When he awoke, she was gone, but she had left behind her scarf. Perhaps because there was blood on it - Matt could smell it as he picked the garment up off the ground - or perhaps because she wanted a reason to return. He hoped it was the latter, but Jessica Jones didn't seem to be the type to leave breadcrumbs behind. If she had wanted to stay she would have. If she wanted to see him again she would make it happen.

Staggering to the kitchen, still sore from the night before, Matt poured himself a stale cup of coffee.

Even though she had left in the night, he could still smell Jessica throughout his apartment. It was intoxicating. He had to shake himself from its grip.

She had slept on the couch, curled under her own leather jacket after claiming she didn't need a blanket. It was a spot worn in by many women: Karen, Claire, Elektra. They had each left their own mark on his life, but they had wanted to. Jessica didn't seem interested in leaving her mark, it just happened, it always happened wherever she went.

The mark was so deep Matt found himself sitting in the spot she left, relaxing into her empty space and wondering where she'd gone.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Jesus Jess, you look like shit," Trish told her as she exited the elevator. Jessica blew past her best friend, but not before taking the styrofoam coffee cup from her hand. Trish sighed, knowing that when Jessica wanted something it was hers.

"What happened last night?" Trish continued, trailing behind as they made their way to Jessica's apartment.

"A couple of vans, some bad guys, Matt," Jessica croaked out, her throat still sore and dry. She took a gulp of the coffee, or rather lightened, sweetened coffee concoction before adding, "It was all a fucking blur."

As she had told Matt the night before, her wounds had healed. Her shoulder was perfect, her wrist back in fighting form and the bruises that once littered her face were barely visible in the darkened hallway.

"Matt Murdock?" Trish asked. "The one you said you didn't care about when you discovered he was back from the dead." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but Jessica ignored it. Her front door was open and she was sure she didn't leave it that way.

"Malcolm!" Jessica hollered. "I swear to whatever god you pray to that if you're in my apartment again I will kick the shit out of-"

"I'm right here," Malcolm interjected. He was behind them, exiting his own apartment just down the hall.

Jessica turned back to her own door, now knowing real danger could linger just steps away. "Stay here," she commanded her friends, before passing the coffee cup back to Trish.

With her heavy gait and raised fist, Jessica didn't bother sneaking into her home, she barrelled through the half open door ready for a fight. But her place was empty, save the remnants of her furniture which laid in pieces all over the floor. Taking a quick look around Jessica realized someone, maybe two or three someones, had been searching for something. They may have found it - her laptop was gone.

The sound of glass crunching under a shoe forced Jessica to spin around, but it was just Trish. Her high heels were pushing over the mounds of debris.

"I thought I said stay outside," Jessica said.

"And I thought you knew that wouldn't work with me," Trish replied. She found her place next to Jessica and took in all the same signs. "What do you think they were looking for?"

"I don't know," Jessica told her. She looked up to see a wide-eyed Malcolm in the doorway. "You didn't hear this?" she asked him incredulously.

"I was out," Malcolm said.

The one time you're not here, Jessica thought. But even if he had been there was nothing he could have done. The level of damage at her feet meant that her intruders were violent, indiscriminate and she knew they would have killed Malcolm.

"Well, they took your laptop," Trish said, only a minute behind Jessica's own observations. "What was on it?"

"Cases mostly, maybe some porn. I don't know," Jessica replied honestly.

"Okay, so this is about a case," Trish continued. "What are you guys working on?"

Malcolm walked further into the apartment, slowly picking up broken pieces of a chair and scrapes of the kitchen table, but they couldn't be salvaged. He sighed. "We haven't had a case in a while. Last one was some guy who thought the security team in his condo was stealing from the units."

"Were they?" Trish asked leaning against the only wall that seemed free of damage.

"It took a few nights of surveillance and a beat down, but Jess discovered it was the condo manager not the security team," Malcolm told her.

Jessica chuckled. "It was a real Scooby-Doo whodunit, but I don't think those assholes had anything to do with this."

She knelt down, picking up the shards of a broken bottle of whiskey, the contents staining the cracked hardwood floor.

Damn waste.

"So what are we going to do?" Malcolm asked.

"There is no we," Jessica replied.

Trish scoffed. "Ignore her. She'd be knee deep in Jim Beam if you weren't here to make sure her benders stayed this side of 24 hours."

"Okay, ouch," Jessica spat back, her eyes narrowing on Trish. "And knee deep is like three feet short of drunk, so I don't see the big fucking deal."

"Just admit that you need him… need us," Trish said.

"My place is trashed. Is this really the best time for us to hold hands and discuss our feelings?"

Malcolm couldn't help but smile. "Let's just clean this place up. We can figure out a strategy later."

"You clean up," Jessica told him. "I've already got my strategy."

"Jessica," Trish pleaded, but Jessica was already walking out the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

Less than an hour later, Jessica found herself standing in the lobby of Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz. She was spotted by the receptionist from at least ten feet away, prompting the lithe, well dressed woman to hurriedly reached under her thick oak desk. Jessica was sure she was pressing a security call button. If she had been anywhere but a law office, Jessica might have surmised the receptionist was actually reaching for a gun. You just never knew in New York.

Stomping to the desk, her heavy black boots scuffing the glistening tiles, Jessica leaned in, elbows resting, hips relaxed. "Jessica Jones to see Jeri Hogarth."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hogarth is out of town on business," the receptionist replied while holding Jessica's penetrating stare.

Jessica scoffed. "Then what's her car doing in the parking garage? Fourth floor, right by the exit."

Without missing a beat, the receptionist countered, "She was taken to the airport in a company car. Would you like to leave a message for her, Miss Jones?"

"You are good," Jessica said softly, marvelling at how well Hogarth had trained her staff. After the fallout from Kilgrave, Jessica couldn't blame her. "I need something from her. Some files."

"I'd be happy to pass the request on and contact you by phone or email once it becomes convenient to do so."

Jessica laughed. "I know she's here, okay? And I think you're aware that if I wanted to I could be in her office right now, no appointment necessary."

Three broad shouldered men, each wearing a gun on their hips, suddenly appeared in the lobby. Jessica sighed. She hadn't wanted to do things the hard way, but somehow that always ended up being the case.

"Seriously guys, I don't want to hurt you," she told the men as they began to flank her. "But I will."

"Please come with us, Miss Jones," one of them said, but she knew the please was only for effect. His request was anything but polite.

Jessica turned back to the receptionist whose once calm demeanor was deteriorating as she anticipated a superpower charged fight. "I need to see the files on Kilgrave," Jessica told the woman who couldn't help but react to the name. Everyone seemed to know it. "I think he might be back."

After Kilgrave's death, try as she and the New York City Police might, stories of the Purple Man's powers leaked to the press. Soon the front pages were littered with tales of everyday citizens being forced to rob stores or shoot family members. There was no way to tell who was lying, who had really been under Kilgrave's control and who was using it as a cover for their own nefarious deeds. It didn't matter. The damage was done. Once he was the stuff of Jessica's nightmares, but soon after he was a villain for the entire city.

Jessica knew the receptionist would relay her message to Hogarth. She would get those files one way or another. Jessica leaned over the desk one last time and whispered, "Tell Hogarth she knows where to find me."

Raising her hands in the air, her fingerless gloves covering the healing scrapes from her hit and run the night before, Jessica gave up - for now. "Alright, alright. I'm leaving. No need to shoot or tackle or whatever," she said smiling slyly at the men. "No need for you guys to get your asses kicked today, right?"

The men watched her defiantly walk out of the lobby back onto the city streets.

Just as quickly she was grabbed by the arm and slung into the nearby alleyway. She was already poised for a fight, but the move was so familiar she would have know it was him even with her eyes closed.

"Murdock," she sighed.

"Do you normally threaten strangers in the middle of the afternoon?" Matt asked her, pressing her further down the alley away from the law office. He knew she could break away at any time. He knew she was humouring him.

"You were listening to my conversation? From out here?" Jessica whipped around to face him. "Just a little bit creepy, counselor. Like, this much creepy," she said mockingly, holding her fingers up to indicate an amount she was sure Matt could not fully see.

Matt let go of her arm, his hand already twisted by her erratic movements and his equilibrium still off from the fight the night before. He didn't heal like she did, and he wasn't fully prepared for battle - not after his long recovery following Midland Circle.

"Did you follow me?" she asked him. "Or did you divine that I would be here?"

He couldn't help but smile. "I'm a Catholic not a prophet." Even without sight, he knew Jessica was rolling her eyes. "I came to talk to Foggy, my former law partner. I heard you from outside. I promise I didn't know you would be here."

"As a man recently back from the dead who has a fear that his loved ones are targets, you sure do seem to throw caution to the wind."

"Meaning?" he asked her.

"Meaning it's broad daylight and anyone could have followed you here. And then they know you have connections to someone inside." she told him matter of factly.

Matt mentally kicked himself. He was acting like he had before his death. He had been doing it for a week. Contacting Foggy, going to Claire's apartment, Jessica's office, now Foggy's work. He was acting like Matt Murdock and Daredevil were two different people, but if his suspicions were still right his enemies knew the truth.

"If you want my professional opinion, you're not acting like a guy who doesn't want to be found," she said.

"You're right," he told her. Jessica loved being right. "I should go." He began to quickly walk further down the alley toward the dead end, but Jessica knew he was going to ninja his way out, via grips and flips like the first day she met him.

The first day we met. Fuck!

"You're my lawyer!" She called out after him before he could begin scaling the wall.

Matt turned back to face her, confused.

"You have those damn files."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AUTHOR NOTE: thanks for reading. Sorry for the later than usual upload on this one (personal stuff, blarg). This is a bridge chapter to the next bit of action. Please review to let me know what you think and what you hope to see in the future. I really, really love feedback - and I try to implement it to make the story better. Thanks again!