After a long day of staking out yet another unfaithful spouse, Jessica throws open the door to find her phone ringing off the hook. She tosses her keys onto the nearest countertop and lunges for the receiver. "Hello? This is Jessica Jones," she says into the phone.

"Hello, Jessica, my name is Richard Jacob," the caller greets. His voice is sharp and business-like.

"And what can I do for you, Mr. Jacob?" Jessica responds emotionlessly. He explains his task for her and her eyes grow wide. "Sorry, I'm a P.I., not a damn spy. I don't do that shit."

"I'm just talking about digging up some dirt on my business competitor." He remains cool and collected. "You don't need to get involved beyond that."

"Look, I already told you- "

"-I will also make it more than worth your while," he adds.

Jessica hesitates. "How much?" He replies with his offer and her eyes widen again for a moment before returning to their normal state. "Fine. But I find evidence of criminal misconduct, I'm turning it over to the cops."

"No, you let me take care of that. I insist."

Suddenly suspicious, Jessica stiffens, but ultimately shakes it off. "Whatever," she says, proceeding to slam the phone down. She is about to begin working on the case when the door creaks open, revealing Malcolm. He enters with a small box in hand. Jessica eyes the package. "What the hell is that?"

"That Murdock guy came by while you were gone- said to give it to you," Malcolm explains, offering it to her across her desk.

Jessica grabs the box from his hand and opens the flaps as Malcolm watches in anticipation. She first removes a note that lies on top and raises it to her face. It reads:

Jess-

Sorry about your other one. I hope this makes up for it.

-Matt

Her face wrinkles in confusion as she lowers her hand, giving her a clear view of the item in the package. Confusion turns to shock when she sees what's inside. "Holy shit."

"What?" he implores, concerned by Jessica's reaction. She lifts the item out of the box and they are both in awe as they stare at a brand new, unopened camera. "That looks like a hell of a piece of equipment," he remarks.

"He's a hell of a guy," she mutters with a shake of her head. She clears her throat. "Unfortunately, I have some work to do before I can use this bad boy." Jessica sets the box down, returning her focus to her computer screen.

"Got a new case? What is it this time?" Malcolm rounds the corner of the desk and peers over her shoulder at the screen.

She remains glued to the screen. "Corporate espionage," she states flatly.

"Excuse me?"

Crouched on a fire escape opposite that of the apartment of interest, Jessica, somewhat inebriated, peers through her new camera lens on a crisp New York night. A small group of men are gathered at a poker table, smoking cigars. She notices a large, bald man and pauses, squinting to try and get a better look. Why does he look familiar? Unable to rectify the thought, she shakes it off and takes snaps throughout the night. Finally, she reaches for a beer bottle at her side, gulps down what's left, and tosses it away before jumping down to the ground below and returning to the cab waiting for her on the street. She opens the back door and is about to give the driver instructions when she pokes her head in and notices that he is abnormally still, his head slumped forward. "Hey," she says, trying to get his attention. when he doesn't answer, she nudges his shoulder with her hand. "Hey- c'mon, wake up." She nudges him a little too hard and his lifeless body keels over into the door, revealing a deep cut across his throat. "Holy shit!" The words come out as a loud whisper. She opens the driver's side door and gently moves the body to the back seat before sliding into driver's seat and slamming her foot on the gas. As she begins driving, Jessica cranks the radio up to calm her nerves and a reporter's voice streams out of the speakers, mid-sentence: "…have received confirmation of a mass prison break at Ryker's Island, including mobster Wilson Fisk."

Her face lights up in realization. "Holy-" In that moment, her body slams into the steering wheel, cutting her off and thrusting her into darkness.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a beeping monitor penetrates Jessica's subconscious. Her eyes flutter open and she blinks away the haze of deep sleep to reveal a hospital room. The fog still not fully clear, she is able to make out beige walls, the hospital bed on which she currently rests, and tubes protruding from her arm and nose. Pushing herself up, her gaze falls on a figure sitting in the far-left corner of the room clutching a long cane. "Murdock?" she says, groaning in pain and exhaustion. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey," he replies, rising from his seat and closing the distance between him and the bed. "Good to see you awake."

Jessica cocks an eyebrow. "Uh…"

"You know what I mean. So, how do you feel?"

"Oh, never better." Her voice drips with sarcasm; Matt snickers.

"Well, at least you're still yourself," he comments.

"Stop avoiding my question," Jessica prods, trying unsuccessfully to fight the fatigue. Why are you here?"

He hesitates and shifts his weight between his feet. "I just wanted to make sure you were OK."

"Mhm. Now what's the real reason?"

"No, it's true."

"I don't appreciate bullshit, Matt." Irritation is clear in her voice. "Jeri, sent you, didn't she? Again."

"OK- fine, fine," he begins, looking down and then up again. "You caught me. I wanted to give you time to recover before…"

Jessica narrows her eyes at him. "Before what?" He doesn't immediately respond, just exhales a deep breath of air. "Matt."

"You're under investigation."

"Oh, God," she laments, turning her head in the opposite direction, her hands gripping the bedrails. "How bad is it this time?"

"Second degree murder. That's on top of a possible vehicular manslaughter charge- the other driver didn't make it."

Her head jerks back in his direction. "Oh my God…" Her hands fly up to her face, cradling her nose and cheeks, a finger smothering each duct in an attempt to suppress tears.

"Hey," Matt says softly, "the investigation is ongoing. There's nothing to worry about just yet."

Jessica lets her arms fall to her sides, giving up trying to fight the tears. "Except the fact that I killed a goddamn human being!" she shrieks.

"No- you made a mistake. Just- some mistakes are costlier than others. But I don't think you're a murderer. Despite being covered in the blood of one of the victims."

She looks away. "I might as well be."

"Jess, don't-" Matt pleads.

Still not looking at him, she states plainly "You can go now."

"OK. I wish you a speedy recovery." He leaves the room, resigned.

Two Weeks Later

The sun assaults Jessica's eyes as she strides out of the hospital doors into the stuffy New York air. She is greeted immediately by Matt Murdock, who falls into step beside her. "How are you feeling?" he asks earnestly.

"Super. What great news do you have for me today?" The usual sarcasm is ever-present.

"I just wanted to make sure you were OK to get home. And this time, that's the whole truth."

"Mhm," she says suspiciously, still maintaining a forward gaze. "You can play the nice little Catholic boy all you want, Murdock, but at the end of the day, you're only fooling yourself. And you can only do that for so long."

He touches his fingertips to his wristwatch. "Well, speaking of, I don't want to be late to Mass."

"Mind if I, uh, join you?" Jessica asks tentatively after a brief pause. The words stop Matt in his tracks, causing Jessica to follow suit.

He cocks an eyebrow suspiciously. "…For Church?"

Turning toward him, she crosses her arms and raises he eyebrows. "Would that be so terrible?"

"No, not at all," he assures her.

"Good. Then let's get going." They turn and continue walking; to Jessica's dismay, there is but a fleeting silence.

"So, when did you become a woman of faith?"

"I don't know…when did you become able to afford a $500 camera?"

"Touché," Matt says in defeat, cracking a wry smile. "And you're welcome."

Ignoring the comment, she continues. "Besides, we need to talk."