1963-12-10 - AKA More Trouble In Paradise
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jessica gambit 


It's been a strange week. Not that Jessica would admit that to anyone. The energy of the hall seems to change as Jessica Jones roves the hall. Her heavily booted steps, accompanied by their usual black leather garb, drive Jess to Ava and Remy's apartment. With her arms around the brown grocery bag, she moves to the building. Whatever is in the bag is in question, but it's oddly not liquored. When there, she lifts her hand to knock on the door.

Carefully, she works the doorknob and tries the door. If it's open, she'll walk right in. She doesn't always understand boundaries.

*

The door is open and, when the knob is turned, reveals a rather nice apartment. The lights are on, so the assumption is that someone is home. As Jessica strides into the apartment she can see down the hallway. There stands Remy Le Beau, shirtless, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, at the sink, scrubbing a white dress shirt. With the sound of the fawcett he does not immediately realize she has come in. Nor did he hear the knock.

*

Jessica sets the bag of groceries down on the floor and tread to where the sound emits. She trails to the hall and peeks at Remy rinsing is shirt in the sink. Her neck cranes and she wrinkles her nose. "What are you doing?" her lips quirk downwards. Her expression sours and she takes a step back. "The door was open so I just let myself in."

*

Remy turns to look at her and smiles with the cigarette between his teeth. As she sees him from the other side, now, she can tell the left side of his face has taken a rather nasty couple of hits, opening him up in a pair of places which he has hastily taped together. There also looks to be some sort of goo in there, probably glue.

"Cleanin, chere."

*

"Hey," Jessica takes a step towards him. She reaches for his hands a simple motion to get him to abandon the shirt to the sink as she carefully pushes him back towards a nearby chair to sit down. "What happened?" she asks blandly and she peers at the injury under light. "Please tell me I should at least see the other guy."

*

Remy chuckles a bit and after he abandons the shirt in the sink his wet hand comes up to grab his cigarette, dousing the filter. He seems to care more about that than he does about the wounds. "Shouldn' see d'other guy. Unless y'wanna visit de hospital. His t'ree friends joinin' him."

Remy plops down in the recliner out in the living room and winces as she looks at it.

*

Jessica eyes the wounds. Her expression turns pensive and she trails back to the bathroom. "You have a first aid kit," it's not exactly a question as she disappears through the door and comes back with… whatever she can find. "You need ice," there's something strangely ironic about the bland tone combined with the concerned words. "No desire to see the hospital," she inspects one of the wounds and dabs lightly at it with some tissue. "How did it happen?"

*

"We's out doin' our ting, hear? An' coupla racist fucks surprised ole Remy with a pipe. Kinda ting happens now and again when I ferget to wear de olde sunglasses." He chuckles to himself. "Makes drivin' at night difficult, non?"

*

"That's unbelievable," Jessica mutters sullenly. "What the fuck is this city coming to?" The question is rhetorical but undoubtedly real. "Fucking bullshit," she mutters as she trudges back to the bathroom to nab another cloth and towel. "It's total bullshit." She stomps back into the room and mutters something.

*

"It ain't a big deal, chere. When you roll in de kind o' places ole Remy hang out, ya gonna run into some bad guys once in a while." Especially when you're trying to gag and kidnap a leader of a small cell of ambitious bigots. "Aint de first time. Won' be de last."

*

"It is a big deal," Jessica contradicts irritably. "Kids are going missing. Mutant kids. You get your face rearranged." Her lips purse. "There's a powered police force in the works. Yeah, the world is fucking bullshit." Her hands drop to her sides after she thinks Remy's been adequately attended to. Also, Jess is not maternal.

"So they just beat you with a pipe? For no reason" Her eyes squint.

*

"Well," Remy says in one of those ways that elongates the word too long to be honest in whatever he says next. "You know how 'tis," Remy says, tilting away slightly. "Wrong place, wrong time an' all dat."

*

The word is a signal. Jessica's jaw tightens and she slips back towards thee entrance and the groceries she had left there. "Fine." She reaches for the bag. "Don't tell me." Her voice flattens and those same combat boots drive her back to the front door. "Why do I even fucking bother," she mutters to herself.

*

"Baby doll, do you wan' bliss, or do you wan' truth? You can' have both," Remy says as he leans back. His head lolls to the side. And if this is bliss, who the hell knows what he's talking about.

*

Jessica levels a look at Remy. "Don't call me baby doll." Because she's not either of those things. "The truth is better than a fucking illusion." There's no question that she means what she says. "I lived under fucking illusion. Never again."

*

"Fai' 'nough." Remy doesn't answer right away. Instead he goes into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. When he lights one, a loose strand of lit tobacco falls from the end of the tip, burning him slightly and causing him to shudder just a bit as it hits the skin of his stomach.

"Dis whole time, d'only ting I tole you bout mahself is dat I dabble in some areas dat are not always on de right side of de law, non? Well, what ole Remy was doin was reckonin' on takin' de head of one of dem dere klan groups for me and my own."

"So, y'could say I mighta had it comin'. But, far as I reckon, so did he."

*

"Klan groups?" Jessica's speech slows and her body tightens. She's holding her cards close to her chest, and she doesn't dare contradict the thoughts. "So you actively pursued some supremacist and got stuck with your finger sin the cookie jar?"

She frowns. "Theft is one thing. Murder is a different ball game." Murder. She feels strangely hypocritical at this moment.

*

"Ain't gun murder no one," Remy says with a shake of the head. "Jus' wanna rough de guy up a lil bit. Put some fear in 'em a bit to get his boys to settle on down." He roughed up a cop once. Raven got a little carried away and the guy lost an eye.

*

Jessica's breath catches in her throat. Something in her brain discerns the words and, if paying attention, Remy can see the relief reflecting in her eyes. She allows her chin to drop into a nod of sorts. "Good. Don't murder anyone." Roughing people up though, "You know that just goads them, right? If they attack first, do your thing, but otherwise you give them a reason to keep on with their bullshit."

*

"Guess I'm wut? S'posed to give peace a chance?" Remy laughs and then wishes he didn't, bringing his hand up to his head. "Y'know ain't no one worried 'bout what dere behavior makin' mutants do." He pauses, "You know dat dis is what I do when I ain't wit you, right? Dis is my life."

*

Silently, Jess works her jaw around words that she can't seem to find. Her head shakes and she emits a slow breath. "You're hurting people," she deadpans. "So when you're not with me, you're out hurting people?" She's unimpressed.

*

"Sometimes. Sometimes dat part of de job," Remy says defiantly. "In school dey sing dose songs 'bout freedom. Bout what it cost. Don't disagree wit dem none. My people are at war."

*

"You don't get to declare yourself a freedom fighter when you're actively hurting people. How do you even know that the people you hurt deserve what comes to them?" Jessica, undeniably, is unimpressed. She frowns deeply. "Leveraging violence because you think people deserve it isn't justice. You aren't judge and jury." And neither is Jessica Jones.

*

"I decla' m'self whate'er I want, chere. I dun tell ya how t'live yer life. And y'don't know de people I go aftah. You han't seen de shit I seen, Jess. Also, din say nuttin' bout justice. Justice is d'end goal."

*

"You're not going to get it this way," Jessica's gaze darkens. She tramples back towards the door. "Justice isn't that easy to find." Plain and simple. Her arms cross over her chest irritably.

*

"Y'gun leave because your mad I'm stickin' up for my people an' what's right." Remy shrugs, "Guess we all…what did you say?"

"Predictable."

*

"No. I'm leaving because you think you're finding justice by hurting people. And the fact that you can't see the hypocrisy in it is," Jessica's eyes roll. "You give them the fire they need to hurt people like you. Fighting is important. Doing it as a terrorist isn't going to get the result you want. I'm going to figure out who's stealing mutant kids."

"And then harvesting them, killing them, and throwing them in the Hudson after they have nothing left. Because someone deserves justice. Not violence. Justice. Truth. And even fucking due process." Maybe. Maybe not.

*

Remy gives a small wave of defeat and sits back in his recliner that, in truth, looks a little small for his tall frame at this point. He turns away from her, since she's about to do the same.

*

Jessica turns on her heel. "You want to resolve issues against your people, you fucking work the case. You read the fucking papers. You find justice for those that hamper it." Her back is incredibly cold and expressionless. "And you follow-up on your fucking suspicions." Which is where Jessica is heading. To follow-up on another suspicion.

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