AN: Hey everyone, guess whooooo?

I've been working on this story for months now, and I'm actually nearly done! So far, I have about 15 chapters written, with several more yet to be added. I think this is shaping up to be one of the longest, if not the longest, story I've written! It's been such an adventure so far, and I've really grown as a writer and explored some of what I can do with this story.

I'm so glad I can finally share it with you!

But, onto the details:

This story will be very heavy in the character-exploration department. There is, of course, plot, but this story originated out of a desire to explore the characters' interactions in an incredibly complicated, morally-gray situation, so that is the forefront of everything.

This takes place after the first season of Jessica Jones. And for Doctor Who, this is shortly before Ten's finale. So, you know. Fun stuff.

TRIGGER WARNING: there are no real graphic depictions of rape in this story, but it is mentioned. There is also some non-violent self-harm, of the denying-self-things-necessary-to-life variety, and one scene later on that is pretty dark (although the events are accidental and the actions well-meaning). If any of you, for any reason, want me to tag a specific section, or want me to give some kind of discreet warning in advance of any potentially triggering material for you, please don't hesitate to leave a comment or shoot me a PM! Just let me know the kinds of things you want to be warned about, and I'll do my best to help you out! This story is also just fairly dark in general, hence the rating. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns!

Without further ado...!

Chapter 1

For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, Jessica Jones was content.

Or, near enough that she could almost mistake it for content. It would have been an outright lie to say everything was perfect, or even that all was right in the world - there would always be assholes, and since it was her job to stop them, she saw the dark underbelly of humanity more than most. Enough to have a reminder of that darkness follow her in even her happiest moments.

But things were good. Better than they had been in a long time.

Her apartment was slowly being fixed, despite her insistences that Trish stay out of it. At least the walls had been repaired, and the window of her door had been replaced. The rest was mostly up to her - cleaning up, throwing out, buying what needed to be bought. Business was booming more than ever, though, so it was hardly an ordeal. It was more the chore of it all that weighed on her. But that was a small price to pay, all things considered.

Life had become both more chaotic and stable at the same time, but she couldn't say she wasn't at least somewhat pleased with it all in the end.

She would forget sometimes, as she moved on with her life, that she was finally free. The ghost that had been haunting her for so long had finally been vanquished, and everything she had left - everyone she had left - was safe, at least for the moment. Kilgrave was dead. She had made sure of that. And yet it would still sneak up on her, this realization.

She would find herself looking over her shoulder, on occasion, waiting for something, that familiar old terror welling up in her, before she remembered.

And, God, she couldn't get over how much brighter the world seemed afterwards, before she forgot again. It was the gift that kept on giving - over and over and over...freedom.

She would never have to so much as lay eyes on him again.

With her camera held close, and nothing but work on her mind, Jessica found herself once again hiding on a fire escape in the cold, snapping photos of a married man and his mistress for one of her new clients. It was a promising job, if a little basic compared to most of her work now, offering a nice reward for her hard work.

Despite knowing that her client would surely be devastated by the evidence, she couldn't hold back her cheer as she took picture after picture, then slipped down and away, stuffing her camera back in her bag as she went.

She traded it for her phone, tapping in the client's number and pressing it to her ear. Two rings, and the woman was frantically whispering, "Hello?"

"I've got 'im," Jessica said shortly, tone betraying none of the satisfaction swirling in her chest.

"Oh," the woman breathed. "Oh, I...thank you."

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth," the PI replied. This time it came out slightly more sincere. "Stop by my office tomorrow morning and I can give you the pictures."

On the other end, she heard a sniffle. "Um. Yes, I'll be there. After Henry," another sniffle, "goes to work."

Her phone buzzed, indicating another call, and she managed to be polite and say goodbye before hanging up and answering again. "Trish?" She paused at a crossing, waiting for the cars to clear before jogging across.

"Hey, meet me at that bar - you know the one we used to go to all the time?" Jessica immediately caught the slight slur in Trish's voice, and rolled her eyes.

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe," Trish sighed. "Tipsy, at minimum. But look, I want you here. I came with a couple of friends, but-"

"I know how celebrity types are," Jessica finished for her. "Doesn't mean I'm willing to drag your ass home for you tonight. I'm busy. Stop drinking and go home. I thought you didn't do that much anymore, anyway."

"It's been a long day," the other woman mumbled. "I was headed out with some people I interviewed today, that's all. It's only been a few drinks. Please, Jess? I've barely seen you the past few weeks anyway."

"Like I said, I'm busy." There must have been something in her voice, though, because Trish continued, with something like a knowing smile in her voice.

"So when will you be here?"

Jessica groaned, but secretly, she was a little bit relieved. The only bad thing about not having your life and the lives of those you loved on the line was that you had a lot more time to think about other people - something Jessica had never been particularly good at.

And a few of her recent cases...well, she deserved a break from thinking about it.

Give me ten minutes. The words were right there, on the tip of her tongue. She had even opened her mouth, skillfully holding back a resigned smile, one of those unexpected new bubbles of contentment expanding in her chest, before it all went to shit.

She saw the hair, and the suit, and the bubble popped. At first she thought it was another one of those moments - where she thought she saw him on the sidewalk, and her whole world stopped spinning, before she realized no, look at his nose. Look at the shape of his face, his jaw, his eyes, and she moved on, feeling shaken and foolish and absurdly relieved - before he passed under a light and his face was illuminated.

Everything wrenched to a stop, so violently she felt that maybe for a moment New York City had frozen in place around her.

But someone, one of the few still on this street at this hour, barely missed toppling her over as he passed, spitting a mumbled curse in her direction.

Across the street, Kilgrave paused at the crossing, hands shoved in the pockets of a dark brown pinstripe suit, rocking back and forth on once-white converse sneakers, the trench coat he wore swaying with him.

This is a dream, she thought, idiotically. He would never wear clothes like that - definitely not the shoes, dear God. But those sharp features were unmistakable, and the eyes - there was no way in hell she could forget those eyes.

Somehow, he was alive.

Somehow, her freedom had been stolen from her again, and it had taken no longer than a single breath.

"Jess?" Trish said, in a way that indicated it wasn't the first time that she'd spoken. "Jessica."

"Trish," she replied. Her mouth was deathly dry. When she swallowed, it felt like swallowing gravel. "I need you to tell me I'm going crazy right now."

"What's going on, you weren't answering." The slur had vanished, replaced only with alarm.

Once the words were said, they couldn't be escaped.

"Right now," she said, carefully, "I'm looking at Kilgrave, crossing the street towards me."

"Jesus," Trish breathed. "Listen, I'm...are you sure you aren't imagining it? Have you been drinking?"

Jessica huffed, trying to regain her composure, scrubbing a hand quickly over her face, ducking into the nearest alley she could find. "I don't think he saw me. Tell me I'm going crazy." She didn't want to call it begging, but it sounded pretty damn close.

"Jess..."

"It's him, Trish." She could hear the panic, panic she hadn't felt for months, welling back up in her voice, panic she'd learned a long time ago to keep down, locked away. Personal.

But she was out of practice.

"Where are you?"

"I have to go after him," was all she replied. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Her heart had, at some point, crept up into her throat.

She could feel, even across the phone, that Trish wanted to beg her not to, to reassure her.

All she said, however, was, "Take another look. Make sure."

Jessica clawed at her flask, taking a swig, feeling the burn down her throat. She focused on it as she edged out of the alley to catch a glimpse.

He was still a fair distance away, far enough to take no notice of her. She held her breath, hoping.

Her world froze yet again as her last dregs of hope were wrenched away.

She backed further into her hiding place. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes burned. "I'm sure."

"Shit," Trish said. "Okay, okay - don't hang up. Stay with me, okay. I'm sure it's just..."

"Nothing?" Jessica spat. "I would know that face anywhere, Trish. Anywhere." She couldn't help the shudder that stole through her, had to force dark images from her mind in order to breathe. "Goddammit."

Trish didn't say anything more, but Jessica could hear her breathing, the background noise of the bar, the small sounds of the world still moving on, as it always did.

He passed the alley without so much as looking in her direction. Hands in his pockets, strolling along without a care in the world.

Sometimes she forgot, now that things had started to look up, how much she had despised him.

She slipped out of her shelter a few moments behind him, keeping a close eye while remaining at an inconspicuous distance. The situation wasn't ideal - for multiple reasons, but mostly because she had practically no one else to hide behind should he turn around. Most people knew to stay indoors in Hell's Kitchen at night.

Of course, he wouldn't worry about that kind of thing.

She tailed him for what felt like ages, but was in actuality probably only half an hour at most. The wind had begun to cut into her like it hadn't earlier, when things had been okay. It felt like ice, chipping into her with every gust, which didn't help with her growing weariness. He just kept crossing streets, going down odd roads - it felt more like he was wandering aimlessly than actually searching for anything.

Finally, however, she watched him turn into a side street she knew lead only into an alley, and found her opening.

"Trish," she said. On the other end of the line, which had been quiet throughout her journey, her friend replied with a brief, "I'm here."

"There's a tracer on my phone. It'll alert you to my location if I haven't called you back in an hour. Don't call, just keep track of me, okay? Get Luke. And anyone else you have to." She took a breath. "I'm coming up on him now." She hung up, slipping the phone back into her pocket with sweaty palms. She clenched her fists and stomped forward.

She had no idea what she would do. She had no plan, not even a hint of a plan.

She rounded the corner, and found him there, watching her.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice you following me?" he asked, and that accent - terrible, slimy enough to curl her lip - sealed the deal.

It was him.

"Fuck you," she spat, without thinking, the words like fire and hate and terror on her tongue, and lunged forward.

"Whoa!" he called, and ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding her advances. "Excuse me!" She turned to catch sight of him again - his hands were up in surrender, backed against the wall, seeming offended but not surprised. "I usually introduce myself before I go attacking people, it's only polite."

"Don't play dumb with me, asshole," she snarled. She watched his eyes flicker momentarily over her as she took a warning step closer. "How did you survive?"

His brow wrinkled, almost comically. That hatred, so vile and familiar, crawled its way through her body. "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about," he told her. "Which, I have to say, doesn't happen often. Well, occasionally. Well, maybe a little more frequently than that. But I do find out eventually, doesn't usually take long. I'm having a hard time with this, though - sorry, I'm being rude. What's your name?"

She stared, forcing herself to look closer. He was Kilgrave, of that there was no doubt. But his eyes, those eyes she had been running from for far too long, were full of real uncertainty. Real confusion. "No," she hissed, "we aren't doing this again." She took a deep breath, to calm her racing heart.

"I guess I'm in no position to argue," he said.

"I'm going to find out what happened to you," she growled, "or, more likely, what you did to make this happen. And when I do, you'll be in deep shit." Jessica felt the sting of her nails in her palms, and forced herself to relax minutely.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and oh, he couldn't fool her. Trying to be charming, like he always had. "So you do believe me?" he checked. Then he glanced down at her feet and frowned.

"Probably not," she admitted. Then, having shifted ever so slightly closer to him throughout, grabbed him by the hair and bashed his head against the wall with a satisfying thud.

AN: Short first chapter, but I promise the rest of them are much, much longer!

Please, as usual, let me know what you think so far. About plot, writing, characterization, any of it at all. It's not too late for me to change things and improve the story, so I'd dearly appreciate any feedback you can give!

I'm planning to update weekly. I'm thinking Monday nights. Updates should be much more regular than I've been known for in the past, because all but the last several chapters are written, and I plan to finish those within the next few weeks. However, if I have to do any major overhauls of the story (which I don't expect to, but in rereading and editing I may find some things that need changing), updates may be delayed.

I'm also a college student, with a somewhat intense major, and with a part-time job that eats up 20 hours of my time a week. I may have to begin posting bi-weekly instead in the future, but for now let's feel it out and see how things go!

Thanks, everyone!