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She rubbed her temple, squinting up at the penthouse trying to gauge if she could clear the ledge in a single bound. She surreptitiously looked up and down the street, smirking as she crouched and sprang.
“Ow shit!”
Trish rounded the corner from her bed, a spoon in her left hand and a pint of ice cream in her right at the sound of someone stumbling over her potted plants on the balcony. She could make out a figure in black, shaking out a leg and muttering a sting of curses. Squinting and putting her dinner on the coffee table she slowly made her way toward the sliding door, carefully parting the curtain and letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “For God’s sake Jess…” she groaned, opening the door and staring at Jessica as she tried to right the toppled over plant. “You scared the shit out of me, you know you can’t just do that…”
“Made it in a single bound, Pats.” Jessica replied, using the nickname she knew Trish hated while wiping her palms on her jean clad thighs with a lopsided grin. “Personal best.” She winked and squeezed past Trish and tugged off her leather jacket. She took in the sight of the ice cream on the coffee table and picked it up, helping herself. “Late dinner?”
Trish let out an exasperated sigh, closing and locking the sliding door before folding her arms across her chest. “Nice to see you.”
Jessica turned, finishing a spoonful of ice cream innocently. “Sorry…” she held out the pint. “I…did you miss the part where I hopped onto the balcony in one jump?”
Trish took the pint, shaking her head. “There’s a nice doorman, you have a key…I’m still not getting what’s so hard about that.” She curled onto the couch, digging into the ice cream, eyeing Jessica as she stood in her living room, hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her black tanktop stained with what she suspected was barbeque sauce and her jeans bearing the telltale signs of not having seen a washing machine in weeks. They had been roommates for a long time and she’d always found it odd that they were such polar opposites when it came to personal habits. She needed to keep things organized and tidy while Jessica could function in the chaos. She adjusted the hem of her black t-shirt that matched her pj bottoms hoping Jessica hadn’t noticed that the shirt belonged to her; she had missed laundry day. “Then again…”
Jessica looked down. “Yeah that and I look like a bum.” She flopped onto the couch, reaching for the pint. “You know the doorman thinks I’m some kinda deviant.” She reached for the pint, which was promptly pulled out of her grasp.
“He’s not that far off.” Trish replied smirk. “Wash your hands.”
“I’m not eating it with my hands though…”
Trish gave Jessica a withering look. Jessica stood up in a huff, heading to the kitchen and turning on the sink. “Better?”
“Much.” She casually ate the ice cream, watching Jessica drying her hands. “Where have you been?”
“Mostly PI classes.”
“You’re serious about that? That’s great!”
“Well, hang on, there’s like, tests and shit so it’s not like I can walk in and just get a piece of paper that says, ‘hey the state of New York thinks it’s cool for me to stalk people for money’” she shrugged, opening the fridge and fishing out a bottle of beer. She gently hip checked the door closed. “But, it’s something.”
“The bottle opener is…nevermind…” she watched Jessica twist off the cap and toss it into the trash. She had always admired the recklessness that surrounded Jessica as she sauntered back to the living room, flopping onto the couch next to her. Jessica sipped her beer silently, aware that Trish was drilling holes into her profile with her eyes. Trish put the ice cream back onto the coffee table, pulling her legs up underneath herself and turning to face Jessica. “So. Tell me. What’re the tests like?”
“Ever the enterprising reporter.” Jessica jibbed, tipping the bottle back and downing it. She burped and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Trish didn’t bother to be disgusted; she’d spent a large portion of her life dealing with how unrefined Jessica Jones could be. It was part of her charm. “State and local law, what I can and can’t do, what’s actually detective work and what’s actually stalking; I can get a gun license too.”
“Like you need it.”
“You never know. I’m not still not 100 percent confident I’m bulletproof and I don’t think I wanna find out the hard way.”
“So get kevlar.” Trish replied simply. “And you would’ve found out when you were…you know…”
“Sure, yeah let me just get that along with atleast fifteen other things I need immediately.”
“Like new jeans.”
“Shut up.” Jessica self-consciously rubbed her palms on the tops of her thighs again, as though the friction would instantly scrub the grime out of them. “I can atleast wear my own clothes for this. It’s not that costume you like.”
“It wasn’t that bad…”
“I’m good for clothes it’s everything else that I’m trying to figure out and besides it’s like…I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it, y’know?”
“You detect bullshit. You’re perfect for it.”
Jessica curled into the couch, staring at the scuffed toes of her boots. She hadn’t minded the whole short term run with the rest of the spandex squad, in fact, it might have been the first time she felt normal but in the midst of all the rampant dangers, she realized that she wasn’t cut out for some of the bigger problems they were facing. She also hated the way Trish’s eyes would glaze over whenever she suited up, as though that was the only reason Jessica was fascinating to her. She knew that Trish kept the costume in her apartment and it wouldn’t shock her if she’d tried it on once or twice. “Yeah.”
Trish arched an eyebrow. “That’s it? Yeah?”
Jessica shrugged. “What do you want me to say? Well ‘golly Patsy if you think I can do it’…”
Trish grabbed a pillow from the couch and smacked Jessica in the face with it. “Don’t.” Trish said, laughing as she repeatedly smacked Jessica with the pillow. “Don’t you start singing that song either.”
“I can’t even remember the words…”
“You’re so full of shit.” Trish said mushing the pillow into Jessica’s face before standing up and collecting the pint and heading towards the kitchen.
“It’s Patsy! It’s Patsy! I really wanna be your friend, hope this day will never eeeennnnndddd” Jessica mocked, tossing the pillow on the couch, laughing as she pushed up off the couch to follow Trish into the kitchen. She smirked as she slid onto the barstool at the island. “Did you pick up dinner?”
“Dinner?”
“The meal that precedes the ice cream you just had.”
“Uhhh.”
“Trish.”
“What?”
Jessica squinted, staring down at the trash where her bottle cap sat at the bottom of an empty bin. “You need real food.”
“You’re saying that because you need food and you’re projecting your needs on me…”
“Blah blah, cut the psych shit. You’re not eating. Why?” Trish made a pained noise, flexing her fingers on the edge of the sink and staring at the marble counter, carefully avoiding Jessica’s stare. “I ate, I just took the trash out.” She managed to say, looking up and defiantly holding Jessica’s gaze.
Jessica pursed her lips. “I’m getting pizza.” She pushed off the counter, returning to the couch, stepping back into her boots and slipping her leather jacket back on. “And you’re eating.”
“Jess.”
“Patricia.”
Trish’s mouth snapped shut.
“I’ll use the front door. When I get back.” She slid the door open and leapt off the balcony.
When Jessica returned, Trish had opened a bottle of wine and curled up on the couch again, genuinely surprised when she heard Jessica’s keys in the lock. She stood up, slightly dazed from the head rush and the wine and met Jessica half way. “What happened?” Jessica pressed, without preamble, opening the box and balancing it on her palm as Trish reached in and practically shoveled the slice into her mouth. “And chew for God’s sake…”
“I heard from mother.” Trish said around a mouthful of hot cheese and dough.
“Shit.”
Trish nodded in an ‘I know right!’ way, holding out a glass of wine to Jessica before returning to her seat on the couch. “She wanted to touch base, see how things were going with the show…”
“The show she said was the worst idea ever?”
“That’s the one.”
Jessica shook her head. Mrs. Walker may have adopted her but she couldn’t think of a time when the woman had actually done something maternal for either of them. She reached over, brushing back a lock of long blonde hair behind Trish’s left ear. After Jessica accidentally showed off her powers to Trish, all they had was each other. “You okay?”
Trish shrugged. “What if she’s right? What if it all just…goes to shit?”
“If it did, you’d start over but it won’t so, don’t think about it.”
“She thinks people still think of me as…” she grimaced as she finished her slice. “As her.”
“Your evil redheaded doppleganger? Nah. You’re much hotter as a blonde.”
Trish blushed, throwing her balled up napkin at Jessica. “I mean it. She said that they’re not going to take me seriously because…”
“Because what? She’s not pulling your strings? You and I both know she’s an asshole, I don’t know why you give her so much power.”
“She’s my mother.”
Jessica sighed, tossing her half eaten crust into the pizza box. “She’s nobody’s mother.” She mopped at her mouth with a napkin. “Listen. She’s one of those fucking people who can’t stand seeing anyone make it without them, like they need to be there for every success because it makes them feel something. She wasn’t there as your mom, not for rehab, not for the shit you went through, she was there as a manager trying to understand why her prize wasn’t making her money. She’s pissed you’re going to make it without her, all the way. Personal and professional. Don’t let her fuck up your life again, Trish, you’ve come to fucking far for that.”
Trish studied Jessica in the lamplight, the left side of her mouth quirking into a small smile, eyes watering. “You’re a real hero, Jessica Jones.”
“I do what I can.” She shrugged, taking a sip of the wine before tucking closer to Trish and draping her right arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug. “You know I can crush her skull, just, say the word.”
Trish let out a watery laugh, tucking her face into the crook of Jessica’s neck, her arm looping around Jessica’s waist. “Don’t be a jerk.”
Jessica stared up at her ceiling, the white noise of the air vents doing nothing to relax her. She could hear the low hum of the washing machine, well aware that somewhere between the bottle of wine and watching TV, she’d carried Trish to bed, kicked off her jeans, knocked out in her room. Trish had to have picked up the offending denim. She could hear Trish tossing and turning in her bedroom; she wasn’t sure if it was that she was developing super hearing or if she could sense her anxiety wafting underneath the door. She kicked off the covers, waiting for a moment as she heard the floorboards creaking. She sat up, rolled out of bed and headed towards her door, opening it a crack and seeing the light from Trish’s bedroom. She leaned against the frame, watching Trish as she paced around in the living room, arms folded across her chest, her silk robe flapping behind her as she moved. She sighed and pushed off the edge of the door on socked feet, padding over towards where Trish anxiously paced. She was having an anxiety attack and the wine hadn’t helped. Fanfuckintastic. Jessica thought as she approached slowly.
“Are you doing sleep laundry?”
Trish turned on her heel and shot Jessica a dirty look. “You left them outside your door.”
“You know what they say a little wine feeling fine…”
Trish scrubbed her face with her hands. “Just for a second can you not just act like…” she let out a huff. “Go back to bed.”
“Can’t sleep, roomie is pacing around and she thinks I’m some kinda hero so, here I am.” Jessica offered with a shrug, stepping closer towards Trish. “Come with me.”
“Your mattress is small and on the floor.”
“It’s not small, it’s a platform, I’m tall and you take up a lot of room.” Jessica smirked at the strange pout that puffed Trish’s cheeks. She was struggling with early or late stages of an anxiety attack coupled with being slightly drunk and sleepy. She looked like a confused puppy. Jessica’s let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as Trish’s hands found hers. “I’ll read you a bedtime story…”
“You’re terrible at making me feel better.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Trish, I wouldn’t make you do anything that you didn’t want to do.”
“Except make me go to bed.”
“I’m not your mother.” She winced at the choice of words. They both knew why she was suddenly so agitated. “Look.” She stepped in front of Trish, fixing the lapels of the robe, casually avoiding her slightly drunken gaze. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, sleep helps with forgetting the bad shit for awhile. So. C’mon. I’ll stay here til you fall asleep.”
Trish sighed, tugged off her robe and crawled into the bed. Jessica sat on the edge, the mattress moving underneath her as Trish settled in. Fucking soft spot. She switched off the lap and rolled onto her back, sitting up with her legs crossed at the ankle, back braced against the headboard.
“You’re gonna be a creep and watch me sleep?” asked Trish, her voice muffled by her pillow.
“Gotta practice my P.I skills somehow.”
Trish sighed and rolled from her left side onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Their hips touched and she felt the heat from Jessica’s bare thigh. “You’re right.”
“About?”
“I take up space.”
Jessica chuckled, sidling lower on the headboard. “On a twin size mattress yeah, you do.”
“This is a queen.”
“Says a lot about you.”
Trish flicked Jessica’s elbow. “No psychology bullshit.”
“Sure.” Jessica replied with a chuckle. She yawned and finally slid down in bed, nestling into the pillows. Trish inched closer. Jessica extended her right arm, opening her side to Trish who immediately curled into the open spot. Trish’s head found a spot on Jessica’s chest, her right arm looping across Jessica’s torso, a deep sigh escaping her lips. Trish closed her eyes, listening to Jessica’s heartbeat; it stutters at the contact. She tries not to think too much about the last time they’d been in this position. Jessica had come back from something a little worse for the wear, her healing factor not quite kicking in as fast as they’d hoped it would. She had helped her into the shower, cleaned her up, iced her down, patched her up and helped her into bed. She knew Jessica was tough, brave even but that night she realized how dangerously close she’d come to losing her. That stupid hero worship was going to get her best friend killed. She squeezed Jessica a little tighter, her big grumpy teddy bear; the anxiety slowly worming it’s way out of her body for a while as Jessica reciprocated the hug. She sighed, focused on her breathing and the steady beat of Jessica’s heart.
Jessica stared up at the ceiling again and listened to the apartment; the washing machine softly buzzed the completion of it’s cycle, the air vents still hum away and Trish is sound asleep. She lay perfectly still, fully aware of the line she just crossed and not really giving a shit.
Trish stirred, smushing her face into the pillow, stifling a yawn her face scrunched as she tries to fight the compulsion to wake. Sometime during the night, she’d become the little spoon; even in her sleep Jessica protecting her. She didn’t leave after all. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d been in bed together; they used to share this room. The only reason Jessica had her own bedroom was because of the odd hours she kept and it became awkward between them; Trish’s hero worship impacted their relationship and Jessica couldn’t stand it. She stayed away when Trish tried dating, fearing walking into the apartment and finding someone in bed with her. Even tracking down an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, much to Trish’s chagrin “There’s some psycho running around pummeling people.” “Then rent’ll be super cheap.” Jessica was adult enough to admit she had issues with jealousy; no one was good enough for Trish and Jessica always managed to intimidate the hell out of any suitors. Trish sighed and snuggled deeper into the sheets, burrowing closer against Jessica. If it wasn’t because of that, the side of the bed currently occupied by a surly superhuman would be hers. Thinking on it, it was always hers. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of Jessica’s even breathing letting it lull her back to sleep.
Bacon. Her eyes open slowly and she stares at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Are you cooking?” Jessica calls, pushing up out of bed, her hair sticking up, the stale taste of wine still in her mouth. “I didn’t think you were still into all that.”
“Yep!” she can feel the smile in the reply. She’s embarrassed that it makes her blush. “Better hurry the hell up before I eat it.”
She climbs out of bed, scrubbing her face with her hands as she enters the kitchen, fully aware that she’s in her socks, underwear and tank top. “That’s my tee shirt.” She nods as she pours out a glass of orange juice for herself. She grimaced; this shit needs vodka.
Trish looks down at the shirt, carefully flipping over an omelet before answering. “I guess…it could be.”
Jessica tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she sips her juice. “You guess…”
“You can’t lay claim on every black shirt in the apartment.”
“I can when it’s actually my shirt.”
“See, you always do this.”
“Do what?” Jessica scoffed, stealing a piece of toast from the plate and buttering it, flashing faux doe eyes.
Trish grinned. “Act like an asshole in the morning.”
“Gotta make up for how not an asshole I was last night.”
Trish nodded, sliding a plate over towards Jessica. “Thank you.”
“Psh. That mattress was always the best part of this place. View second.” She speared her eggs, adding it to the buttered toast. “Company debatable.”
“Are you flirting with me?” Trish asked, a flush coming to her cheeks.
“You’re wearing my shirt after we spent the night in bed so, maybe.”
“It’s not your shirt and we didn’t do anything.”
Jessica flashed a wolfish grin around a mouthful of eggs. “Wanna?”
“Jess…”
Jessica held up her fork and egg topped toast in supplication. “You’re right, sorry. Sorry.”
Trish swallowed and avoided Jessica’s gaze, helping herself to breakfast. “It’s not that it’s just…” she moved her home fries around on the plate, absently rearranging the blobs of potato around. “I don’t want to get attached again.” Jessica busied herself with her own plate, wishing desperately her powers included turning water into vodka. “It’s not that I don’t it’s just…There hasn’t been anyone else since you and it’s…weird to think we can just…fall back into that routine.”
“I shouldn’t have come by.” Jessica downed the juice, her plate cleared and padded off to the dry rack to get her jeans. “Thanks for breakfast.” This was a mistake you moron.
“I didn’t even say that! Jess. Wait.”
Jessica was pulling her jeans on in the middle of the hallway as Trish caught up with her. She was fussing with the zipper and hopping up and down to slip them over her hips. “Would you hang on a second?” Trish asked, watching as Jessica struggled with the jeans, muttering a string of curses.
“Wait for what?” she snapped, the fly undone in her exasperation.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.” She moved around Trish and into her bedroom, tugging on fresh socks and her boots.
“You’re good a detecting bullshit but I’m not so bad.”
Jessica scrunched her face in confusion. “Wha…”
Trish’s mouth was on hers in an instant, crushing their lips together sending them crashing onto Jessica’s way too small bed. It took her a moment to realize was was going on before Jessica’s hands braced against Trish’s shoulders. “What’re you doing?” she asked, using her strength to carefully push Trish up off her.
“You wanted to a minute ago…”
“Yeah that was before you got all, ‘I don’t want to get attached’” Jessica rolled her head on her shoulders, swallowing hard and staring up at Trish.
“But…” she tried to push against Jessica’s grip but she might as well have been pushing against a brick wall.
“But what? You can’t use sex to solve everything.” Jessica countered. “Trust me.”
Trish’s expression shifted. She rolled off of Jessica and stood up, her arms crossed at her chest. “Have you?”
“I have a lot of alone time.” Jessica muttered.
“So, you haven’t...”
Jessica’s eyes bugged. “No, Jesus Trish.”
“So…”
“There is pent up something yeah.” Jessica sighed. “What difference does it make? It’s not like…” she waved an exasperated right hand between them. “this could even be a thing so…”
“Was sleeping over hard?” Trish asked, her voice suddenly small.
“No.” Jessica could taste the bitterness in the lie.
“Then?”
“I’m not going to be a hero, Trish. I gave up on that. Plus the outfit was chafing. I’m just going to…be a snoop and bust up people’s shit relationships for a couple bucks an hour with expenses. I’m not cut out to be like those guys, running around saving the world. I’m just not and I’m gonna be that person for you so…” Jessica pushed up off the bed, towering over a barefoot Trish. “Just…I’m sorry.”
“You already are you know.” Trish admitted with a shrug.
“Not the way you want.”
“Exactly the way I want.” Trish bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push…”
“It’s…” she sighed. “You still use too much tongue.” She brushed past Trish, boot soles thumping along the hardwood floor as she made her way into the living room to grab her jacket.
“That’s your limit?” Trish remarked, trailing in Jessica’s wake. “Jess.” “
Jessica slowed down despite wanting to grab her jacket and swan dive out the window. She was more or less confident she would be able to land on a nearby rooftop and then figure out what to do from there. She needed to get out of there. She reached for her jacket, trying to drown out the feeling of doubt that nagged her; maybe it wouldn’t so bad.
“Don’t leave.”
Jessica stopped in her tracks, her leather jacket in her left hand. She sighed, the leather rustling in her grip. “It got awkward.”
“That’s my fault.”
“No shit.”
“Do you want this?”
The first time they’d tried this, whatever this was, Trish was anxious. She weighed the pros and cons of saying yes. She thought about what her mother would say, the ex boyfriends who’d talk about her and the career she could be throwing away. She thought how Jessica was with her in comparison to the way she was with the rest of the world; she was warm and bright and cold to everyone else. She couldn’t see herself letting her go twice.
This time, Trish didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Jessica dropped her jacket on the couch.
She went to classes, occasionally helped out with some of the superhero work from the office in Hell’s Kitchen and took the elevator up to the apartment. She was good about picking up dinner, finding things Trish would like and keeping her boots by the door instead of plodding around in them around the house. She tried her best to not be so domestic and take out the trash, do her laundry (and write her name on the insides of all her black shirts) and took Trish to work. It was simple. It was easy. It was normal. She can leap to the balcony without a problem and does it so often, Trish leaves the patio door unlocked even though they both know Trish’s crippling paranoia keeps her up at night. She convinced her to lock it up and stashed the key in her boot.
“Hey…” Jessica knocked on the bedroom door. Trish was curled up in bed, a laptop in her lap and her notebook nearby. She had her glasses on, her brow creased in thought. She looked up and smiled. Son of a bitch, that’s gonna kill me sometime. “Wanna come out with me?”
“I’ve got an early start…” Trish pouted. “Why don’t you stay in with me…?”
“It’s not gonna take long. Get up.”
Trish rolled her eyes and slid off the bed, reaching around for her sneakers. “That’s how you say hello to me?” she laced up her left sneaker, surprised when Jessica flopped across the bed, her lower half dangling off the edge.
“Hey.” She smirked, tugging Trish by her tee shirt towards her for a kiss. “Better?”
“Meh.” Trish replied grinning into the kiss.
“Asshole.” Jessica pushed off the bed and extended out her left hand. “C’mon.”
After ten minutes of cajoling, Jessica managed to talk into Trish to heading up to the access door leading to the roof. “What’re we doing up here?” Trish asked as Jessica slipped a brick between the door and the frame.
“Star gazing.” Jessica replied, noticing the way Trish shivered. She slid her hoodie and jacket off, slipping it onto Trish’s shoulders, the sleeves a little long as she wriggled into the ensemble.
“We could’ve done this anywhere…”
“Not like this.” Jessica stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Trish’s waist. She closed her eyes, bent her knees slightly and pushed them up, slowly floating above the gravel.
“Holy shit.” Trish gripped Jessica’s biceps in alarm.
“Been practicing.”
“You haven’t done this since…”
“High school.”
Trish looked down, the roof getting farther and farther away.
“You gotta look up, Trish…”
The stars glittered in the inky blue-black sky, the city below them a golden grid of lights. She couldn’t help but start mumbling lines from Superman, earning a hearty laugh from Jessica. “Really? That’s all you got?”
“What…you’re not offended enough to drop me so.”
Jessica rolled her eyes and dipped her head, kissing Trish softly. She had to concentrate on their altitude but right now, in this moment, she could be flying them to the moon and not give a shit.
It was the middle of the night and she could hear Trish lurking around in the kitchen. Pushing up off the mattress, she blinked and called out to her. She returned, a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoon, wearing Jessica’s tee shirt. “Where’d you go?”
“I don’t have superhero stamina. Needed a snack.” Trish winked, carefully climbing back into bed, the pint balanced in her left hand.
“That’s a balanced diet.”
“Mhm” Trish smugly dug in. “I figure I can just burn it off again.”
“Yeah?” Jessica replied, rolling onto her back and watching Trish as she sat cross-legged in bed, shoveling ice cream into her face. “Good personal trainer?”
“Not bad…” she held out a spoonful towards Jessica, luring her into a kiss before the pint was forgotten altogether.
In the morning, Trish would vow never to eat ice cream in bed with Jessica.
Their relationship was sloppy. Jessica routinely kissed Trish’s forehead before leaving and kissed her like she’d never see her again when she got home. Trish spent more and more time in the studio, working on her show and less time lounging with Jessica as she iced down her bruises and grumbled about “Some asshole with a grudge.” Trish was never sure if she was talking about herself or the guy who’d shoved her into an oncoming truck.
They would nestle into bed, the need for sex replaced by the need to just have someone next to them. Jessica would watch Trish sleep, tracing her eyebrow with the pad of her thumb to calm her down. On late nights when she couldn’t sleep, Jessica was out. She was back by morning, listening to the sounds of Trish moving around the apartment on the phone, barking mad, brushing her teeth and before she left, kissing her goodbye.
Jessica spent more time out, forgetting she even lived with Trish and scaling the side of the building. She’d lost her key in some alley fight and suffered a black eye for the trouble. She tried cooking for Trish but was terrible at it, instead experimenting with delivery from all around the neighborhood until Trish got the hint and started cooking when she got home. Jessica pulled Trish in for a kiss, something deep, something that scared the both of them. They spent the night together, like it was the first time all over again and for the first time ever, Trish called out of work and stayed in bed with her.
She muttered "I love you" into the crook of Jessica’s neck as they lay in bed and tried her best not to cry when she didn’t get an answer.
Two nights later, Jessica disappeared.
She called everyone, left messages everywhere but she remembered their social circle was painfully tiny and the cops were only as good as the precincts that hadn’t been bought out by Wilson Fisk. Her mother said good riddance followed by, “I hear the show is being picked up…” she hung up before she could finish the sentence. She tried another private investigator, Angela Del Toro who told her, “Maybe one of those superheroes got her into something a little bigger than they could handle.” She felt like her world was crumbling. Maybe she scared her by saying I love you. Maybe after everything they’d been through together, maybe it wasn’t love, maybe it just the comfort of someone familiar in a hostile world that made them work. Maybe she should’ve kept the feelings to herself and just enjoyed whatever it was. She felt her paranoia rising, the anxiety dueling with the fear that she would never see her best friend again.
Her only barrier against the shit in the world was gone. She bought a gun. She hired a trainer. She buried herself with work and spent the night sitting on the patio, waiting for Jessica to hop onto the balcony with Chinese take out and a look of confusion on her face. “What’re you waitin’ up on me?” She fell asleep wrapped in her blankets and Jessica’s shirt, waiting.
She put on a brave face for the cameras, started dominating the talk radio market, was being taken seriously as a journalist and for once, she was in control of her life.
One day she just gave up and kept the door locked.
Until that night she crawled up over the ledge.