You stare out the window, chin in one hand while you tap your knees with the other hand. Someone else’s fingertips tap his armrest obnoxiously, and you just know his leg is bouncing up and down even though it’s out of your line of sight. Sighing with mild irritation, you tear yourself away from the view of clouds and blue sky to pin Kilgrave with a glare.
He glances at you, then stops. “I can’t help it.”
“You never said you had a fear of flying.” You slump in your seat, wishing you had sprung at the chance for a first class seat instead of having to deal with a crying kid nearby. Someone also keeps kicking your seat every now and then.
“It’s not flying, I’m perfectly fine with flying. I’m not fine with going back to the source of my miserable life.”
After obtaining Kilgrave, you’ve wasted no time in making arrangements to fly to dreaded lab. He’s whined a lot about it, but by this point, it’s nothing new. Merely annoying.
You raise an eyebrow, leaning your head on the seat to watch him curiously. “You think I’m fine with it?”
“You’re the one desperate to go back. I don’t even know what you expect to find.”
“Answers. Something.” You lean forward and grab a plane brochure, glancing over the emergency instructions out of boredom before putting it back. “Someone has to still be there.”
“And then what? Beg them to take your powers away?” He tries to flag down a flight attendant for drinks, but no one comes.
“Something like that. Look, I know you think I want to kill myself, but that isn’t the case.”
“Could have fooled me,” he mumbles lowly, glaring at the seat in front of him when his own is kicked. With a muted growl, he spins around, pinning the offender with a cold stare. “Stop. Kicking. Me.” It turns out to be a kid, and you’d feel bad if you hadn’t been kicked at either.
“Stop that, you’re going to scar them for life,” you hiss, pulling at his sleeve back to his seat. Begrudgingly, he has to obey and turns around with a thump onto the seat. He folds his arms petulantly.
“You know, I’ll be glad if you get rid of your powers, it’s annoying as bloody hell having to obey your every words.”
“Imagine what your victims went through.”
“No,” he points a finger at you, leaning in, “no. They were not victims. Do not- damn-”
Damn her. Damn her words. Flashes of different girls run through his mind, each other with a look more dead than the last as they go through motions with him. He remembers enjoying himself with them, but he is so sure they enjoyed themselves as well. They had to. Surely. Didn’t they?
He squeezes his eyes shut when he can see one of the girls crying, right before he tells her not to do that.
Damn this girl. Damn ____.
“I guess you can stop,” she finally says, and Kilgrave’s mind clears up. He’s panting from the effort of keeping the memories away despite failing to do so. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Shut up,” Kilgrave spits even though his command has no effect. He shoots daggers at her, but she isn’t affected. Instead, she’s back to staring out the window. It’s like she’s bored by this whole ordeal.
The plane shakes briefly with turbulence, causing some murmurs of concerns to rise from other passengers. It passes quickly, and the regular cacophony resumes within minutes. Kilgrave is still studying ____.
The light from the window causes a silhouette of her form.
“You know something?” he eventually says, but she doesn’t turn back to him. He continues anyways. “I can’t age anymore.” This gets her attention, and she slowly looks back at him. “It took a while to notice, but I’ve stopped aging. No gray hairs, no wrinkles- well- not more wrinkles. Crow’s feet, but that’s it. It’s like aging just ceases after a certain period of time. Whether my parents meant for that to happen, I don’t know.”
“You as well, then,” you answer softly. Another thing in common, it appears. You knew he was studying you minutes before, but he hasn’t stopped. Under his gaze, you feel yourself flush and look at your lap instead. “I think I stopped around 20 or so. It just feels different.”
“It does,” he agrees, leaning his arm on the armrest. Against your better judgments, you read his thoughts again and shy away, wishing you hadn’t chosen the window seat. He certainly isn’t one to hold back his thoughts. It’s almost flattering, but you want him to stop thinking altogether.
You’re about to say something when you inadvertently catch someone else’s thoughts. Your head snaps up, scanning the cabin for the source of the thoughts.
“Any second now. Any second. Just have to move. Move. It’s just a plane. Move!”
“What’s wrong?” Kilgrave asks, his brows furrowing and following your frantic glance. “What are you looking for?”
You shush him sharply and listen. Everyone looks normal, but you stand up to get a better view.
“Come on, you have to. They’re no better than you. Move!”
A man stands near the restroom, his hands shaking and a pale face evident. Him. You shove Kilgrave back into his seat and nearly climb over him to go after the man. Kilgrave sputters and gets up after you, trailing after as close as he can.
“What are you doing?” he calls after you, but you ignore him. You lock eyes with the nervous man in front of the restroom. In his state, he stops even without you saying anything, like he’s willing for someone to stop him from what he’s about to do, whatever it may be.
When you’re close enough to talk to him without drawing attention, you stop, and Kilgrave bumps into your back. You stumble, cast him a glare, and turn back to the man.
“You shouldn’t do it,” you say, raising a hand up like you’re trying to keep a wild animal at bay.
“Do what?” Kilgrave asks.
“Shut up.” You know he’s making a face behind your back, but that doesn’t matter. Your attention back on the man, you tell him not to move. “You were going to try something, weren’t you? Take down the plane or something?”
Kilgrave’s hand is on your shoulder, but you shrug him off. The nervous man just works up a nod.
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” he answers, wringing his hands together. “So I’m going out this way.”
“By taking others with you?” you whisper, drawing him away to set him in a seat. “Why would you do that?” He shrugs, albeit helplessly. You puff your cheeks. “You’re not going to do that. In fact, you’re going to turn yourself in to one of the attendants and get some help. Honestly, I don’t care if you kill yourself, but bringing others into your plight of pity is pathetic. Don’t try to talk to me, just move.”
He gets up, meekly moving past you and Kilgrave. You get a whiff of body odor and scrunch up your nose. Kilgrave is literally bouncing on his heels next to you, impatient for you to allow him to speak again. You pinch the bridge of your nose.
“How did you know what he was going to do?” he blurts out, watching the man shuffle up the aisle to one of the flight attendants. Worry flashes across her face, and she ushers him away from the passengers, presumably to where there would be some type of security to hold him.
A weary look is what you give instead of an answer. “You don’t need to know. In fact, let’s just do what we should have done in the beginning when we got on the plane.”
“Get into first-flight.” You brush past him, grabbing his wrist on the way and leading him towards the front of the plane.
“You literally pulled a hero move,” Kilgrave marvels behind you, “and you’re keeping it quiet? You saved the plane. Don’t you want a celebration?”
There are a couple of empty seats next to each other in first class, and this time you push Kilgrave into the one closest to the window. He pulls a face, dusts himself off, and makes himself comfortable in his seat. Even though flight attendants watched you two move in, they don’t make any attempt to remove you as it’s not uncommon to transfer seats mid-flight if there are empty ones up front.
“I’d like to keep things like that quiet,” you explain, flagging one of the flight attendants over. “If attention is not drawn to me, I like to keep it that way. You, on the other hand...”
He looks like as though he’s pondering your statement, and then nods like he agrees. “I can’t help it. Being the center of attention is all I know.”
You snort. “Yeah, I can see that. I need a drink after this.”
“What, another one of your carbonated drinks?”
“A real one,” you reiterate, ordering a stronger drink when the attendant comes over, and Kilgrave asks for one as well before moving to recline in his seat with a satisfied sigh.
