April 26, 2018:

Trish Walker decides to come home after learning the truth about her NPR gig. Sisters reconnect…and vow to take on a new mission together.

Trish's Manhattan Apartment & Central Park

Good thing there's still a little snow on the ground.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Tony Stark, Luke Cage, Danny Rand, Peggy Carter, Michael Carter, John Constantine, Zatanna Zatara, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Frenzy

Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The time had come to face facts. Regardelss of how many donation dollars were being funneled into NPR by Union Allied, it just wasn't enough to keep Trish around. For one, her heart just wasn't as in to the whole celebrity with a cause idea, and two, she just couldn't pull the same rating numbers she did with Trish Talks in New York. Sure, it wasn't as grand a stage as NPR had offered, but WNEX allowed Trish the freedom to persue topics she was truly passionate about. Which was probably why her ratings were so much higher at home.

And that was just it. New York is home and there are things that need to be taken care of, people who need to be seen, and conversations that need to be had which just can't be had over the phone.

Trish stands in her kitchen, surveying her domain, and laments the lack of food in her fridge. Had she told anyone she was coming back today, she could have had that remedied. But she didn't want to tell anyone she was coming back. Who wants witnesses to one's walk of shame, after all. She had failed spectacularly in the ratings with Unusual Justice, which was just a tragic circumstance in the timing of everything, because it had been a great show. The people were just not interested in buying what she was selling.

And now that she's home, alone, she's lonely. Terribly lonely, and missing her…everybody if she's truly honest. Out comes her trusty Stark phone to message Jess. Because she's, well, Jess.

Hey lady. Guess who's home. Wanna come hang out? Bring food, I'm STARVING!!

She hits send and heads back to her bedroom to put on her comfy sweats and teeshirt while waiting for a reply.


Jessica Jones has tried very. Very hard. Not to interfere with Trish's success. With the exception of admitting to Frenzy's beat-down, mostly cause she was using her sister's apartment, she hasn't wanted to talk about troubles or misadventures at home. She hasn't wanted to admit how much she missed the crap out of her sister. She has wanted Trish pursuing the opportunity of a lifetime.

She comes armed with food from the Ukranian place they went to back when Trish picked her up from Germany…well. Pretty much almost exactly one year ago now. All the sausage and potatoes and good food they can stuff their face with.

Does she use the door? Nope. She's just there on the balcony, rapping at the glass with a pleased smirk on her face.

And if she reeks of stale cigarette smoke, like she's been chain smoking up the wazoo, and looks like she hasn't slept worth a damn, well…she's still beaming. "Are you home home? Or just-visiting home?"

She tries not too sound too hopeful one way or the other.

Trish grins at the arrival of her sister and it widens as she sees Jess comes with a butt load of food. She even claps a little as she recognzies the name on the menu stapled to the outside of one of the bags. She gives Jess a big hug, nose wrinkling slightly at the cigarette smell, but only slightly since the food smell is stronger. Trish takes one of the bags from Jess and scurries into the kitchen, her stomach grumbling quite loudly.

"I'm home home. My career as a hard hitting NPR investigative journalist has died a fiery painful death and I come home in defeat. But. I still have my show and WNEX is super glad to have me back in the studio and I can now devote myself more fully to my anti-Registration movement. Because no way in hell am I going to be living in some sort of concentration camp with a big scarlet 'E' on my chest. Sorry, no soap-boxing tonight. I'll be good."

Dishes come out of the cupboards as she talks, leaving Jess to unpack the food from the bags. Trish just cannot help herself, and snags a chunk of sausage to munch while puting out the beverage options in the fridge.

"I have missed home, Jess. Really missed all of you so I'm not really that sad about being back. I mean, it hurts the pride a little, but I'll get over it."

After dishing up her plate, Trish takes a good look at Jess, finally noting all the little signs of fatigue she hadn't noticed before.

"So…what's been going on around here?" Her eyes sharpen as she studies Jess for any 'I'm fibbing' tells in her response.

"You can soapbox all you want," Jessica says. "I actually have stuff to say about that. But first…"

She bearhugs the crap out of her sister. "I missed you too. I'm sorry things didn't work out with NPR, but I'm so happy you're home. And I don't care what anyone says, the podcast was good."

Then she lets Trish go so they can serve plates and eat.

'What's been going on around here?'

Jess snags a sausage and thinks. "I won't bombard you with it," she says later. "But…well. Most relevant. I actually want your help on something. I figured we could partner up. Private eye and investigative reporter. It's important, Trish, maybe more important than anything we've ever done. Are you sure you want me to launch right into the shop talk?"

She suddenly smirks.

"Also I have a surprise for you later."

Trish chews and swallows a couple bites before she actually replies. She is suspicious and feels like maybe Jessica is leading with a help request to deflect from why she's smoking again. Not that Trish is going to pry, oh no, not her, because she'll just wait for Jess to volunteer that info. Unless she takes to long to cough it up on her own, that is.

"Really? Not to brag or anything but I've actually gotten pretty good at the whole investigative thing. I'm intrigued, as you know I would be, and am most likely down for whatever." Trish sits back in her chair to ease the fullness of her stomach. "But that's not exactly what I meant. We'll do shop talk after you tell me about you. Ooooh, and after my surprise, because I LOVE surprises!"

There, that should be inobstrusive enough.

"Shop talk is me, Trish. I have no hobbies. I only marginally have a life," Jessica says dryly. "And okay. Eat, and then your surprise, and then we'll talk about our hero duo thing that we're going to do to save the world or whatever."

And then, asshole that she is, she takes a big old bite of vareniki, enough to stuff her cheeks, because she knows saying it in just that way is going to drive her sister crazy. Because. What's being a sister if she can't troll her a little now that she's home? Though she hopes Trish won't make herself sick trying to get her to spill. She looks totally innocent as she does it too. Oh, this wasn't a totally deliberate bite of a savory dumpling, it's totally coincidence that she made sure she won't be able to answer Trish's questions right away!

Trish almost takes a pyrogi off her plate to toss at Jessica. Because the trolling is definitely a success. And the most frustrating part is Trish knows Jess is trolling her and cannot help but be triggered by it anyways.

She lets out a "harumph" that positively screams 'You are being a bag right now but I can't stop it and you know it'. But Trish isn't going to point that out, because she's above all that trolling nonsense. She has matured and experienced great personal growth.

"You're a bag and you know it!"

Or maybe not.

But because it's Jess and she loves her, she doesn't leave it there.

"Thanks for supper, it's very good. Even if you do use it to avoid 'real' talk." Her fingers go up in air quotes. "That's okay though. I can wait. We have aaaaaaaaaall night."

Trish gives Jess her own patented smirk, the one that says she's not about to let it go any time soon.

This is kind of more fun when Jessica doesn't have any intention of holding back. "Yeah okay. Well I mean if you want to know now, I can tell you now. You're just confusing me."

She puts on another innocent expression. "Am I supposed to be holding back until after dinner and surprise? Or am I supposed to be talking during dinner? You're giving out more mixed signals than a nervous prom date right about now."

Sure. Everything she's got to talk about is deadly goddamn serious, but that doesn't mean they can't have a little fun with it. "Though don't eat too much. I do not need you puking during surprise time. That would put a damper on things real quick."

Trish's mouth opens and closes a couple times as she struggles to figure out what exactly to say to all of that. Which leaves her looking like a disgruntled fish. She finally manages to close her mouth and fix Jessica with a gimlet stare.

"Don't think you're going to confuse me with one of those 'Just know that I know that you know that I know' loops." Trish's eyebrows waggle up and down at her sister. "Mixed signals my perfectly toned ass! I want you to talk to me about whatever's been going on with you, Jessica Jones, my sister and pain in the butt extraordinaire. Psssssht, mixed signals."

Trish crosses her arms across her chest, for all of but a minute, before digging back into the food with a shake of her head. But only for a couple more bites because Jess's warning has also piqued her curiosity. What kind of surprise could possibly make her loose her dinner?

"So, I'll start small and put all those investigative skills you wanna use to good use. Are you seeing anybody?" Trish takes a big drink from her glass and gives Jess a cheeky grin.

"Still seeing Luke," Jessica says. "He's busy because Wilson Fisk blew up his bar. You should be careful, Trish. He probably knew the moment you decided to come home. He's sort of had it out for all of us lately. He went after Luke's bar, Danny Rand, a friend of ours, has been beating back stabs at his company. The lawsuit can be traced back to him. Daredevil thinks that shit with the Brotherhood is somehow connected to him too, and, well…I've got reason to believe he's right. He seems to be working his way through everyone connected to the IGH takedown, and he's been at it for months."

This, clearly, isn't the thing, because she talks about it freely. Still. It's important. Trish's 'revenge' was to be gotten out of the way with the job of her dreams, and now she has essentially flung that ball back into Fisk's court. It means that life is going to get more dangerous for her no matter what Jess might want or think.

Which may, paradoxically, be why Jessica is just going right ahead and bringing her into things like an equal, instead of the protected sister.

Trish shrugs a little at Jess's concern for her. Someone had to be pulling the strings behind the Union Allied money, and now it sounds like she has his name. Fisk gets filed away, mentally, for later. As well as Danny Rand, because, well, not just anybody gets into Jess's friend circle.

"Daredevil's involved? Does that mean Danny is like us too?" She still gets happy flutters about being able to include herself in the 'special' category. "I can handle whatever Fisk sends at me with you in my corner."

Her hand waves in the air, further dismissing Fisk. She sits forward, propping her chin up on her elbow.

"Riiiiiiight. Luke Cage. So did he pass the test? Obviously if he's still around. And he's still respecting boundries and stuff? He had a bar?!? Which bar? Did we ever go to it? Does he have a family? I cannot believe I didn't ask all of this stuff already. Where has my head been? Epic sister fail." She sighs dramatically and falls back in her chair with her arm drapped over her eyes. "I am so fired."

"Danny? Yes and no? His fist glows? He calls himself the Immortal Iron Fist? He's a nice kid."

Then Jessica is rolling over with questions about Luke Cage.

She arches an eyebrow.

"Luke's Bar, yes, I went to a Christmas party there, no, I did not drink…"

Here she pulls out her 6-months AA token, making Trish the second one she's actually showed this to. She shoves it across the table to her sister, and continues answering questions.

"No family, I met him when I killed his wife under Kilgrave's control, he forgave me, she turned out to be a crazy mad scientist who experimented on him, guess who was behind that, pretty much IGH too, um…and it's fine?"

A pause. A beat.

"He tracked me all the way to Wakanda. Wanted information. Got it. Beat a forest half to death. Our first kiss was interrupted by a cyanide rocket launcher. Good times."

Trish hangs on every word, because as much as she likes to pretend otherwise, one of her most favorite things to do with Jess is just be regular women. Regular girls who just gab about boys and so on. The fact that it's interspersed with hero stuff just makes it that much better.

"He tracked you all the way to Wakanda?" Before she can stop it, a small sigh escapes her lips. "That's soooo romantic. At least until you get to the cyanide rocket part."

In true Trish fashion, she skips right over the whole 'I killed his wife' thing, and zeros in on the important stuff.

"Six months? I am so proud of you Jess. And with a Christmas Party? Even more so. Luke's Bar…sounds familiar but I don't think I've been. Too bad. I could have done a shoutout on the show. Oh well. Wait….Rand's hand glows?? Does it do anything else? Or is it just basically like a flashlight?"

It does not go unnoticed that once again, IGH or CGI, or whatever letters they were calling themselves, has come up in connection with the Hells Kitchen circle of enhanced individuals.

"He punches through solid steel. He keeps acting like he's trying to make it a big secret than doing it without a mask," Jessica says with a shrug of her shoulders. "But maybe don't let on I told you. Usually I'm way better at keeping super-secrets, but in this case I feel like it's more of an open secret. So don't like. Call him up and ask to interview him and lead in with 'so about your glowfist.' And anyway he was doing great cause Tony visited it, and got him on Thrillist. Until the explosion anyway."

Jessica rolls her eyes at the romantic bit. "As for him tracking me down? Are you kidding?"

She smirks. "I was super-pissed. But somehow we work."

She hesitates and says, "Honestly it wasn't in Wakanda he won me over. It was after I fell apart, was convinced I could never be with anyone, didn't want anyone even so much as touching me. He kept just texting me, you know?" She finishes her plate. "Checking on me. Asking me to coffee. Not touching me. Sitting with me. Talking to me. Then one night we felt like shit and just…slept on each other. Not with each other. On each other. And it's been good."

She shoves the token away after a brief, self-conscious smile about it. And kicks back to let Trish finish her own meal.

Trish shakes her head and rolls her eyes at Jessica's utter lack of appreciation for exactly how romantic that gesture really was. Which just goes to show, she still believes in that fairy tale happily ever after.

"Wait. What? You had a breakdown and you didn't tell me? Jesus Jessica! You just said you guys broke up! Why Jess? I'd've been her in an instant and you know that!"

Trish just sort of putters out of steam as she has a bit of an epiphany. Her eyes narrow to slits and her nostrils flare as she puts it all together.

"You knew I'd come back so you didn't tell. That's it isn't it?" But the righteous indignation lasts all of but thirty more seconds, because she knows why Jess did it. "It's because you knew that I'd come back. Well. Now I feel like a self-absorbed shit. I guess I owe Luke for being here to do what I wasn't. I'm glad he didn't give up."

She stands up to clear the empty plates, taking the lazy way out and just dumping them in the sink for later. Her hand pats down on her full, but not over full, belly as she faces Jess.

"I have room for dessert, but I'm guessing that's probably still not a good idea. You're not going to like put me through some intense training session you learned from Peggy Carter, are you? Because I am not okay with that kind of surprise."

"Yeah, we broke up after cyanide missile when I sent him home via air Zatanna, then revealed I stalked him for awhile before he ever met me…it was fucked up. Then I dated Michael, and fucked that up. Then Luke came back. And when I say it all, it sounds super vintange me fucked up. And yeah, Trish. I wasn't going to be the one to ruin that for you. Everything you ever wanted? Fuck no."

But she snorts when Trish asks if she's getting a training session. "Not hardly," she says dryly. She motions Trish to the balcony. "K. Trust me? Arms around my neck."

If she complies, Jessica will wrap an arm around her waist.

She smirks. "Tell me if this gets to be too much. Ready?"

Trish follows Jess out to the balcony, unable to resist finding out what the big surprise is. Even as she's rolling her eyes at Jess, because that is such a typical Jess answer. And telling her that she is the one person on the planet Trish will always drop everything and come running for wouldn't change a thing. Because she also knows that had their roles been reversed, she would have done the same thing for Jess.

"You frustrate me, but I'll keep you anyways. I appreciate the thought, but don't hide stuff from me, kay?" Trish wraps her arms around Jess's neck, taking the opportunity to give her a hug as well. "I'm glad you were able to handle it without me. And yes, I trust you, even if I think this is a little weird, standing here on the balcony, hugging. When we could be doing this inside."

Probably some of the most famous last words she has uttered in a very long while.

Jessica leaps.

She leaps like she has leapt a thousand times before. Only this time? Six stories. Seven. Eight. Ten. She keeps going. And then she sort of evens them out, clutching Trish close as she sends them zooming across the city.

"So I made a discovery while you were gone," she calls, laughing. "Turns out my leaping was sort of a…proto-version. Of this. And I couldn't just call you and tell you. Not when I could show you."

For one moment she feels a stab of insecurity. What if Trish is jealous or upset or scared? She suddenly gives her the 'wait have I fucked up' look, a sidelong gaze that shuts her down for a moment, takes her back to a much earlier place in her life where she wore the expression of constant guilt and anxiety that she wore almost constantly.

But. She guesses she'll find out in a minute.

Trish lets out a startled shriek as the two women are launched into the air. Her arms tighten around Jess's neck in response to the change in elevation and she squinches her eyes closed. While it's a convenient way to get to the top of a building it's not Trish's favorite way to travel. The sudden lurch up always seems to leave her stomach behind, much to it's distress.

And they keep going and it's not followed by the perusual stomach flipping drop. Trish's eyes pop open as she hears Jess's explanation. Jessica Jones, queen of snark, who can leap over a moderately tall building in one bound, can now fly. The only thing missing is lazer beam/x-ray vision, and super speed.

Trish opens her mouth to, she doesn't know what, and out comes the dreaded 'WHOO!'. Trish has just turned into a 'Whoo Girl'. If she wasn't afraid of plumetting to her death, she would face palm just then.

No jealousy, no upset, and just a healthy dose of fear. Nothing that's going to get in between the two sisters. Because Trish can move things with her mind and win people over with her charming personality. Neither of which Jess can do. Petty, maybe, but there it is.

"It's a bird, it's a plane, NO, it's SuperJess!! This is so, so, fucking awesome!" Her arms loosen for a moment, and she feels like she might be slipping a little, so she abandons all dignity, and wraps her legs around as much of Jess as she can.

"Just DON'T drop me!"

It is true. Jessica can't win anybody over with any kind of personality. And when she does, she often tanks it quickly after that. Or learns how to compartmentalize fast so they don't have to deal with every last goddamn part of the whole Jess experience. Which mostly seems to go to Trish.

She grins when she finds out Trish is enjoying it, and doesn't seem to mind Trish trying to climb halfway up her other than to snark, "I'm not goddamn Buckbeak, Trish, careful with the wriggling. I won't drop you. I can hold a car, I can hold someone who weighs what, four pounds soaking wet?"

She flies steady, and then…sort of chooses right now to go…

"By the way, I'll be looking for a good snowbank. I…kind of…haven't…mastered the landing bit."

Now she tells her.

Trish's laughter at Jess referencing Harry Potter, and fuzzy warm feeling of being called four pounds (girls, right?), cuts off immediately. Isn't landing the most important part of the whole thing? Aside from the whole staying aloft so you don't die part, anyways?

She opens her mouth to give Jess a real Trish-style what for and all that comes out is a panicked squeak. She squinches her eyes back closed and hopes desperately that Jess was joking. Or that she was dreaming. Or simply that she didn't hear what she had just heard. She clears her throat to try the whole talking thing again and opens her eyes to glare at Jess.

"WHAT?" she roars. "You had better be joking Jess. You don't just drag someone off into the sky when you can't get them back down safely!"

It's worth noting that all squirming has stopped, although there may or may not be a noticble gradual tightening of limbs. As if it's happening unconsciously.

Because Trish is not aware she is doing it and couldn't stop it if she was. Though she'll give it a real trooper try if Jess asks.

Jessica shoots Trish a half a grin. Ah-heh…

Oh hey, a snowbank.

"It's fine! It's fine. I haven't broken anything yet. Of course my first passenger was my unbreakable boyfriend…"

Another quick look.

"It's all fine. Here. Now."

And then she just…sort of…drops them. Into the snowbank. Right in Central Park. It's a softer landing than they would have had literally anywhere else. "See? It was fine!"

Yes, Trish would be well within her rights to kill her sister right about now. Kill her five kinds of dead. God wouldn't even be mad.

Trish can only stare at Jess openmouthed, completely at a loss for words. Even if she had broken bones, her sister heals faster than Trish does. And Luke is unbreakable? So many emotions run across Trish's face, it would almost look like she might be having a stroke to the average onlooker. Rage, than fear, than incredulity, than back to fear, more anger, and then a rather humerous mix of mad and scared.

It most definitely is NOT fine!

She lets out a yip that might have just been her heart trying to jump out of her throat as they drop into the snow. And then there is more yipping as snow gets down her shirt, up her pant legs, and it's cold!

Trish scrambles to her feet, trying to shake what snow hasn't melted yet out of her clothes. Until Jessica makes the mistake of saying that four letter 'F' word again. Trish whirls towards her sister, green eyes flashing. The snow around Jess will blow out, like someone just walked up and kicked it. Which causes Trish's eyes to widen and look around for witnesses, not that basically dropping out of the sky wouldn't turn heads. She manages to get a grip on her temper in the face of exposure, but it's a very tenous grip.

Trish does not like to be scared.

"Are you insane?" she hisses. "Fine? Fucking fine? I have snow from Central Park melting in my ass! This is so fucking far from fine."

She'll stand there, fists clenched at her side, glaring at her sister with her shoulders heaving from restrained anger. Until what she has just said plays back in her head. Which causes her lips to twitch into a grin, positively ruining the righteous fury vibe she had been the absolute picture of a moment ago.

Jessica Jones…

One Jessica Jones…

Watches her sister's tirade…

And long, long before Trish is finished expanding upon all the places the snow has crept…

Falls back, flat on her back…

And laughs.

She laughs long and hard. She laughs like nobody has ever heard her laugh. She has, in the past year and a half, moved from never smiling to sometimes smirking. From smirking to sometimes chuffing air like a tiger. Occasionally someone has tugged out a smile. A grin. A chuckle. Once, she laughed briefly when some confrontation was won, something she didn't expect to survive. Limbo, that was it, when they went to get John and Zee and found themselves facing a literal army of demons.

But this is different. This is pure, girlish glee that hasn't even come out of her mouth since long before Trish and Jessica even met. An expression of mirth she didn't even think she was capable of.

"God, I've missed you," is all she can say, when she gets herself under control once more.

Trish walks over and gives Jess's foot a half hearted boot, not intended to hurt, but more to just say 'Hey, you are a jerk'. She stares down at Jess, lips and shoulders twitching as she tries to hold back her own laughter, until she looses the battle and ends up just throwing her head back and indulging in a belly laugh of her own. She's still alive after all, melting snow not withstanding.

And it feels good. She's startled by the genuine ring of Jess's laughter. She should be offended that it's basically at her expense, yet she's not, and that's probably because it's the first time she's ever heard it. She feels the bite of moisture in her eyes at the pure joy in the moment and will deny it's anything other than tears of laughter should anyone ask.

"I'm glad that my getting hypothermia and probably some other nameless disgusting disease from wallowing in muck is so funny for you. It'll serve you right if I peed on you a little on the way down. Asshole." Trish is tempted to try and push Jess back down in the snow for a face wash, however she knows she'd probably lose that fight, and really doesn't feel the need to eat more snow. Instead, she holds out her hand to help Jess up. "I've really missed you too. Now, how are we getting back home because I am not doing that again until you learn how to land."

Shoulders shake as Jess takes the hand she does not need and gets to her feet. "We'll call Lyft," she says, linking her arm with Trish's. Once they get to the edge of the park, anyway. It's cold out tonight, with less chance of trouble, and she pulls her leather jacket off and puts it on Trish after a moment, aware she can withstand the cold better than her sister can.

"Alright," she says, a grin still tugging at her features. "Let's talk real business."

And soon enough the laughter is sliding away. "I got a visit from Pietro and Wanda Maximoff last night."

She lets that hang in the air, lets Trish absorb the full weight of it. The leaders of the Brotherhood, the terrorists who went after Stark's Gala, who presumably sent the unnamed bruiser to knock her around just five weeks ago.

Trish pulls the jacket closer around her, feeling the cool a little keener than she would have if she had real clothes on still. Oh well, the sacrifice of being cold is well worth the experience. The import of the visit is not lost on Trish. She pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment, getting into Investigative Mode', as it had been dubbed by her Unusual Justice team.

"Really? And you're not beaten to a pulp, like after the last time you were visited by someone on their side, because…?"

The question hangs in the air, and she can't help a quick look around. Okay, so maybe she's not as unconcerned as she appeared in her apartment. Sue her.

"Because we all have bigger problems than a Hell's Kitchen turf war."

She takes out her phone with shaking fingers and pulls up a photograph. She passes it to Trish, and now she reaches back into the inner pocket of her jacket (personal space? what's that?) to retrieve her cigarettes and lighter before urging Trish to put it all the way on with a little tug. She lights it up and lets the pungent smoke hit the frigid air.

Her fingers keep shaking.

The photo she has pulled up is of some sort of high-tech collar, fitted to a firing device.

"They're being developed by Trask Industries. Collars meant to shut down meta powers and I'm sure coerce them into service. Expatriates from an island nation called Genosha brought them over. They used to do that to metas over there. Enslaved everyone with any genetic variants. And now an American company is making them, aided by private business and our own politicians. Right now, on the Assembly floor, the State of New York is debating Assembly Bill A01086. The Mutant Public Awareness, Safety, and Security Bill. MPASS. Get arrested and convicted for a violent crime, get tested for the X-Gene and registered. It's just the first step in a long, slippery slope."

She takes a long, sharp drag off her cigarette. She tamps it away. "Hundreds. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands of good people enslaved, Trish. We cannot let this happen. I have a plan. And I need your help."

Trish opens her mouth to give Jess shit about the smoke, until she realizes Jess isn't cold, she's…scared? With a very bad feeling in her gut, that has nothing to do with the flight she just took, Trish pulls on the jacket fully, and looks at the phone.

The bad feeling gets worse as Jess explains what she's looking at. In fact, it has her tasting sour in the back of her mouth. This is so much worse than just Registration. She's looking at the means to enslave an entire species? Race? They are still human, just a little different, in the same way that someone with Down Syndrome is still human.

Trish looks up at Jess with hollow eyes, her complexion a pasty grey.

"This is really, really bad," she whispers. "Why isn't this being talked about on the news? Why doesn't anyone know about what's happening in Genosha?"

Trish has a flashback to a Social Studies class where she was almost kicked out for arguing with the teacher about whether or not anyone knew what was happening to the Jewish people. Of course people know, just not enough to be able to do something about it, or raise a public outcry.

Except now she knows.

"What do you need me to do?" And there's the absolute, blind trust she has in Jess. If her sister says she has a plan, Trish is going to do everything and anything she can to help see it through.

"There have been a few stories here and there, but I admit I had to look it up and go straight to archived international stories. I had to find a map, I had no idea where Genosha even was."

Wrapped up in her day to day concerns, unaware that there was an atrocity half a globe away. It had been a moment where she had become aware of how very…American. She was. And not in a particularly complimentary way.

She takes another drag on the cigarette and gets to the plan. Her eyes are hard.

"The Brotherhood's gonna do what it's gonna do. We're not going to fight this like terrorists. We're going to fight it like a pair of badass sisters. A PI, and an investigative journalist."

She suddenly gazes at her sister, and her lips curve into a faint smile.

Trish became what Jess wanted to be. Jess became what Trish wanted to be.

And then they both became just enough like each other. Like the day where one can still see a star and the night where the sun still blazes bright behind the moon, she guesses.

"We're going to dig up dirt on Trask. We're going to dig up dirt on these lawmakers. We're going to dig up dirt on every involved business. We'll destroy them on everything we can. Going public with these collars might not be the right move…it might get more support than outrage…but if they're willing to do that shit? They're dirty as fuck and we can find other ways to take them down. We expose them. We ruin them. And if they bounce back? We do it all over again. We keep them scrambling to keep their money, their prestige, their careers, their lives. When it becomes clear they've got nobody's best interests at heart but their own? Maybe people will stop trusting the garbage that comes out of their mouths. And if nothing else? Maybe, just maybe, it won't matter, cause they won't have the power to operate, and the sane people will."

She looks Trish in the eye. "It'll be nasty. Dangerous. Grueling. We might get targeted, arrested, or worse. But I can't do this without you. You in?"

Trish takes a deep breath and immediately wishes she hadn't. She's had her own lips wrapped around a cigarette a time or two, but there is something decidedly offputting about getting it second hand. Although the turning in her stomach could be attributed to the information she's just been given and the choice she now has to make.

She's no stranger to being a champion of a less than popular opinion. This time though, the steaks are a little higher. If she allows herself to think about one of those collars on her neck, she'll turn into a blubbering mess bound for a rubber room.

"I…we, yeah. Yeah, I'm in. I mean, not all of us are good, but the same could be said before we were different. You can't lock up everyone because of a couple of bad ones. No one would be free if that was the case. What ever it takes, I'm in." She hugs her arms around herself, trying to hold in the last bit of warmth in the jacket. The night seems just a little colder now. Or it could just be her being a little extra dramatic.

"I'm too pretty to go to jail, so the thought of getting arrested is a little offputting, not going to lie." The corner of her mouth lifts at the attempted humor. "I'll take the 'May be worse' over the 'I know it's worse'. I'll die before I let someone put a collar on me, Jess."

The last sentence is whispered, but no less true for it's lack of volume.

Jessica Jones…

One Jessica Jones…

Puts her arm around her sister's shoulders and kisses her temple, drawing her in for warmth. Admiring her courage, as she honestly always has. Grateful she's never alone, no matter what else happens.

One Trish Walker would rather die than let them put a collar on her.

And silently, Jess can only think:

And I'll die before I let them touch you.

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