"Isn't that guy supposed to be in prison?" Jessica Jones asked from her spot at Matt Murdock's window. She was looking down on Wilson Fisk, his broad chest and shoulders engulfing her view, his bald head reflecting the yellow light from the streetlamp above. It was as if he had his own spotlight. Jessica knew the stage was set.

Turning back to Matt, she realized he was in no position to fight. Not really. Yes, his eyes were covered and his fists were up, but the tilt of his head let her know he was distracted. He was listening to Fisk six stories below, transfixed.

"Okay, we have to go," Jessica told him. She rushed to his side, taking his hand and pulling in one quick movement. Matt felt himself jerked to the right, her strength overpowering him.

"We can fight," he protested, but he knew better than to try and resist her tugs.

As their fingers became entangled, Matt felt the rush of her pulse. It matched his own. They were both afraid.

"Yeah, we could fight," Jessica told him. "Or we could get the fuck out of here and regroup."

Matt realized Jessica's fear was not for herself, but for him. She didn't want to see him hurt. But he couldn't think about that. Wilson Fisk was outside, commanding a new army, coming for Matt Murdock, not the Daredevil. He had to fight. He had to stand his ground. But Jessica was already pulling him out his loft doors and up the stairs to the roof.

"Jessica," he began, but it was too late. From the roof access doors, three of Fisk's lackeys entered and immediately began a rush of action, moving toward Jessica like a battering ram.

Jessica stepped back, confused.

Why are they rushing me? she thought, but there was little time to process. Despite her concerns, Matt leapt into battle.

He was a capable fighter and he always seemed to know his opponent's next move. Jessica was a smash and grab kind of girl. She smashed the first bad guy who came toward her with both fists to his face, then she grabbed him as he stumbled backwards and tossed him down the stairs.

Matt pressed his way through the remaining two, kicking one in the chest, sending him into Jessica's fists and grappling with the other: close, tight, fists to face and ribs. Jessica pushed them both, sending Matt and his assailant through the door to the roof. As they tumbled on the tar, unlatching from one another, Jessica kicked the man in the stomach, sending him back against the ledge, knocking him out. She reached down for Matt's hand, but he was already scrambling to his feet, ready for more.

"Come on!" she shouted to him. "We have to go."

Matt refused to move, poised for another fight. He could hear men ascending the stairs, knives ready, brass knuckles clinking.

Jessica feared he couldn't see what was really happening. She now knew that once again, this wasn't about him, but her. Fuck.

Jessica grabbed his arm. "Let's go, Murdock!"

"We can fight them," he said once again, adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him manic.

"I know that," she spat in his face. "But we don't have to. You don't have a suit."

"I don't need it," he told her definitely.

"Okay, maybe I don't want to fight," she offered, but Matt knew she was lying. She would fight if need be - in fact, she would fight without need. Like Malcolm had told him just the day before she was always mad, it was her permanent state. She didn't really need a reason to throw a few supercharged right hooks. No, Matt knew that Jessica wanted to leave because she was genuinely afraid. The fear washed over her, colouring her normally red flame a bright blue. Matt had to look away or he would become entranced.

Then the voice of Wilson Fisk boomed over any thought Matt had, crashing into his brain and exploding with the force of dynamite.

"I told them to bring me the girl," Fisk snarled to someone unseen and unheard. Matt knew he was standing on the street, looking up, waiting for his handywork to be complete. Fisk continued, "But I think we have the opportunity to remove a thorn from my side."

Confused, Matt wondered why Jessica was a target of Wilson Fisk. But before he could truly comprehend his enemy's plan Fisk hollered into the night, loud enough so that Jessica and every thug could hear. "Capture the girl! Kill the devil!"

As if on cue, the men on the stairs moved faster, spurred on by their master's commands. They ran as one, a wave of danger cresting through the roof door, preparing to swallow Matt and Jessica whole.

"We have to go," Jessica pressed again, as the thugs began to surround them.

Annoyed and angered, Matt turned to face her. If he could see through the scarf, or see at all, Jessica was sure his eyes would have burned into her.

"You said to me that no one knows Kilgrave like you. That if he was alive it was your job to stop him," he reminded her. "Well, no one knows Wilson Fisk like me. I am responsible. I have to stop him."

"Dammit," she growled. "I was afraid you would say that."

With a sad shrug, Jessica lined up her fist and laid a punch square across Matt's jaw. He went down hard, his body almost bouncing off the concrete. As she quickly picked him up, draping him over her shoulder, she heard Fisk holler from below.

"Attack them!"

His voice washed over the men and all at once they ran towards Jessica, their weapons outstretched and glistening in the moonlight.

"Fuck," Jessica yelped. She knew she could fight, like Matt had wanted. She was relatively sure she might even win, despite the heavy numbers before her. But something in their eyes, the eyes of her assailants, made her shiver. So, she turned tail and ran, her right arm tightening on Matt's waist trying to steady him.

As her would-be attackers followed, Jessica leapt from the roof. Unlike the men behind her, she made it to the next building over, then the next, and the next after that. She could hear the screams of men falling to their deaths, having jumped after her, not making the distance. But she couldn't think about that. She couldn't think about what their deaths meant. She couldn't think about anything but getting Matt to safety.

A safety she felt guilty bringing him to because they were leaving everything behind - his cane, his suit, and his safe haven.