1964-01-03 - 99 Problems
Summary: Remy has 99 problems and Jess is at least 9 of them.
Related: N/A
Theme Song: None
gambit jessica 

It's been an odd few days. In more ways than one. The panic attack that had eventually set in, even at wanted contact, had, for the first time, not resulted in a push away. Instead, Jessica had made a simple request. Being held had been enough to get a strange honesty from her — an unusual vulnerability. And she'd finally detailed it. All of it. She had divulged all of the sordid, depraved, and undeniably mind-altered things Killgrave had her witness and engage in.

And, that unusual vulnerability put the panic attack at bay, and allowed for desire to meet fruition. But, rather undeniably, things changed in the process.

Jessica's armour had met its match, and, for the first time in a very long time, she chose to let it go.

In a strange way, it was reassuring. In another, unsettling. Putting words to what'd been done was enough. She'd long thought Remy just intuited everything Killgrave had said, done, or engaged in, but speaking them, somehow, made them lose their power.

Lazily, Jessica reaches over to find the space next to her in bed empty. Her lips purse, and reality seems to set in, or, at least, reality as she perceives it. She inhales a slow breath and with that same near-woozy manner allows her bare feet to make purchase with the floor. She reaches for her robe, tugs it over her form and ties it at her waist. Slowly, she slides out of her room, and treads to the kitchen. "Remy?" she asks, anticipating silence rather than a person to return the greeting.


"Yeah. Jus' readin' love."

Remy just listened a lot of the time. Sometimes saying anything is just a bad idea, so he just listened, held Jessica, and would answer promptly when questions were asked. He offered only little bits of insight and support. What was there to say, really.

He got up early this morning, got the paper, and was scouring it for any bits of information.

"Grabbed a lil egg and bacon burro in dat dere bag fer ya, babe." Half eaten, his sits on the coffee table next to his coffee as he goes back to reading. Scouring.


The inquisitive cant of Jessica's head, and the slow move of her paces feature an uncertain attitude about everything. The bag is given a glance and then a nod as she treads to the coffee pot to pour a cup. The mug is taken and she sits across from him as he scours the paper. "Hi," the word has that same skepticism, even if she doesn't quite intend it.

She tugs the burrito from the bag and unwraps it carefully. Her neck cranes towards the paper, "Anything worth knowing?"

Remy pulls the paper down and shakes his head. "Not anyt'in do go'on, non." He sets the paper to the side and tilts his head. "How you sleep, chere?" He leans back slightly in his chair looking at her and noticing her beauty. He's hoping a lot of the bloodletting allowed her some peace.


The question warrants a slight turn of Jessica's lips, "Good, actually. Honestly. First time in a long while." Her lips press into a thin line and she carefully draws the mug to them. "I… do you remember when, a few months ago, I left a bar with a friend of yours? You asked if I fucked him. And I didn't." Her eyebrows lift. "That… happened then." Her eyes narrow slightly. "I really hate talking. That and jogging." There's a pause. "But thanks. For listening."

"Dat happen' den?" Remy tilts his head, not really sure what she means. Did she mean that she actually did get on Fred? Well, he resigns, it's her business. But the phrasing confuses him. "Course, chere. We ain't got make no habit of it, but whenever y'need me, I'm here."


"My… panic. Freezing. Whatever," Jessica shrugs and her eyes hone in on her breakfast. "I don't purposely play games with anyone. I didn't hook up with your friend." She shrugs again and her lips purse. "Right," she nods once, no reason to talk more than necessary. "Good." She inhales a deep breath and then lets it go slowly.

"But," and of course there's a but, "we should probably talk some now." Her throat clears. "I like you. We had fun," her lips quirk upwards. "I know I'm not the only gal on your card." Her eyebrows lift at that. "Nor do I expect to be." She swallows hard. "But, I do care about you. So," and this is probably not at all the direction that Remy expects this conversation to go: "I want to talk about this freedom fighter thing you're doing. What is it? What does it involve?"


"Not 'bout t'tell ya how ta live yo'live, chere, but I tell you dis. Since I met you I been wit one other gal, and dat be when ya pretty much tole ole Remy you was gun go home wit his friend. S'ahm not sure dat count. Paintin' me like I got some long list ain't too far from de truth, but been turnin' em all down. Jus' wan make dat clear."

There's a weary sigh as Remy sits back. He knew this was coming and he knew they'd have to talk about it. It's not an irritated response, just a bewildered one. "Depend on de day. Rob a bank. Steal some weapons. Did torture dat cop who tortured dose mutant kids. Did do dat. Or, more honestly, I held him while Raven tortur'im. And dat fucker got what he deserve."


"…Raven…" Jessica repeats. "And how do each of these things help your cause?" she asks wryly. "Look, I have no unrealistic expectations here." Her eyes roll lightly. "We met because you stole something from a real estate mogul." Her eyes turn back towards him. "But… " and there is another but."Whatever is going on between us doesn't seem to be fading." Her jaw tightens. "I need to know what you're involved in because…" she inhales a sharp breath and then releases it. "Because.. I care about you. I… what I told you, that wasn't just because I wanted you, it was because…" she swallows hard. "Look, this isn't about ripples to Alias Investigations or some shit. It's about… you and me. And whatever this is. And what we want it to be." She swallows hard.


Remy nods soberly. "And what you tink you want dis t'be, chere? Dat always been de question about dis ting. Bout you an me. What we gun be, I ain't ever change mah opinion."

Jessica's fingers tighten around the mug, turning white with the contact. She slowly releases another breath. The question has her guzzling her coffee like she normally would liquor. She swallows around the growing lump in her throat. "Look, I'm not good at relationships. I can barely keep one with my sister." She stares at his glasses. "But I don't want to go to bed with anyone else or wake up next to anyone else. I'd rather you didn't either." More honesty. "And what's your opinion?"


"Yeah, dose be terms I can 'gree wit. Look, chere. Ole Remy ain't gonna get all suffocatin' up in yo' business. When you need space, I give you space. When I need space, you give me space. We gun make it work 'ccordin t'our rule, non?"


"But are they terms you want?" Jessica asks again with her eyebrows lifting. "Agreement and desire aren't exactly the same thing."

Remy stands up, puts his coffee down, crosses the distance between where he and Jessica sit. He nudges his way between her knees and bends down so he can look at her. "Lemme be plain, chere. Wanna be wit you. Dats what I want, dats what I always wanted."


The faintest edgings of a smile give away more than Jessica would probably wish. "Alright," she replies softly. She swallows hard and reaches up to tug the glasses from his face. "You don't need those here. Ever." She leans forward and passionately kisses his lips before settling back against her seat again. "I… want to be with you too. And I'm good with space as needed. But, if you're going on one of those missions, I need to know. Don't tell me what. Just. Tell me. Call. Visit. Whatever."


"Won't keep nuthin' from, ya chere. Ne're woulda. Wun keepin' it from ya." Remy kisses her back and as she pulls away he begins to kiss her upon her robe. "Half our problems, like ah always be sayin," he says in between. "We dun lie, but we never really be forthcomin' either."


"Then no more omitting," Jessica offers in turn. She swallows hard, and her eyes drift closed under Remy's attention. "We need to check in on the junkie today," she murmurs quietly. Her mug is relinquished to the table, "…but maybe not just yet…"

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