The past. The things Jessica Jones could not fix. The things she regretted and the things that drove her to drink till she passed out nearly every single night of her life. The beyond believable sad moments that kept her partially inebriated during the day to simply...function. Those things. There were far too many of them and the longer Jessica lived, the more she tended to accumulate. Most of them dealt with others, obviously, the people she could not save like Hope or her parents or any of those killed by Killgrave and by her mother. The ones born of her guilt like her father and her brother.
Their faces, she'd never forget their faces, and even after passing out into slumber that said slumber was never peaceful. Though her terrors were far less than her mother's in intensity, they still were terrors; even eons into the future, they remained as strong, as powerful as back home. Distance, time, they could fix some things, but neither could fix Jessica Jones or any of those people she failed. It was far too late in the game for them and for her. She was tainted, broken in a way that was incapable of fixing, but she had something. One thing. She had control. Control over herself and over her abilities, more so than her mother and more than Kilgrave, and that was what made her strong or at least, capable.
"I think the good health part of me sailed a while ago," Jessica replied, looking into her glass a moment before taking another sip, potentially bigger than her previous one. Natasha slipped a hand into her pocket and Jessica was glad she took a longer sip because she started talking and it obviously began with New York and Jessica knew all about that. It was background; the kind of background that Jessica would have been unaware of to an extent if not for Natasha sharing, but it was enough to fill in the details of the story. It sounded bad; the kind of bad Jessica wasn't sure she'd want anything to do with. Then again, she wasn't a hero, was she?
Natasha looked at her directly in the face in the next instance and told her exactly how she knew Rocket. He was a part of some team named the Guardians of the Galaxy. Campy. Seriously. "That sounds like one hell of a shit show," Jessica replied after a moment. "So, Rocket's part of a team with a campy name. Interesting. At least it sounds like he's playing for your side. Which would mean he's okay?"