1964-01-23 - Oh, he's dead, right?
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gambit jessica 


Jessica Jones hasn't been around much for the last few days. She's been busy working the case, following the trail, and generally in and out of Alias. But since yesterday, the place itself is worse for wear. The window — which no longer has glass — on the door has been boarded up with cardboard and packing tape. The window has the words ALIAS Investigations scribbled over it with a black marker. A phone number is left underneath that.

Inside Jessica sits on the phone, "No. I don't want you to replace the window. I think you may as well just replace the door… because it's splintering on the side… no, that's a bullshit price… call me back when you have a better price. I'll look elsewhere… I don't know! I can built my own damned door!" She slams the phone down not he receiver.

*

There's a familiar smell of cigarette smoke wafting through that new opening that lets Jessica know that Remy is coming before he arrives. "Jus' don' make em like dey used to, huh?" he says as he nods towards the door. He steps through it now and raises his eyebrow after he pulls the sunglasses from his eyes. "Place lookin' like hell, chere."

*

The smirk and arch of a wry eyebrow follow the remark. "I'm working on it, Cajun," Jessica returns. She rises from the chair. "Got into a disagreement with a client. He thought he didn't have to pay after I got a photograph of his brother greasing his lady. Didn't like the photo, and refused to pay. And then tried to threaten me." Her eyebrows draw together, "I… didn't appreciate the threat." Her lips curve into a vague grin.

*

"De man inside me wishin' I was here t' defend yo honor. De realis' inside me know you had it covered. You gun make him foot de bill on dis one too?" he says as he nods to the door. He steps over, and should she allow him, plants a kiss on her cheek. "What we workin' on t'day, love?"

*

"I should," she mutters in return. "But it's not worth the hassle. All I need is him asserting I assaulted him or," the kiss on her cheek earns a lopsided smile, "something." She shrugs slightly. But then, back on track, "Besides, I got a new case, and this woman overpaid. Her sister is missing," she lifts a hand as if to suggest she has many missing people to find. "Another mutant. But the timeline is different than the rest. Not a teen either." So there's that.

Her lips twist to the side. "The missing teen case seems to be in progress though. Managed to work up four levels already. Think I'm close to a supplier."

*

"Y'know, funny y'should say dat. Got a friend, mutant gal I know. From down by de bayou. You'd like her. Anyway, she had some vision ting. Innit she saw me, she saw you, and she saw dem Fisks. How sure we dat dey on de up and up?" Remy adds, as if an afterthought. "Good ting on de new case. Less get started."

*

Jessica frowns slightly at the mention of a vision and the Fisks. Thoughtfully her head shakes slightly, "We're us. We're not convinced anyone is fully on the up and up." Her eyes study his for a few beats, "What kind of vision? I've never met the Fisks. Just know it's suspicious they donated a bunch of money to a school that so many kids were vanished from." She shrugs.

*

"Sometin' bout vigor, DJs, music, cotton in y'ears. You, me, and de Fisks. Dunno how much should be taken literal and how much is just images. She a weird cat, dat Lynette," Remy says. He nods his head at the idea of them being them. Of course no one is on the up and up, not fully anyways. Not even them, probably.

*

Jessica reaches for the pocket of Remy's jacket to draw out the pack of cigarettes she knows is there. One of the smokes is taken and pursed between her lips. "That's weird," she returns. "Us and the Fisks. I mean, we are working the case, and I think I'm getting close. I'm getting names. Ramadan," she ticks her head towards the door, "the name Malcolm gave us passed on another name. Who gave another name… who gave naother. That one was almost a dead end, but she left a calling card thanks to her product." Jessica virtually rolls her eyes at that.

*

Remy makes no move to prevent her from getting a smoke. Yet, he makes no move to help her either, allowing her to search around in his pockets a bit while holding his arm away from his body. "De whole ting be weird. Silly me, but I got t' thinkin dat maybe the ear muffs or cotton or whatever was a sign dat we weren't listenin well enough."

*

The thought has Jessica lighting the cigarette. She inhales a long puff on the cigarette while pondering that thought. There's a pensive pause followed by a short question, "Listening well enough to who?"

*

"Didn't know, chere. Jus' figured is all. Jus' a feelin." Remy looks as if he's about to say something and then stops abruptly. His mouth goes open, his mouth goes closed.

*

Jessica's head cants to the side and she studies him carefully. She takes another long puff on the cigarette. "What?" she asks quietly. Her chin lifts slightly.

*

Remy looks a bit sad and, given that he's close enough, laces a finger through one of her belt loops as if that's going to soften the blow of what he's going to say. "De otha ting I thought was dat it had sometin t'do wit…wit him, somehow…tinkin dat it was de way he was able to controld, right? By his words?"

*

There are few tells in Jessica's expression, but the vaguest twitch of her lips speaks volumes. Her shoulders remain taught. The cigarette remains sealed in place. Her jaw tight. Her eyes deaden. With a sharp sniff, she forces herself to reanimate. "I don't… he's not…" her eyes lid.

Jessicaaaaaaaah

Even now as her thoughts turn to him, she can hear his voice rolling over her thoughts. "I killed him. He's gone."

*

"I know, chere. I know." But Remy can't split the fact that when all of this mayhem first started, the whole shit show of an office was covered in purple. To him, it wasn't a coincidence and never has been. "So how we move ahead is your call. I'm just here to be the looks."

*

"I felt his neck snap," Jessica's expression hardens. "I heard it." She inhales a long slow breath and holds it a moment. Finally she releases it. Her head turns, and she looks towards the window. Her general stoicism grants her a pretty sharp pokerface, but the faint glimmer in her eyes speaks to more.

The ghost of months past continues to haunt her. He falls dormant, only to rear his head again.

The hand at her belt look meets another. She swallows hard. "What's going on, what's happening," her head finally snaps back so she can look at Remy again, "it's not okay. The police won't do anything — haven't done anything. If we don't do something," her gaze deadens, "no one will. If it's him, if it's him, he can't… he has to be dead."

*

"He is. I saw it happen. An' I got no reason t'believe he got any other power den de ones he done shown," Remy says sadly. He doesn't know how to comfort her. He never has, really. He's not sure if she's capable of it, or if he respects her too much to think she can be soothed by it. "Agreed, chere. But we gotta go an' do somethin. Mebbe we could break in and have a lil speak-speak with Fisk."

*

There's an uncomfortable quirk of Jessica's lips — not a smile. Her expression sours. Defiance draws her gaze upwards. "I want a drink," she declares blandly, but she makes no motion to leave; she roots herself in place and makes no motion towards the door or the kitchen. Presumably there's no liquor around, but the desire doesn't leave.

Finally her chin drops. Agreement. "Fisk seems like a good next step. And your friend. Do you think," her lips twist to the side, "would she get a different vision from me?" She swallows hard. There's something unsettling about the notion.

In other news, "We can also keep going up the drug trade line. I think we're getting close." There's a long pause. "It's changing. What they're selling. The low trade… it's unmarked. But this layer? they're marked. I don't know what the markings mean, but they're marked." There's a pause. "Makes me think it's not just recreational use." She frowns slightly.

*

"I'll bring ya by to see Nettie first. You get checked out by her and den we go for Fisk. I'll start casin' de joint. Dis bit about the markins makes me tink dere might be sometin happenin' in stages."

*

"Stages?" Jessica lifts a wry eyebrow. "Stages, how?" Once more her lips purse. Her breath rakes in her throat and she chews her bottom lip. "Trish was coming with me to meet the suppliers. Like I said, it's changing as we go up. When we found Ramsden, the link from Malcolm, the tube was unmarked. Clear." She shrugs. "But now? Little dots. Different colours. When we met up with the last one, it was in the bar down the street."

*

Remy shrugs, "Well, when ya tink bout it, could be like any otha drug. Start em with one thing, build up addiction. Mebbe rather den raisin' de price, de just add in sometin else. Dunno."

*

"Possible, I guess," Jessica offers in return. "But why the chain when we get higher in the supplier." There's a pause. "I wasn't paying attention to the price." Pause. "But that might be worth checking with Trish about. She kept fronting the cash." She sucks on the inside of her cheek.

*

"Just ideas, chere. You de one who do dis for a livin. S'why we met, non?" Remy says with a grin and gives her back a light rub. "We close, I tink."

*

The first question merits a smug curl of Jess's lips. The smile is slow, but it gains confidence, "We met because you have sticky fingers, Cajun." Her head cants to the side, and her smile turns lopsided, "It's good you're so gosh darned pretty. And so damned charming." She leans forward and presses a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Almost tried to fuck you that day we met."

It loses some of its lustre at the last, "I agree. I actually think we're ridiculously close. If we can find the man at the top and stop this thing," her eyebrows lift and she shakes her head.

*

"Almost. What happen' to dat girl who take what she wants when she wants? Either coulda saved a bit of time, or realized what you was in for a lot earlier." Remy chuckles. He puts his finger through one of her belt loops as she pulls close to her. "Kinda glad you waited, to be honest."

*

"Didn't seem professional," Jess offers with a shrug as her eyes lock with his. "Not that I worry much about professionalism," her tone borders on self-congratulatory. She easily complies with the tug. "And why's that?"

Her eyes sweep briefly towards the door. "The new case? The missing woman I told you about? The sister really overpaid me. Might get some things fixed around here." Pause. "Or take a trip. After putting the Vigor case to bed." If that's possible. Her eyes remain trained on Remy's. "You could come. Somewhere. Anywhere."

*

"Ah'll go anywhere you wantin' to babe. Cold beer in my hand. Some of Remy's ole gumbo on de fire. Anywhere you want. Less jus' get dese people saved first, likin' you say." Remy gives her a quick re-peck on the lips.

*

There's another twitch of Jessica's lips. It's been an odd few weeks. Trust doesn't come easily, but oddly remarks like that seem to make it easier. "I… look. I said I wouldn't omit things anymore. The dealers, when we meet them, Trish has been buying." Her eyes don't look away, "No one is using it. But we have it. Not…" her gaze turns downwards. "Look. I'm not a cop. I don't think they'll admit it as evidence, but Charlotte Ferguson already died. If other kids are dead — " there's a downward turn of her lips. "Maybe someone who knows something science-y can link the drug." Her frown deepens. "Maybe."

*

Remy nods, "Seem ta make some sense. She tried it? /You/ tried it?" There's a shrug of the shoulders. "Remy know all sorts of types, love, but not really science ones. You need a voodoo lady? T'ief? Jambalaya recipe? Remy yo man. But dis science ting, mebbe Trish be havin' mo' luck."

*

Jessica shakes her head. "No. Didn't try it. Don't plan on trying it." Her eyebrows lift at the notion of Trish trying it, "Damn I hope not. She's not…" Jessica's gaze sweeps back towards the door. "America's sweetheart has her own troubles." She nods at the bit about science, and issues him another shrug, "Just thought you should know. Look. We said we had a problem with talking about things. So." Her lips purse as her eyebrows lift contemplatively. Almost undoubtedly she's considering something.

*

"I dun get it, love. You tellin' ole Remy dat you bought some drugs be like me tellin' you I stole a car. Part of our business, chere." Remy's reply comes with a grin.

*

Jessica smirks. "Yeah, definitely not surprises when the car we're in is stolen." She shakes her head lightly. "I'm just telling you so you know. You told me you weren't hiding the other side of your life, so figured you should know, well, things. If you want to know things." There's a pause as her eyebrows draw together. "Assuming you want to know things." There's a pause. "Said I would really try this whole… whatever this is."

*

"Honesty," Remy replies. "I know, it's hard for me too, chere." His eyebrow raises, "Look at us, couple a regula' homebodies."

*

Honesty. "Right. That." Jessica purses her lips lightly. "This isn't some dance. Don't need to guess." There's a short pause. "Remy, I'm glad you're here. With me. I don't always know why you are. But." Her eyes once more hone in on his. "I want you here." THere's another pause. "Look, I know you live with Ava, but you're here a lot. I cleared out a drawer if you want it. Or to be here more." It's almost an invitation. Yet even after she speaks the words, that contemplation, that indecisveness, continues to reflect in her eyes.

She hums at the notion of being a homebody. "Suggesting you don't want to go out, Cajun?" Her eyes sparkle with easy mischief.

*

"I tink dat if I keep payin' de rent, Ava be plenty happy to have de place to herself fo a while," Remy says. "Don't need much more den a drawer." He shrugs his shoulders, slipping his hand on the inside of her waistband. "If you goin' out, I'm goin out. If you stayin, I'm stayin."

*

The hand against her skin has Jessica's breath hitching in her throat. Her eyes don't look away. Her expression stays even. Her hands slip around his waist, sliding underneath his long coat as she does so. "I want you." But those aren't the three words she's been contemplating; those three words are easy. Other words are hard. There's another pause following her assertion. "Goddammit," she murmurs to herself. "I said no more omissions." Her shoulders twitch. "I don't say it. I may never say it again, but I love you."

*

"Love ya too, chere. And if ya hopin' I be provin' it. Prolly be showin' ya in jus' a tick, here." Remy can't help but laugh, "You be sayin' it whenever you be feelin' d'urge. I know ya do."

*

"I know you do," she says evenly. Jess's hands trail upwards to push the jacket from his shoulders. Hands trail to his collar as she crushes her lips against his. Her hand trails to the one under her waistband, pressing overtop it as her weight shifts. She doesn't want to lose the contact, but gently, slowly, she draws him towards the bedroom, but she stops just shy. "How'd you know?"

*

Remy dutifully follows a long like a puppy once she begins to pull him away. "Well, it's either dat you put up wit a lot of my shit…"

"Or it was jus' a lucky guess."

*

Jessica levels another look at him. The edges of her mouth curve upwards in another smirk. "Lucky seems like an apt description for you, Remy." Her eyebrows lift.

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