I awoke to the soft sounds of Christmas music, my brows creasing together in confusion as my eyelids fluttered open. Immediately I squinted at the bright light, perplexed as to how I'd forgotten to close the curtains in my room. Then I realized I wasn't in my bedroom; I'd fallen asleep on the couch early this morning, the soft green blanket draped over me. But instead of sitting upright, with Matt beside me, I was laying flat across the entire couch with the blanket draped perfectly over me and a pillow underneath my head. I frowned, rubbing at my eyes as I sat slowly upright. The television was still on the same channel as it had been earlier this morning, currently playing the introduction for another Christmas movie. Groggily I slapped my hand at the coffee table, searching for the remote. A moment later I found it, pushing the red button to turn it off; the silence at its emptiness was deafening.

Matt must have left sometime early this morning when I passed out, I realized. Clearly he'd somehow managed to lay me on the couch and make me comfortable before finding his own way back to his apartment across the hall without his cane. My stomach dropped at the thought; the sting of his absence when I'd woken up had hurt more than it should've.

We're just friends.

I yawned, throwing up a hand to cover my mouth as I turned around, glancing at the time on the stove. My eyes widened when I realized it was almost seven. Quickly kicking the blanket off of me, I jumped off of the couch and hurried to my computer, throwing myself roughly onto the chair as I turned it on.

I managed to clock in only one minute late. Unfortunately, a shower would have to wait until I was done with work now. With a sigh I got up and made my way to the espresso machine in the kitchen, prepping my morning latte as per usual. As the shot poured out, my eyes darted back to the couch, my heart skipping as I remembered last night.

I recalled the feel of Matt pressed against my side, his warm, muscular body so close to mine. The smell of him–cedar and clove, faint but strong enough to notice–filling my nose. The way his mouth had been whispering so close to my ear, each one of his warm breaths gently cascading over my face. My eyes drifted shut for a moment, my teeth pulling my bottom lip into my mouth as I wondered what it would feel like to run my hands through his mussed brown hair, snuggled up together on my couch. Or how it would feel to have those strong, thick arms pull me into his lap. I fought down a groan, biting down hard on my lip as I wondered what his calloused fingers would feel like sliding up my shirt, running up my bare skin.

Abruptly the face in my mind's eye shifted; soft, gentle light brown eyes became officious dark ones. Friendly lips quirked into an amused smile became a thin, cold frown. All the strong, warm features of Matt's face twisted into the sharp, cold angles of another. My eyes snapped open as my heart rapidly beat against my ribcage at the familiar face.

"Little dove, little dove," his voice sing-songed.

"He's not here, he's not here," I reassured myself, my eyes frantically scanning my apartment. "It's in my head. I'm stronger than this."

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

I clamped my eyes shut tight, shaking my head as I grit my teeth. My nails bit into the palms of my hands with how tightly I clenched them.

"You're not here!" I growled out. "Go away !"

"You were meant for me."

I felt something brush against my cheek–the graze of fingertips–and my eyes flew open in a panic. I screamed into the empty kitchen, grabbing my coffee mug from under the machine and throwing it across the room. It shattered against the kitchen floor in a mess of ceramic and espresso.

"Leave me alone!" I roared through the apartment.

Nothing but the sound of the traffic on the street far below met my ears. Burying my face in my hands, I choked out a sob.

"Just leave me alone," I cried quietly.

After work, I changed into workout clothes and went out on a run around Hell's Kitchen. The few hours of sleep I had been running on over the past two days, along with the scare of last night and this morning, had me wound up so tight I needed to blow off some steam.

I had been running for a half an hour before I finally felt my lungs burning from the cold and begging me to stop. I slowed to a walk, raising my hands to my hips and trying to catch my breath as I continued to move. My legs were aching and I just wanted to head home before it got too dark; all I wanted to do was grab a shower, get into comfortable clothes, make dinner, and hopefully pass out into a dreamless sleep.

Breathing heavily, I made my way around the people on the sidewalk. For a Thursday evening, it wasn't that busy outside tonight. My mind drifted towards the song playing through my earbuds as I started to catch my breath. I didn't see the hand coming out of the alleyway beside me as I passed until it grabbed me.

I yelped in surprise as I was yanked down a side passage between two dumpsters. Before I could register what was happening, I was slammed roughly against a brick wall, my back scraping upward against the rough texture through my long sleeve shirt. Then I noticed the tight pressure around my neck; my brain suddenly remembered the straps I used to be tied down with before the shocks came and my body began to thrash instinctively. The hand only gripped tighter at my struggling, cutting into my windpipe and causing me to choke.

"Who are you?" a rough voice demanded below me.

My hands rose, reaching out to grab the wrist of the person holding me up off the ground by my throat. I tried to look down but I couldn't see anything past the impossibly slim arm that was capable of such a feat.

A growl emitted from deep in my throat as I pulled my legs up underneath me, feet flat against the wall, before I pushed off. The movement surprised my attacker, allowing me to twist in the air as we went falling to the ground. I grabbed their arm the moment we hit the pavement, jumping to my feet before flipping them onto their back, their arm now contorted at an unnatural angle behind them as I leaned my weight into their back. I frowned when I realized it had been a very slim, young woman with dark hair who'd ambushed me.

"Who are you ?" I snapped back at the woman as I pulled the earbuds from my ear with my free hand.

With a grunt, she flung the arm I'd been holding onto around, tossing me hard into the dumpster with such ease that I could only sit on the ground and stare at her.

"I asked first," she spat as she rose to her feet, readjusting her leather jacket. "And after witnessing moves like that, I'm really curious. Now answer me: who the fuck are you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

She took a threatening step towards me, glaring down at me. "Because I need to know if you're working for him. Are you the one stalking me? Taking all those photos?" She dropped down to eye level, snarling out, "What are you to him?"

My eyes narrowed at her questions, my mouth dropping open.

"Who?" I asked her.

"Kilgrave," she ground out the name between her teeth. "Why does he have pictures of me? And why does he have a framed picture of the two of you? One he risked his life to make sure he took." She slammed her fist into the metal dumpster, the metal indenting deeply inches from my head as I winced at the metallic crunch. "Who are you?"

As the questions tumbled out of her mouth, I felt the world around me begin to spin. My breath started to come in quick pants, sweat beginning to coat my forehead and hands at the mention of his name. A muffled whimper escaped my lips as my eyes closed tight.

His face appeared in my mind; I could see the twisted, dark smile on his lips and the dangerous glint in his dark eyes.

"Little dove."

I began to hyperventilate; my breath coming in hard and fast, each rise and fall of my chest feeling more and more like a knife was being twisted in my lungs. My ribcage felt like it was closing in on me–a burning, searing pain with each rapid beat of my heart. Terrified, my hands clawed at my chest, my neck, my face. Tears pooled, hot and wet, spilling from my eyes.

"You belong to me, little dove."

"No," I gasped, choking on the word.

"Jessica, what the hell?" a second voice called out, so faint I could barely hear it.

"You're mine."

"No," I gasped again.

My head felt unnaturally light as it dropped back against the dumpster behind me. The movement was dizzying.

"Ah, shit," the woman in front of me said, her voice sounding like it was coming through a tunnel now.

My eyes flew open but I couldn't see; everything was turning a pure, blank white. I could barely hear and my hands rose to my ears in a panic. I looked down, trying to find my own body, but all I could see was the bright white. My heart pounded somehow faster as I felt hands suddenly on me; I could feel them but I couldn't see them. I couldn't see anything. I screamed–a high-pitched, breathy sound that barely reached my own ears. I struggled, trying to fight against the grip on me, but I couldn't see a thing to fight back. I felt like my body was abruptly falling backwards and I couldn't stop it.

And then everything was white. Everything was silent.

"...not exactly what I planned!"

"...can't fucking do that, Jessica! You could've…"

"She knows something!"

My eyelids fluttered, trying to open. A sharp, raspy inhale came from me and the voices in the room abruptly stopped. When my eyes finally managed to open, they focused on a dull, white ceiling. I frowned, trying to recall where I was. I had been out running, and then…

I jolted, my head spinning at the movement as I sat upright. I was on a dingy, lumpy orange sofa that was certainly not my couch. I twisted forward and two faces suddenly swam into view in front of me. One was the dark haired woman that had attacked me in the alleyway, the other was a blonde woman who looked oddly familiar.

"Stay back!" I choked out, trying to push them away.

"Relax, we're not going to hurt you," the blonde woman assured me, raising her hands and shooting the woman beside her a pointed look.

The dark haired woman rolled her eyes and slowly held up her hands, taking a definitive step back before crossing her arms over her chest. She stared down at me with furrowed brows and curious eyes.

I looked around the room, taking in the tattered state. There was a desk across the room to my right, a laptop and a handful of empty alcohol bottles sat atop it. A few papers were messily strewn about it. There was a very full garbage can beside it with more empty bottles of alcohol scattered along the floor next to it. Farther to the right was a small kitchen; the sink was full of dishes and the countertop was littered with more alcohol. I glanced to my left, noting a glass door with words on it. It took my brain a moment to decipher what it said as I read it backwards: 'Alias Investigations.' My eyes darted back to the women in front of me, both of whom were watching me cautiously as they waited for me to relax.

I stared at the pretty blonde a moment longer, my eyes narrowing. She smiled gently, effectively appearing non-threatening. Where had I seen her face before?

Then realization hit me.

"You're…Trish Walker?" I asked, hesitantly pointing at the blonde as I suddenly recalled her from all of the ads around the city.

She shot me a sheepish smile. "Yeah."

"Who the hell are you?" the dark haired woman asked, getting straight to the point. "Please avoid passing out again this time. I don't really have time for that."

"My name is Olivia Allen," I answered her slowly. "Who are you?"

She hesitated before answering, shifting on her feet. "Jessica Jones," she finally answered. "Now, who are you to Kilgrave? Why does he have a framed photo of the two of you? And why are you jogging around my block? Are you the one he's having stalk me?"

I blinked hard, trying to focus on each of her questions around the rising panic at the mention of his name again.

"I was on a run," I answered first, my words coming out slow. "That's what I was doing. I live a couple blocks over. I'm not…not stalking you. I've never even seen you before."

"A run? Like…for exercise?" Jessica asked, her lip pulling into a deep frown. "Not because you're being chased?"

I gestured at my outfit. "Clearly, no."

She huffed before she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. "So why does he have the picture? Of the two of you?"

I chewed my lip, hesitating. "He…" I paused, glancing down at my feet.

I didn't want to think about my time before Kilgrave or my time with him. I had nightmares that sometimes decided to plague me during waking hours, and I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of discussing the bad memories and potentially drawing them to the surface.

"It's okay, you can tell us," Trish said, her voice gentle and soothing.

I swallowed hard, still staring at my feet. "We were…together. For…a time. A long time ago," I said finally.

"He forced you to be with him?" Jessica asked, taking a step forward as her tone softened.

I looked up, meeting her eyes. Slowly, I sighed and shook my head. Her eyes immediately narrowed into slits at me.

"You chose to be with him?" she snarled at me in disbelief.

"It's not what you think," I answered her quickly, voice pleading. "He found me when I was seventeen–that was eight years ago now. I was…" my words trailed off, fear gripping me.

Only Kilgrave had known about my past; only he knew who I really was. What I was capable of and how… different I was from "normal" people. I had spent years hiding it and pretending that side of me didn't exist.

"You were what?" Trish prompted gently.

I inhaled a shaky breath, trying to calm my nerves. Terrified of the fear they might soon show me for being different, my eyes darted down again, unable to look at the women before me.

"I was being held in a facility," I said slowly, quietly. "Undergoing….experimentation. Against my will. Ever since I can remember."

"Jesus Christ," Jessica cursed, pressing a hand to her temple.

"Kilgrave he…he killed the doctors who'd been experimenting on me for years," I confessed quietly. "It had scared me– he had scared me–but he'd been so gentle with me. In the beginning," I explained, desperate for them to understand as my eyes remained focused at their feet now. "He freed me from that place, made the rest of the people there forget about me ever existing so I'd be safe." I drew in another shaky breath. "He took me with him. Fed me. Clothed me. Gave me shelter." I shrugged softly. "Sure, he used his powers to tell people to do what he wanted, but I'd never seen him hurt anyone besides those doctors who'd spent years torturing me over and over." I swallowed hard, feeling the tears prick at my eyes now. "I didn't know any better. I-I spent my whole life in that facility. In a cage. He was the first person to show me any kindness. To give me freedom–give me a life."

I rubbed roughly at my eyes, wiping away the tears that were spilling now. Trish placed a comforting hand on my leg and I glanced up, catching her eye. Hers were welling with tears as she slowly nodded, encouraging me to continue.

"Eventually, I developed feelings for him," I continued tentatively, somewhat comforted that they weren't attacking me or cowering from me at the information. "About seven months after he'd freed me. We had a romantic relationship for a time–"

"You were a child!" Jessica growled. "What, eighteen?"

I nodded, watching as Jessica stormed over to her desk, finding a partially full bottle of alcohol and downing it. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth when she was finished, turning her attention back on me.

"I hate that son of a bitch," she snarled, shaking her head. "He groomed you. You were a scared child and he took advantage of you!"

"Jess," Trish said, her tone a warning. "Let her finish."

Jessica frowned but remained silent, arms crossed over her chest again. Trish turned her attention back to me, her hand on my leg giving a gentle squeeze as she encouraged me to continue.

"We were together for maybe four months after that," I began again, my hands nervously fiddling together in my lap. "That was when he started pressuring me to use my abilities. I didn't want to do the things he asked me to, and then he would get so angry with me." My eyes shut, trying to block the memories from resurfacing. "I told him I wanted to leave, so he…he threatened to kill innocent people to keep me with him. Told me he would kill everyone if I left him. And then he…he started giving me some pill." I shook my head roughly, opening my eyes. "I don't know what it was, but it weakened my ability against him."

Jessica crossed the room in three quick strides, dropping quickly in front of me. "Wait, what did you just say? Your ability against him?" she asked rapidly.

I nodded slowly, looking up at her. "I have some sort of…mental abilities. I can…move things with my mind, create illusions in the minds of others. Heal minor injuries or illnesses. And I can create a mental block, like a psychic shield, to keep him out of my head as long as he's not giving me…whatever it was he was drugging me with."

"Holy shit," Jessica breathed from in front of me, eyes widening. " Holy shit! "

I swallowed hard before adding on, "I can also do what he does…to undo his commands on people. But it's…not as easy for me as it is for him."

Jessica and Trish exchanged excited looks with each other. Jessica turned back to me, grinning.

"Can you mind control him ?" she asked quickly.

"I-I did. Once, on him. The last time I saw him," I told her awkwardly. "I'd never done it before and I don't know how I did it, how I got it to work on him. I was just so…so angry and scared. I told him to let me go, that he wouldn't hurt or kill anyone over me, and to never look for me." My fingers played with the hem of my shirt. "And I forced him to hand over a good chunk of money, so I could book a flight, get a place, and start college. Try to build a life."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jessica breathed out, elated. "You're his fucking weakness–you're his goddamn kryptonite ! With you, we have a chance to bring him down!"

"He's…he's here? In New York?" I asked nervously. "You're sure?"

"You see the news?" Jessica asked. "Hope Shlottman?"

I nodded in response. "I wondered if that was him, but I didn't think…I didn't want to believe it." My eyes quickly darted up, flying anxiously between the two women in a new fit of panic. "Why is he here? Is he looking for me?"

"No," Jessica said, cutting me off and placing a gentle hand on my arm. "No, he's here for me. He uh…six months ago I managed to get away from him, too. He discovered I had abilities too–super strength."

"That explains the alleyway before I passed out," I breathed out.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Jessica apologized with a wince."I just…I found where he'd been staying the other day. There was a room with pictures of me printed out everywhere. Like serious stalker vibes." She withdrew her hand from my arm, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. "I almost had him. He went back for a framed photo of the two of you that I'd spotted in there. And when I saw you running around my block…I freaked out. Thought maybe it was you following me, taking the photos for him."

"I get it," I said softly. Adjusting myself on the sofa, I sat more upright. "What's your plan, then?"

"Well I need him alive," Jessica said, leaning backwards and sitting onto the floor in front of me. "I need to find a way to prove his powers to prove that Hope is innocent. She doesn't deserve to do life in prison because of what that asshole did to her to get to me."

"How do we prove it?"

Jessica shrugged. "I don't know. The media is crucifying her like she's insane. Her lawyer is a…friend of mine, if you would call it that. I'm trying to get her ahead of the bullshit, help her image out, while I try to figure this out. We've been lining up people to come forward, testify against Kilgrave and the things he made them do, but it's not easy. So many crazy fuckers just making shit up. And even with their testimonies, it's going to be more believable if I have actual proof. I can't…I can't fuck this up."

"I'll help," I told her immediately. "Whatever you need, I'm in."

"I'm counting on that," Jessica told me. "With you, there's a shot that we might pull this off. Finally stop this asshole." She let out a sigh. "There was a doctor I met, while helping Hope's lawyer interview people for real testimonies against him. Said Kilgrave forced him to save his life, took kidneys from someone else. Made the doctor perform surgery in the ambulance while he was awake. Kilgrave refused to be put under so I'm thinking…"

"Anesthesia hinders his powers?" I supplied.

Jessica nodded. "I'm trying to figure out how to get my hands on some Sufentanil. Maybe it'll work on him. But having you would be helpful, with your abilities."

"I've never met anyone else with abilities before," I told her awkwardly, hugging my arms around myself. "Besides Kilgrave, I mean."

She shot me a look, an unreadable expression crossing her face before she frowned deeply. "I'm not a hero, so don't go getting any ideas. I can just lift heavy shit. And punch hard."

"And save an innocent girl from a terrible, undeserved fate," I offered lightly.

Jessica's lips twitched at the corners, but the smile never came.

"Hopefully," she said gravely before she held out her hand. "Give me your phone, I'll put my number in it."

I reached into the pocket of my leggings, digging the phone out and handing it to her. I watched as she deftly typed across the keys for a few moments. She held it out to me when she was done.

"Mine and Trish's number are in there," she informed me. "Call or text if anything related to Kilgrave happens. I don't care how miniscule." She reached into her back pants pocket and pulled out her phone, handing it over. "Put your number in, I'll share it with Trish."

Accepting the phone from her, I quickly opened up a new contact page and entered in my information. I handed it back to her when I'd finished.

"Thank you for helping," Jessica said slowly; the words sounded difficult for her to get out. "Really, I don't know if we'd have managed this on our own. But…I feel safer with you on our side, with what you can do."

"Don't thank me," I told her. "I should have dealt with him a long time ago. Saved everyone after me…" I exhaled a shuddering breath. "This is all my fault. For walking away and leaving him free to keep…doing what I knew he does."

"No," Trish said, her voice firm as she caught my eyes. She shook her head roughly. "Don't. Don't blame yourself. You were young and scared."

"But I could have gone back. I have had eight years to find him and stop him, and I never tried," I admitted. "It's on me and I know it."

"What that asshole did is not on you," Jessica told me sharply.

I sent her a look of disbelief, brows raised. "You blame yourself for Hope. I can see it on you. How is that any different than how I feel?" When she didn't respond, I nodded. "Exactly. I feel responsible. So I'm going to help you stop him. Whatever it takes."

Jessica exchanged a look with Trish, running a hand through her messy dark hair. She nodded after a moment before meeting my eyes.

"Whatever it takes," Jessica agreed.