Griffin Sinclair knew that, when it came to his girlfriend's attention, he had some fierce competition. The paparazzi he could handle, but the phone was another story. It wasn't phone per se, it was the person at the other end that was out of his league. He was learning to accept it, this is how it would be, but he wished of all nights he could have had this one. Now at the restaurant, by the way Trish kept glancing at the phone on the table, he already knew, even before the call came, that it was Jessica. Griffin looked around hoping the waiter would hurry with the desserts. Trish's phone only vibrated once, before she answered. Griffin looked at her.

"Jess?"

Griffin sighed.

"Are you okay?"

Judging by Trish's frown, Jess was definitely not okay.

"Where are you? Okay, alright, don't move. Don't move, I'm on my way."

Trish ended the call and saved the phone in her purse.

"I'm so sorry, it's just," she said, struggling to put her jacket back on.

"I know," he said, sighing, as he helped her with the jacket. "It's okay, go find her."

"I love you," Trish concluded before giving him a kiss and walking out of the restaurant.

Griffin sat again and sighed, thinking he shouldn't have waited for dessert, but hidden the ring in the champagne glass instead.

At first Trish thought there was something wrong with the location, then she realized it was just like Jessica to be in a seemingly abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. She was still a block away and driving as fast as she could, when she noticed a cloud of black smoke and ashes falling on the windshield.

"Shit," Trish said, as she slowed down slightly.

The air smelled of gunpowder. Then she saw the warehouse in question was ruined, pieces of brick and metal were scattered across the lot while a column of black smoke rose to the sky. Jessica was nowhere to be found. Trish parked, and got out of the car.

"Jess! Where are you!"

Trish stopped to cough a bit as the smoke went into her nostrils and throat.

"Trish?"

Trish turned to the left where she saw Jessica, limping slightly and holding her right arm close to her chest.

"Jess, are you okay?"

When her best friend stepped closer, Trish got the answer. Jessica's forehead was scrapped, while her pants had ripped on her left knee exposing a bleeding wound, but most importantly there was a sheet of metal protruding from Jessica's right arm.

"Oh my God, Jess, we need to go to the hospital," Trish said, opening the car door for her.

"It looks worse than it is," Jessica replied, stepping into the car. "I can move my fingers so I guess it didn't cut anything important."

Trish closed her door and entered the car as well.

"It's really not that deep, but I can't take this crap out because blood would come out all over," Jessica continued, looking at the piece of metal lodged in her arm. "It'd ruin the leather seats."

"I don't care about the leather seats, Jess," Trish said, starting the car. "Put on your seatbelt. Why didn't you call an ambulance?"

"You call an ambulance and next thing you know reporters are showing up as well, you know how it is," Jessica replied, slightly touching the skin near the metal and grimacing. "The last thing I need right now is to bring any more attention to myself. I just need to go home, get this shit out, clean it up and I'll be alright in a couple of hours."

"We're going to the hospital."

"Trish—"

"We're going to the hospital."

"Fine."

"What even happened in there?"

"Nothing good."

"Jess, I should be able to tell the doctors something in case you pass out before we get there."

"I'm not passing out, I feel fine."

"You look pale as shit."

"So? That's how I always look."

Trish glared at her.

"Fine, I'll tell you, just don't freak out…"

"When has saying 'don't freak out' ever stopped anyone from freaking out?"

"I was hoping this would be the first time."

"Jess!"

"There was a bomb, okay?"

"A bomb! A bomb-bomb? Was anyone else there, should I go back, what? Why?"

"It's okay no one's hurt. There was no one else, it was a special treat just for me."

"Is this about that case?"

By the way Jessica remained silent, Trish knew the answer.

"You can't…this can't go on like this, Jess, you're gonna end up dead! You have to tell me what's going on."

"Trish, I don't—"

"You don't want to put me in any danger, I know, I know. But look at that," Trish pointed with one hand at the metal scrap on Jessica's arm. "You'll end up dead, if you don't let us help, and we can't help if we have no idea of what's going on. Plus, by the looks of all of this, we might already be in danger."

Jessica sighed deeply, she gave a brief look at her wounded arm, before looking out the window where the buildings were flying by. She began:

"Two weeks ago, someone came into my office…"

Hello, hello, hello! Thank you for reading. This is my quarantine story, after re-watching Jessica Jones. I didn't like the second season very much, so I decided to make my own story and sort of forget about the lost mom and IGH plotline. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope that, wherever you are, you are safe!

Greetings from Colombia