I'm alive ! and so is this story ! it will stay alive I promise, I just honestly struggle to find the time and energy to write. I'm hoping this will kickstart me back into the zone because things are getting exciting, but I can't make any promises, sorr hope people are still interested in the story - if you are, may good things happen to you always xx

We Need to Talk About Kevin

Jessica had unchained Malcolm after she had sent the selfie to Kilgrave. He had let her help him through to her living room/office and lay down on her couch, his skin hot to the touch even while he shivered uncontrollably. She had gotten some miraculously clean clothes from his apartment and a pot to have waiting by the couch if he needed to throw up, and let him sleep for a few hours.

He's still sleeping now, the blanket tucked up under his chin, shivering like he's out in the snow. It reminds Jessica of helping Trish.

"How is he?" Trish asks.

Jessica licks her lips and adjusts the grip on her phone. "He's getting there," she answers quietly.

"And you?"

She feels like she's hanging on by a thread. "I'm fine. Just.. I need this to be over."

Trish sighs. "I get that, Jess. I wish you'd told me what you were planning, though. I could have helped."

"And I wouldn't have let you," Jessica retorts. "But I know it was stupid. I just.. Everything just built up. I had to do something."

"How's Tony? I kinda thought we'd have all talked strategy by now."

Jessica lets her head drop back and her jaw clenches. "It doesn't matter."

Trish is quiet for a beat. "You pushed him away again."

"I should never have let him get involved."

"He doesn't seem like the type to back down."

"Yeah, well, I pushed pretty hard this time."

"I hate how isolated Kilgrave forces you to be. Tony would be a great asset. He could probably trace Kilgrave's location from that number or something."

Jessica sighs deeply. The thought had crossed her mind, going to Tony and asking for one more bit of help before she captured Kilgrave. But it'd be difficult to face him, if he'd even agree to hear her out. "Kilgrave would figure out I used him for help and that'd only make him even more of a target."

"You think he's jealous of Tony?"

Jessica frowns. "I think he's probably seen me going to the Tower and jumped to conclusions which have pissed him off."

"Because he thinks there's something between you guys."

"Are you trying to get at something, Trish? 'Cos I'm really not in the mood."

Trish sighs again. "I'm sorry. I could just see that you both care about each other. Wishful thinking that there might be some kind of happiness out there for you."

Jessica scoffs and glances at Malcolm when he shifts in his sleep. "I think we've only had one full interaction without any arguing. He's got his own shit to work through, anyway. This'd just be a distraction for him."

"Maybe you could both use a distraction."

Jessica swallows and then takes a swig of whiskey to wash away the bitter taste in her mouth. "There's nothing between us, Trish. Just that we're both messy assholes."

Trish chuckles softly, but there's something sad about it. "What's the next step, anyway?"

"I don't know yet," Jessica grunts. "I could try and catch him again. See if Malcolm has any info that'd help locate Kilgrave. But he needs to get through the withdrawal first."

"Where were you planning on taking Kilgrave, by the way?"

"That asshole Audrey Eastman unintentionally led me to an abandoned building that might work. She was able to blare her godawful music and shoot a gun in there without anyone busting the door down, so."

Trish hums thoughtfully. "Seems a little risky, though, Jess. You need him to prove his powers to that detective, but if you only have him chained up in an abandoned building, that's not giving you much control over him."

"I don't have much of a choice, Trish. It's either that or take him to Tony or SHIELD or something, and that'd be even worse if he broke loose."

"Well, maybe we should wait a little longer before you try again - see if we can come up with a better location to keep him trapped and under your control."

"I guess," Jessica mutters, taking another drink. "I've got him pacified for now, at least."

"God, he's such a sick freak," Trish hisses.

Jessica smirks grimly at the venom in her voice.

"We could rough him up a little before we turned him over to the cops, right?"

"I'd pay good money to see you punch him."

"You don't have good money, Jess."

Jessica laughs unexpectedly. Malcolm shifts again and groans, lifting a shaking hand to rub at his face.

"I'll call you later, okay?" Jessica says fondly.

"Definitely. I hope Malcolm comes out the other side soon. Be careful, Jess."

"Yeah. You too."

She hangs up and puts her phone on the table while she walks over to Malcolm. It's never easy watching someone go through withdrawal - when she was helping Trish, it had been so hard to deny her the thing that'd cure the symptoms quickly, but she had to, because it'd also just fuck her up more. The best way to help someone is to just look after them while they go through this horrible process. Not the most glamorous of jobs.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

Malcolm curls his legs up closer to himself and groans through a particularly violent shiver. "Bad," he mumbles.

"It's been a while since you last drank anything. We should get you some water."

"It'll just come back up."

Jessica walks through to her kitchen to collect another water bottle anyway. She helps Malcolm sit up a little and kneels on the floor by the couch while he sips tentatively at the water.

"You're probably close to being half-way through the ugly bit," she says.

Malcolm takes a ragged breath and leans his head back against the pillow. "Then it's the hard part."

It frustrates her that what Kilgrave has done to Malcolm will leave its fingerprints on him for the rest of his life - every day will be a choice for him. To Kilgrave, it's barely even a thought. It's something he needed at the time, so he made it happen.

"I'm not gonna let him get away with this, Malcolm. He's ruined too many lives and broken too many people. I'm gonna make him pay."

"He hasn't broken everyone," Malcolm says tiredly, handing the bottle back to Jessica and clutching the blanket tighter around him.

For a moment, she thinks he's talking about himself, and she looks at him with a sliver of pride. But then he tucks himself back down into a more horizontal repose and sniffs, looking over at her.

She makes a bitter sound. "Malcolm-"

"You were a good person before him, and you're still a good person after him. If he had broken you, that goodness would have broken. There'd have been nothing left for you to give."

She watches as his eyes fall shut again and lets the pained doubt tighten her features.

"If you're allowed to have faith in me, then I'm allowed to have faith in you," he mumbles.

"What makes you think I have faith in you?" she counters quietly.

"You told me to save you."

Malcolm got another couple hours of sleep in before he woke up and instantly lurched to his side to vomit into the pot. Jessica fought her own nausea as she emptied the pot into the toilet and washed it out in the bath. When she came back, Malcolm's eyes were a touch brighter than before and he seemed to want to chat, so she gave him some crackers and lay on her back on the floor, tucking her hands beneath her head to ease the discomfort of the hard wood.

"Start at the beginning," she instructs.

"I didn't think he'd even looked at me that night," he says. "I couldn't really explain what had happened to you, and I had no idea who you were, so I just kind of.. went back to my life. I guess he found me through the police report or something. And then one day he just showed up. Took me to some apartment, made me take the drugs."

"Do you know where it was?"

"Nah. I might have if he didn't pump me full of that shit and turn my world on its head."

Jessica sighs quietly, flexing her fingers. "What happened next?"

"He kept me there for a while, I guess to make sure I was in deep enough that he knew I'd do anything for more. Then the attack on the city happened and-"

"He took you before the Incident?" she frowns.

"Yeah. I dunno how long before, but, yeah."

So he hadn't been provoked by Jessica appearing on the news fighting alongside the Avengers.

"You're sure he didn't just take you randomly and then decided to use you after he saw me on the news?" she asks.

"He spoke about you, and the night you met. The night you saved me. He knew who I was and he was definitely waiting until I was ready for something."

Jessica stares at the ceiling, feeling the darkness of the night press in on her. She had assumed Kilgrave was just reacting to her involvement with the Avengers, with Tony. But he had been coming for her anyway.

She supposes it doesn't make much difference - involving herself in the Incident and spending time with Tony had still made things worse.

"He realised I was moving apartments and took the opportunity to get you close to me," she surmises, refocusing. "But you never saw or heard where he was staying?"

"He was careful about that," Malcolm replies, his voice low with regret and bitterness. "I'm sorry you helped the guy sent to spy on you to get the apartment next door."

Jessica works her jaw agitatedly. "He likes it when he makes you your own worst enemy. Leaves you vulnerable to manipulation."

Malcolm lets out a quiet, bitter sound.

"How did he keep tabs on me before you? Was he following me?" she asks, shifting uneasily at the prospect.

"No, I think he used random people. Like, he'd pick someone off the street, tell them to go into your building and look out for you."

"Jesus. If any of those people came forward about their experiences, we'd have more to work with."

"The beauty of what he does is nobody knows how he does it. It can't be explained, so it can't be believed."

Jessica lifts her hands out from under her head to press them into her eyes. "It doesn't matter how he does it," she counters frustratedly, sitting up again. "It matters where, so I can catch him." She pushes to her feet and snatches the box of crackers from him, walking away to lean against her desk. "Did he have a new favourite bar? Did he catch movies at the Nitehawk? You have to know something."

She takes a cracker while Malcolm replies, waving his own around. "I know his powers aren't magic."

The cracker is more bland than anything she's ever tasted before, so she tosses the uneaten half back in the box. "How do you know that?"

"The same way I know that elves don't exist," Malcolm snarks tiredly.

Jessica collects the unfinished glass of whiskey on her desk and gives him a flat glare. "I preferred your brain on drugs."

Malcolm throws the cracker at her. It might just be the most personality-driven thing she's ever seen from him.

"Look, I'm just saying that if we pool our information, then maybe we can hone in on his limitations, you know? Profile him," he adds, clearly trying to connect with the way Jessica works.

She remembers Trish and Tony talking about finding Kilgrave's parents and learning more about his past and how he came to have these powers. The idea that comes to her then makes her lips curl. "Maybe it's time I showed face at one of those survivor group meetings," she bites out.

The noise of her boots slapping against the floor echoes in the corridor as Jessica follows one of the guards to the visitors room where Hope is being held. The girl had called an hour ago asking for Jessica to bring her money, refusing to elaborate more than that, and Jessica had wasted no time in getting herself down to visit. She's concerned, and she's stressed, but giving Malcolm the opportunity to help himself and subsequently coming up with the next step has renewed the fire inside of her for the time-being. She can tell Hope that she's getting somewhere.

The guard gestures Jessica towards the open room full of tables and chairs, other inmates and their visitors murmuring quietly in an attempt at privacy, and she beelines to Hope's table. It's never easy, seeing the girl in the prison outfit, surrounded by people who actually have done something wrong, but to hide from it all would be spitting in her face.

Hope shifts eagerly in her chair when she sees Jessica, but there's a desperate twist to her eyebrows. "Did you bring it?" she asks as Jessica sits down.

"You've lost weight. Are you sick?"

"Did you bring the money?" Hope insists, her voice hollow.

"You still haven't told me what it's for."

"Candy. Cigarettes. What do you care?"

Jessica remembers Hope hugging her, telling her she'd saved Hope's life. Guilt hollows out her chest at the reminder that every new moment in this place just adds to the trauma Hope has been forced to face over the last month or so. She's scared about what this money is for. If Hope has been dragged into some other bad shit, it'll just add to the list of things that are Jessica's fault.

She leans forward onto the table. "I'll have Hogarth put money in your commissary account."

"Did you bring the cash or not?" Hope snaps. "'Cos, if not, visiting hours are over." The hateful twist to her mouth catches Jessica off-guard.

"Hey, I'm doing everything I can to get you out of here," Jessica says.

"Just give it to me," Hope interrupts impatiently.

"Hope-ster!" a woman calls from behind them.

Hope's eyes widen and look at the woman over Jessica's shoulder. It's hard to miss the flash of fear. When Jessica turns to follow her gaze, she finds another prisoner, taller and bigger-built than Hope, leaning against the open fence intimidatingly.

"Come on. Our show's coming on."

Jessica turns back to Hope to watch the girl's reaction.

She lifts her hands nervously, adopts a timid smile, and replies in a placating voice, "I'll be right there, Sissy."

Jessica frowns and leans back in her chair, drawing Hope's attention again. The girl looks back at her desperately. "Please," she begs.

From one controlling manipulator to the next, and both of them are Jessica's fault. All because she didn't turn back and finish the job.

Jessica swallows down the bile and self-hatred and pulls the money from her pocket, counting out the $100 Hope had asked for. She slides it across the table and Hope instantly gathers it up. The bitterness in her face is unbearable.

"I'm close, Hope," Jessica tries. "To getting him."

But Hope looks at Jessica like she doesn't believe a word she says, like she doesn't think this nightmare will ever end, and she pushes up out of her chair to walk away. "I'll hold my breath," she intones.

It's like a physical blow. Jessica frowns at nothing in particular, wondering how much of Hope will be left in the end to be saved. This story won't have a happy ending, even if it ends in Kilgrave getting what he fucking deserves. It isn't a happy ending if the people are too broken to find joy by then.

Court Square Diner. The most on-brand meet-up spot for a fucking support group.

Jessica stands across the street, staring in through the windows at the gradually multiplying group of people gathering at a couple of small tables. She recognises them from the people she and Hogarth interviewed. She has heard their stories - listened to them two, three times over. Just more fucking people that would never have found themselves in this position if she'd just turned back.

She's completely exhausted. She has gone from being under Kilgrave's control, to struggling to recover while also coming to terms with being a killer, to suffering a heightened paranoia, to learning he's still fucking alive, to running around with the weight of the world on her shoulders trying to save Hope and prevent anyone else from being damaged as much as her, and she is nowhere near having the strength of character needed for that shit. And to top it all off, the emotional whiplash she's given herself and everyone around her lately is beyond justifiable. The yo-yo-ing between fury, terror, and depression is enough to put her in the ground, never mind everything else going on.

And, yet, who else can do it?

When she steps into the diner and scuffs her way over to the group, a middle-aged woman with a short bob spots her and waves her over. "Hi, it's Jessica, right?" she says amiably, the smile on her face bordering on patronising.

Jessica chews the inside of her cheek and nods.

"It's really great to see you here. Uh, take a seat anywhere, we're real loosey-goosey!"

"Christ," Jessica mutters, her face scrunching judgmentally. But she slips around the table and sits herself in a corner.

"So, how are we all doing today? Does anyone feel like they need to jump in?"

There are murmurs of pleasantries around the tables, nobody torn up enough that they need to take centre-stage for the time-being.

The woman looks at Jessica again. "How about you, Jessica? Would you like to-"

"No," Jessica cuts in quickly. She sees her audience flinch or frown. "Uh, no. Thank you. I'm… not ready to talk about it yet. I think I'll just listen."

The woman recovers from the blunt interruption. "Okay. That's alright. Betty here is the same - she prefers to listen too."

Jessica follows the woman's eyes to see an older woman, early 60s maybe, with long hair that she lets hang over the right side of her face, where the skin is scarred and damaged. It looks like an old wound - decades old. Betty meets Jessica's eyes for a second, then quickly looks away, a nervous smile twitching her lips.

"Great," Jessica mumbles distractedly. Something's off about Betty.

The group goes around talking about their days, complimenting each other on doing good things like getting out of bed, eating something, speaking to their families. They manage to find some positives, some things to smile or laugh about, but after about forty minutes, someone mentions how their daily life is so different now compared to pre-Kilgrave. Then they begin to go around one-by-one again, this time talking through their daily struggles, how what Kilgrave did to them changed their job, their living status, their relationships.

Everybody is calm and polite, listening to each other. Nobody cuts in, nobody reacts in a judgmental way, people hide the distress they feel at others' stories to avoid hurting the person more. Betty, Jessica notes, is hanging on every goddamn word. The distress flashes across her face, wets her eyes, clenches her fingers. Sometimes she has to look away from the person, and Jessica sees her wringing her cardigan in her hands.

Surely it's not this fucking easy.

There's a guilt in Betty's eyes that mirrors Jessica's. A weight of responsibility.

"-it's like there's something sitting at my heels all day, slowing me down or distracting me, and you can't explain to people because they'll never-"

"Hey, Betty," Jessica says loudly, cutting through the man's woes. "You weren't one of the people who told their story to Hogarth. Do you have a story like everyone else's?"

"Uh, Jessica, we like to let people have their time to speak since other people won't-"

Betty looks like a deer in headlights.

"Or is yours from a long time ago? Does it have something to do with your scar?" Jessica presses, her eyes narrowing as she watches every minute twitch in the woman's face. There's a panic, a fear. Regret. Shame.

"Jessica, we do not force other victims to speak here. That's not-"

"Not everyone's a victim," she counters.

Betty's hands shake when she pushes against the table to get to her feet. "Sorry," she stammers. "I've got to go."

She's fucking English. It is this easy.

"We're all hurting here, Jessica, but that doesn't mean we can-"

"I can," Jessica cuts in as she stands, watching Betty leave. "I'm the one taking him down, and she's my biggest lead yet."

Betty moves quickly from the diner, across the street, and through an alleyway. She moves like she expects Jessica to be following, but she doesn't check behind her often. It feels too easy.

Jessica pulls out her phone and sends a quick text message to Malcolm, who she assumes is still recovering in her apartment: "If i've got any food in the kitchen, have some. You need to eat and keep drinking water. I'll be back later."

She then finds Trish's number and calls.

"Hey, you alright?" Trish asks, answering after the second ring.

"Jury's out," Jessica shrugs, keeping an eye on Betty and speaking quietly to avoid giving herself away. "I'm chasing a lead and I'm not sure if Kilgrave is involved or not. Just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Where are you?"

"I was at Court Square Diner. Now I'm probably going to like a rundown hotel or an abandoned warehouse or something."

"That's not funny, Jess. What lead are you talking about? Did you find something?"

"Remember we talked about finding his parents or something about his past? I went to that stupid support group to see if he might have opened up to someone about it. Turns out a big fucking part of his past was sitting four seats down."

"Oh my god. You found someone?"

"If my gut's right, I found his mother. Or, well, she kinda offered herself up to me, coming along to that thing."

Trish lets out a breath of disbelief. "Jess, that's amazing! That's huge. Oh my god. But, wait, you think he's working with them?"

"Either that or she does not understand how to lose a tail."

"I feel like I should go with you."

"Not when we've managed to get you outta his crosshairs again. We need to keep it that way."

"I know. At least stay on the phone until you're sure it's safe?"

'Won't be long now," Jessica says, hurrying to enter a building behind Betty. She lowers her voice further and moves more carefully, checking behind every corner. "We're in the motel across from Barbuto on Washington."

"Okay, great, I know where you are. How does it seem?"

Jessica ducks into a doorway when Betty finally throws a glance over her shoulder, and pulls out the syringe she always has tucked safely in her pocket. "If I'm about to get murdered, I won't be the first," she mutters.

"Stop it. That's not helpful."

Jessica smiles, but it twitches with apprehension as she walks as quietly as she can towards the door Betty let herself through. If his mother's here, would he know about it? Would he have her under his control? Would he dangle this lead in front of Jessica to trap her in some other, more torturous scenario?

There are two voices behind the door - Betty, and an Englishman. But it isn't Kilgrave's voice. She presses her ear to the door and listens.

"Only a matter of time before he found us. We never should've stopped moving!" the man exclaims.

"I'm sorry, Albert. You were right," Betty replies.

Jessica hears footsteps approaching the door and leans back, a morbid excitement writhing in her chest.

The door swings open to reveal a man of similar age to Betty, his hair whitened and skin wrinkled.

"Hi, dad," Jessica snarks.

The man looks terrified. He slams the door in her face.

Jessica kicks the door open and watches Albert cower away, hiding Betty behind him. "I see where your son gets his bad manners. Got any other traits that run in the family?"

"Please, let us go," Albert stutters desperately. "You don't have to do as he says."

"She doesn't have a choice, Albert," Betty retorts, her voice thick with fear and distress.

"Alright, calm down," Jessica snaps, scowling at them. "I came here on my own."

They both falter, staring at her. "Kevin didn't send you?" Betty asks.

"Kevin? That's his real name?"

Betty slowly comes forward to stand at Albert's side. "Yes," she breathes. "My name is Louise. This is my husband, Albert. Kevin is our son."

Jessica puts the syringe back in her pocket and speaks into her phone. "I think we're good. I'll call you back."

"As soon as you can."

Jessica hangs up and takes a breath, looking over the older couple slowly. The fear of Kilgrave's involvement is fading, but a surrealness is taking its place, knowing that it was this easy to come into contact with the people who raised him. She can feel how important this is, like she's waiting to walk through a door into a world where she actually has a goddamn chance. Her fingers flex at her sides. She has the sudden urge to text Tony and let him know, to laugh with him about the fact that Kilgrave's real name is Kevin; but she squashes it down and refocuses.

"Alright, why don't you guys sit down. I need to know everything," she says.

Kilgrave's parents nod, still fidgeting anxiously, and sit on the end of their bed. Jessica closes the door to their room and drags a nearby chair over to sit in front of them.

"If you aren't with Kevin, why are you here?" Albert asks.

Jessica leans her elbows on her legs and licks her lips. "Because he made a young woman kill her parents and I need to prove she's innocent before her life is ruined any more."

Albert bows his head with a weary sigh and Louise's eyes water. "We heard about Hope," Louise says. "I don't know why he would do such a thing."

"It's because of me. He wants to punish me."

"Punish you?" Albert frowns at her.

Jessica shakes her head. "I'm not here to explain that. I'm here because I need to know everything - when did he get his powers, what do you know about him, weaknesses, biology, psychology - anything that'll give me something extra to bring to this fight."

Louise looks at Albert, the guilt twisting her features again. Albert seems to deflate. "He got his power because of us," he says.

"We didn't mean to," Louise clarifies quickly, her voice choked. "We were trying to save him."

Jessica frowns at them, trying to process. "Start at the beginning," she instructs.

"Kevin was born with a degenerative neural disease," Louise explains. "The doctors told us he would be brain-dead before he reached 12."

"We're scientists," Albert adds. "We couldn't just sit back and let him die. We loved him."

"His only hope was an experimental study using a virus to repair his damaged DNA."

'Wait, a virus?" Jessica interrupts, her eyes narrow. "You infected him?"

"We wanted a cure and we found one!" Louise replies defensively. "We didn't know about the side effects until.. until he told us to do something and we had no choice but to do it."

"We carried out his every childish demand for years," Albert says. "We didn't know what else to do but live with it. We had saved his life, but the cost.."

Louise lifts a shaking hand to the scarred side of her face. "He was throwing a tantrum," she explains. "But I was busy ironing, and.. I never should have yelled at him, but.."

"We were living in fear, so we ran. We've been running ever since."

Jessica stares at them. "When did you leave him?"

A tear slips down Louise's face. "He was barely past 10."

Empathy and judgement mixes painfully in Jessica's chest. "You just left? You didn't do anything, you didn't tell anyone?" she demands. "Yours aren't the only lives little Kevin has destroyed."

"We know. When we heard about Hope, I knew it was Kevin. Louise insisted we make sure, so we came," Albert says. "She joined that ghoulish group so she could torture herself."

"I hoped I could help," she reasons, her distress still clogging her voice.

"A lot of good it's done."

Jessica runs her hands down her face. "You might not ever make up for the irresponsibility of unleashing that asshole on the world, but you can make a start by helping me figure out how to stop him. Your word would be invaluable in court too, to help Hope's case."

"We don't know how to stop him," Albert mutters. "We worked for a vaccine for decades to fight against him, but-"

Jessica straightens in her seat. "A vaccine? What do you mean?"

"His power is a virus. Micro-particles in the air. We hoped we could make a vaccine to inoculate everyone around him. That way our son could live, and people wouldn't suffer because of it."

"We almost had it, but there wasn't enough to work off," Louise adds.

Something to actually protect people from being Kilgraved. The idea makes Jessica's head spin.

Tony could help.

"Hang on," she mumbles, scowling at the wall behind them. "If his power is actually a virus, what would it mean if someone was able to resist him?"

They frown at her. "I suppose it could be possible. If there was someone who was immune, we could use their DNA to make the vaccine," Albert answers.

"It would be exactly what we needed," Louise agrees. "But there's no way to find someone like that without running trials with Kevin."

Jessica cocks her head. "Not necessarily."

"You said he wanted to punish you," Albert breathes. "You're immune?"

She winces. "Not exactly. He had me under his control for months until he made me do something. I always thought it was just horrific enough that it shocked me out of his control. Is it possible to develop immunity?"

"Perhaps it's similar to an immune system building tolerance to standard viruses," Louise muses, turning to Albert.

He sighs. "It's the closest we've come to the missing piece of the vaccine. We'd need your blood to develop a new version."

Jessica's brain is short-circuiting. She glances at the lab equipment behind her and pulls up the sleeve of her jacket. "Take my blood. Take my piss. Take my spleen if you think it'd help."

Albert hurries to get a syringe.

"How long would it take to develop?" she asks.

"We could know within a day if it's working," Albert answers.

"But we would need Kevin to actually test it," Louise says.

"Shit. I don't know where he is yet." She tosses her phone over to Louise while Albert takes her offered arm to take a blood sample. "Put your number in my phone. I'll keep looking for him, you guys work on a vaccine. When I've got him somewhere safe, we can test it."

A fucking vaccine. Something to fully protect people from Kilgrave's power, his virus. They could inoculate the cops, the lawyers, the judge, the prison guards. He'd have no way to talk himself out of clearing Hope's name. They'd just have to test his powers on someone who didn't get the vaccine in order to provide proof of what he can actually do, but everyone that could be used to let him go free would be protected against him.

This is what Jessica has been waiting for. Forget the sufentanil, this is an actual fucking weapon against him. Take his power away and he's nothing but the 10-year-old child whose parents abandoned him. He's weak.

hearteyesmf and kenriot1214 thank you for your kindness last chapter! i hope you're still interested in this story after i've taken so long to update x