A few hours and about twice as many drinks later Jessica and Trish were sitting on Trish's 5000 dollar couch gripping their sides, tears streaming down their faces as they watched old episodes of "Patsy." It use to be that Patsy and the subsequent memories it brought of Trish's mother was too sore a subject to even talk about. But time has healed (almost) all wounds. By the time Trish was in her twenties she was able to look back at the show that had crippled her childhood and laugh at the dumb jokes and campy plots.
There were watching the season 3 finale "Patsy, Come Home." That night at the docks was not the first time Jessica and Trish had switched places. The day they had scheduled to shoot "Patsy Come Home" Trish had gotten food poisoning so bad that she couldn't even stand up without barfing. Given that it was a weekly show Patsy was on a very tight schedule. Even though their star was down they still had to march on some how.
The crew would not be able to do any straight on shots but with a body double, some using artistic lighting and over the shoulder shots they would be able to get half the shots they needed which would only put the show moderately behind schedule. They just needed to find a find a caucasian girl that was about Trish's age, height, weight, and body type . That is how Jessica Jones became the temporary star of Disney's hit series "Patsy."
"Oh my God. Did you… See that?" Trish wheezed through her laughter.
"See what?" Jessica asked laughing despite how much it hurt her still healing ribs. Trish picked up the remote and rewound the episode to an over the shoulder shot of Jessica as Pasty.
"That, that!" Trish screeched, pausing the episode and pointing at the screen. In the shoot Patsy was finally going to kiss that boy she had had a crush on " for like ever." Pasty's stupid red wig was in a ponytail and… and there was a lock of black hair coming out of the back of the wig.
"Oh. My. God." Jesica did not make a habit out of saying oh my god. She was much more of a "God fucking damnit" kind of person but, oh my God. Trish threw her head back and make a sound closer to a scream then a laugh.
"How did that happen?" Jessica was too in shock to laugh. This was something that had aired on television, millions of people had watched this. Not that she cared but it seemed like someone should have.
This was not even the first time they had had to pause the episode to engage in fits of laughter. Overall it had taken them 2 hours to get half way through one 30 minute episode and it had transitioned from very late at night to really early in the morning while they slipped into each others company.
It was too good, too familiar, Jessica was falling into old patterns and therein lied disaster. Nights like this, nights full of safety, warmth, laughter and familiar touches, they weren't for her. Not anymore. Jessica wished, not for the first time, that she could have known that those had been the good old days before they were gone.
There's no more good times, not for Jessica, just violence and blood and Trish's battered face, Christ, she'd hit Trish. Low as you could go. Anybody that hit Trish deserved a house that was cold and bare and without reason, and a broken brain.
It had been an accident. An accident, of course, Jessica would never hurt Trish on purpose, never. She didn't even think Killgrave could make her do it. It was probably silly given all the terrible things Killgrave made her do but Jessica liked to imagine that there were certain lines even he could not make her cross. Turns out he didn't have to.
It happened after Killgrave had died the first time but before Jessica had fully understood the full extent of what he had done to her.
After Killgrave got hit by the 57 night bus the first thing Jessica had done was move back in with Trish. It seemed like a logical first step to healing since she had only moved out in the the first place because Killgrave had forced her to. Jessica wasn't naive enough to think that things could ever go back to the way they were but when Trish said everything was going to be ok it was easy to believe her.
It also had the added bonus of Trish being the only one she trusted to believe her stories about a psychotic man in purple that could control minds without worrying about her wiping out the straight jacket.
The cherry on top of the new living arrangement was Trish's steadfast support and unending kindness in the wake of Jessica living a real life nightmare, that was nice too.
Jessica isn't sure exactly when it happened. She has a wall of crap between her and her emotions about 6 feet thick so it makes it hard to gage this kind of thing but if she had to guess she would say that it had started long before Killgrave. Possibly as far back as when they were still kids, stuffing their faces with brownies in the closet so Dorothy won't find out. All Jessica knew for sure was somewhere between the secret brownies shared between little girls and this young woman who had saved her life in so many ways; somewhere in the last 14 years Jessica had fallen in love with her best friend.
They had been kissing for a few weeks before it all came crashing down. Rather, Trish had been kissing her. Jessica never kissed Trish herself, too afraid that her embrace would sully her.
There had been no preamble, no warning. Just Trish pressing a soft, chaste kiss on her lips as she left for work one day. Like it was no big deal, like they were an old married couple that have been performing such exchanges for years. It had been so casual, so good and right and natural like the sun rising in the morning that Jessica didn't realize what had happened until hours after Trish had left.
Jessica soon became addicted to the little kisses. Trish would kiss her hair as she passed her on the way to the kitchen. Kiss her neck as they snuggled on the couch together. Kissed her lips when they said goodnight. Each time she did Jessica felt the warmth of it curl around spine and flutter in her stomach. It was good, it was careful and precise like Trish was afraid Jessica might break under her lips. It was better than anything Jessica thought was left in the world for her.
She could barely let herself have it, most days. It was all so tangled in her head. Trish had been so steady, so patient, but Jessica had just felt... buried. Pressed like there's a damn mountain on her chest, all the things she's done stacked up like medieval torture, turning everything flat. When Jessica got like that Trish marked it down as "A Bad Day."
More often than not the bad days outnumbered the good. That meant a lot of misplaced rage and tearful apologies. That meant Jessica had to celebrated the the small triumphs, like going outside, or eating, or even just getting out of bed. Every tiny victory Jessica had Trish made sure to celebrate with the sweetest of kisses.
Eventually Jessica's tiny victories became more frequent and the good days started to outnumber the bad, but the kisses never stopped. Jessica let Trish kiss her, loved it. It was the best part of her day, every day. But Jessica never initiated a kiss.
Jessica never brought it up, never said anything. She wanted to know why. What had changed? What did this mean for them? She never asked, never said a word, too afraid to break the spell. It had been a long time since the hands on her were welcome she could not bear to lose it now.
The worst part, the very worst part about being with Killgrave was not the violence. Jessica knew violence, violence had become her life from the moment she had woken up in the hospital to see Dorothy and Trish and not her family that she had gotten in the car with.
The worst had been the gentle touches, the smooth caresses and soft smiles. He would look at her like she was beautiful, something precious, something singular, something that belonged to him. He would touch her, feather light, warm, and lingering and always so, so, gentle. Killgrave had used his powers to take something so wrong and violent and twisted it into something and soft and silent.
He had forced her to touch him like that, had made her want to do it. Hold his hand, stroke his hair, kiss his lips, take him inside her. She told herself she would not keep track, she tried so desperately not to count how many times.
She did anyway.
Each time he looked at her like she was new and not like something he had already violated. 234.
Jessica did a lot of research on PTSD after she was free. She was never someone that liked to do research in her off time but now that people kept telling her she had it, PTSD had suddenly become a lot more interesting. She knew a little about people haunting her even after they had died. It had been 14 years and sometimes she still saw Philip out of the corner of her eye. That was one that, that she could live but she had no idea that this sickness could consume her.
Trish payed for therapy. Which was totally useless. Jessica didn't need some egg head telling her that she had PTSD. She knew she had PTSD. Even if she had been up for talking about her feelings it's not like she could actually talk about what really happened, not without being institutionalized. It was still a nice thing for Trish to do though, she really is a real life saint.
Besides, Trish was better than any therapist. Back when then lived together again after Killgrave, Jessica would wake up at extreme hours from viciously vivid nightmares. Nightmares of Reva's lifeless eyes, silent screams, and kisses that tasted like ash. Trish would always be there by the time Jessica had made it to the kitchen seeking booze or a knife or something, she was never sure what. Anything that would make it stop. Trish would do this thing where she would put a little hard liqueur over ice cream like it was sause and give it to Jessica on nights like this. It was an attempt to get Jessica to eat more and drink less and Jessica knew it but she let Trish get away with it.
Trish would cover her in every blanket in the house and put on some trashy reality show. Trish would insert herself into Jessica's blanket fortress and they would sit there and say nothing until they fell back to sleep or Trish had to go to work. At which point Trish would make her breakfast, kiss her, make Jessica promise not to do anything rash while she was gone, kiss her again for good measure, and leave.
On bad days that lead to even worse nights Trish would skip the foreplay and just drag Jessica into her bed and speak to her in hushed tones until Jessica could close her eyes again without seeing dark red and deep purple. Those nights were Jessica's favorite, falling asleep next to Trish almost made the nightmares worth it, almost. Jessica was pretty sure that Trish was the only therapy she would ever need. She was wrong.
Having PTSD had honestly not been that that big of an adjustment. She already had unwanted memories, anxiety, quick temper, numbing of positive emotion, and withdrawal from others. That probably said something about her that she did not care to analyze right now, or ever. The flashbacks however, those were new.
Jessica had read about flashbacks in her research about PTSD, initially it appeared as if she had dodged that particular bullet. Although it was true that she was now repulsed by Italian food where as before she had just not cared for it, and purple was now her least favorite color.
There was also the the outright anger and panic she felt when someone gave her an order. But 6 months since Killgrave had died the first time and she had yet to have a blood soaked blast from the past. Jessica did not think that flashbacks were something she was going to have to add to her list of shit she had to deal with. She had always hated people giving her orders anyway.
It had really been 6 months, wow. 6 months of rebuilding herself, 6 months of figuring out where Killgrave ended and she began, 6 months of being a freeloader in Trish's apartment, 6 months of Trish.
As the time went on Trish became more bold. braiding Jessica's hair while they watched movies, holding Jessica's hand in Central Park, chasing away the monsters out from under her bed and silencing the the demons that lived in her head. Trish no longer treated Jessica like she might shatter under her lips but she was always unendingly gentle. Always so, so, gentle.
Jessica was sure that is probably what had done it, Trish's gentleness that was simultaneously so uniquely Trish but also so darkly familiar.
Jessica had come home to Trish sitting on her 5000 dollar couch, writing in her notebook with the TV on in the background. It had been a particularly long day for both of them. Christmas was approaching fast and Trish had spent the whole day trying to book a celebrity for the holiday Trish Talk special only to come up empty handed. Jessica had actually gotten off her ass and looked for a job that day which had earned her 10 victory kisses. Unfortunately she had had just as much luck as Trish which really sucked. She was also going on 2 weeks sober which was hard and made everything suck even more.
Jessica slammed the door as she came in, putting her stuff away very loudly.
"Rough day?!" Trish called from the couch. Jessica flopped on the couch with excessive force as her only answer. Jessica felt like she had been waterboarded and she looked like a drowned rat.
"Is it raining or did you just decide to swim home?" Trish asked because she was an asshole. Jessica just looked at her as if to say why are you such an asshole?
"Oh, I'm so sorry, did I hurt your feelings?" Trish said in a mocking tone. Trish was mocking her now. Things had gotten so much closer to normal the Jessica had ever hoped.
"You aren't supposed to be mean to me, you're supposed to be the nice one." Jessica groused as she sunk further into the couch.
"Jessica, compared to you everyone is nice." Trish stated as she heaved herself off the couch and headed for the kitchen. Jessica just sank further into the 5000 couch and muttered about the natural order of things.
When Trish made her way back to the couch she was holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Instead of sitting next to Jessica on the couch Trish climbed over the back of the 5000 dollar couch and slipped into the space between Jessica and the couch, effectively straddling Jessica's hips. She managed this without spilling a drop of the hot chocolate she was holding one hand onto her 5000 dollar couch, and people claimed Jessica was the superhero.
Trish handed the hot chocolate to Jessica, It's even had little marshmellows in it. It would probably be better with some schnapps in it but that was Jessica's alcoholism talking. They sat there for a while, Jessica letting a warmth that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate spread through her body. Trish setting into place behind her and playing with Jessica's hair, both of them watching the snow fall outside. This was a memory Jessica saved for cold and lonely nights.
After Trish had french braided Jessica's hair 5 times over she settled her hands on Jessica's still tense shoulders, kneading gently until she felt the other woman relax against her and brought her arms down to wrap around Jessica's waist.
Jessica, still mostly entranced by the falling snow, was none the less, both accommodating, and appreciative of the warm lips that started to tracked a slow path down her throat, tilting her head to allow Trish better access. Jessica marveled at the feel of Trish's lips on her now over heated skin. They had done this, Trish had kissed her like this before, but rather than growing accustomed to the heat the pooled deep in her core every time Trish so much as looked at her it only seemed to become more intense each time even if it only ever ended with them smiling sweetly at each other, lips kiss swollen and breathing shallow but still, tragically, fully clothed.
Something was different this time though. Trish's body was taut against hers, her breath short as her breast pushed into Jessica's back. Trish's hands moved slowly but with intention as they roamed Jessica's body, teeth replaced lips on Jessica's throat. They set about worrying at the sliver of revealed muscle at the apex of Jessica's t-shirt. A small involuntary moan was pulled from the back of Jessica's throat. She could feel the Trish grinding against her neck at the sound.
Jessica knew that in any other relationship she would have had her partner on every available surface by now. But they were being careful, They hadn't really talked about it but they had an understanding that they were taking it slow. As much as it was slowly driving Jessica insane it was probably for the best. There hadn't been anyone since Killgrave and just the thought of letting someone that close made her feel claustrophobic in her own skin.
She doesn't feel any of that now. Everything that hurt felt far away, and she felt light, airy. Like that good champagne she could never afford, she had bubbles in her veins, tickling and sweet. As if sensing Jessica's eagerness Trish made a low humming noise in her chest. Trish's lips moved to the shell of her ear, her hands becoming bolder as they teased as they hem of Jessica's shirt. It felt amazing. Trish's hands on Jessica's body were so unbearable sweet and so gentle it ached.
And Maybe that was it, maybe it was the soft and intimate path of Trish's hands as they trailed across Jessica's skin eventually coming to rest on Jessica's breasts. Maybe it was Trish's huffing breaths as she nuzzled the side of Jessica's face, kissing her ear and humming in appreciation as her hands found their target. Maybe it was the fact that Jessica could not see who was touching her.
Jessica couldn't be sure what it was but Something was wrong. It was like Something had broken deep inside her and suddenly everything had changed. All arousal left her body so fast her head spun. Jessica wanted to speak, to scream. Something was wrong but Jessica knew with sickening clarity that her pleas would fall on deaf ears, that he would only make it worse for her if she screamed.
Adrenaline sang through Jessica's veins at the sudden overwhelming terror flooding her brain. She was not in Trish's apartment, the hands on her body did not belong to the woman she loved, She wasn't safe. Jessica was back, she was with Killgrave, she was a prisoner in her own body, she was helpless.
Jessica's vision went purple, she could smell his aftershave, hear his voice, taste his lips. She could feel his hands on her body, sense his power, power that she would be helpless against. She had to do something before it was too late, while her will was still her own, before he took control, made her kill, made her beg to be raped over and over again.
Without even thinking Jessica grabbed the arm wrapped around her body, snapping it like it were a toothpick and throwing it aside. Screams flooded Jessica's ears, she thought they might be hers but she couldn't be sure, It didn't matter. All that mattered was ending this. Jessica needed to break this man as he had broken her. She had to be sure that he could never do what he did to her ever again.
Jessica's elbow connected with something soft and fleshy as she sprang to her feet at which point the screaming stopped. That was good, it made it easier to concentrate on what she needed to do. Moving faster then she ever remembered moving in her life Jessica spun to face the man that had violated every cell in her body and every thought in her head. She had thrown a punch before she had made it all the way around. Jessica's fist connected with something hard and she felt it crack under her hands.
Jessica was screaming, she knew it was her this time due to the burning sensation in her throat, it felt like she had been screaming for hours. Someone else was screaming to, saying her name over and over again, Jessica could not see who it was through the tears clouding her vision. Jessica landed another punch, and another someone was still screaming her name, begging her to stop.
Jessica was poised, ready to land another punch when she noticed her hands, they had blood on them, again. In that moment Jessica's world shifted on it's axis and Killgrave was gone. In his place was the woman she loved clutching her arm tenderly to her chest, her face almost unrecognizable through the blood and already forming bruises.
