AN: So, I'm still working on Uninvited (James Bond). But, here is chapter 2! I have to watch the series to get into the writing. Since I finished Jessica Jones like a week ago, I'm super into writing about Killgrave! I love his character, even though he is really kind of a dick. So, here is this one! Please don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you think! I have a plan for this, so don't be surprised by anything!

AN 2: Whoops! I will admit, some of this is written well into the hours of the night. I am always on the brink of sleeping, I swear! This chapter was revised after posting! So, if you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry!


Chapter 2: No One Said It'd Be Easy

"I mean," Killgrave said, pacing back and forth in the office where the therapist sat, being forced to ignore her own patient and listen to him and give him the right advice. "Where does he get off? How?! How does he get off not listening to me? Everyone has to listen to me! It's literally an essential of my existence, and he brushes it off like this mornings crumbs!"

He looked to the therapist, expectantly.

She looked startled, but hesitantly smiled and said, "Well, assuming that you are... uhh.. emitting the pheromones, you said?" He scoffed, but affirmed it. "Wouldn't that mean that there would have to be someone, somewhere out there that was potentially immune to you?"

He grew annoyed at her tone, it was almost condescending, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "What do you mean, Pamela?"

She lifted her hands, placating, "Only that some people are naturally immune to certain scents and pheromones and what not. There is a child who was naturally immune to HIV. They took her stem cells and it allowed them to cure a man of his HIV. She naturally cannot smell the scent of permanent marker."

Killgrave had heard about that. So, the man was just naturally immune to him. Well, it was lucky he'd probably never see him again. He shouldn't have the man around him. It would make him look weak to Jessica. Except, for the first time in a long time, Killgrave wasn't really thinking about Jessica. Sure, the man looked like the male counterpart to Jessica in many details. Except, he could easily be considered more attractive than Jessica. His eyes... they were so full and empty of life at the same time. Like his. He looked... tired yet very alive. As though he were just waiting for an adventure to distract him with. His lips looked so soft. And, his body was... perfect. He was muscled but not overly so. Like he could fight. And, Killgrave had no doubt in his head that the man had seen death. Harry's eyes reeked of someone who had death in their lives.

And Killgrave, god dammit, he wanted to see him again. He could feel it. This was... destiny. What are the odds that there are two people who are immune to him living in the same city? Damn unlikely. But, now Killgrave had to figure out how to approach.

"What would you suggest I do about him," he asked the therapist.

"Do... you desire him to die?" She hesitated at the start of that question. Apparently, she was feeling brave.

But, Killgrave didn't lash out. Because, honestly, he didn't know. He wanted to see him again, see if he could figure out if he could control him the more exposure he got, or if he was well and truly immune. Maybe he was a psychic. Killgrave had never met one, but he knew that they were out there. There were mutants for fucks sake.

"Let's assume for the time being," he finally replied, "I don't. How would I get his attention?"

The therapist looked thoughtful, "Well, you said he gave you his number. Perhaps, he is a homosexual, gay if you will. He may be assuming you want a date."

Killgrave remembered he'd asked (attempted force) Harry to eat with him. But, not really as a date, right? Or did he. He did find him attractive. Very attractive. Maybe, Killgrave could get a few good fucks out of him.

"So, I go on a date with him," Killgrave concluded. "He was incredibly attractive." He leered at the therapist, who didn't bat an eye. But, then he frowned. "How on earth do I go on a date?!"

The therapist raised an eyebrow, "You've never been on a date before?"

"Not any that I actually had to try at," he growled at his own stupidity in response.

"Just... be yourself?" She said, frowning a little at him. "I'm sorry, I'm married, I haven't dated in almost fifteen years. Be who you want to be, Killgrave. If not yourself, then who you think could be someone that he could see a future with."

Killgrave frowned harder at her tone. "And, if I want him dead?"

Her face showed some worry, but the woman was a self preserver, through and through. She looked him hard in the eye, before responding, "Then, I suppose he's a dead man walking."

He nodded, a smile gracing his face, to the therapist, "My goodness, you actually did it! You helped me work through it! You're... by god you are actually good at this! Huh, you deserve a treat!"

Pamela smiled at his attitude, slight relief coursing through her veins. "Thank you!"

He looked to her patient and smiled, "Pay her double." He looked back to Pamela, whose eyes widened. "You, accept the money." He smirked as she nodded. "Then, don't tell anyone. Or you'll both get into trouble." He nodded to his driver and they left.

He sat in the back of the car as he reflected. He pulled out his phone, where Harry's number was programmed. He stared at his name.

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Harry knew that Killgrave would call. He wasn't an idiot. He had intrigued Killgrave with his blatant defiance. Maybe Harry could teach him some manners while he rode the man. He really wanted to make him say please again. He smirked at the thought. Before shaking his head. He needed to calm down. But, he couldn't get those brown eyes out of his head. They were so... bored. Like how he felt. Almost, like the world could come crashing down and he would almost welcome it.

So, when his phone rang, coming up with an unknown phone number, he smirked. Call it intuition, but Harry had a feeling that it was the man in question.

"Hello," he said into the phone.

"Harry," came the familiar voice. It slithered through his veins, causing Harry's smirk to widen.

"Killgrave," Harry responded, and he heard an almost sigh of relief. "You okay?"

"Great, actually," Killgrave said, and Harry heard some shuffling in the background. "I... was wondering if you would like to perhaps, catch a movie and go to dinner or something."

Harry laughed a little, "Oh, come on! You can do better than that!"

"Excuse me?" Killgrave responded, dangerously.

"I mean, the other night you were all 'jump up and down, go to dinner with me'!" Harry said, easily, "Where are the demands for compliance?"

"Perhaps I've stopped being arrogant," Killgrave said.

Harry's laughing subsided. "Oh?" He said, his eyebrows raising,"And, where were you going to take me?"

Killgrave paused, "Wh-where would you like to go?" He sounded genuinely interested.

Harry thought, "Roscoe's."

There was a pregnant silence. "Roscoe's? The pub? In the worst part of New York. The one where the man stabbed the other man before having a shoot out with three police men?"

"Yes." Harry responded, he tone serious. "Is there something wrong with that place?"

Killgrave paused again, "No. Not at all." Harry heard more rustling, "Tomorrow, then, please? Would... that work... for you?"

Harry smiled at the stammering, "At seven, all right?"

"Yes, that would be perfect. I'll meet you there." More rustling, and tires squealing. "I've got to go, Harry."

"Alright," Harry smirked, trying to envision what was happening, "see you then!"

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Killgrave hated jeans.

Let the world be aware, jeans were terrible. They were the worst invention in the history of the world. They were itchy, for one. And two, they don't breath. How on earth was he supposed to avoid sweating if he was going to have to wear clothing that doesn't breath. He hated not being in control.

The black jeans fit him perfectly, though. He'd paired it with a dark, almost black, purple shirt. He also wore a vest, over it. The vest was leather, but it looked like a suit vest. He wore thick and heavy boots. Not very stylish, but what can you do?

He entered the bar and hour early and glanced around. The bikers and gangbangers barely glanced at him when he entered. What a dump. Though, it was better than that bar he had Cage blow up. Honestly, comparatively, this was the Ritz. He walked over to the bar and leaned forward to shout over the obnoxious music.

The bartender leaned forward to hear. "I'll take a pint of whatever is on tap and for the love of all that is holy, turn the music down to a reasonable level!" He shouted into the man's ear.

The man jerked away, wincing, but complying. The shout, however, had caused the room full of very large and dangerous people to turn to look at him. He casually turned around and surveyed the room as the music was lowered to still able to hear, but could also talk over level.

"Alright, so here is what is going to happen," Killgrave said, clapping his hands together. "Tell me, everyone, with a show of hands, who here has killed someone?" Nearly half of them raised their hands. Killgrave rolled his eyes. "On purpose." A fourth of them lowered their hands. "Sober." A fifth. "Premeditated." Half of those people lowered their hands, leaving only about twelve or so people. "Not avenging someone who was close to you." Six more hands went down. "You six, come here." He pointed to the area around him. "The rest of you, mind your own business and talk quietly among yourselves. No one can leave or tell anyone about this in anyway." The noise level went up.

Killgrave assessed the four men and two women before him. "Starting with blondie, tell me what it is that you did. How did you kill them, using what, for what reasons?"

The blonde biker woman, who seemed to be in her fifties, a lesbian and very unattractive, started, "I was with a woman named Rachel. She cheated on me. I stabbed her thirty-seven times."

Killgrave rolled his eyes, "Boring. Did you go to jail?"

She shook her head, "I hid the body and left a note."

Killgrave nodded, "Classic. Would you do it again?" She nodded, glancing to the woman she had left at the table. He smirked, "Go jump off a bridge." The woman turned and left the bar. He nodded to the next one, who looked a little nervous.

"I killed a man in jail for raping me in the prison yard." He shook his head, "He had his gang buddies hold me down while he did it. So, I tied him to the bed and raped him with a shiv." He looked around, like he was waiting for judgement, "Then, I pinned it on his buddies."

Killgrave looked decidedly impressed. "Wow, that'll teach them." He waved his hand, "Go away, I'll let you live." The man made a beeline to the door.

He looked to the next man, who blinked, "The voices told me to kill the little girl, and I had to. Then, they told me to fuc-"

Killgrave looked disgusted, "Enough! That's... that's just sick! Go turn yourself in!"

The man left. The girl next him, glancing around said, "I killed my stepdad. He was trying to rape me in my sleep. The police are still looking for me. I don't regret it." She looked determined, but still alarmed. Like she knew it was wrong, but for her, it was right.

Killgrave smirked, "How?"

She sighed, "I let him think I was interested and then strangled him with a belt."

Killgrave laughed. "I like your style. You can leave." She smiled back, a little and left.

The next man, a tall muscular black man, said in a heavy voice, "Asshole was looking for it. He'd come to my territory too many times, and I warned him. Then, he tried to fuck my wife." He shook his head, "Shot him twice."

"Convicted?" Killgrave said.

The man shook his head. "He was breaking and entering." He smirked a little, telling Killgrave there was more to the story, but Killgrave asked for basics.

Killgrave nodded, "You can stay." The last man was a large man, with combed up hair, mutton chops and cigar. "You?"

The man took the cigar out of his mouth, "I killed the man who experimented on me by tying him up to a rock and leaving him where I knew he would drown." He looked down, almost sorrowful, "I also killed the woman I love because she'd gone psycho and was possessed."

Killgrave's eyes widened, but he nodded, "Alright, uhm... You can leave and good luck with the whole possession thing." The man left. Killgrave turned back to the black man, "A man is going to come here, he has black hair, green eyes and glasses. Pale complexion. I'm on... a date." He adjusted his back at the phrase. "Make sure nothing happens to us. No one interrupts. Even if its a woman who looks like the female version of my date. Only, no glasses."

The man nodded, before turning to the bar. Killgrave walked over to an empty table, beer in hand, and waited.

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Harry entered the bar, letting another patron out the door. "Excuse me, sir," he said, the man nodded and brushed passed him.

Killgrave was looking down at his pint, at the moment, when the door to the bar closed. It made a bumping noise, causing the man to look up. His eyes began to shine when he saw Harry. He motioned for Harry to come over. He stood and smiled.

"Harry," He greeted. "I'm so glad you actually came!"

Harry's smile turned quizzical, "Been stood up a lot?"

Killgrave's smile dimmed, but he still kept it. "Unfortunately. But, you actually came!" He looked Harry up and down. "You look... amazing."

Harry looked him dead in the eye and spoke, carefully ignoring the compliment, "I said I would. I always keep my word." He was serious. He always had. When he held Ginny's hand, as she recuperated from an attack from Voldemort, and he promised to kill him. Down to always visiting Dobby's grave on the anniversary of his death.

He and Killgrave sat. The waitress came over and asked for his order. "Oh, whatever on tap, love. Only, can I also have a lemon?"

She smiled at his accent and nodded, before motioning to Killgrave's empty glass. "Would you like another, sir?"

"Thank you," Killgrave responded, sounding bored of her. Harry's eyes narrowed at the tone, but didn't say anything.

Once they were alone, Killgrave leaned forward and smiled. "So, Harry! Tell me a bit about you!"

Harry returned the smile a bit, "Well, I'm twenty-seven. I was born and raised in England. After school, I was a copper, made it to detective, actually. Can't really stand authority." He shrugged, "I disliked doing it, though. I didn't like chasing bad guys when most could just... buy their way out." Harry shook his head. "But, I'm now on vacation."

Killgrave smiled. "Wow, a cop, eh?" The waitress came over with their drinks and Harry's lemons. He ignored her, not even bothering to thank her. Harry's eye twitched a little.

But, Harry smiled, "Well, not anymore. I can't do it anymore. I've changed from who I was. I don't like it. I'm... as my friends put it, on a path of self discovery." He mimicked Hermione's voice perfectly down to the know it all attitude.

Killgrave laughed at the high pitched voice. "Best friend, I take it?" Harry smiled. "Yeah, I have one of those. She's... kind of my guardian angel who accidentally takes care of everything and makes me feel bad about it." Jessica always made him feel guilty, like he was always responsible for the things he says. He rolled his eyes at the thought of her.

Harry nodded, knowingly, "And, no matter how hard you try, you..." Killgrave joined in, "Never please them!" They finished together, and they both started laughing.

Harry continued, "They're like the wives we never wanted."

Killgrave nodded, "Yeah, well, someone has to, because I'm never having a wife!" He shuddered and took a drink, "No, thank you."

Harry smiled, shook his head, and sucked a lemon. "Yeah, no I hear you."

Killgrave regarded Harry, looking him up and down. "So, Harry, what brings you to New York, on your journey to self discovery."

Harry smirk, "The culture. The way you can get lost in a room full of people. Everyone looks at you, no one sees you." He gestured around the room. "None of these people give a fuck about us. They wouldn't know us from Adam." He shrugged. "I want that."

Killgrave frowned. "You don't like attention?" Harry shook his head. "Fascinating." He looked Harry up and down again. The man was dressed in a form fitting black shirt, leather pants and leather boots. His hair was tousled, like he just rolled out of bed. His glasses were thin and wire framed. "You are an enigma!"

"I'm... just Harry." He said, shrugging his shoulders. He finished off his beer, motioning to the waitress for another. "I'm nothing special."

Killgrave turned serious, "Oh, no, Harry Black you are something special!"

The waitress chose that moment to appear with Harry's beer. "Thanks, love." He said, smiling at her, before taking another sip.

Killgrave glared at the woman, his eyes flashing dangerously before turning back to Harry. That woman kept interrupting his date. He was doing really well.

"Okay," Harry's hiss at him caused him to be taken out of his inner musings. "Alright, what is your deal?" He leaned dangerously forward.

Killgrave looked at him in confusion and shock. "What do you mean?"

Harry motioned to the waitress, a deep frown forming. "Why are you so angry with her? What, did she spit in your drink before I got here?"

Killgrave frowned back, harder, "I-I... No. I don't know." He lifted his hands in confusion. "I... I'm ... it's like." He felt so out of his depth. It wasn't like this with Jessica. He knew how to speak to her because she had three moods with him. Deceptive, exasperated and bitchy. But, at least she couldn't do anything to him, now. Not since, they both realized, short of a bomb, obliterating him, he was now, for some reason, invincible. The stem cells from his fathers injections had mutated him, further. It was... brilliant. Now, they were practically mates. He sighed, "I wanted this to be a perfect... date. I've literally never done this before. I've never had to. I've always been in control..." He motioned to Harry, "You... I have no control over you. I don't know why... but I want to. And, she..." he pointed his thumb behind him, "she is distracting you just by proximity. I know it's... irrational, but you have no idea how much I want you to like me."

Harry felt shock course through him. Killgrave wanted Harry to like him. That... was so sweet. Killgrave was looking around after a few minutes of a shocked Harry simply staring at him.

"I'm sorry... you want me to like you?" Harry repeated. Then, he chuckled, "Why?"

Killgrave shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, before saying, rather quickly, "Because, out of everyone else, only you could potentially love me unconditionally because I wouldn't have forced it."

Harry blinked at that confession. Forced it? How in the name of Merlin would he have forced Harry, or anyone else, into love? He shook his head. "You really think you're so manipulating that you could force someone to love you?" Killgrave's eyes opened. "No matter what you make people think, Killgrave, or how dependant they become on you, you can't make someone love you. Not even if you had a magic love potion." Harry tried to meet his eye. "And, trust me, my love is genuine. And when I love someone, it is like nothing else you've seen."

Killgrave looked Harry dead in the eyes, green meeting brown. He shifted, slightly. "Do you think I could be someone you could love?"

Harry smiled, almost pityingly. "Well, we'll have to see, won't we?" He sipped more of his beer.