1963-10-01 - Out of Hell
Summary: After spending days watching the Hellmouth, Jessica gets an idea.
Related: Once Upon a Hellmouth Plot
Theme Song: None
marcus jessica 


*

They've wandered the plains of Hell, finding shelter where he can. Marcus hasn't gotten any worse, thanfkully, and he's done his share about keeping him and Jessica safe, blasting demons and other demoic things away from them. He's really been able to cut loose with the powers since he's not all too concerned with the kind of damage he might do the landscape. So there may of been a couple of firestorms that were confused up, pulling all the water out of a demon, drying up it up until it was dust, and summoning gusts of wind so sharp they rent flesh to pieces. He hasn't lost control here, but it makes his veins and eyes glow a little brighter every time.

Eventually he returns to the cave where they've been hiding out at, finding some kinf of plant he's managed to scrounge together that doesn't make them sick to survive on. It doesn't taste great, but it's keeping them alive, though he's since lost track of time how long they've been here. Maybe a day, maybe ten years, he has no idea. "Jessica. How you holding up?"

*

If at all possible, as the days have carried on, Jessica has become surlier and more withdrawn. A valiant hero, Jessica Jones is not. A strong fighter? Well, that's another story. While she isn't trained with precision like Daredevil or particularly gifted at ranged attacks, she makes up for both with raw strength and a chip on her shoulder. Of course the chip was always easier to explain. She hasn't had liquor in days; evidently there was a reason she was so nice. She also happens to hate the fact that she has to eat at all when she could run down to the street and just get a bottle back home.

So when Marcus asks the question, her eyes narrow and darken.

Jessicaaaaa

The voice rolls over her thoughts at her own name prompting a frown and downward curve of her lips. "The lack of liquor in fucking hell makes it fucking hellacious." The fact that hell would be so hellacious seems to add insult to injury.

She leans against the walls of the cave. The would-be investigator stares upwards at the top of the cave, thoughtfully. SHe's spent the better part of the day staring at creatures coming and going from Hell, and it's spawned a question. "That trick you do," she stares at one of his markings for a moment. "With the light — when you were following — " she struggles not to say Murdock and lands on, " — Daredevil and I on the bike… can you do it again?"

*

"Reminds me a couple of guys back in the war. They couldn't do anything much stone sober. But you're fighting the shakes pretty damn well." Of course Marcus would think her an alcoholic. Why not by the way she constantly bitches about having nothing to drink? He's since brushed it aside, having said little on that. Granted, he hasn't fared perfectly either. He glows brighter by the day, the times he's cut, he doesn't bleed blood, but some brightly colored cerulean liquid that oozes from his wounds. There's not real way to explain it. Also hard to tell his expression at times from the fact that his eyes are constantly glowing. But considering there's no real aspect of night or day here, haven't had to worry about it getting too dark. "You're gonna be fine. Could always be worse."

The mention of the trick causes him to cant his head to the side. "The jumping thing? Yeah, probably. It was sort of a spur of the moment thing, but I'm pretty sure I could do it again. But there's no place to really go, so I'm not sure where you'd want to really go. This cave is about the best cover we got right now." He munches on a small handful of demonic plants, setting them down next to her. No, they taste like ass, but beggers can't be choosers right now. The man is in survival mode. Soldiering helps with that. "What's on your mind?"

*

A pointed look cast towards Marcus indicates things have been worse, and, in some way, continue to be worse. The purple figment tugging at the corner of her mind earns her ire as he relays to her to fly around the room. Aloud, she murmurs her address, a nearly therapeutic activity that Marcus has seem her do consistently over their time in this place. She can see him, over her shoulder, muttering for her to smile, and her hand reaches up to hit the figure lingering there — only for her fist to stop just shy of the rock. Kilgrave's torment is alive and well, if only in her memory.

The question actually causes her to stiffen, as her mind has drifted from a would-be plan back towards Zebediah Kilgrave. Her stomach churns. She won't be eating today — her appetite is long gone. For a few beats, she stares at Marcus pensively, trying to rewind the conversation to the place it had been before the Purple Creep had achieved unquestioning devotion.

Which is probably why it takes her minutes to finally answer, with a tightened jaw and guarded frame, "Where we came in. Things get through if they're fast. We could do it again." Her jaw tightens. "Well. You could. I might be able to give you a boost." Being strong does have its merits.

*

Marcus cannot see Killgrave. Can't turn him into a cinder if he felt so inclined. But it's clear the elementalist cares about the woman. At least cares enough as any other friend would. It's not like he hasn't seen the way she acts, or the fact that she repeats the same address over and over again. It's not spoken upon. If he doesn't acknowledge it, maybe she'll be better off. But he does watch through those glowing eyes. There's little else he can do. And it's not like he expects a thank you. Everything he's done, looking out for her, getting her food and water, he's just shared without a second thought to it. Just the way he is. Whatever he may or may not remember; home, Montana, family, he hasn't forgotten how he was raised.

The idea makes him consider. "I might be able to outright fly us out of here. Stuff is in overdrive right now." He doesn't comment on the fact that there are times where it looks like he's in pain, especially by how intensely his veins glow in his body. Or how the brands on him seem to almost sear on him. The benefit is that he's been able to conjure up and funnel more elemental power here than he can on Earth. Why that is, he doesn't know, but he doesn't question. Even when it feel like the current flowing through feels like it's going consume him. "But if I'm getting out of here, you're coming with." He folds his arm across his chest. "Either we both leave, or we're not leaving at all." That's his terms, take it or leave it.

*

The statement causes goosebumps to form along her limbs, yet Jessica manages to keep the chill at bay otherwise. She shoves her hands into her pockets to keep the shaking to a minimum and she slides slowly down the rocks that she leans again. A long inhalation of breath has her coming to a sit and lowering her head to tuck her chin to her chest in silent contemplation. "You need to get out," she deadpans as coldly as she can manage. "Some demons belong here." She swallows hard and focuses on a spot on the ground. "Liquor or not."

*

Marcus frowns at her. "You want to have a pity party for yourself and think you're so goddamn bad, fine. But you'll do it on Earth where I know you'll be safe." It's less the tone of Marcus than it is that of hardened soldier, who's seen another kind of hell. Maybe that's why he's handling it so well. The killing fields of Poland, Germany, Austria, and Russia, he's seen more than a fair share of them. "But I'm not going to sit here and think about who has what worse and why we should feel so fucking bad for ourselves over it."

He kneels down where she's sitting, glowing cerulean eyes illuminating her face. "Don't test me, Jones." he states. "You're my friend, and I'm getting you out of here. I would rather not just drag you out of here myself. But don't think for a moment that I won't. Because it might not occur to you, but I'm just as strong as you are here. Maybe more. I don't know what happened to you. I don't know why you think like you do, but really, I don't give a shit. I see a woman who didn't leave me to die out here on my own, and I'm sure as shit not about to leave you here on your own." He extends an arm out, not touching her, but it's there. "So let's go. And I'll even get hammered with you when we get out."

*

The pep talk causes Jessica's clint o lift and her eyes to narrow further, if at all possible. She doesn't see any reason to explain why she is the way she is to anyone. Not even Trish. She stares at his eyes and tightens her jaw. "Fine. But some people actually do belong own here." Because everything she's ever heard from anyone about hell confirms that.

The extended arm is looked at she reaches out only to recoil when she actually touches him, snapping her hand back to her side. She pushes herself up to a stand and sniffs loudly as her hands return to her pockets. "I'm out of booze. That's how Daredevil got me to join him," because she's not valiant. Clearly.

*

If there was any way for those eyes to burn more than already are, they would. "Maybe that's true, but you don't." he grunts standing back up before pointing a finger at her. "And fuck you for thinking that you do." At that, he doesn't look like he wants to talk about that anymore, the corner of his mouth wincing only for a slight moment as the red glowing brand on him burns a little brighter, causing him to roll his shoulders and turn to move out. "Don't worry, I'll feed your need till your puking all over the floor." he surmises, and then he's walking out of the caver.

It's out here that he can really start to do stuff. Which is holding his out against the ground, arms at his sides. Like some kind of jet fighter preparing to take off, it kicks wind up, a lot of wind, until his feet start to lift off from the ground. Yeah, he's amp'd up. Couldn't do this on Earth.

*

Jessica arches a wry eyebrow as he starts to propel and her head shakes. This may be a bad idea. It could very well e the worst idea she's ever had. Yet she can't seem to come up with another plan. And some people don't belong in hell, even if Jessica Jones does.

She slides into the desolate looking plains and shakes her head lightly. "Come hell or high-water," she mutters before standing beside him, and…floating. Yup, Jessica can fly — something she definitely hadn't shown off before this moment.

*

"If we're going, then we're going, but let's get out of here while we can, before we have to deal with anything worse than what we've had to fight already." Marcus says over the howling sound of elemental wind. HIs clothes are tatters from the numerous fights they've been through this week. Demons, and then worse. But he remembers where they came from, and really the portal isn't that hard to miss. Using the wind like this is still new to him, but he begins to propel himself through the air, the wind carrying him, higher and faster. Then there's a look behind him to make sure she's following after .

*

Jessica knows she can't fly fast enough to break that barrier, but she does follow suit. Super speed is not her forte. Flight itself is easy enough. Her lips purse as she can hear crashing glass — an echo of a memory from her last flight. The screams of people resound through her ears as she destroyed a building to implode on top of them. All for someone's amusement.

A toy. That's all she was. A tool. A means to an end.

Her hands ball into tight fists. Her face pales. Her fury currently knows no bounds.

*

Marcus hasn't mastered super-sonic. But he can go fast enough to be adequte to reach and get through the portal. And there's where he's aiming himself, while making sure not to out-pace Jessica. A pang of loss comes to him. That woman he left years ago, likely having moved on. She wouldn't of waited for him all these years, going on twenty years now? She had to of moved on, found someone else by now. Been trying to not think about her. He shakes his head, keeping concentration. Trails of cerulean whips are left in his wake as he flies, looking down at the hellish landscape, taking note of various demons on the ground, ignoring them. They can't reach them here.

*

Jessicaaaaa

Kilgrave's voice gets louder as she gains altitude. Her eyes glisten and her arms extend over her head as if she aims to punch through the sky. She's been angry for days. Weeks, now. But she hasn't actually grieved. Not for Bella Donna. Not for Jewel. Not for herself.

She makes a mental note to torch Jewel's costume; she's been sitting on it too long. And Jewel isn't a hero anymore. She hurt people. Could've killed people. At least Jessica had been the one to commit manslaughter. Not the hero. Trish would've been crushed.

Jessicaaaaaaa

"Shut the fuck up," she says before muttering her address and clamping her eyes. It's then that she begins to lose it. The sound rolls over her thoughts. And she can feel herself falling backwards, back towards the ground.

*

It's a good thing that Marcus has been keeping an eye on Jessica. Because having been watching her all this time, makes him more than perceptive that this might happen. Because he knows all about what happens when you lose focus and control. Slowing, he extends a hand, and like some kind of invisible cloud, a cusshion of air picks the woman up and keeps her aloft. Long enough until he flies toward her. Yeah, she's going to hate this, but he's not leaving this place without her. So he literally swoops in and reaches out with both arms, scooping her up and cradling her, then finally starting to make for the protal again.

"You're fine. Look at me." he tells her. "Just look at me. You're fine. We're going to be fine. Don't focus on anything else, just look at me damnit, I'm not going to let you fall. I'm not leaving you behind, alright." She may not hear him, she may punch him and try to get free of his grasp. Whatever happens, he's not leaving her here. No man, or in this case, woman, left behind.

*

Kilgrave calls her in a series of commands that relay over her mind. Freedom from him means remembering everything. Feeling everything. Living in everything. And giving way to it in every sense of the word.

When Marcus catches her, she's unconscious and her skin is clammy. She's been faking the whole withdrawal moderately well under the guise of bitterness and trauma. Between the stress of her mind and the state of her body, Jones is, effectively, for the moment, out. Yet her unconsciousness remains restless. Her muscles twitch. Her eyes move beneath their lids. The war in her mind is still incredibly real.

*

That…actually makes things easier for Marcus. So, clutching Jessica tightly to him, he doesn't hold back on the wind. He cuts loose, he lets the elemental power flow freely through him, and it just causes them to rocket ahead, faster than any natural wind could care to move. The ground beneathe them begin to blur, the veins in his body scream at him, tearing at him. The wind brand scorches his body, pain bleeding into his eyes. He pushes it. Faster. Faster, until they are a screaming comet of blue streaking acorss the hellish sky.

Speed they have. Momentum, they have. They have everything they need to cross that particular barrier. And Marcus is pointed right at it. "You're going to fine. You're going to be okay. Just hang on with me for a little while longer." He'll burn himself out at this, even as his vision starts to get a little hazy around the edges. No, he won't stop, he's getting them out of here right now. He can't take another second in his place.

*

The heat licks Marcus's skin as he nears the entrance, and smoke begins to rise from the pair as they continue in their trajectory. The boundary on this side feels quite different than the one coming in. As things become strangely hotter on approach, even partially through the cavernous hole, the universe opens up again like a portal that draws a person from one side tot he next.

The flash of light is almost blinding, and Earth, in all of its glory begins to enter the senses. The smell of ash, fire, and brimstone turns into damp forest as skin cools in the wake of night New York air.

The pair collapse along the grass of Central Park with a quiet thud welcoming them to their escape.

The sound of guns cocking aim at them as a SHIELD agent steps into range. "Do not move. You will return to where you came from!" she urges loudly.

Meanwhile, Jessica Jones begins to twitch. She really does need liuqor.

*

That whole thing about Marcus coming close to burning out? He's about there when they pass through the portal, skin starting to smoke from the heat on him. He ignores it, along with the rest of the pain that sears through him, his veins on fire, torching his insides. And for one glorious moment, he sees the universe stretched out before him. He sees sights his mind cannot begin to even understand. And for a flickering moment, he seems to understand everything that's ever happened or will happen.

Then it's gone. Glimsping, brief, but gone the next second.

And then are tumbling out of the Hellmouth. His veins no longer glow, his eyes have returned to normal, but the pain remains. The sigils burn and glow on his body through the tattered remains of his hoodie. He's smoking and he smells like brimstone. There's enough conciousness to look up at the SHEILD officer. "Human." he says weakly. He points at the body with him. "Jessica…Jones." Then at himself. "Marcus…Renolds. We escaped…were trapped…" The fuzziness around his eyes finally take ahold and his head tilts back, out cold.

*

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