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Sinjin has always been one to jump in with both feet. Some things, especially, he feels he might as well get out of the way up front. That's why he's in the lobby of Trish's building with a small bundle of slightly rumpled, typewritten pages in his hand. He's read them a dozen times, crumpled some, trashed them, taken them back out, finally deemed them worthy of a first draft.
If he gets through letting Trish read them, then maybe he's ready to write this book. The doorman gave him a narrow look, gauging his worthiness to be here — Sinjin could tell him the answer is "probably not" but here he is. He did call before he showed up, at least, so up he goes.
The elevator ride does nothing to settle his nerves. By the time he's at Trish's door, he's considering going back to the Ho Chi Minh trail.
*
She'd told all the respective greeters to expect Sinjin. She really had. Unfortunately, they're just accustomed to having visitors who are dressed to flaunt their tax bracket, so to speak. It takes no more than five seconds from when Sinjin appears at her door to when she opens it. It seems the doorman had informed her that her visitor had arrived.
She smiles warmly. "John, it's nice to see you again, and so soon too!" She sounds chipper, standing aside. "Please, do come in! I look forward to looking at what you brought!" There's always a certain air of excitement when she reads a script for the first time. It's full of wonder and mystery…even if she does know the overall story.
*
The phone rings ominously at that moment. But it doesn't ring once. In fact, whoever is on the other end, isn't giving up easily.
*
"I brought the script. Yes." Sinjin digs in his satchel for it. "It's here." The first draft of the script is neatly bound — he's paged through it but didn't want to look too closely. He wants her opinion on it before he starts critiquing all the ways it doesn't match up with the book. "Owen likes it but he did wrangle a little creative control — if there's anything you hate, or… we could look at it together, maybe. Your judgment is better than mine about these things. You know movies better than I do."
Right. He can just give her the script. That's good for now. He shoves the other papers into the satchel and holds out the script instead, since he's lost his nerve and the phone is ringing off the hook anyway.
"That's probably important," he says, almost grateful for the reprieve.
*
"Oh, wonderful!" Trish accepts the script, closing the door behind Sinjin. She wiggles her nose at the phone. "I'm so sorry. If you wanna have a seat, I'll be right there?" She motions to her couch and smiles. Turning toward the phone, she putters toward it at a quick pace.
With a hand on the receiver, she takes a deep breath in and lifts it up, holding it to her ear. "Trish Walker's residence. How may I direct your call?" She asks in a formal tone, sounding very much like a secretary.
*
There's a long pause on the other end of the phone, but even without speech, the loud music and yelling in the background can be heard. The faint echo of Jessica Jones' voice reflects as a ruckus can be heard. "I'm not fugging drunk!" she is. "You're druuuunk! You drunk drunkens drinking drinks off your assesses!"
Someone clears their throat, "Uh. Sorry. Miss Walker?? …She's at it again. We can't get her out." There's another pause. "Joe is new and didn't know… he didn't know she was supposed to be cut off four drinks ago. Also, we haven't seen her for a week. This is the first day and — "
"Suck my — " Jessica can be heard over the din.
"We'd appreciate some help," the man's frown can be heard in the man's tone.
*
Sinjin doesn't need the cane as much today, even though he's got it with him. He's recovering faster than expected and that might have to do with the fact that, other than the little he had to drink when he was out with Trish, he's been really damn sober. Hardly even smoking at all. He's on his way over to the sofa as ordered when he heard the familiar sounds of someone else on a bender drifting out of the phone.
He changes course and comes over to stand a little way off — far enough to give Trish some space, close enough to that he can take orders or offer sympathy if needed. Looking at her face, he puts a very heavy mark in the "reasons not to get drunk off my ass anymore" column. Not adding to Trish's problems.
*
"Frumple pumpkins!" Trish exclaims rather loudly in frustration. "I thought you warned all your…" She sighs heavily, wincing a little as she hears Jessica through the phone. "Yeah, yeah. All right. I'd tell you to tell her not to hurt anyone and to not punch anything but, well, you know that would just cause more problems than it would solve. I'll be right there. And you know where to send the bill for any damages."
She slams down the receiver in a rather annoyed fashion. She loves Jessica dearly, but by apple pie and puppies, how many more times will she need bailing out? She rubs her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath in. Placing the script down on the counter by the phone, she looks over at Sinjin with a furrowed brow. "I'm so, so sorry. But it's my sister," she explains, "she needs me. I have to go."
*
"Let me go with you," Sinjin offers. "I know a few things about being, well…in that state. It won't be the first time I had to round up a family member, either. You lead. Just let me help?" If he's going to stick around, he might as well get in on the ground floor. Scraping up a family member might actually qualify as the basement.
*
It takes awhile to get to the Hell's Kitchen bar — Jessica's personal favourite — and it's a disaster that has turned into a Mexican standoff. "Geez Jones! Just settle down!" the bartender coaxes from behind the bar. "Just take a seat. Joe didn't mean to substitute coffee for your whiskey."
Jessica, however, is like an immovable force. She stands on the other side of the bar, squinting at the man standing behind the bar, and the rest of the staff hiding under tables. "Just call the fugging copses — " Jessica slurs. Nothing about Jessica Jones looks meek or needy. In fact, Jessica Jones looks terrifying. In a black leather jacket, black combat boots, and a pair of faded wash blue jeans, she takes up an immense amount of space for such a petite woman. "I can take on the cops! They can fugging shoot me and then I will pull that bullet out of my skin and put it up their tight assess — " Despite Jessica having no idea if she's bullet proof.
*
"I…" Trish looks at Sinjin for a moment. This isn't quite a moment for arguing one way or another. She sighs and nods. "Fine. But be careful when we get there, yeah? She's um…she's really, really strong." She grabs her keys and wallet. Just as they're about to leave, she turns back and lifts up the corner of the rug in her living room, which allows her to open up a hatch to a hole in the floor, in which rests a decent sized safe. Quickly twirling in the combination, she tugs on the latch and pulls it open. Out of it, she pulls two unopened bottles of cheap whiskey. Once everything is back in place, she shrugs at Sinjin. "It's my insurance policy."
They take Trish's own car, instead of a car service, and when they're finally at the bar. She stands in front of the door and looks over at Sinjin. "This might not be pretty. I apologize in advance for anything and everything she does and says." With the cheap bottles of whiskey in hand, she opens the door to the bar and enters, expecting Sinjin to be right behind her. She clucks her tongue loudly. "Is that anyway to speak to him, Jess? You know he's your friend, right?"
*
"Can't be worse than anything I've said or done," Sinjin mutters, following Trish in. Her apparent tolerance for this kind of thing is a little reassuring, so is the fact that she's let him come along.
He stops in the doorway to light a cigarette, giving Trish some space while he takes in the scene. Looks like people take Jess — Jessica? — seriously. She certainly looks like she's taking herself seriously. Drunk. Strong, given the chaos in progress. And Sinjin takes a moment to congratulate himself on picking the other sister, if he has to be dating someone.
*
The bartender looks relieved the moment Trish enters the bar. He takes a single step back, "See Jones? Your sister is here." Which seems to be enough of a consolation that the bartender just shakes his head and goes back to his work of organizing glasses. The rest of the staff, however, maintain their cover.
Jessica shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She presses her face to her hands and she actually can feel the change in her emotions. She crumples to the floor, falling into it like a small child as she draws her knees to her chest. She hugs them hard and tight, and, rather pathetically, she sobs into her knees.
No. Jessica Jones is not okay.
*
Oh…oh no. Trish hadn't anticipated it being this kind of drunk. So rarely is she needed to console Jessica, that she figured that the bottles of whiskey would be enough. Clearly she figured wrong. "Oh, Jessica." She murmurs softly, her gaze immediately softening. She places the two places she brought on the bar and kneels next to Jessica.
She reaches her arms around Jessica in a hug and leans against her. "Shh, shh. It's okay. It's going to be okay." Rubbing Jessica's back, she speaks softly. "You've got me now. You've got your Trish. Whatever happens, from here on out, we'll figure out together. We'll stick together, just like when we were younger."
*
Ah, one of those drunks. At least this time. One good thing about his recent run of popularity, Sinjin has plenty of cash on hand — he was going to go pick up a movie projector and screen, among other things, so he could watch some movies at home. Maybe even a television. Theaters, trapped amongst all those people, aren't really his thing right now and it's time he got caught up on, well, civilization.
The bar will have insurance but that's not going to make up for lost wages and distressed staff members. Cowering under tables should earn time and a half. Sinjin makes his way over to the bar, skirting the girls, and puts his cigarette down in half of an ashtray.
"Guessing you don't quite get used to it, do you?" he mutters. He gets his wallet out from the breast pocket inside his jacket and pulls out whatever's in there. "Here. For your troubles," he says, nodding to the staff under the tables, "until the insurance kicks in." He offers it to the bartender.
*
It's not often that Jessica allows herself to be taken care of. Not by anyone, let alone Trish, who she considers goodness and light embodied. But when she feels Trish's arms wrap around her, Jessica leans against her sister. She peeks up from her knees as tears trail down her cheeks.
She rubs at her face with her hands. "But it's not," she objects. "It isn't. I… killed… him…" by now, fortunately, the bar staff have gone about their business and are aiming to clean up the train wreck left by Jessica Jones. "I… loved him," she sobs. Only to shake her head, "But I didn't. He told me I did." She sobs again. "That fucking asshole! How could I? How could I, Trish? How could I love him? How could anyone? He was vile! He was terrible!"
The bartender shrugs. "To be honest, Jones is a pattern we know. We just all thought things were changing. She's been in every day this week without ordering the whiskey. It's amazing, really. And then…." he frowns. "She's a mess today. And it's the worst it's been in a long time." He accepts the money.
*
Glancing up at Sinjin, Trish gives him a little look of sympathy, mouthing 'thank you' quickly as he hands over money. She'll have to be sure to pay him back later.
"I know you did." She continues to hold Jessica, while speaking softly. "You did what you had to do." She says softly. "He was a bad man. A bad man who never deserved your love, which is why he had to tell you to love him. But you were stronger than him. Your will was stronger than his, and you saved me…again." Her lips tremble for a moment as she lets out a little choked laugh. "Isn't it funny? I went there, hoping to save you, and you saved me all over again. I don't deserve you as my sister, Jessica Jones. But as long as you're mine, I'll be here right by your side."
Gently coaxing Jessica up, she says, "Now, why don't my friend and I get you back to my place, huh? You can drink, or not, and I'll list off all the ways you're the best sister around, and why you make everything okay, and why you-know-who isn't even worth your time to think about."
She gives a little nod to the bartender, indicating that she's got Jessica covered. "John?" She calls to Sinjin, nodding toward the door.
*
"Good luck, mate." Sinjin gives the bartender his card as well. "In case you can't get hold of Miss Walker some time." He takes his cigarette, then catches up to Trish — awkward but fast enough to get the door for the girls.
"I'll drive," he offers Trish, leaning against the door to hold it open. "Let you sit with her. She needs you and I remember how we got here."
*
In this state it's easy enough to coax Jessica to her feet. But it's not so easy to convince her she is remotely okay. "What kind of person am I?" Jessica whispers. And as she's guided through the door, it becomes clearer something is very much not-okay in Jessica-land. "Even if," her tear stained cheeks redden, "even if it wasn't real, if I thought i love him, I still killed him. Who does that? Who can just snap someone's neck in half."
The tears well in her eyes. "And Bel. Trish, my fish, I felt it, the way it crunched… Trish…" her lips purse and she tries to force the emotions back down.
But then something seems to register: the third party here for her sister parade. Her eyes darken, "Who is he?"
*
"You're the kind of person who has had a lot of bad things happen to them." Trish says slowly, quietly. "But you are still are good person. You're the kind of person who knows right from wrong, good from bad. You see something you don't like? You charge in and change it and make it better, even if you have to do something hard to do it." She brushes some of the tears away from Jessica's eyes. "What happened on that day was terrible. What happened to her…what he made you do…but you are free from his grasp. He can't hurt you any more. He can't hurt anyone any more."
Handing her keys over to John, Trish gently pats Jessica on the shoulder. "It's okay. His name is John. He's a writer, and a friend." She opens the door to the back seats for Jessica. "We can talk about how much you're going to like him when we're in the car."
*
Sinjin looks a little less disreputable these days, but he does still have the air of a man who's been dragged backward through a vast karmic debt. He doesn't even try to appease Jessica with a smile, just gives her a nod and waits on Trish to herd her into the car before he gets into the front seat. He doesn't need to be liked, he just needs to not be a target for someone who could punch him through the sidewalk.
*
While coaxing Jessica out of the bar was easy, coaxing her into the car proves FAR more difficult. She keeps casting looks at Sinjin without seeming entirely satisfied. "I don't trust redheads," she states blandly. "Does he talk? Is he British?" because she doesn't trust British people either.
"You shouldn't get in cars with men you don't know," she says towards Trish. "That's just fucking bad idea. I knew it was a bad idea, but I had one jump out of my closet. I can't sleep with the closet closed. I check it when I get home. All the time. In case he's in there. Again. Waiting. To jump out at me." She frowns.
But Trish has already given John her keys, and Trish need her, so Jess slides into the backseat.
*
"No. He's not British. But he does have a bit of an accent, from elsewhere…" Trish shakes her head. "But I do know him, Jess. He's John. He's a writer. Like I said." She gives her sister another little smile, glancing sympathetically toward John. "Trust me. He'll behave."
She closes her eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath in, and takes a seat by Jessica, closing the door behind her.
"I love you, you know that right, Jess?" She puts an arm around her shoulders.
*
Sinjin slides into the driver's seat, glances in the rearview mirror. "Australia," he offers Jessica. "Can't stand Brits, never been to England. And Trish is right, I'll behave. Not as a general rule but for her? Yeah." See, they have something in common already.
Once the girls are settled, Sinjin pulls out into the street and plans his drive back to Trish's place. He's just going to mind his own business and let them have their time. He can play chauffeur just fine.
*
Jessica swallows hard at the questions. She sniffles hard and she chokes back the emotions. She slows her breathing and allows her eyes to lid. She assumes silence at the question, considering it and giving it the weight it deserves as she continues to lean against her sister.
Her lips curve downwards. "You shouldn't." Her jaw tightens and her eyes clamp shut. "But I love you."
*
There's an appreciative glance, once more, toward Sinjin. It's nice for Trish to have someone to help her with this. It really is. She leans into Jessica, bending her head towards hers. She lets them ride in silence until Jessica's ready to speak again. She's in no rush, however.
She can't help but smile a little. "For all my mother's faults, I think she did at least one thing right, even if it was for the wrong reasons. She brought you into the family. It's the best thing that ever happened to me. The best thing. And I've had some pretty amazing things happen to me. You know I'm in movies, right?"
She reaches her other arm around to give Jessica another hug. "What you went through, I can't even imagine. But you are strong. I think you're the strongest person I know. The fact that what you did has this much of an affect on you, even when he doesn't deserve the time of day? It only proves how…how…" She pauses as she struggles to find the words. "You're amazing." She leaves it at that.
*
It's hard not to like someone who takes care of family like that. Sinjin lights another cigarette, leaves his window down, and leaves them to talk while he drives. He needs to keep an eye on the road — the cigarette is really only because he can't fidget with the lighter like this and he's feeling cautious. The city has been restless the last few days.
*
Jessica remains unconvinced. "I killed Bel," she says quietly. She knows she did. She remembers it, all of it. "I was supposed to find her, and I killed her." Her eyes blink hard and she notes, "Remy should hate me. Remy shouldn't be around anymore. Why doesn't he just yell at me and be done with it? Trish I'm irreversibly fucked up. I'm looking for two missing girls, one who may have been manipulated by a mind freak and I — " her eyes start to well with tears again. "I'm not holding it together. I can't fucking hold it…" she takes another deep breath, and settles against her sister.
*
"It was really him. It wasn't you. He's responsible for it all, and now he can't be responsible for anything else." Trish responds. "As for Remy, I'm sure he knows that none of it was your fault. How could he be angry at you when you weren't responsible?" She gently squeeze-hugs Jessica. The mention of the looking for two girls, with the possibility of one being manipulated makes this all make sense now. "Tell ya what, Jessica. Why don't you tell me the names of the girls you're looking for, and I'll help you find them, okay? The sooner they're found the better, right?"
*
Sinjin checks in the mirror, to see how Trish is doing. He can help as well. Investigation is part of his job. If Trish needs some help on that front, he can do some work for her. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. He's paying attention to the rest, as well, piecing together what's going on with Jessica as best he can — he might need that later, if he ever ends up wrangling her himself some unfortunate day.
*
Jessica is starting to doze as her thoughts become fuzzier. "Carolina Dean," she murmurs first. "Missing from California. Her parents want me to find her." Her eyes clamp shut. "Remy got a tip that she's a high class hooker. I offered to go undercover, but he won't let me." She virtually glowers at the thought. Evidently going undercover has appeal, it would seem.
"Charlotte Ferguson. Missing from Hell's Kitchen. Police think she's a runaway, but her father is unconvinced. The local bartender says she's a mutant. The father is again, unconvinced. Apparently had this older boyfriend, initials JR. Jamie something. She went and played illegal pinball with him. After class sometimes." She frowns. "David and Ava are looking at the High School. I went to her house. Alexander, the god of fear," well Jessica HAS been busy, "is checking St. Mary's Catholic Church. They have a soup kitchen Charlotte volunteered at."
*
"Carolina Dean…" Trish murmurs. "I think I know Carolina Dean. Or at least, I know her parents. Hollywood types." She can use her movie contacts, at least, for that one. She hopes she can, anyway.
"And Charlotte Ferguson. I'll do what I can to help you find them, and you can put your mind to rest." She tells Jessica. "We're almost at my apartment. You're going to stay over night with me, okay? And in the morning I'll make sure your favourite breakfast is ready." Because obviously she knows what Jessica's favourite breakfast is.
*
Sinjin makes mental notes of those names as well, turns another corner at the light, takes the drive that dips down into the parking for Trish's building. Parking space is practically sacred in New York City — that's how you know Trish has money. He'll get them upstairs, then take off.
Once he parks, he maneuvers out of the driver's seat to open the back door for them. If this writing gig doesn't work out, he'll take up driving people around. He could make a living at it.
*
When they're parked, Jessica ambles out of the vehicle, still holding Trish as she moves. "Fine. One night." There's a pregnant pause that follows the agreement, and after it, Jessica asserts rather forcefully, "But no braids. If I weak up with braids I swear you will regret it. I hate crumpled hair it's the fucking worst and anyone who calls that fashion should be punted into the sun." Her arms cross over her chest. "They're my cases. I need to figure out what happened… helping someone else makes it not so bad. I mean… all of it."
*
Holding up one hand defensively as she keeps the other arm around Jessica's shoulders, Trish smiles gently. "I swear, no braids! …while you're awake." The last sentence said under her breath.
"John, thank you…thank you so much. You've been very patient." She says to Sinjin. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."
*
"Nothing to make up." Sinjin walks them to the lift, passing Trish her keys back. "You're having less fun than I am. I'll take you out next time you're free, though, if you'll let me. If you'll be okay from here, I think I'll skip the little metal box — given the company." Being stuck in a small space with Jessica might go poorly if she reacted to him somehow. He could probably face off with her in a pinch but not with Trish between them.
"Call me," he says to Trish.