"This is literally the best egg sandwich I've ever had," I moaned between bites.
"Probably because you're starving," Matt countered with an amused laugh. He pointed a finger towards me as he said, "Your stomach was growling like a bear while you slept this morning."
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, embarrassed Matt had picked up on such a bodily sound this morning. "Well I haven't really eaten since…Thanksgiving dinner, actually," I said with a frown at the realization.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it but you should really be taking care of yourself better. You need food," he lectured me. "And sleep. And to not freeze to death."
A sly grin spread across my lips. "Well I got plenty of sleep last night thanks to you."
"Maybe you should share a bed with me more often then," he mused, a smirk growing on his face.
My smile faltered as I glanced back at my food. "I wish I could…"
Matt's expression fell at my words as well, and for a moment a solemn silence fell between us as we continued to eat our late breakfast. One of my hands began fidgeting, tapping anxiously against the table; when I noticed Matt's head tilt towards me, I stopped.
"So what's on the agenda for you today?" I asked him, no longer able to handle the quiet.
"Work," he told me. "Foggy and I are trying to look into more with that case for Mrs. Cardenas. It's been keeping us busy."
"Sounds like a lovely Saturday," I said sarcastically. "I don't envy your work hours."
"What about you?" he asked.
"Well I was thinking about calling Jess and seeing if–"
The ringing of my phone on the table beside me cut me off. I froze, glancing down at it. Jessica's name was on the screen.
"Speak of the devil," I mumbled before I threw the rest of my breakfast sandwich in my mouth. As I chewed I grabbed my phone, swallowing quickly before answering it. "Hey, what've you got?" I asked her when I answered.
"Clemens is dead," she replied immediately.
My jaw dropped at the sudden information, my eyes darting across the table at Matt who I knew was listening in. His brows were knitted together as he slowly ate his breakfast, his focus on the table in front of him. I shook my head lightly, recovering from the news.
"What? How?" I asked her.
"Bullet to the head. Then burned up with the building," she answered. "He must have gotten in Kilgrave's way when he doubled back to destroy all of the evidence at the building. Kilgrave must have shot him. He showed up as another John Doe on that police scanner app. I uh…went down to the morgue this morning to check if it was Albert but…" her voice trailed off in a sigh.
I ran a hand over my face, my decent mood from spending the night and morning with Matt souring at the news. "So what now? More morgue searching today?"
"Actually, I got a weird call from Simpson just before I called you," she said slowly.
My eyes narrowed at her words. Out of my peripheral I saw Matt tense up, his back straightening and his hands clenching into fists on the table at the mention of the man who'd both tried to blow me up and had held me at gunpoint recently.
"Weird how?" I asked curiously.
"He said he has a lead on Kilgrave," she told me. "And that Trish said she was stepping down from helping us? Even though I just spoke to Trish this morning and she was planning to go search the morgues again today." She cleared her throat awkwardly before admitting, "I didn't really sleep much last night. When that John Doe came through I sort of ran out again. I may have…gotten hit by a car."
" What ?" I gasped out. "Are you okay? How'd that happen?"
"I'm fine," she grumbled. "Just hurt my ribs. And I…thought I found Kilgrave. Crossed the street going after him but it was someone else," she admitted.
"Jesus, Jess," I breathed out, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You need sleep. And to rest your body. Are you even okay? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"
"I'm fine," she said simply. "Look, Simpson is coming either way and something about it just…feels off. Can you be here to back me up? I might need some help…"
I rose from my chair instantly at her request. "Yeah I'll leave now. Be there soon."
I hung up and turned towards Matt. He was frowning in my direction, his late breakfast already forgotten in front of him.
"I…have to go," I told him slowly, feeling my heart sink. "I'm sorry, I thought–"
He rose, crossing the space towards me. "It's okay," he told me. "I understand. Just…be safe. And check in with me when you can?"
I nodded quickly. "I'll try," I assured him. I cleared my throat nervously as I stared at him standing just a few feet from me. "Thank you for…making sure I was okay last night. And for staying."
He smiled affectionately, the warmth reaching his eyes. "Anytime, Liv. Thanks for sneaking my clothes back."
A grin spread across my face as I remembered how Matt left my apartment late this morning in just his boxers. I had later snuck his clothes over in a large purse so he wouldn't have to scale the building as the man in the mask in broad daylight.
"And for letting me keep some clothes in your apartment so I don't have to do the walk of shame across the hall again," he said with a light chuckle. "Pretty sure I gave the old lady down the hall a fright."
"Mmm I don't think that's the reaction she had seeing that in the hallway this morning," I teased, grinning at him.
I could see his cheeks turn a little pink at my words. The smile fell from his face when he closed the distance between us and pulled me into a hug. His muscular arms wrapped firmly around my waist, pulling me in flush against him. I smiled, resting my head against his shoulder as my arms wrapped around him in return.
"Maybe I'll see you tonight?" he asked me hopefully. "You know, later after…"
"Your late night hobby?" I supplied. "If I'm alone, then yes."
"Planning to have another man over?" he teased, his mouth beside my ear.
I pulled back, standing on the tips of my toes with my arms still wrapped firmly around his neck. His eyebrows were both raised as he looked back at me. I grinned, planting a sweet kiss on his lips.
"The only other man in my apartment besides the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is this really handsome lawyer across the hall," I told him, my voice low. "And I quite like him."
Matt's mouth pulled into a half-smile as one of his hands reached up and brushed my hair back from my face before it came to rest along my neck, his thumb gently brushing the skin below my jaw. "He sounds like a lucky guy," he murmured.
"Oh I don't know," I whispered back. "I saw him this morning in nothing but some tight black boxers crossing the hall this morning. Gotta say it's the other way around because damn ."
He broke into a laugh, a bright smile on his face as the warm sound enveloped me. I wished I could bottle the sound and hear it later when he was gone and the dark reality of my world was covering me in its shadows. Instead, I just stood there, smiling up at him and trying to soak it up.
He leaned in and kissed me; I could still feel the smile on his lips as he did. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine. The corners of his eyes were still crinkled from the smile and I brushed my fingers along the lines gently as a warmth bloomed in my chest–something foreign and good settling there as I looked up at him.
"I'll see you tonight," he whispered.
"Tonight," I agreed, planting one more kiss on his lips.
I pulled away from him, gathering my phone from the table before heading towards the front door. I paused just before I walked down the entryway, my hand resting briefly against the wall as I looked back at him. He was standing beside the table, his hands on his hips as he smiled across the room at me. He still looked sleepy from our late start as he stood there dressed in a gray hoodie that was partially unzipped revealing nothing but his bare chest underneath and a pair of black sweatpants tucked into dark gray socks. I bit my lip as that surge of a nameless emotion suddenly welled up warm and comforting inside of me.
Swallowing hard, I turned and made my exit from his apartment, feeling like I'd left my heart back on the chair at his kitchen table.
I'd showed up to Jessica's a few minutes before Simpson did. She was sitting behind her desk, her fingers absently tapping away against an almost empty bottle of Wild Turkey. I was staring out one of the windows behind her desk, trying to push down the nervous energy that had been building since I'd shown up.
We'd both agreed for a while now that something had seemed off about Simpson. And after his freakishly fast recovery the other day despite Kilgrave having tried to blow him up, I was even more suspicious about the man. I didn't trust him. And Trish had told us that when he'd come to see her while she was watching Albert he'd shoved her into a wall– hard . Harder than he should have been able to. She'd also said he'd been acting erratic as if he was on something. So when a knock eventually came from Jessica's front door and we saw the large outline of a man outside it, I tensed.
Jessica rose from her chair behind her desk, making her way to the door. She pulled it open to reveal Simpson by himself.
"Hey Jess," he greeted, waltzing straight into the apartment. When his eyes landed on me leaning against the wall behind Jessica's desk, he momentarily hesitated before a smile forced its way onto his face. "Olivia! I wasn't expecting you."
I shrugged, eyeing him warily. "Well, you said you had a lead on Kilgrave. So here I am."
Half of his mouth tugged upwards into the strangest smile I'd ever seen and my eyes narrowed further at him. He dropped into one of the chairs in front of Jessica's desk as she sat on the edge of it before him.
"Surprised you convinced Trish to stay out of this," Jessica told him.
"Yeah, well, she's not like us," he answered, his voice tight. "Her heart's too good–good."
My head snapped to the side, my eye twitching as I scrutinized him further. I could see Jessica stiffen in her chair beside me.
So I did not just imagine that he weirdly repeated that word.
He appeared to be sweating; there was a light glistening sheen across his forehead and it dampened his bangs. Upon closer inspection, his pupils looked a little too small. His body was rigid and I thought I saw a bulge of something under his jacket. A chill ran over me–did he have a gun?
"So where's Kilgrave?" Jessica asked, cutting to the chase.
"Well I need a guarantee that he's going to die," Simpson answered, that strange smile on his face again.
"He sealed that deal when he killed Clemens," Jessica replied.
My brows furrowed at Jessica's words; I knew she cared about keeping innocent people safe from Kilgrave, but why would his death specifically make her say that?
"You don't look surprised," she pointed out.
My eyes snapped back to Simpson who was staring at Jessica, his jaw set firm. My brain started piecing things together. Kilgrave wouldn't have done the dirty work himself; if he'd have torched the CDC building and killed Clemens, he'd have compelled Clemens to probably torch it while he was still inside. Effectively killing himself and destroying the evidence. But if Clemens died from a gunshot, that would most likely leave Kilgrave to do the actual dirty work of setting the place on fire–and I knew he never got his hands dirty.
Which means someone else probably killed Clemens and torched the building to make it look like he'd died in the fire.
I stiffened at the conclusion I mentally came to, my eyes narrowing further at the man sitting before us.
Someone like Simpson.
"I heard about it at the precinct," Simpson explained easily. "He was a…great detective."
"Did they say how he died?" Jessica asked, feigning curiosity.
"Fire," Simpson answered simply.
I bit the inside of my cheek, noticing the way Jess sat up a little straighter.
"Really? Because I saw the coroner's report," she told him. "He died from a bullet to the head."
Simpson's expression remained disturbingly neutral as he mumbled out, "That's a mercy."
"Yeah," Jessica agreed, leaning forward towards Simpson. "You know I hacked a file from the police's ballistic report and it showed that the bullet was police issue."
Simpson went rigid in his chair, almost as if he wasn't breathing. He stared straight at Jessica, his eyes locked on her.
"Bullshit," he muttered. "There's no way ballistics came back that fast."
Jessica continued to stare him down, her expression hardened. He scoffed, his attention briefly turning to me before it darted back to Jessica.
"Are you saying you think I did it?" he questioned.
"Well…you knew where to find Albert's hotel," Jessica began. "And only Clemens and I knew where he was." Her head gestured towards me slightly. "Even Olivia didn't know where they were." Simpson ran a nervous hand through his hair as Jessica continued. "Which means you went to the CDC first and that fresh burn on your arm confirms it," she said, pointing at the wrist on the hand he was running through his hair.
He paused, his eyes swiveling to his wrist. His brows pulled together as he eyed the red mark along his skin. "I didn't even feel that," he mused.
There was one brief, tense moment that fell upon us. Simpson glanced at me over Jessica's shoulder before his eyes returned to her. And then his hand reached just past his coat, pulling out the gun I'd noticed was there as Jessica raised her foot to kick his chair over. Simpson managed to raise the gun and pull the trigger, firing a bullet that broke the window beside me just as he toppled over in the chair. A moment later I felt a burning pain in my arm; I glanced down to see red blooming down the sleeve of my blue shirt where the bullet had just grazed my left arm. When I glanced up, I saw Jessica had Simpson pinned to the wall with the chair he'd just been sitting on, his gun now across the room on the floor.
Ignoring the pain in my arm, I focused, feeling the vibration begin behind my eyes. I crossed the room as Jessica tried to restrain him against the wall.
"Tell me you've been Kilgraved," she begged.
"Clemens was just going to put him in the system," Simpson retorted. "You know that wouldn't have held him."
He kicked a leg out at Jessica's knee and she stumbled. Simpson ripped the chair out of her hands and shoved her so forcefully with it that she went flying backwards, rolling over her desk onto the floor. He turned and threw the chair roughly towards me. I threw up a hand and redirected it in the air, tossing it against a wall across the room where it struck hard and broke. When I looked back, he'd already grabbed his gun again and was shooting three rapid bullets towards Jessica.
Snarling, I mentally gripped the gun and ripped it from his hands, pulling it through the air towards me. Simpson's eyes fell on me, wide-eyed and shocked at how easily I'd taken the gun from him. The weapon was still hovering in midair, just a foot in front of me. My hand tightened into a fist and the gun crumpled in on itself. I tossed my hand to the side, throwing the now useless weapon across the room.
Jessica took his moment of surprise to get back on her feet and determinedly kicked her desk with such force that it went barreling into Simpson. He went flying into the wall as Jessica ran at him, but I noticed she was injured and favoring one side from the car that had hit her earlier. Simpson grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and easily threw her flying across the room where she smashed hard into one of her built-in bookshelves. The shelves broke, the items on it loudly falling onto where Jessica was lying on the floor.
I raced towards Simpson, snarling as I swung my fist back. I threw a punch at him, aiming for his jaw but he somehow caught it in a tight grip, startling me. He was strong– unnaturally strong. To the point that even Jessica was struggling. He smiled down at me, a dark, twisted smile. One of his hands reached into his coat pocket while the other started to crush my fist in his hand. I cried out in pain as he slid a red pill out of his jacket and dropped it in his mouth.
"What the hell are you on ?" I gasped out.
Simpson's pupils only further shrank before he grabbed me by the arm and flung me across the room. My body tore through the drywall above Jessica's orange sofa before I dropped head first into her bedroom. I slid a few feet, only stopping when my head slammed into her solid dresser. A muffled whine left me as I tried to rise to my feet; my body was aching and my head was pounding after that. A moment later I heard Jessica crying out from her living room and I struggled up onto my feet faster.
"You're done trying to protect him!" Simpson yelled at her.
"We're trying to kill him!" she shot back.
"You're lying!" he roared.
I stumbled my way out of her bedroom, hands supporting myself against the wall as I moved just as he landed a hard kick to her ribs. She let out a pained shriek as Simpson kicked her again.
"It's your ribs, isn't it?" he mused, kicking her another time as I stumbled closer. "You're hurt. Any other day you'd have won this."
When he lifted his leg to kick at her again, I threw out a hand and grabbed him by the neck with an invisible force before yanking him roughly backwards. He choked at the movement, gagging and gripping at his throat as he turned his attention to me with wide eyes. I hissed in pain at the struggle to keep my hold on him–there was a building pressure forming between my temples again–as I raised him off of the floor a foot. He was dangling in the air by his neck, choking and sputtering. I could feel a slight trickle of blood fall from my nose as a sharp sting at the base of my skull hit me; I winced at the pain. Trying to muster all of the strength I had, I threw him across the room and into Jessica's desk. A scream escaped me as I did; lifting large, heavy inanimate objects was one thing, but manipulating living things like this was another–they fought back and moved. It was quickly taking a toll on me already.
"And you," Simpson growled, rising up from off of the floor, his darkened eyes on me, "are a crime against nature. Whatever you are, you shouldn't exist."
He bolted forward towards me, moving as if he hadn't just been thrown like a ragdoll across the room, and landed a swift punch to my gut. All the air in my lungs flew out of me at the hit and I doubled over, wheezing. But he came at me again, this time landing a solid hook to my jaw. I stumbled backwards on my feet, falling into the wall behind me and slamming my head.
"You shouldn't exist," he snapped, pulling his arm back to hit me again.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Trish with something red in her hands. My eyes widened and I tried to shake my head at her, but suddenly she was behind Simpson. She hit him upside the head with a fire extinguisher before he could land another hit on me. My eyes widened in shock at the woman as she went in to land a second hit across his head before he turned and shoved her hard into the wall across the room. She fell to the floor with a scream and I forced myself back on to my shaky feet. Again I threw a hand forward, mentally gripping him by the throat and lifting him from the floor. I locked his gaze in mine and held it as firmly as I could.
"You're going to go home," I commanded him, my voice twisting into the strange tone it took on. In my peripheral I saw Jessica rise to her feet, rushing to Trish and helping her up. "You're going to leave us alone and forget about Kilgrave."
Simpson's eyes narrowed at me. Slowly, he shook his head. "No, I don't think I will," he told me.
My eyes widened in shock, momentarily losing my grip on him. He dropped to his feet and raced forward at me, but Jessica tripped him with her foot before grabbing him by his jacket, throwing him across the room and at the front door. The glass shattered as Jessica grabbed Trish and gestured for me to follow. We rushed into the bathroom, unable to leave the apartment with Simpson now rising from his feet by the front door. I managed to slam the bathroom door shut on his face.
He slammed his hands hard against the door causing it to shake in its frame. Jessica and I pushed back against it, keeping him out.
"What the hell are those pills?" I asked Trish over my shoulder.
"Some kind of combat enhancement," she panted out. "It increases adrenaline or something."
"Did you know about this?" Jessica asked her.
"I didn't know the extent of it," she admitted.
Simpson began pounding at the door repeatedly, trying to break it down. I closed my eyes tight, trying to catch my breath.
"How the hell did he block my command?" I wondered aloud. "I've never seen that happen before."
"Must be the pills," Trish offered.
"I can't…I can't control him, make him leave," I told them, my eyes opening as I strained to hold the door. "He's too damn strong, it's hard for me to fight him."
"I'm too hurt," Jessica admitted, slowly lifting her shirt with one hand to show her badly bruised ribs.
"Fuck, Jess," I muttered, eyeing the angry purple and black along her skin.
"I don't want to hurt you, Trish!" Simpson shouted, pausing his attempts to break the door down. "I just want Jessica and Olivia! You can go home."
"You can still screw off!" Trish roared back through the door.
The pounding paused and I felt my nerves rising; why was he suddenly so quiet?
"Tell me those aren't his pills," Jessica said.
My eyes darted towards Trish. In her hand she was shaking a bright orange bottle of pills. Her eyes scanned between Jess and I for a moment before she twisted off of the cap.
"What're you doing?" I called out.
"If they work for him," she said with a shrug.
I shook my head quickly. "You don't know what those are, what they do," I warned her.
Suddenly the banging on the door commenced again. Though this time it was just a moment before the door splintered, giving us a visual of Simpson on the other side holding some sort of metal bar in his hands. When he spotted the bottle in Trish's hands, he paused, his eyes growing wide.
"You stole my pills!" he shouted.
Trish dumped a pill into her hands and brought it to her lips.
"No don't!" Simpson shot out. "They'll kill you!"
She paused, eyeing him through the door. "They haven't killed you," she pointed out.
"You don't have a tolerance for them!" he explained. He shoved his hand into his jacket, pulling out another bottle similar to the one she was holding. "You see these? Without a blue one to come down your brain will forget to tell your lungs to breathe."
I watched as he turned, throwing the bottle across the room. The sound of a window shattering echoed through the room. He'd just chucked them off of the fifth floor.
"I don't need another blue for another ten hours," he told her. "But you'd need one in a few minutes."
"Give it to me," I said, holding out my hand to Trish.
"No," she said quickly, vehemently shaking her head. "I can't risk you or Jess dying. You're the only ones who are immune to Kilgrave. You're the only ones who have a chance of taking him out."
"Don't," I warned her.
She quickly tossed a pill into her mouth and swallowed.
"Without the blues you'll die!" Simpson shouted.
Trish closed her eyes and I watched as a sense of intense focus overtook her. When she opened her eyes, I saw her pupils shrink, though not as much as Simpson's. Her eyes darted down to a container on Jessica's floor filled with random items. She bent down and grabbed a screw driver before turning towards the door and stabbing it straight into Simpson's shoulder. He stumbled backwards, pulling it out of his arm.
"Worth it," Trish shot back.
She rushed past me, throwing open the bathroom door and lunging after Simpson. She was throwing kicks and punches as Simpson just stumbled backwards, clearly not wanting to fight her. He was trying to block her hits, but she was just bombarding him with one after another. I followed out of the bathroom and when he finally grabbed her by the shoulders, tossing her into Jessica's kitchen table, I threw up my hand and tossed him hard into the kitchen counters. Jessica was rushing past me; she grabbed him by his jacket and started slamming his head repeatedly into her fridge door again and again until he eventually went limp. Only then did she drop his body to the floor.
Trish rose to her feet and hurried back beside us. The three of us stared down at his lifeless body on the tile floor.
"Is he dead?" Trish asked hesitantly.
"No," I answered her. "He's deeply unconscious. Will be for a bit."
Her eyes darted to me. "How do you know?"
"I can feel his mind," I told her simply.
She ran a hand through her hair, suddenly smiling. "That was fucking amazing," she said, turning her gaze between Jess and I. "Is this how it feels for you both all of the time?"
"Are you okay?" Jessica asked her curiously.
"You kidding me?" she shot back. "I'm pumped ."
She darted out of the kitchen back to Jessica's now destroyed living room. She was pacing and breathing heavily; I watched her warily. Something felt off about her, I could feel it before the vibrating in my head dissipated.
"Trish maybe you need to relax. Slow down," Jessica suggested.
"Are you kidding me?" Trish asked, clapping her hands together. "I'm too psyched!" She resumed pacing rapidly again. "I'm too…"
Her mouth opened but no words came out. A panicked look crossed her face as her hands flew up and gripped her throat.
"Jesus Christ, she can't breathe!" I exclaimed.
I whipped my phone out and immediately dialed 911. My eyes landed on Trish as she fell to the floor, Jessica now panicking beside her.
"Trish! Breathe!" Jessica pleaded.
Trish only stiffened on the ground, her mouth wide open but unable to pull in any oxygen. Jessica was shouting at me before she turned, trying to perform CPR . I watched helplessly as I recounted our address to the emergency dispatcher, praying they sent an ambulance fast enough.
An incessant buzzing sound cut through the silence and I groaned. I felt something moving beneath me and my eyes opened slowly.
In front of me, Trish was still asleep in her hospital bed, the monitor beside her showing that her oxygen and heart rate were normal. She'd thankfully been able to receive help in the ambulance I'd called; whatever the EMT had injected her with had counteracted the stimulant she'd taken and she had recovered. Though the hospital still wanted to keep her overnight to monitor her.
I shifted and pulled away, realizing I'd dozed off on Jessica's shoulder. The pair of us had passed out in the two small chairs in the room not long after Trish had been stabilized. With Simpson still out there, we'd been too afraid to leave her side. I'd sent Matt a quick call hours ago, letting him know I wouldn't be home tonight and why.
The buzzing continued and I realized it was my phone. I slid it out and noticed I had a text from an unknown number. Beside me, Jessica's phone was also buzzing as she stirred awake. When I opened the text, I realized it was a group text between Jessica, myself, and the unknown number. But the more I stared at it, the more I recognized it.
Jessica and I briefly exchanged a look.
"Kilgrave?" she asked.
I nodded. "Yeah, it has to be."
The texts came in quick succession.
9:38 PM I heard you were looking for me.
9:38 PM I ran into both of your "boyfriends."
9:39 PM If you hurry
9:39 PM You can still say goodbye.
My blood ran cold at the text, my eyes slowly sliding up to meet Jessica's. Hers were wide and terrified as she stared back at me.
"Does he mean Luke?" she asked me.
"And he means…Matt," I said, my mouth going dry.