A/N: Takes places in the months after Jessica leaves Kilgrave the first time. Before she disappears from Trish's life. Trish/Jessica friendship, may extend into something else later idk.
Trish and Jessica, Jessica and Trish. It always comes around to them.
She doesn't want anyone to see her. She broke the lock on her bedroom door out of frustration but Trish is kind enough to knock before she enters.
Trish is too damn kind to her, and that's what burns Jessica the most. She doesn't deserve kindness, or friendship, or Trish's sympathetic looks or her pity or any of it. She killed a woman, she did awful things and no matter how many damn times Trish says hey look it wasn't your fault none of it is your fault Jessica just doesn't believe her.
Trish tells her over, and over, and over.
Jessica doesn't believe her over, and over, and over.
She knows she's pushing Trish away. She should feel bad about that, but she doesn't. She doesn't really feel much anymore except guilt.
Trish was the one who found her, after. Jessica doesn't even remember dialing the phone. She doesn't remember seeing Kilgrave get hit. She remembers Trish showing up like some fucking blonde angel and whisking Jessica off to a land of hot showers and sleep.
God, Jessica could have slept for years, knowing he was dead.
Trish has tried to extract the story from her but so far it's been like pulling teeth with no anesthetic—painful, and usually results in Jessica screaming and reaching for a bottle.
She can see how reluctant Trish is to let her drink but if she drinks she forgets about his hands on her and how he made her enjoy his hands on her and smiling.
She will be happy if she never smiles again.
But Trish coaxes small bits of truth out of her over time—his name, how she met him (trying to be a hero, goddammit), and the fact that yes, he is really dead she saw it he's dead he's not coming back Trish stop pushing.
Trish pushes. It's what she does. Jessica would be grateful for it if she weren't so furious.
The first night she comes back she stays in the shower until it's cold and Trish knocks on the door, like some goddamn cliché.
"Jess?"
"Go away," Jessica calls, and she winces at the sound of Trish's retreating footsteps because at this point she can't tell if she really needs her to go away or not.
But then the footsteps come back.
"I won't come in," Trish says. "But I'm here, okay? Just on the other side of the door."
Jessica stifles a sob, because it's what she used to do for Trish when Trish insisted on hiding in her bathroom from her mother, when she didn't think Jessica could hear her sobbing late at night.
Jess eventually leaves the shower, wraps herself in one of the fluffiest towels she's ever used-of course Trish would have something nice like this-and walks out of the bathroom.
Trish has fallen asleep with her head against the wall, empty mug of fancy tea next to her, and Jessica allows a small ghost of a smile to creep across her face before she heads to the bedroom and fall asleep.