Trish had called for a cab, once she and Jessica were outside of the building. While Jessica didn't question this, she did question Trish's instructions to be taken to the airport. Apparently, when Trish made a decision to walk away, that was exactly what she intended to do, leaving all expensive, carefully chosen possessions behind her.

"There isn't anything back there so important that it can't be replaced," Trish said, when Jessica finally asked. "This is our lives, Jess. If we really do want something, I can have it packed and delivered to us later. But not now. Now, we need to just get the hell away, as fast and far as we can."

Jessica didn't argue with her. The only things she owned that were worth anything to her were old pictures of her family, and a few of herself and Trish posing together from when they were younger. It wasn't as though she had kept those out to look at anyway. It hurt too much to have constant visual reminders of what was long gone and could never be returned. Better to let those things go, shove them back in her memory, and drown any feelings left over with booze.

She let Trish take charge of the planning. It seemed like she knew what she was doing, although it was generally Jessica who bolted when things got too intense for her. For someone as relentlessly persistent as Trish, though, the woman seemed to have a pretty good idea of what was needed to disappear.

And anyway, things always seemed to get fucked up when Jessica was the one taking charge. It wasn't like Trish could do much worse.

In the cab, Jessica could see Trish's manicured fingers out the corner of her eye, nervously drumming against her knee. The blonde's eyes looked straight ahead, as though to keep herself from distraction, and she licked her lips twice without speaking. So perhaps Trish wasn't as sure of herself as she seemed.

Jessica leaned her head back against the back of the seat, not quite closing her eyes, but letting her gaze go soft and slightly blurred. A sudden touch against her thigh made her tense, twitching and automatically jerking her leg out from beneath the hand attempting to rest upon it. She knew a second after the reflex that it was only Trish, but it took an inner counting to ten before some of the tension in her body eased, and she could allow the hand to remain.

Trish sighed at Jessica's reaction, but the sound was tired more than disappointed or upset. For several more moments she simply kept her hand on Jessica's leg, a light pressure intended maybe in support or comfort, maybe just to let Jessica know that she was still there, if Jessica had slipped into her own thoughts and no longer quite present in the moment. When Jessica didn't twitch again, Trish leaned towards her, inch by inch, and slowly moved her head to rest against Jessica's shoulder. She kept it there carefully, as though prepared to move back into her own space bubble, should Jessica give an indication that this was what she wanted.

Jessica remained still, stiff, beneath her, her thoughts not quite giving way to words. Just before she was certain that Trish was going to move away, she let her head tilt downward, just enough to rest against the top of the other woman's. It couldn't be said that she relaxed, but she made no effort to move away, and that was the best Trish could expect.

88

In the airport, it was decided (by Trish, of course) that they were headed to Australia. Trish's logic was that it was a considerable distance away, and they spoke English, so it wouldn't be necessary to learn another language to get by long term. Jessica contended that with their accents and weird little sayings, Australian was another language, and one she'd be mocking relentlessly. Still, the other alternative of the same criteria meant going to England, or a country far too close to England, and that was not an option. Jessica couldn't have stood being surrounded by British accents everywhere she went and still held on to any degree of sanity.

So Australia it was. The only thing that could be said for it was that Jessica was pretty sure the actress Ruby Rose was from there. Or if she wasn't, at least her Orange is the New Black character was.

It would be an ungodly long amount of time actually getting to Australia, involving multiple layovers and far too much time at airports with little to do but wait. So Jessica got busy right off on making the ordeal more bearable, ordering as many drinks as would be served to her in the airport bar. She ignored Trish's hint, then broad declaration, that drinking before flying might not be the best idea, and carried on with getting as buzzed as she could. Hey, if she was about to go on her first flight, she would have to be well prepared, and by that, Jessica's definition was drunk.

By the time Trish had managed to sweet talk her way into a closer, already sold out flight time, Jessica was pretty well past the stage of "drunk" and on her way to "plastered." Her walk was better described as a stagger, and her speech was slurred enough that Trish, with thinned lips, a shake of her head, and a resigned sigh, had advised her not to talk at all.

"Try not to breathe on anyone too much either, they'll definitely smell it. Actually, we'd better get you some coffee and gum before we board, and I think you'd better hang onto my arm when we pass by anyone who has any kind of authority here. I guess we could go with saying you have a migraine if it come down to it," she had started to trouble shoot aloud, as Jessica just hoped she would stop talking before a migraine actually did pop up in response to her. "I just don't want you to end up being refused this flight and us having to wait for the later one after all, Jess, so just let me do the talking."

"Right, better they think we're touchy feely lesbos than clumsy drunk fugitives," Jessica had muttered, snickering to herself as Trish had looped her arm through hers.

Trish had narrowed her eyes at her in a manner that was far too reminiscent of her mother as she secured her grasp on her, pulling Jessica closer into her side for emphasis.

"Let's just get the coffee."

Two cups and a pack of gum later, Jessica was slightly more in control of her thoughts and movements, just in time for the first call for them to board. It had not occurred to her until she was being half lead, half propelled forward by Trish down the long hallway to the plane's entrance that she had never actually been aboard a plane before, and definitely for the length of time she was about to be. Maybe neither of them had thought this through quite as much as they should have.

Trish had at least had the foresight, and the cash, of course, to put them in first class instead of the presumably more crowded other possibilities of travel. Still, once they had taken their seats, Jessica was acutely aware that they were now enclosed in what was more or less a huge, heavy tube of metal that happened to have wings, motors, and wheels attached.

How the hell was this thing actually going to lift up into the air, filled with dozens, maybe hundreds of people, and fly across an ocean? Was there any way that they could be sure that they would have enough fuel, or that the engines were all going to work perfectly the entire way? What if it was hijacked exactly in the middle of the ocean? Could she know positively that someone on the plane wasn't ordered by Kilgrave to follow her, that they wouldn't suddenly pop up and hurt her or Trish or the pilot or anyone else on the flight, just to get back at Jessica for what she had done? How could she be sure there would be enough air for them all to even breathe for this long in here? She couldn't seem to get enough air to breathe right the fuck now!

She hadn't quite realized that she was going into a panic attack until she heard the harsh, almost wheezing gasps of someone close, someone struggling to draw in breath, and then the pressure in her own chest forced her to realize that it was her. She heard a strane female voice somewhat near, calling out to her, but it paled in volume to her hearing compared to the wild pounding of her own heartbeat.

"Miss? Miss, are you all right? Is there anything I can get you?"

"She's fine," she heard Trish responding, also distant, but familiar, blessedly, reassuringly familiar. "She's a little nervous, first flight, you know? Thank you for your concern, but we are fine here."

Fine? Jessica wasn't fine, she wasn't nervous, she was fucking choking to death! But even as she tried to force this heated counter to Trish's assurance, she heard Trish address her, closer to hear ears than before. She could feel the heat of her body near her and realized she must be leaning in close, her lips almost touching her ear.

"Breathe, Jess, just breathe. I'm not going to touch you, no one is going to touch you. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe. Just breathe."

Gradually the overwhelming tangle of anxious thoughts began to loosen, then break apart in her mind, and the panic choking her chest and throat began to ease as though in response to Trish's words. When she heard her remind her of "streets," Jessica didn't understand at first, and then the stupid mantra clicked in place.

"Birch street…Higgins drive…Main street…Cobalt lane."

With each word her clarity of the present, her sense of control, returned a little more, until she could finally take in her actual surroundings. It wasn't until the last two words that Jessica was able to look down in response to the odd cramping of her left hand and realized that her grasp of her armrest had crushed and mangled the thing into something almost unrecognizable.

Following her gaze, Trish smiled slightly. "Can't go anywhere without paying your collateral damage."

The words were gentle, not sarcastic, meant to draw her further still into the present. When Jessica breathed out a final time, prying her hand open from the armrest and slowly bringing it to rest against her knee, Trish waited, assessing her expression, and then reached to cover Jessica's hand with hers. She squeezed lightly, not seeming to mind when Jessica didn't entwine her fingers with hers in response.

"It's done now, Jess. It's over. Everything's over now."

But it wasn't true. They were running from the present, not moving on from the past. There was a difference. Wasn't there?