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Oh boy, Matthew Michael Murdock is on her shit list. Her very very long, admittedly, shit list, sure; but right up there at the top he is.
Jessica stops at the bottom of the stairs to their practice, his and Jeri’s former employee. She’d been grooming him to be a full partner, and bam – guy ditched it all the minute Murdick came back. Nelson didn’t know what he wanted, one day living on clients’ pies and wearing cheap suits, the next all fancy corner office; and now back to… this, whatever this was.
Their ‘office’ is just above a butcher’s, for fuck’s sake. She is going to eviscerate Murdock first, then mock Nelson. They both deserve it.
Instead, she finds herself face to face with a rosy-cheeked, blond chick who narrows her eyes at her. “You don’t look like a client,” she says. Ya think?
“You the secretary?” Jessica knows who Blue Eyes is and what job title she likes, and feels vindicated when Blondie’s eyes become slits. “Nevermind, I’ll find him.” Not like there is a lot of room to hide in there. The landing where Uppity is sat, and one (1) door behind her. Jessica sits on the stairs.
“What are you doing?”
“Sitting.” Jessica gets some cheap bourbon out of her jacket, she needs some hair of the dog right now.
A pen taps on the plastic table. “I know you.”
“We’ve met.” If she can’t recognize her, well, too bad. Jessica isn’t about to help. Fuck, that bourbon is foul.
“I’m Karen.”
“I know.”
“You’re Jessica Jones, right?” Jessica shrugs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” She waves at her own head.
“Sure.” So what, she ties her hair one day and suddenly she’s invisible Clark Kent? Huh. Good to know. Maybe also because last time they met Page was sobbing on Nelson’s shoulder on account of the idiot Jessica’s here for.
“They’re with a client.”
“Yeah.” Jessica may not have super hearing or whatever, but she isn’t deaf, she can hear them.
“Do you need anything?”
Murdock’s head. Jessica takes another swig instead of answering out loud. She doesn’t know what Page’s deal is, really. Crying when they all thought he was dead, but also apparently more or less estranged before that? Yeah, so she’s a P.I., she can find out stuff, you know? And drink. Ugh, it’s horse piss, but she needs the alcohol; so, well. Jessica keeps at her bourbon, and Page goes back to whatever it is she’s doing on her computer.
Once she’s reached the half mark on her bottle, the door behind Page opens. The two idiots stare at her as an older Latino woman thanks them profusely before making her way down the stairs.
“Jessica,” they both say. Nelson is smiling gormlessly as usual, but Murdock looks slightly constipated. His knuckles look bruised too, because of course, the moron.
“Nelson. I’ll deal with you letter.” He pales, hah. She takes a step towards Murdock and stabs a finger in his chest. He winces; she hit a bruise. Nailed it, Jess. He’s definitely back at it. “And you,” she says.
She hears a stifled giggle, and turns her head to see Page dragging Nelson down the stairs. “We’ll just go get some coffee, right? Come, Foggy.”
“Better you than me, buddy,” he says, and they turn tail and run away. Good.
Jessica shoves Murdock back into their office, or broom closet, or whatever. It’s tiny, but it does have a window. Do broom closets need windows? But then again, Murdock is blind as a broom. “When were you going to tell me you were not dead?”
He raises his hands. “It’s complicated.” She frowns, and he must feel she’s that close to strangling him. “I’m not sure I was really alive for a while back there.”
“I swear to fuck, Murdock, you better have a good reason or you’re a dead man, for real this time.”
“Jessica,” he says. The large window is right behind him, and she’s surprised he’s turning his back to it. Yeah, right, he doesn't need to face a danger to know it’s there. But he is fidgeting, and she can’t take it any longer so she shoves the cane lying against the wall in his hands. He immediately clings to it. “Thanks?”
“You’re twitchy. It’s annoying.”
“Ah.” He tilts his head as he does when listening to someone no one else can hear.
“What?”
“Uh. No, I thought, but no. Nothing.”
“Fine.” He’s a shitty liar. She drags a chair out, sits in it and thumps her boots on the table to make him scowl. Neat freak, huh? Well, take that. He remains standing. “So?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while, twirling the cane between his hands. Left, right, twirl, squeeze; lather, rinse, and repeat. “I thought I’d die,” he finally gives. His head is still slightly turned as if he’s hearing something outside. He’s usually good at facing people he’s talking to and that’s definitely making her suspicious, but Jessica decides she doesn't care. For now.
“We all thought the same. Clearly, we were wrong.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Everything was crashing down, and then… not.”
“Seriously, what kind of idiot stays under a building about to collapse?” Her voice is rising, and she doesn’t give a damn.
“I thought…” She can see it on his face, on his lips; he wants to says his stabby girl’s name but he doesn’t. “I wanted to make sure you’d all get out.”
“You wanted to die with her.”
He keeps silent.
She knows she’s right. Psycho bitch was too psycho to set free and he knew it but he still loved her, so that was his solution. Die for her sins, die to save the world. Catholic shit scrambled his brains, he thinks he’s Jesus or something. And Murdock, he doesn’t answer, and it makes Jessica seethe. He chose her over them, he chose dying with whoever, whatever was left of her over saving himself and fighting, living another day. He chose her over them, all of them. Even Nelson and Blondie.
“That’s called being suicidal, Murdock.” He still doesn’t say anything. Fuck, she’s right, and he knows it. “And then months later, I hear there’s a guy who looks like Daredevil, the horny one; I hear he’s back and murders people left and right, and then there’s also Daredevil mark one, and then suddenly Nelson and Murdock are back too?”
“Nelson, Murdock and Page.”
“Not officially. She’s not a lawyer.” He shrugs. “Well?”
“I’m sorry?” he tries.
“Not enough.”
He looks a bit lost. “What do you want me to say?”
She throws her hands up. “Where were you all this time? How can you be – I hear you’re back doing your thing but without any kind of body armor this time, and the ears were ridiculous but fuck, Murdock, have you suddenly gained a healing factor? Or perhaps a sense of self-preservation?” She takes a few seconds to breathe. She’s afraid she’s going to try and shake some sense into him and forget her strength. Shut up, it’s been known to happen. A couple times. Maybe.
“Horns,” he sighs. Finally, he rolls out a chair and sits too. “It just… happened that way.” She glares, and waits. “I woke up in an orphanage. Saint Agnes.” She remembers the name from what she’d dug up on him. “I wasn’t really conscious for weeks, and then I was… I wasn’t myself.” He looks all tragic puppy, but Jessica is stronger than that. She’s not falling for it.
“I bet, what with a skyscraper crashing down on you. And then?”
“Oh, well.” The cane twirls a little faster. “I got better.”
“Skipping bits, Murdock.” Fucking lawyers, thinking they’re so smart.
He sighs. “I couldn’t walk, I was deaf in one ear, I was a mess. Had hallucinations for a while.” Hallucinations? Fuck. “Always heard someone behind me, talking to me. I knew it wasn’t real, but…”
Okay, she is getting nowhere near his mental breakdown, fuck, what a mess. Nope. Crushed by a building: safer topic. “How did you even survive?”
“Elektra says maybe I breathed or swallowed some of the substance the Hand were after.”
“Elektra?” A hot rush of anger fills Jessica. “Elektra says? Present tense?” His mouth pinches. “Of all the idiotic – the stupid-ass suit and the zombie assassin ex and… Where is she?” He keeps his mouth shut, but his head is twitching. He’s hearing something – no, he’s hearing someone. “She’s here, isn’t she.”
Jessica’s fingers are itching. Itching to punch his stupid face, itching to squeeze psycho girlfriend’s neck until it snaps as soon as she can find her. Itching to drag Murdock far away from Hell’s Kitchen. Jerk can’t be trusted to have a shred a common sense, and clearly Nelson and Page are enablers. They know, and yet they’ve not tied him to a chair.
There’s a knock on the window (of course) and Murdock smiles. The idiot. He stands up and goes to open it, and in slithers the still-not-dead, should-be-dead chick. Wearing close-fitting leather, no less. “Matthew,” she says, and he fucking melts. He. Fucking. Melts. Mouth softer, shoulders looser, eyes crinkling, the fucking works. He turns his entire body to her, not just his head; and Jessica hates it. Him. Her.
“How long were you up there?” he says.
Jessica tries not to grit her teeth. “Shouldn’t you know?” Isn’t that, like, one of his superpowers? What’s his game?
But the undead ninja queen glares at her and says, “Not long. He was working. He’s not like you, you know. He’s got a real job.” She straightens his tie and the idiot is bouncing on his toes with excitement, it’s disgusting. “Even if it doesn’t pay well. Polyester, Matthew?”
God, her posh tones are grating. “I’ve got a real job too. You, however…”
“A real job.” Bitch sniffs. “What, cheap booze taster?”
Right, that’s enough, she’s going to end her right here.
“Jessica, no.” Murdock has stepped between them, the moron. (What else is new?) He’s not unbreakable, for fuck’s sake. “You can’t wreck the place, it’s Foggy’s. Well, his family’s.”
His murderous lover takes a step back, her ponytail swishing left and right; and Jessica huffs and does the same. For Nelson’s folks, okay? They don’t deserve to have their place trashed. Probably. Although she could probably dig out something on them. She’s a damn good P.I. and it’s a real fucking job, all right?
“We can do that elsewhere,” murder girl says.
“No.”
“But it would be fun!”
“No.” They have a sort of wordless conversation while being fucking intense at each other, and she stands down. “Thank you.”
“This time,” she says.
There’s an awkward silence for a moment, well, awkward for Murdock. Murder girlfriend wanders around the room, touching things and smiling at a book in Braille when she finds a little card peeking out of it. Jessica just swigs from her bottle. Maybe it’s cheap, but it hits the spot.
“I’m not that easy to take down,” Jessica finally says.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” She makes for the door, but Murdock takes her wrist.
“Foggy and Karen are back,” he says.
“Well, not the door then.”
They do the intensing at each other again, she smiles, he smirks, and she climbs out of the window. Jessica closes it while Murdock is still mooning.
“Murdock.”
“Hm.”
“Murdock.” More mooning. “You’re insane.” He looks quite pleased at her (totally professional) assessment, too.
“Matt? She hasn’t murdered you yet, has she?” That’s Nelson yelling from downstairs.
“No she hasn’t,” Jessica hollers back. She hopes Murdock can sense (or whatever the fuck it is he does) her glare. “Yet,” she adds more quietly.
“Please don’t,” he says. No more mooning, they were heading into kicked puppy territory. Good thing he’s got glasses to hide the Full Sad.
“She’s going to get you killed. Again.”
“She won’t.” Noises are floating up from below, Page and Nelson and whoever the fuck is working in the shop.
“She will. She’ll snap, and you know it. She’ll snap, go on a ninja rampage or whatever, you’ll try to stop her, and this time there will be no magic dragon bone to save you.”
He gives her the smarmiest grin ever. “I don’t need it. Jesus is my savior.”
“Oh my god, Matt, are you trying to get Jessica Jones to church?”
“Hey, Foggy. Where’s that coffee?” Nelson shoves a cup against his hands, and Murdock snatches it. “Well, I’m sure Jessica would go if it helped her for a case, right?”
“Ugh. Nah, they’re always cheating, I don’t need to. Open and shut, most of the time.”
“You sure about that?”
“Fuck you, Murdock.”
“Sorry, I'm not on the market.” Jessica thinks about knocking his coffee all over his suit.
“Matt, are you hiding something from us?”
He’s looking like a rabbit in headlights for a second. Hah. “I just… don’t have time, you know?”
Page sticks her head in the doorway. “If there’s gossip, I want exclusivity.”
“No gossip,” Murdock says.
“Damn.” Her computer keys clack for a second. “Your next appointment should be here soon.”
“All right,” Nelson says. “Looks like duty’s calling. Ready, Matt?”
“Sure,” he says. “Always.”
Jessica knows when she’s dismissed, even if she doesn’t always actually leave. “Fine. Remember, Murdock. I still have those photos of you jumping on rooftops.”
His face does some sort of weird gymnastics. “Photos? But I… thought your camera had had an unfortunate accident?”
“You smashed it, asshole. Memory card’s still fine.”
“Oh.”
She sighs. “Look, just don’t be an idiot, all right? Call me when you’re in over your head, at least.”
“That would be every day ending in Y,” Nelson says.
“Foggy!”
“Well, it’s true.” Murdock pouts, and Nelson beams. “All righty, then. Jessica, you call us if you need any legal advice, and Matty here will work on being reasonable, yeah?”
“Fat chance,” she says.
She punches Murdock in the arm before leaving and strides out without looking back. She needs to buy some necessities, she’s low on whiskey and coffee.
“She hit a blind man, Foggy. I want to sue,” she hears as she gets to the bottom of the stairs. No one can see her. She grins.
She’s not too surprised to find Murdock’s soulless soulmate in her apartment when she gets back home. Jessica ignores her and starts by rooting through her kitchen cupboards to find a clean(ish) glass. One that’s not a dirty mug with dried coffee at the bottom. She can be posh and classy too, if she wants.
“Please don’t drink that swill,” leather girl says.
“What’s it to you anyway?” Not like Jessica planned on sharing.
“I brought something better.”
“I’m fine with what I got.”
“I’m sure.” Brainwashed ninja girlfriend doesn’t look too homicidal right now, but who knew when she might lose it? Jessica doesn’t let her out of her sight as she gets a posh whisky (the Scotch kind) from a posh bag from a posh shop. “I wanted to chat.”
“I thought you wanted to fight.”
“That too, but Matthew wouldn't like it.”
“Since when do you care?”
She’s surprised the bottle doesn’t break when it’s slammed on the desk. Wow, her nails are on fleek. Blood red, of course. “You’ve known him for what, a few days total? You don’t get to – you don’t know him. Not like I do.” Jessica notices the matching red leather band on her wrist. “You don't known me either.”
“And he does?” Girl Red turns away and tries to make up her mind about sitting on the old couch or not. Not expensive enough for her, maybe. “Do you even know yourself?”
“I am, have been, and shall be, many things. Matthew knows them all.” Sounds like she doesn't know them all, but hey. Whatever, Jessica isn’t her shrink. Ugh.
“And he’s cool with it? Matt Murdock, Catholic lawyer, will actually die for your sins, is cool with it?”
“Are the people closest to you cool with all of you?”
That. That was a low blow. Jessica’s hands is already a fist when a glass of Scotch is shoved in her face.
“I’m not here to fight, but I’m perfectly willing to. Whenever you’ve made up your mind.”
“Matt Murdock,” Jessica grits out, “is a friend. A shitty friend, but a friend.” Okay, her booze is good, so there’s that. But cheap booze does the job just as well.
“What’s your point?” She’s finally deigned to come into contact with the couch and is now sprawling all over it, sipping from her own glass. Where did she find those, by the way? Did she buy them? Jessica peers at the one in her hand. It doesn’t look like one of hers, but it’s not like she pays attention to that shit.
“He’s always on the verge of disaster, is my point. When you first… died? Did you even actually die? He was a mess. And then he was ready to fucking die with you rather than live without, even though you stood for all we were fighting against.” Jessica shakes her head. “No.” Just, no.
“What is it to you? You’re not his keeper, and he doesn’t need one.”
Jessica snorts, because that’s debatable. “He doesn’t?”
“He’s not a damsel in distress and I’m not the black knight, here to take him away and ravish him.”
“You're wearing black leather, it’s a start.”
“So are you.”
Jessica’s wearing her favorite jacket, so what if it’s leather? It’s not a leather catsuit, all right? She sighs. “I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t either, so we’re in agreement.”
“You don’t trust me, or you don’t trust yourself?” Her very red smile is full of mystery and shit, but maybe that’s an actual, honest answer. “Why did you come here?”
“Two things,” she says. “For the past, first: thank you for dragging him into your team, and letting him be himself. He needs it.” Well, maybe. “And for the future, well. I know you’re strong. Stronger than I am, I think.” She looks outside, to the little patch of sky you can glimpse out of the window. It’s very blue. Jessica remembers she was called the Black Sky once, whatever that meant.
They both finish their drink in silence and Jessica thinks, all right. He won’t do it, so. All right. “If it needs to be done, I’ll do it.”
Elektra nods, stands and puts her tumbler daintily on the desk before leaving through the window. Fucking ninjas.