The Unyielding Woman

Changed the colors countless times -   -;

prescribingadailydoseofjests:

Thor grimaced, Odinson hadn’t so much left her in a lurch as she had… taken over his job when he got put on indefinite leave by Dr. Mjolnir. But then he had just left without telling anyone where he was going. And, sure, he needed to find himself again but a check in now and then would be nice; so Volstagg or Jane would know he wasn’t dead. She was going to give Odinson a stern talking to when he got back, or well Jane was going to give him a stern talking to. Secret Identities. Fun.

 “Well, Jessica Jones,” Thor’s eyes glanced at the woman before looking ahead keeping her face a straight as she could possibly muster, her voice as dry as the hills of Muspelheim. “I have to reveal it is a joy to not be accosted by friendly fellow heroes wishing to speak to me and compliment me when all I wish is for the chance carry on with my day or return to my humble abode.” 

Jessica watched the woman in front of her. She took note of the thoughtful pauses, the moments between words that played out only in Thor’s mind. Jessica took those opportunities to take in the mannerisms of the other hero - and she used that term very loosely in response to herself. Extremely loosely. In fact, she was never going to use it ever again. Whether it was in her head or not. Damn it, now she was doing it.

Thor’s dry comment seemed to startle Jones, if her series of two blinks were any indication. A slow, appreciative smile stretched out across her features in response; like the slow curl of milk into the dark depths of a hot cup of coffee. “Well, that’s fair. Who knew the Goddess of Thunder had a sense of humor, huh?”

The enthusiasm and energy that had enveloped Thor quelled ever so slightly at Jessica's first question. It wasn’t asked in a way that some of the villains like Absorbing Man had asked or even with the worry that those Asgardian’s brave enough to speak to her and risk Odin or Cul’s wrath. It was simply innocent curiosity, yet despite that Thor felt like a cold fog had descended upon her, a cloud to thin for her to muster anything useful. “The Odinson is…” Well, he was, hopefully, not dead but rather slowly overcoming his crisis of faith wherever he was. “Going to owe me an extremely large tankard of mead when he returns.” she finished instead. That was if he hadn’t changed his mind about her being worthy of Mjolnir. She could feel the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. “And saddly, having a secret identity will make planning such a thing, a feat in and of itself.” 

She could see that her question had shifted something in the perpetually cheerful superhero in front of her. Foot in mouth, Jones. “Left you in the lurch, huh?,” she questioned with a brow lifting upwards. Her expression was polite enough but restrained. Attempting not to delve too far into unknown territory, perhaps. 

Her mention of their secret identities made the private investigator nod slightly. “That’s why I don’t have one. Still, must be nice in other ways,” she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. 

Strange let out a laugh. “Well damn, guess you caught me. Closet masochist right here.” He looked around and realized he wasn’t really sure where they were going at this point. Not that getting lost was really a problem for him, but he kinda bordered on the paranoid when it came to new places.

“All seriousness though, not looking to make an arrest. It just seemed polite to check if everything was ok. It’s not like there was shortage of people checking on the other guy.” He smirked a little, but apart from that kept fairly neutral. He wasn’t biting onto the banter hook quite that easy.

A twitch of the muscles at the corners of her lips was all he got in response from the private investigator when he relented his apparent tendency towards masochism. She shrugged and spared a last glance behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed by an angry mob. “Hey, no judgement. Maybe a little more impressed than before, even,” she added, with a sly, though brief, glance slanted over towards him.

She couldn’t miss when his gaze explored the area surrounding them with a little bit more caution than he previously showed. It seemed to spawn from a wariness of their surroundings more than a fear of her. She slowed to a stop in front of a seedy looking bar and bounced on the balls of her feet as she turned to face him. Well, mostly. He got the benefit of her side-on because any other sort of subtle body language was too open for her tastes.

“I’m good. I don’t like men who beat up women, that’s all.” And, in an effort to change the subject, she rolled her right shoulder to indicate the establishment behind her. “I’ll buy the good samaritan slash closet masochist a drink if you want one.” Or four, in her own case. 

The gruff, pointedly aloof offer was actually a pretty huge step for her, given that he was a stranger. Jessica Jones avoided most of humanity whenever possible. Especially do-gooder humanity. Still, he couldn’t rightly know that. Whatever his answer, she would turn to push through the door while ignoring the stares of the regulars. She climbed onto one of the stools at the bar and hooked her boots through the lower rungs while she waited to see if she was drinking alone or not. 

She refused to admit that she held her breath. 

What Matt was expecting: an elaborate game of Marco Polo with the goal of making sure he didn’t walk into her, in which he would occasionally call out ‘Marco’, and she would respond with ‘Polo’, in an attempt to gauge their respective locations.

What Matt got: an elbow nudged against his side, a clear offer for him to take her elbow, a far more practical and yet somehow more surprising manner of ensuring spacial awareness.

As such, he couldn’t hide the upward quirk of his eyebrows, but he did nod. “– Thank you. Jones,” he added as an afterthought, taking her elbow.

There was a soft grunt in the back of her throat when he thanked her for the elbow pressed against his hands. She would wait until he was settled; he would have to shift his cane to his opposite hand to take the elbow she offered. His skin was warm through the leather of her jacket as his hand settled in the crook of said elbow. She moved forward at a casual pace without any trace of hurry in her steps, feeling a little like his seeing-eye dog.

As they passed the mouth of the alley and back onto the street proper, the gradual uptick of noise made her sigh in annoyance. The nearest coffee place wasn’t that far away, thankfully. “So has Fisk tried anything? Can’t imagine he’d let the lawyer who put him away just walk free. He seems like the vindictive type.” And wasn’t that the truth? This probably wasn’t a topic he was keen on discussing after a rough day. Especially with a woman he barely knew, but Jessica was a dog with a bone.

The bell chimed cheerfully when they entered the coffee shop.

Zatanna grinned, the pain faded away in a moment, as she murmured her spell and she found a smile was easier when she didn’t have to grit her teeth behind her curving lips. Jessica, Zatanna realized probably had no idea that the problem was solved, no idea what had just happened, and the smile went from sincere to amused. 

Still, she laughed, still shaky, still not at top performance, but close enough to equilibrium that it felt natural. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t dealt with pain or injuries before, note: the blood still wet on her side. Nothing, she figured, some water and a good nights sleep wouldn’t handle for her. She unzipped the jacket and yanked up the hem of her shirt, red finger prints on white chiffon, pale fingers swiped at the blood now coating perfectly smooth skin. Unscarred, unmarred, magic, she thought, had it’s perks. She dropped the hem and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“The magic of hugs right?”

Zatanna laughed and released her from that surprisingly warm embrace. Jessica stepped back and away from the woman but hovered closer than she otherwise would have with any other stranger. Pale fingers took hold of the zipper on the borrowed jacket and tugged down to allow the sides to gape apart. Those same fingers pulled up the hem of her shirt and smeared away crimson to reveal unmarred skin. 

Jessica took a hesitant step backwards again, her visage a mixture of suspicion and wonder. The comment about hugs made her features screw up in her patented bullshit expression. 

“...Right. Hugs.” She muttered as if she were reluctant to piece together how the injury had vanished into thin air. For all she knew, this was some kind of scam that she really didn’t have the time or attention for. “I’m not buying what you’re selling, lady. You can scam some other schmuck.” But hell if it hadn’t looked damn real before. Even the air was thick with the iron scent of blood. 

Her body language was distinctly closed off at the perceived deception. Despite her own superpowers, magic wasn’t on her radar and she wouldn’t recognize it if it bit her. 

“Can I have my jacket back?”

“Well met, Jessica Jones.” Thor grinned, enthusiasm enriching her voice. She would remember that name, maybe look it up when she reverted back into Jane and could get her hands own her phone again. “I am called Thor.” She actually didn’t know what the symbol on her head meant. She tapped a finger against the handle of Mjolnir in silent rebuke. Frankly, she wasn’t sure it meant anything. Well, actually. It did, just not in this context. Probably. She kind of took offense to being labeled the weakest brightness for a star and was semi-amused at the idea of being walking around with the of the argument of periapsis of an orbit on her helm. But seeing as the lower case for of omega was latin. Thor doubted that was the intention. Again, she had not designed her uniform. 

Jessica hesitated a moment, uncertain if she wanted to even discuss the woman’s name and history. In the end, she did open her mouth to blurt, “What happened to the other guy? That was a loaded question and she knew it, but she was curious.

When she neglected to discuss the symbol on her helmet, Jessica assumed that it was information that the other woman didn’t want to be passed on to others. It didn’t occur to her that she might not know. “What’s the whole secret identity thing like?” She added, curiously. Jessica didn’t have one; she tended to utilize her powers only if she needed them, but she didn’t hide her gifts either.

Matt wasn’t not expecting that kind of response, which was to say that that was exactly the kind of response he was expecting in response to having asserted that she was there, as opposed to him being alone in a shady alleyway. Yes. He was a lawyer. Just a reminder.

The corner of his lip turned upward as she agreed to coffee, and he nodded, because coffee. Well, tea. Still, though. Heated beverages. He exhaled, the world starting to even out. Well, in so much as it ever did. There was still pain. It was kind of everywhere, and he wasn’t happy about it. Just…no. But at least…tea. He could do tea.

“– Great,” he exhaled, not even a tiny hint of sarcasm evident in his voice, seriously, no sarcasm. He pushed himself from the wall with a world-weary exhaustion, and schooled his posture into something a little more New York, a little more lawyer, a little more living. Then he kinda laughed a bit, just a quiet little chuckle to himself. “– I’m sorry, I uh…I don’t know where you are. Let me know if I’m gonna walk into you?”

Jessica watched him out of the corner of her eye as his shoulders eased just a little more. Their conversation had been casual, but there had been an underlying tension that had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t certain if the thought of coffee, her conversation with him, or simple time had been the alleviating factor, but she noticed it all the same. There was a story there, but she didn’t bother asking. 

As he gathered himself to leave, she wondered at her reasons for accepting the offer of coffee. She’d surprised herself, honestly. It wasn’t that long ago that she had herself convinced that other people were just distractions and that she was better off alone than risking anyone else. Now here she was, asking for business cards and going out for coffee. 

His self-deprecating laughter made her wandering mind focus on him again and she hesitated there in the alley. A cursory glance behind her before she was shifting towards him. She came to stand quietly at his side and he would feel her leather-encased elbow nudged into his side in an offer to lead him. She seemed uncomfortable with her gesture but not because she felt that it was a kindness. Jessica didn’t see his blindness as a disability; it was just part of him, like the color of his hair. 

She held her breath as she waited. “Come on, Murdock.” 

Strange chuckled a bit at the defensive response. “No, call me a concerned citizen I guess. In my experience violence generally comes with a reason, my bet’s on that guy not being a victim at all.” 

He shrugged, still watching her, keeping pace. There wasn’t a limp or anything, indicating she hadn’t been hurt at all in the scuffle. “Or I could just be a sucker for a woman and you just like beating up men. But it looks to me like you could have done much worse.”

He tried not to talk too much. He’d never shut his mouth before the accident and look where that had brought him. Alone with no help or friends. He was trying to be better now, but… well it was still hard. Everyone had their struggle he guessed. So for now he let the silence be until his companion responded.

It told her a lot about someone’s character when they ignored her rudeness. If she had been in his shoes, she would have told herself to fuck off. He, on the other hand, laughed it off and kept in step with her. It was enough to lower the height of her shoulders just about an inch; the tension still coiled but unravelling a little. “Concerned citizen?,” she parroted with a degree of amusement. “Are you going to make a citizen’s arrest if I don’t give you the right answers?,” she added with a sidelong glance that bordered on playful. Or annoyed. Difficult to tell with her.

There was silence, and then. 

“Let me get this straight. You considered the possibility that I might be the type of woman who just gets her kicks out of beating up men,” she seemed mostly interested in throwing his words back at him. He’d have to stay on his toes. “So, you thought to yourself, I'm gonna go follow that crazy-ass broad,” she added, with another of those entertained oblique glances. “I don’t know what you’re into, buddy, but color me intrigued.” The tone of her voice was sarcastic, but her steps had slowed and their path became more of a stroll.

Zatanna shot her hand and the rapidly spread red stain a wry look before giving the other a smile, though a bit fragile at the edges it was still packed with as much amusement as she could press into it. “Somehow I think I’ve lost just as much blood as I’m worried about.” At least she wasn’t blacking out, she’d take her wins were she could, small victories, the battle and not the war and all that. Zatanna was really rather good at looking on the brightside, or at the very least living so far in denial that there was no dark side. “At least I’m not anemic?”

“Well, no one’s ever accused me of not being able to multitask, and I might be injured, but I’ve still got functioning eyes you know.” Her grin is less wry this time and more hungry, she flirts for sport and she’s always in season, can’t be off her A game. Not that, that means she’s not committed to her words, mean what you say, and say what you mean. 

Zatanna slipped the jacket on, put her arms through the sleeve and zipped up the front, then, without much further ado she met Jessica’s eyes squarely, didn’t hesitate or look away. “Do me a favor? If you’re super uncomfortable, don’t move and tough it out for like, ten seconds and I will be out of your bubble and your life if you want.” Which, of course, Zatanna followed up the bald statement with an even bolder move, she stepped into the other’s personal space and wrapped her in a hug, arms looped around her, chest against chest with the urge to hide as much as she could from any eyes that might pry. 

She turns her face away from the other’s neck, black hair tangled with black hair and almost indecipherable from one another and whispers a quick healing spell. “Laeh.” Before she’s pulling back and stepping out of the other’s space with a grin. “All better!” 

Jessica tilted her head in response to the woman’s answering remark on her blood loss. Was.. that a pun? Seriously? Her eyes rolled fairly nearly into the back of her skull in response. “You’re about to be,” she said, finally.

Jeeze. The fetching woman’s flirtatious comments and that hungry look were enough for the typically impassive Jessica to lift a gloved hand to the back of her neck and rub lightly. Her eyes averted to ghost over the abandoned street. Despite her pretty looks, she usually shot down interested men with just a look. Zatanna had her on her toes with the unexpected directness of it all. Her fingers felt numb when the raven-haired beauty slipped the jacket from her extended fingertips to pull it on over her shoulders.

Zatanna’s warning was just ambiguous enough to spawn a corresponding wary expression across Jessica’s features. The other stepped in abruptly close and her arms encircled the stiff woman’s frame. Jessica gave a sharp intake of breath before she held it trapped within her lungs. Awkwardly, a hand came up to settle like an undomesticated colt at the small on the woman’s back. Her chin hooked over the offered shoulder and they stood, cheek to cheek and breathless.

With a whispered word, they parted and Jessica was left with an uncertainty written across her features. The keen burn of her lungs reminded her to breathe again. “Uh. Great,” she replied, revealing her overwhelming comprehensive grasp of the English language at the moment.

He nodded in response to her recognition of the Fisk shebang, and huffed out a little laugh. Stupid. Yeah, some would say so. Foggy had. Hell, he had too for brief minutes here and there. But he could handle Fisk, wasn’t afraid of Fisk, and it showed in the lines of his shoulders and the swoop of his hair. And strangely enough, he voiced something, mild as a lightly salted potato chip, that he didn’t know she was also thinking, “– But I’m not alone. You’re right there.”

Oh, yeah, he noticed. Thinking was happening, probably. He couldn’t say for sure, but it sure as shit sounded like it. He had to say, though, he wasn’t expecting that. “– Uh…yeah. Yeah, I got a card…” He put his cane to one hand as he delved his other into a pocket, seeking the little rectangle with Nelson and Murdock’s information written on it in both printed English and in braille. Upon locating it, he extracted it and held it out a little in front of him, maintaining the ‘oh no I don’t know where this person is’ facade. “– Here. Sorry, uh…you may have a point about the alleyway. And feel free to decline, obviously, but I’m thinking of grabbing a coffee. You’re welcome to join me.”

Her shoulders lifted helplessly. “Who, me? Nope, I’m just passing through,” she retorted, in rapid response to his comment about being alone. It seemed prudent to warn him that she didn’t have his back, should he need it. At least.. not without some real coaxing.  Maybe a contract, just to be safe.

Jessica got involved when she had to, but she still clung to her old self-imposed ideals of things not getting complicated. And they always did when she stuck her neck out for other people. Not that she was complaining, mind you. Just liked to avoid it whenever possible.

At the end of her long, thoughtful silence and her twitchy fingers against the stiff fabric of her jeans, he searched for his card. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet restlessly as she watched him dig around in his pockets. Her lips twitched in amusement as he held out the card in what he assumed was her general direction. She would accept the little rectangle of fancy cardstock and peer at the name and contact information; the information held too-close to her nose. Her gaze flicked up at him and her thumb ran over the braille abruptly. An index finger flicked against the paper before she tucked it away into her inner jacket pocket. It slid in securely next to her flask.

When he offered coffee, she hesitated. Finally, sounding surprised at her own reply, she nodded before realizing that he couldn't see it. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I guess. Coffee.” She turned to head towards the mouth of the alley, grateful that the crowd had trickled down to nearly nothing.