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Part I

"What exactly did he say?"

"The-they called themselves the collective." When she pushed me, sometimes, it was hard to be quick, especially after a long day and an early morning. I already told her everything but she was still trying to push. All I wanted to do was take a bath and laugh and have a good time but here I was in her space being grilled. With Jess every single day was a goddamn emergency.

"What?!" She seemed pissed and I completely understood why. She was desperate. They'd issued a threat, the collective, and she was desperate to combat them.

"Yeah, I know," I said, trying to comfort in premature defeat.

"Okay, what else?" She pushed. "Did you get any other names, anything important? Any clues? Anything?!"

"Jess." She always got like this when she was frustrated. On a normal day she could be silent as ever only stopping every once and a while to say something overly detailed and witty, something that would floor me completely and make me think for days upon days upon days about how insightful she was, how lovely. My favorite was when she made me laugh but this wasn't that, this was Jess in business mode, professional Jess, uptight Jess.

"Don't," she said, realizing I was soft. "Anything else, Trish. Did you get anything else?!" The implication was there. She wanted me to be business.

I didn't do enough. Message received. I am the worst. I am not fit. I am insufficient. I am not a hero. Message. Received.

"You already know I wish I could say yes to that." Sometimes she really needed me to rub it in, the different ways in which she chose to hurt. She intended. There was always intention. It all burned. Always. And she could see. But she always seemed to want me to run from her. That was never my path.

She looked at me, saw me. Maybe for the first time tonight.

"Dammit," she said, shoving the table until it flew across the room and hit hard against the stationary wall that had once run parallel but separate to it's edge. She wouldn't have done that if I was standing on the other side. I knew that. Still the table hit the wall so hard the ledge made a long indent and I knew that it would take Jessica's force to get the table out from the wall, not my force, not Malcolm's force, not Simpson's super soldier-force, Jessica's specific force, that would be the only force to remove it.

"What are we gonna do?" I asked, ignoring her rage. I understood her rage. I'd have her rage too if I were her. Whatever I felt, as insignificant and powerless as I felt, Jess felt that one hundred times worse because she was one hundred times more equipped to fight these types of battles and win them and help the hopeless and help the helpless and save the seemingly damned. Despite all her self-loathing, despite all her badittude and show, Jess is an overwhelmingly caring person, she cares TOO MUCH.

It hurts her to care so much and fail. And I know that more than anyone because I'm always here, I'm always watching.

I watch her far more often than anyone else ever could. It's why I love her, it really is. She cares more about others than she ever could about her own precious life.

When I stop to think of how quick she was to lose herself with Kilgrave it makes me more angry than I can bare because it means too much, it says too much about her. She always had the strength in her to say no. I believe that. I do. It was buried down deep below the part of her that submerged underneath Kilgrave's will. It took murdering an innocent woman for her to emerge. But how can I talk about that? How can WE talk about that?!

"No, Trish," her voice shook in that way it always did when she was sick of explaining things to me, when she just expected me to obey like she NEVER would.

I had to stop and shut my eyes. I had to take a few deep breaths. I had to think back on the night, remember her lips on my neck her voice in my ear, her hands on my skin. I touched a hand to my neck just to feel, just to brace myself for her words, whatever they would be.

"We aren't going to do anything," she started strong. "I know you want to help me with this stuff, but, Trish…" she faltered a little before, licking her lips and, regaining her strength. "This isn't Kilgrave. I don't need you." The way she looked at me sometimes, just like the way she dodged me sometimes… Her eyes seemed sure and as fortified as a solid metal door. Her mind was always made up.

I could translate the words. "I don't need you" meant "I can't lose you". She really did think she could trick me, keep me out. She really did think I could just believe her without thinking of why she would say the things that she says and why she would do the things that she does.

I'm not that teenager anymore. I understand her now. Maybe too much.

"That's great," I scoffed, wiping my face with my hands and throwing them up without looking at her. I actually thought we'd gotten somewhere. I thought we were done having this stupid fucking debate. We were both here now. We were both living at Alias Investigations. We were both together again. We were, again, a we.

Every time she said shit like this I wanted to throw things, physically chuck things, sometimes right at her face. I knew she'd be able to stop any flying object and that was half of the temptation. I just wanted her to know. I wanted her to know how mad I was. How mad she CONSTANTLY chose to make me. Instead I held it in. "Nice Jess," I said, turning from her and trying hard not to laugh in my sadness and hopelessness. I knew it hurt her more if I did less. "Real nice," I exhaled, wishing I could portray even less.

Truth was I was seconds from crying. That was so like me too. Pathetic Trish. Weak Trish. The girl who needed a fucking hero. The girl who could never stand up for herself.

I always hated when it was her though. Anyone else was fine. She was the one who seemed to raise me to the heavens and yet I could let little things like this pull me down and down and down until I was beneath the soil and buried, just waiting for death. I felt like I was suffocating when she treated me like this, I really did. A part of me really thought she knew and another part told me to stop thinking she could ever understand. She was the closest person to me but sometimes she felt like she was the furthest away.

"Trish," She said, apologetically, reaching for me.

She was trying to stop me from leaving, from having feelings.

"No. Ya know what? No," I said, taking the stairs up to her new room rather quickly and shutting myself in. She could sleep in her old room. She could sleep where we slept TOGETHER last night. She could sleep where she could smell me on the sheets and remember me in her arms. That was her fucking choice. Her choice.

I was taking her room now. And I would sleep WITHOUT her.

I was sick of this shit. I was sick of being treated like I could never really be a player.

I wasn't some housewife. I wasn't some weak child, some liability.

I threw my shirt off and kicked away my shoes. I walked to her bath and turned it on. I needed to drown it all out, all of it. Sometimes she could really get to me. I hated that about her. She was the only person now who was capable of that. My mom used to do it. My mom used to be able to make me feel sick inside, make me feel wrong. Now only Jess did that, only Jess made me question.

When she loved she loved hard but when she cut, she cut deep.

I filled the water up too high and immersed myself inside, sinking deep and letting out a much needed scream.

After that none of it mattered.

Jess left to do her work. Jess left to busy herself with anything and everything.

I stayed.

I always stayed.

The heat of the water seared my skin as I tried again to forget about everything about us that was wrong.

It hurt to know we could never just be okay. It hurt because I had no control, none at all.

No matter what I did it would never be enough. Jess would always need to help and I would always need to help her and there was no ending that for us, not while both of us still stood.

The thought of it all overwhelmed and made me tired.

I rest in the bath and tried to think of other things but for me that was hard...

Part II

Much later. After the sun sank low and the moon rose high, I took to resting at long last and made myself meditate on the feel of her, the happy times. That was the only thing that could settle me.

I was sleeping sound, naked in her bed. I felt a form come near, a naked form just like mine.

My first thought was to react. I tried to turn but strong hands held me and I knew.

"Shhhh," I heard her whisper. Once I stopped fighting, her arms enveloped me and pulled me. I felt her body behind mine, her lips at my ear. "It's just me," she said, lovingly, folding me up in her arms and holding me tight.

It was hard to take her love after the hurt of her, all the pain.

I felt her hand on my face, pushing my hair back and loving me.

I stayed quiet and tried to forget.

She hugged me tight though, squeezed me and I knew she needed me.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I tried to find him. Nothing... You'll have to do the show tomorrow. It's our only lead." The room was so quiet. I ached.

"Oh," I said. What else could I say? I felt the stress of it but also the hope.

"I'm sorry," she said. I felt her hand lower to my neck and tug as she held herself to me and kissed at the back of my shoulder. "I was an asshole," she mumbled. I could hear her smelling me, taking me in.

"Understatement of the year," I tried to be cold but it wasn't my way.

"Trish," she sighed, resting her forehead on my shoulder. If she tried at all it was too much trying. I knew that well. Everything hurt her. She was weak just like me, just different, so so different.

"Just hold me," I said, feeling the tears at the back of my eyes as I pulled her arm down and forced her to hold me right. I waited too long to sleep. My mind was too restless. I would be going into this thing completely blind and she knew. "What do you think he'll make me say?"

"I dunno," she said, her voice shaky again, but this time for different reasons.

"Great," I sighed, forcing her to hold me still. Sometimes she squeezed me so tight but still it was never enough. Her body was stuck to me hard but I still wanted her closer somehow.

"I love you," she said. I felt a smile tickle my lips. Ever since that day with Kilgrave she'd actually said that twice now.

"I love you too," I said, letting out a long sigh.

We'd be okay I think. We'd have to be okay…