Jessica awoke with a jolt and smacked her head against her desk. She groaned as pain spread through her already throbbing head. She lifted her head gradually. It felt so light, but so heavy at the same time. She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, removing the saliva that had accumulated as she slept.
Uncomfortable from being slouched over her desk for hours, Jessica arched her back in an attempt to remove a crick. The pain just worsened. She knew that she would have to attempt to make it to her bed that night.
After rubbing at her eyes to wake herself up a little, resulting only in blurred vision, she reached out for her mobile. She jabbed at the power button, perhaps with more force than entirely necessary. As her eyes adjusted she saw she had thirty missed calls, mostly from Trish, and it was four in the afternoon. She smiled a little as she realised she had managed to waste another day. Another day gotten through without having to deal with any human interaction; just the way she wanted.
She became aware of a foul stench and quickly realised it was a mixture of whiskey and stale sweat. She needed to take a shower. She couldn't remember the last time she had washed her hair or changed her clothes. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. Ignoring cases had left her with no money to buy food.
All she had done in the days since being acquitted for the murder of Kilgrave was sit in her apartment, feeling numb. She had thought that killing him would make her feel better. She thought that she would feel whole again. She didn't. She felt the same. In fact, she probably felt worse. Empty; a failure; guilty; a burden; a piece of shit. Killing Kilgrave hadn't saved all of the people whose deaths he had been responsible for. She wasn't a hero. She never had been and never could be, no matter what Trish thought. She was a cancer. A disease. She slowly destroyed everything around her. She looked around her office, noticing the crumbling ceiling and holes in the walls. It wasn't even just people she hurt. Nothing she touched stood a chance.
With a drag of a finger, she removed the missed calls from the screen. She didn't want to hear what Trish had to say, and didn't give a crap about the calls from desperate assholes who had fucked up and thought she was going to save their sorry asses.
As the missed calls disappeared from the screen another notification came into view, one for a text message from Malcolm. 'I still think you should consider an open door policy. Appointments make you seem unapproachable.'
"Good." Jess muttered to herself, as she finished reading the text.
She sighed and shook her head as she threw the phone down on her desk. She stood up, wincing as a sharp pain snapped through her back.
She took a few steps across the room towards the recently fixed door, before ripping it off it's hinges and throwing it out into the corridor. She counted the seconds in her head. She reached twenty as Malcolm came dashing from his apartment, glancing around to see what had caused the disturbance. When he realised what had happened he threw his arms up in the air. "What were you thinking?" He asked, with exasperation, of Jess, who was leaning against the now empty door post with her arms folded and a smirk upon her face.
"You keep saying I should have an open door policy." She shrugged "Well, there you have it. An open door. Alias Investigations was a pathetic name anyway."
Malcolm opened his mouth, started to say something and then stopped. He shook his head furiously. "I'm done with this. I'm done with you." He slunk back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him.
Jessica looked slightly smug as she reentered her office. Pushing people away was just so easy. It was the right thing to do, no matter how shitty it made her feel. Pushing people away kept them from getting hurt.
Returning to her desk, she picked up the bottle of whiskey she had been working her way through for the past few days. She started to pour it into a tumbler, but changed her mind at the last minute, shrugging before chugging the last few dregs straight from the bottle. It burned as it trickled down her throat. That's what she loved about it. It wasn't that being inebriated made her forget. If anything it made her remember more. Its was the burning; the fire. It reminded her that she was actually capable of feeling something.
Once the bottle was empty she simply tossed it on the floor, too lethargic to bother tidying it up. The place was a mess anyway. It wasn't like one bottle would make much difference. She stared down at the bottle for a moment before shrugging and starting for her bedroom. As she started to move her phone rang. Out of habit she picked it up. Trish. A finger hovered over the answer button. Her hand shook as her brain fought her heart. She wanted to answer, more than anything. But she knew that she couldn't. She knew that she couldn't let Trish in again. It would only lead to pain, for both of them. She grimaced as she fought with herself, her expression full of anguish. It was so hard not to answer Trish's calls. It was almost physically painful. As always, her finger hit the button just as the phone stopped ringing.
"God damn it." She said through clenched teeth before kicking the recently dropped whiskey bottle towards a wall, smashing the bottle to smithereens. Why couldn't Trish just give in? Why did she have to make things so difficult?
"What happened to the door this time?"
Jess jumped, turning in haste to see who had snuck in, realising that removing the door in petulant rage had been a bad move. "Trish?" Jessica kept her voice as flat as possible, not wanting Trish to know that some part of her was glad to see her. "I told you not to come here. Why did you phone if you were already here?" She questioned, confusion crossing her face.
"I just wanted to see how easy it was for you to ignore my calls." Her voice was icy cold. She slipped her phone back into her coat pocket
"That's not fair." She scowled, though she couldn't really blame Trish for being cold. It was unlike Trish to act that way though. In that moment Jess realised that by avoiding Trish she had done exactly what she had not wanted to do. She had hurt her. But not as badly as she could have if she had let her in. It had still been the right thing to do. Hadn't it? The line between right and wrong was the width of a thread from a spider's web. "Trish, you know that -"
"I didn't come here to talk. You made it quite clear the last time we spoke that you didn't mean it when you said you loved me."
Jessica's eyes darted down to the ground. She felt so guilty, wondering if she had done the right thing after all. She looked back up again, looking Trish directly in the eyes. "Then why the hell are you here?"
"Business."
"I'm not taking any new cases."
"I'll pay you double."
Jessica exhaled deeply. She knew she couldn't afford to turn that down. She was running out of alcohol. And food. Food was important too. "Fine. What is it? Oh God, please don't tell me you want me to find Simpson. If I find that dillweed, I swear I will cut off all five of his limbs."
"Jessica, please." Trish sighed. "It's not about Simpson. It's about" She stopped talking and groaned. "It's about Kilgrave. And you."
"Have you lost your mind?"
"No. This is real. I have evidence. I haven't been sleeping. I can't stop thinking about it." Trish raced through the words, barely breathing between sentences. She seemed almost excited about it.
"Five minutes. You have five minutes to explain yourself before I have security remove you." After a pause she continued. "I'm security, in case you didn't get that."
"I think I got it." Trish replied, her previously blank expression softening, as a hurt look crossed her face, her eyes welling with tears.
"Oh Jesus." Jessica placed a hand over her face for a second, then ran it through her grease filled hair. "I'm sorry. It's been a bad couple of days. Just … just let me go shower, then I'll listen to what you need to tell me."
Trish nodded, and gave a small appreciative smile. "Thank you."
As Jessica left for her bathroom she muttered to herself. "God, I'm such an asshole." She thought it was quiet enough for Trish not to hear.
"You're not wrong there." Trish called after her.
Jessica couldn't quite help it. A small smile played upon her lips.