Warnings: implied rape/sexual assault, possible triggers, adult material

Pairing: Jessica/Kilgrave

a/n: Written off a little personal HC I have. Also, merry Christmas, for those who celebrate it.

Please tell me what you think; reviews motivate me to write more.

"Children should be seen and not heard. Or better yet; not seen and not heard."

- Kilgrave, AKA Crush Syndrome

After she figures it out, Jessica keeps the matter to herself; she doesn't have to tell anything to Kilgrave unless he makes her, and for once, Jessica appreciates the delicacy of a secret. In the past, she used to lie all the time; lie to cops, lie to Trish, lie to men who wanted more than a one-night stand ("Sure, I'd love to do lunch.").

Not once did she imagine that one day she would no longer have the option to lie - not once did she imagine that she would no longer have any options at all.

So Jessica relishes in her filthy little secret; relishes in all its petty glory, hiding her spite behind an extra-convincing smile.

.

.

.

He finds her at the bottom of a flight of stairs, yellow dress rumpled, crimson blotting the corners of her mouth. Thinking she must've tripped (but not really believing it, because she's too good at landing after a jump), Kilgrave is taken aback by mess before him.

Jessica is sobbing, clutching the space below her abdomen, smearing scarlet all over her silk skirt.

"Bloody hell, Jessie, what happened?"

She chokes, back arching against the thick iron base of the staircase railing. "I-I'm miscarrying."

Kilgrave raises his eyebrows in disbelief, craning his neck forward to make sure he'd heard right. "You're pregnant?"

"I...I was."

A strange numbness pools within the pit of his stomach, and Kilgrave feels distinctly as though something was taken from him without permission. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Abruptly, something changes in Jessica's expression; when she looks up at him, her eyes burn with something like defiance.

"I didn't want to."

Kilgrave sucks in a breath, irritation coloring the world red. "And why is that?"

The dots of ruby on her lips tremble beneath the fluorescent glare of the hotel suite's overhead lighting. "Because I thought you'd make me keep it."

For a moment, he thinks to be cruel with her - to hurt her further, because her words have cut him deeper than he would have ever imagined; have wounded him more than anything or anyone he's ever known.

But there is something terribly horrid about watching the one you love break apart in your very presence, and seeing the shine of tear stains down her face is almost too much to bear.

"Darling, darling," he shushes her, forcing himself to bend down, running the pads of his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks, "Jessica, shh, look at me."

Immediately, her brown eyes find his, and the whimpering ceases - though he cannot command away the agony in her expression, straining against the skin.

So (because he loves her) Kilgrave does the only thing he believes will remove her pain.

"Jessica, I want you to forget this ever happened. Forget about the baby, and go to sleep. It'll be all right."

To his relief, Jessica stops squirming, slumping in his arms.

He holds her like that for a bit, lightly stroking her hair, before he remembers he's sitting in his child's blood.

.

.

.

There is a reason Kilgrave buys her a house.

Because now it is Kilgrave who holds the filthy little secret; guards it behind his love, co-mingled with his hate, her hate, her love -

However, he'd rather make more secrets in a house instead of a hotel.