needs of an average man are around two thousand two thousand one hundred; only because I am still a bit rusty, otherwise I would make a quick percentage calculation. " Killgrave had rambled as his mind began to work dizzily, at an inhuman speed, at the same time as the light that had ceased to escape from his chest.
He had begun to tirelessly walk around the living room, he, who was usually so calm, almost phlegmatic in his movements.
And, this was not less alarming, he had also changed his way of speaking and Jessica had not failed to notice it.
"Your accent… how the fuck do you speak now? And why so fast? Christ, it looks like you drank a pitcher of coffee. And what are you babbling about? You fucking bastard, asshole! If it's another one of your fucking tricks I swear to you that I… "
With another one of his unusual quick movements, Killgrave was hopping towards her, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time.
"Woah! Watch your language, Missy, if I still had my sonic screwdriver I would put it in your mouth to try to moderate it! "
"What the fuck do you want to put in whose mouth, you filthy pig?" she had raged, walking away, in total oblivion about what was going on.
"Oh yes ... I would really need it, too bad I don't have it ..." he muttered to himself, rummaging through the pockets of his vest, as if he could magically find one. "Ooooh, I'm wearing a waistcoat, I like waistcoats, nothing like long raincoats though…"
"Killgrave! Stop that!" Jessica had yelled, now behind the couch.
In response, he had rushed towards her.
"Ooohh, wonderful woman! You saved me, thank you! "
He had hugged her, finding himself two seconds later, catapulted onto the sofa, his wrist not broken by some miracle.
"I already told you you mustn't touch me!" the fierce lioness had roared.
"But I'm the Doctor ... or at least a part of him ... I always embrace brilliant humans like you." he had justified himself, rising from the sofa with an agile leap.
"Doctor? Doctor what? " she frowned.
"More like Doctor Who!" he had chuckled as she had wondered why.
Could the Sufentanil she had shot him with days before had delayed side effects of madness?
"Stop that! Stop being this moody, unbearably cheerful, weird guy! I preferred my moody psycho-sociopath guy."
Deep inside, Jessica missed that wolf.
Killgrave had smiled at those words.
"I'm glad to know you miss me already, Jessie."
He had spoken to her in his usual strong British accent, in a slower way, and his way of looking at her had also returned to what characterized him.
"So ... it was all a charade, wasn't it?" she muttered in confusion.
Somehow she was unwittingly relieved that he was back… whoever the other was.
"Oh no, my darling, no fiction," Killgrave had reassured her with one of his oh-so-typical smirks. "I may have remembered who I really am, but that doesn't cancel who I've been for these years ... and how I feel about you." he had murmured.
He would have tried to caress her face, if it weren't for the prohibition she had so icily imposed.
"Holy shit! What do you mean you remembered who you are? Who the fuck are you?"
"With this language you will certainly not get any answers from me," he had warned her, tongue against teeth with a spiteful and amused attitude, the tone cheerful again, the British accent gone again.
"Okay, let's try again. Pretty please… guy who looks like Killgrave and apparently has his memories too… can you tell me who you really are, what's your story? " she had urged him, with a kindness that certainly didn't belong to her usual attitude.
Apparently, however, she had convinced whoever stood in front of her.
"Oh yeah, it's much better now." he had given her a big smile, running to sit on the sofa and inviting her to do the same.
Jessica, with a certain diffidence, had accepted, while keeping the necessary distance.
"What if I told you that the videos I showed you before never existed? That I have never been a kid? If anything, I was a little younger than that, "he revealed, pointing to himself. "But I've never ever been that young. It was all a lie, a childhood I never lived and you have reminded me of it the exact moment you said that sentence. "
"You're not ten anymore?" she repeated, more and more confused about it.
"I'm not Ten anymore, that's true, but I am a part of him, I will always be. I am his Metacrisis and this is my incredible story. Do you have a few minutes or hours or days to listen to it? Time is always so unpredictable and ... "
" Why don't you just start from the beginning? " she had urged him.
TBC
Notes:Come on, take good aim and throw me all the rotten fruits and vegetables you want.
But I really had to bring this crazy and sick thing to life XD
In the next chapter there will be a whole flashback about Metacrisis' past ... and you will understand what actually happened, any ideas? ; P
See you soon and happy new year ! 3
I wanted to start it in an unconventional way, LOL