Chapter 7: Meeting Jessica Day - Part 1
POV: Kole Martinez
Tuesday afternoon brought unseasonable warmth to Brooklyn, the kind of October day that made the city feel suspended between seasons. The Nine-Nine bullpen hummed with its usual controlled chaos—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, the particular rhythm of dedicated people managing an endless stream of human tragedy and triumph.
Kole was reviewing witness statements from the Castellanos case when she walked through the precinct doors, and his entire world tilted sideways.
No. Impossible.
Jessica Day stood at the front desk, clutching a purse against her chest while speaking to the desk sergeant with earnest intensity. Zooey Deschanel's face, but real—three-dimensional, breathing, existing in physical space rather than on a television screen. The same wide eyes, expressive features, and slightly nervous energy that had defined New Girl's protagonist through seven seasons of episodes.
She's real. She's actually real.
Kole's photographic memory flooded with images from his old life—countless episodes watched during late nights and lazy weekends, Jessica's adventures with her roommates, her teaching career, her romantic disasters and personal growth. Fiction bleeding into reality with surgical precision.
If Jessica Day exists, then New Girl exists. The transmigration isn't just Brooklyn Nine-Nine. It's everything.
His hands shook as he tried to maintain professional composure while his mind reeled with implications. If Jessica was real, then Schmidt and Nick and Winston and Cece were real too, living their lives somewhere in Los Angeles while their fictional counterpart stood twenty feet away reporting a crime.
Focus. Act professional. Don't let her see you recognize her.
"Excuse me," Jessica said to the desk sergeant, her voice carrying the musical quality that had made her character so distinctive. "I need to report a mugging? I was told to come here because it happened in your precinct."
The desk sergeant—Williams, according to his nameplate—barely looked up from his paperwork. "Take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly."
Someone should take her statement. Someone who isn't having an existential crisis about the nature of reality.
But even as Kole tried to convince himself to let another detective handle the case, he found himself standing and walking toward the front desk. Professional obligation, he told himself. Nothing more.
"Ms...?" he began, pulling out his notebook.
"Day. Jessica Day. And you are?"
"Detective Martinez. I understand you need to report a mugging?"
Jessica's smile was grateful and slightly relieved, the expression of someone who'd been bracing for bureaucratic indifference and found genuine attention instead.
"Yes. It happened about two hours ago, near the convention center. I was walking back to my hotel from a teaching conference."
Teaching conference. Of course she's here for a teaching conference.
"Why don't we find somewhere quiet to take your statement," Kole suggested, gesturing toward one of the interview rooms.
The room was standard NYPD—fluorescent lighting, metal table, chairs designed for functionality rather than comfort. Jessica settled across from him with nervous energy, clutching her purse like armor while her eyes cataloged details with the observational skills of someone who spent her days managing classrooms full of children.
She's more real than her fictional counterpart. More present, more complicated.
"Can you walk me through what happened?" Kole asked, pen poised over his notepad.
Jessica launched into her account with earnest detail, describing her walk from the Javits Center through neighborhoods she didn't know toward a hotel she'd never visited before. Her narrative included tangential observations about street art and bodega cats that had nothing to do with the crime but everything to do with how her mind processed new environments.
Exactly like her character, but more human. More vulnerable.
"The man approached me at the corner of 34th and 9th," she continued. "He was about my height, maybe a little taller, wearing a dark hoodie and jeans. He asked for directions to the subway, and when I stopped to help, he grabbed my purse."
Kole's lie detection hummed in the background, confirming what his observational skills already suggested—Jessica was being completely honest, describing events with the precision of someone who understood the importance of accurate details.
She's genuine. Completely, overwhelmingly genuine.
But something strange was happening with his powers. Jessica's authenticity was so complete, so unfiltered, that his lie detection couldn't find purchase. Not because she was lying, but because there wasn't a trace of deception in her entire being. The ability felt overwhelmed, like a sensitive instrument exposed to pure signal.
I've never met anyone this honest.
"Did you get a good look at his face?" Kole asked, trying to focus on procedure rather than the unsettling effect of encountering someone whose internal life matched their external presentation.
"Not really. The hoodie shadowed most of his features, and it happened so fast. But his hands—" Jessica paused, accessing memory with concentrated effort. "His hands were rough, like someone who works with tools or machines. Callused, you know?"
Good observation. Useful detail.
"What about his voice? Accent, speech patterns, anything distinctive?"
"Local accent, I think? I'm from LA, so East Coast dialects all sound similar to me. But he seemed comfortable with the geography, like he knew the neighborhood."
Kole continued taking notes, his photographic memory absorbing every detail while his conscious mind wrestled with the impossibility of interviewing a fictional character about a real crime. Jessica answered each question thoughtfully, providing more useful information than most victims managed in similar circumstances.
She's good at this. Teaching kindergarten probably develops observation skills.
"You mentioned you're here for a teaching conference," Kole said, straying slightly from standard interview protocol. "How long are you in New York?"
"Just through Friday. It's my first time here—well, first time in Brooklyn anyway. I've been to Manhattan before, but this feels different. More... I don't know, more real?"
If you only knew how real this is getting.
Jessica's smile was self-deprecating, the expression of someone who knew her enthusiasm for new experiences sometimes came across as naive.
"I know that probably sounds silly to someone who lives here, but there's something about Brooklyn that feels more like actual life instead of tourist experience, you know?"
I know exactly what you mean.
"It's not silly," Kole said, meaning it. "Brooklyn has its own personality. Takes some getting used to, but most people who spend time here end up loving it."
"Are you from here originally?"
Careful. Don't give her information that doesn't match Martinez's background.
"No, I transferred here recently. Still figuring out the neighborhood dynamics myself."
Jessica nodded with understanding. "It's nice to meet someone else who's new to the area. Makes me feel less like a tourist with a target painted on my back."
About that target...
Before Kole could respond, Jake appeared in the interview room doorway with the expression of someone who'd detected opportunity from across the bullpen.
"Martinez, how's it going in here? Everything okay?"
Here we go.
"Just finishing up Ms. Day's statement," Kole replied, recognizing Jake's tone as the verbal equivalent of a peacock displaying plumage.
"Jake Peralta," Jake said, extending his hand toward Jessica with practiced charm. "Detective Peralta. I couldn't help but notice you were here reporting a crime, and I wanted to make sure you were getting proper attention."
Jessica shook his hand politely, but Kole noticed her attention remained focused on the conversation they'd been having rather than Jake's attempted intervention.
She's not impressed by the charm offensive.
"Detective Martinez has been very thorough," Jessica said diplomatically. "I feel like he's actually listening to what I'm saying instead of just going through the motions."
Score one for quiet professionalism over flashy charisma.
Jake's competitive instincts activated immediately, his body language shifting to more aggressive friendliness.
"Well, that's great to hear. Martinez is new to the Nine-Nine, but he seems to be fitting right in. Though I have to say, usually I handle the more... complex cases around here."
Subtle, Jake. Really subtle.
"A mugging seems pretty straightforward," Jessica observed mildly.
"Oh, absolutely. Routine case. Though you never know when routine cases might develop complications that require... experienced handling."
Kole watched this exchange with fascination and growing irritation. Jake was treating Jessica like a prize to be won rather than a victim requiring assistance, while Jessica was navigating the situation with polite discomfort.
She deserves better than being treated like a conquest.
"I think we have everything we need for now," Kole interjected. "Ms. Day, I'll follow up on the investigation and contact you if we need additional information."
He handed her his business card, their fingers brushing briefly during the exchange. The contact was electric—not romantically, but with the strange recognition of two people who existed in spaces they weren't supposed to occupy.
She feels it too. The wrongness. The displacement.
"Thank you, Detective Martinez," Jessica said, her voice carrying warmth that felt genuine rather than performative. "It's nice to know there are people who care about doing their jobs right."
Jake's expression suggested he found this comment less than flattering to his own professional approach.
"Well," he said with forced casualness, "if you need anything else while you're in Brooklyn, don't hesitate to call the precinct. We're always happy to help visitors feel safe in our city."
Our city. Like he personally owns Brooklyn.
Jessica nodded politely and gathered her things, preparing to leave. But at the interview room door, she paused and turned back to Kole.
"Detective Martinez, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do you actually think you'll catch the guy who did this?"
The question was asked without cynicism, but with the genuine curiosity of someone who'd never had reason to interact with law enforcement before and wasn't sure what realistic expectations looked like.
Honesty. She deserves honesty.
"Yes," Kole said simply. "I think we'll catch him."
"How can you be so certain?"
Because I have perfect memory and combat skills that shouldn't exist and an ability to detect lies that makes me unusually effective at this job.
"Because we're good at what we do," he said instead. "And because you gave us good information to work with."
Jessica's smile was brilliant, carrying the kind of optimism that suggested she still believed the world was fundamentally fair and people were basically good.
Don't lose that. Whatever else happens, don't lose that faith in humanity.
"I hope you're right."
"I am."
She left the interview room with Jake trailing behind her, still attempting conversation that grew less successful with each exchange. Kole remained seated at the metal table, staring at his notes while processing the magnitude of what had just happened.
Jessica Day is real. New Girl is real. How many other shows are real? How many fictional universes are actually just... universe?
The implications were staggering. If multiple fictional worlds existed simultaneously, then his transmigration wasn't an isolated incident—it was part of something larger, more complex, possibly involving other people who'd been displaced from their original realities.
Or maybe I'm just losing my mind and projecting familiar faces onto random strangers.
But his photographic memory was too precise for that explanation. Jessica Day was exactly who she appeared to be, down to speech patterns and mannerisms that matched years of character development. This wasn't coincidence or wishful thinking—it was impossible reality asserting itself with stubborn insistence.
Focus on what you can control. The case. The investigation. Finding the guy who mugged someone who deserves better.
Kole closed his notebook and headed back to his desk, already planning the methodical investigation that would identify Jessica's attacker within twenty-four hours. Not because he was infatuated with a fictional character, but because she was a real person who'd been victimized and deserved justice.
She's not fictional anymore. She's real, and she's in my city, and someone hurt her.
Time to do my job.
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