Chapter Text
The therapy room always looked like it had been designed by someone who had heard of “comfort” secondhand and then aggressively misinterpreted the concept as a whole.
Dark oak walls. A fireplace that was either too warm and far too close to the wooden walls for comfort; and two magenta couches placed across from each other, one small and very similar to the seat Katie has back at the Pantheon.
Ash stood in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary.
It wasn’t because he was unsure about walking in, but more so because he was starting to second guess the idea of entertaining these therapy sessions.
And sure. He was the one who suggested this in the first place, which was unfortunate for him, because now he had no one to blame but himself.
Inside, Katie was already seated.
Her back was straight, her legs crossed, and a notebook balanced on her knee like she had any idea what to do with it.
She looked… focused. Surprisingly so. Like someone who had just decided they were going to be good at something through sheer force of determination and perseverance.
It was honestly unnerving to look at…
Ash didn’t move or make himself known.
Katie looked up anyway, immediately brightening when she saw him standing there.
“Oh! You’re here.”
He resisted the urge to point out that he had, in fact, been standing in the doorway long enough for that to be painfully obvious. Somehow, her complete obliviousness to it made him feel guilty enough not to shatter the illusion.
The fact that he felt guilty at all irritated him.
“I was not aware attendance was optional,” he said instead.
Katie ignored his statement entirely.
“Come in, sit down,” she said, patting the larger couch like she was inviting a particularly stubborn cat into her home.
Ash stepped inside slowly, his gaze sweeping the room once before catching on the fireplace. It lingered there, just for a moment, as he silently calculated how quickly everything would go up in flames if something were to go wrong.
Only then did he sit down.
Not like Katie did.
No..
Her loose-limbed and careless, like the world had never once given her a reason to stay alert. Ash lowered himself with deliberate precision instead, spine straight, shoulders squared.
Relaxation was a concept that seemed to exist exclusively for other people and not him.
Even now, seated in a quiet room with no immediate threat in sight, he held himself like someone waiting for disaster to arrive.
His arms crossed loosely over his chest in a posture carefully crafted to appear effortless, though every part of it was intentional and calculated.
Ash looked at her sharply, the kind of look that should have been enough to make most people shrink back without a word.
Unfortunately for him, Katie either didn’t notice the warning or simply chose to ignore it.
She only smiled at him instead, entirely unbothered, as though she hadn’t just dismissed a very deliberate attempt at intimidation.
The ashy-haired redhead leaned back further into her seat, easy and relaxed in a way that felt almost insulting.
“I’m glad you could make it today,” she said, smiling at him like this was a completely normal interaction to have.
Something in his chest twisted a little at that.
Ash ignored it immediately.
It was stupid..
Embarrassing stupid, honestly dumb, how easy it was for a few simple words from her to get under his skin. She sounded genuinely happy he’d shown up, and some small, traitorous part of him liked hearing that more than it should have.
He shoved the thought aside before it could settle.
Ash held her gaze for another second, expression flat, before, slowly, he looked away deciding to say nothing in return.
Katie, apparently satisfied with his response, flipped open her notebook with far more confidence than the situation deserved.
Ash’s eyes followed the movement automatically.
Not because he cared what she was writing—
he didn’t.
—but because she handled the notebook with a strange amount of focus than she did with most things.
It felt strangely out of character for her.
Katie was usually all noise and scattered thoughts, bouncing from one thing to the next before anyone else could keep up. Focus, at least this kind of quiet concentration, didn’t seem to fit her very well.
And yet there she sat, brow slightly furrowed as she scribbled something down with complete seriousness.
“Alrighty,” Katie said, tapping the page once with her pen. “We’re gonna do this properly.”
Ash glanced up at her, already skeptical.“Define properly?”
“Like actual therapy,” she said immediately. “Not us accidentally gossiping like a bunch of prepubescent little girls at a slumber party.”
That answered absolutely nothing.
Ash leaned back slightly, eyeing both her and the notebook in her lap. “If this is your version of acting professional, I think your vocabulary are is severely lacking.”
She pointed the pen at him without missing a beat. “Hey, I’m being serious.”
His eyes flicked to the pen.
Then to her.
Then back to the pen again, like he was genuinely trying to figure out which part of this situation was supposed to be ‘professional.’
“That’s the part I’m concerned about,” he muttered.
Katie ignored him completely.
She had a real talent for hearing insults and deciding they weren’t important enough to acknowledge.
Instead, she looked back down at her notebook, squinting at whatever words she wrote down with an expression that seemed far too intense.
“Okay,” she said after a second, slower this time. “We’re gonna start simple.”
Ash lifted a brow. “You’re actually taking this seriously?”
He didn’t mean it as encouragement, more so out of genuine disbelief that she took… well, anything seriously.
Katie, unfortunately for him, takes everything as a compliment.
“I am taking it seriously,” she said immediately, far too quick to sound convincing. Then, as if her own statement needed supporting evidence, she tapped the notebook again. “See? I’m writing actual notes. Like real notes.”
The room fell quiet for a moment in the particular way it only could when someone was trying a little too hard to prove a point.
Ash started at the notes on the book. It was barely legible.
“Do you usually not take your job seriously?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.
Katie froze for a split second.
“That’s not—!” She stopped herself, sitting up straighter. “I do take my job seriously.”
The defense came fast, almost offended at first, but it lost steam halfway through.
“I just take it more… emotionally seriously too,” she added, waving her pen vaguely in the air as though that clarified anything. “Which is probably better when your whole job is dealing with people and their problems and… emotional people and their problems..?”
Ash looked at her for a moment.
“Right,” he said slowly, in the careful tone of someone trying very hard to pretend that explanation had made sense.
Which it did not.
Katie nodded anyway, far too enthusiastically for someone who had absolutely not clarified anything, then flipped to another page in her notebook.
She cleared her throat. “So. Update check-in first. How’re you feeling?”
Ash leaned farther back into the brightly-colored magenta couch. The fireplace cracked too close for something made of wood, it was almost anxiety inducing.
The heat coming off it was becoming unbearable in his opinion, wrapping around the room in heavy waves that made him feel restless beneath his skin.
Across from him, Katie waited patiently.
That, more than anything else tonight, felt out of character for her; she usually wasn’t the type to let things stay silent for too long and she was far from patient when she wants to know something.
Silence never lasted long around her.
Ash hated the silence.
Silence left too much room to think, and thinking had an unfortunate habit of dragging old memories up with it whether he wanted them or not.
So, before the quiet could settle any deeper, he finally willed himself to speak.
“I’m alive,” he muttered.
Then, after a second, “Still breathing too, so I’d say that’s a good sign.”
“Okay,” Katie said carefully. “And how are you feeling?”
Ash blinked at her.
He blinked once.
“Pretty sure I already answered that.”
Katie inhaled slowly through her nose, the kind of breath people took when trying very hard not to lose patience. She scribbled something in her notebook instead.
Ash watched the movement of her pen.
“Emotionally,” she clarified, leaning forward a little. “How are you feeling emotionally?”
That was a harder question.
Not because he didn’t have an answer, but because none of the answers sitting in his chest were things he particularly wanted to say out loud.
Lying would’ve been easier.
Usually, that was what he did.
But for some reason, he heard himself say, “I’m doing fine.”
Katie narrowed her eyes immediately.
“That sounded suspiciously rehearsed.”
His mouth twitched faintly despite himself. “It was honest enough.”
“I doubt that truly how you’re feeling though..” she pointed out. “Sure, everyone says they’re fine but nobody’s actual feeling is ‘just fine,’ right?”
Ash leaned back a little, letting the silence drag out instead of replying right away.
Not because he was thinking deeply about it. He hated doing that.
Thinking too hard about himself always felt unnecessary at best and dangerous at worst. People spent too much time trying to dissect every feeling, every reaction, like there had to be meaning hidden inside all of it.
Ash had never seen the point.
Some things simply were what they were.
A knife was made to cut. A gun was made to fire. A weapon did the job it was made to do.
That was enough.
Nobody stopped to wonder how a weapon felt about being used. It existed for a purpose, and people only cared whether or not it fulfilled it.
He’d spent years forcing himself into something controlled and sharp enough that nobody could turn him into dead weight. Asking him how he felt about any of it felt almost pointless.
Something in his chest shifted again.
He ignored it.
“I answered the question already,” he said at last. “I am fine. That is an answer, is it not?”
Katie’s pen paused halfway across the page.
It was the first real sign she’d been thrown off. She seemed like the kind of person who always expected conversations to follow a path only she could see ahead of time.
“But it’s not really an answer though,” she said carefully.
“For me, it is.” His tone stayed even, though quieter now. “You asked how I was doing. I answered.”
Silence settled between them again.
The fire cracked softly besides his chair.
Katie leaned back against the couch, chewing absentmindedly on the end of her pen as she studied him with an expression that made him feel like she was trying to solve something.
“Okay,” she said after a second, slower this time. “We can circle back to that.”
Then she clapped her hands together once.
“How about we try an exercise?”
The word exercise immediately dropped Ash’s opinion of the situation by several degrees.
“What kind of exercise?”
Katie leaned forward a little, eyes bright with the kind of confidence usually possessed by people with absolutely no real plan.
“It’s sort of a trust-building thing,” she explained. “And maybe also something that will help you stop overthinking for five minutes.”
“That feels like two completely different goals.”
“Probably,” she admitted easily. “But I think it’ll work on you, so just humor me for a bit, okay?”
Humor her.
The request should’ve annoyed him.
But… it didn’t.
Instead, Ash found himself staring at her for a second too long, faintly thrown by how casually she’d asked it.
Most people didn’t ask things like that from him. Usually people tended to avoided assuming he’d cooperate with anything that sounded remotely ridiculous.
Katie just… expected him to.
Like it was obvious he would.
Something uncomfortable shifted in his chest at the thought. Not irritation exactly, but something that felt more like confusion tangled together with reluctant curiosity.
Maybe that was the problem she was trying to decipher?
Ash looked away before any of that could make it onto his face. He let out a quiet breath through his nose, tired and resigned all at once.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Whatever.”
Katie clapped her hands together once, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Like she’d just received official permission to become a problem on purpose.
“Great,” she said brightly. “This is a new exercise I came up with, so don’t freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out.”
She gave him a look. “You were staring at me like you were trying to kill me with your mind just a second ago, so I wouldn’t push it past you.”
Ash snorted softly. “That seems dramatic.”
“But not inaccurate.”
He didn’t answer that, which Katie clearly took as a victory.
Straightening up, she tapped her pen against the notebook balanced on her knee. The movement had an oddly rehearsed quality to it, which immediately made him suspicious.
“So,” she began carefully, “this is called ‘Emotional Proximity Training.’ Or EPT for short!”
Ash blinked once.
“That sounds fake.”
“It is not fake.”
“You most definitely made that up thirty seconds ago.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Katie shot back immediately. Then, quieter, with significantly less confidence, “I mean— I’m a professional, so you’re in good hands. Probably. Don’t worry about it.”
Ash leaned farther back into the magenta couch, thoroughly unimpressed.
“I still don’t understand the ‘proximity’ part of the title,” he said. “I’m already near you.”
Katie nodded too quickly. “Okay, yes, technically. But this is different. This is, like… intentional proximity.”
Ash frowned. “I don’t see the difference.”
“There is one,” she insisted. She pointed the pen vaguely between them, drawing invisible lines through the air. “You’re over there. I’m over here. We’re trying to…” She paused. “I guess… Fix whatever this is.”
His gaze flicked to the small amount of space separating them.
There really wasn’t much of it.
“I’m still failing to see the goal here. You’re shit at explaining this exercise.”
Katie hesitated for half a second before shrugging, stubbornness winning over uncertainty like it always did.
“The goal,” she said slowly, “is getting you used to not being tense all the time around people you’re trying to protect.”
Ash went still.
That hit harder than she probably meant it to.
Nothing showed on his face, but something underneath tightened painfully, pulled thin like a wire under too much strain.
“I’m not tense,” he said flatly.
Katie stared at him.
“You spent an hour outside S.I.A headquarters last week while I was working.”
“I was making sure your boss wasn’t using of you.”
“You were lurking.”
“I was not lurking.”
“You totally were.”
Ash exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. “I was just keeping an eye on you.”
“That is the same thing.”
There it was again, that constant friction under his skin.
The part of him sharpened into something cold and defensive at the slightest pressure, and the quieter part underneath it that sounded dangerously close to concern.
To attachment.
He hated that second part more.
Katie leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees now.
“Okay,” she said, gentler this time, like she could sense she was getting too close to something sensitive. “Exercise time. We’re gonna start with something easy.”
Ash narrowed his eye at her immediately.
“I hate when people call things exercises. It always means I’m about to suffer through something annoying.”
“That’s because you’re dramatic.”
“That’s bold coming from you.”
Katie smirked. “I’m not going to deny that. But I know dramatic when I see it.”
Silence settled between them for a second.
Then Ash said, flatly, “Whatever. Continue.”
Katie brightened instantly, completely unaffected by the verbal equivalent of being shoved away.
“Okay,” she said. “Stand up for me.”
Ash stared at her for a beat longer than necessary.
Standing felt pointless. He was already here. Already participating. But Katie was watching him with this strange kind of expectation, like the act itself mattered more than the result.
That made it harder to brush off than it should’ve been.
“…Fine.”
He pushed himself to his feet in one smooth movement, controlled out of habit more than intention. Ash always carried himself carefully, like if he loosened his grip on himself for even a second, something ugly underneath might start showing through.
Katie looked entirely too pleased with herself afterward, despite having done almost nothing to earn it.
“Okay,” she said again. “Good. Now close your eyes.”
Ash frowned slightly. “I don’t see how that contributes to—”
“Just do it.”
He paused.
Then he let out a quiet breath through his nose and shut his eye anyway.
The room didn’t fade when he did. If anything, it became harder to ignore.
The fire crackled softly in the fireplace. He could hear paper shifting as Katie adjusted her notebook in her lap. Her breathing came unevenly, restless and familiar, like she was forcing herself to sit still instead of actually relaxing.
“Think of somewhere calm,” she said, quieter this time.
Ash had always hated instructions like that.
Anything that involved letting his guard down, even a little, felt unnatural to him. The second he stopped paying attention to the world around him, his brain immediately started searching for everything that could go wrong instead.
Still, he listened.
Not because Katie told him to.
He just… didn’t like ignoring her. There was something oddly irritating about it, like walking past a crooked picture frame without fixing it.
For a while, all he could focus on was noise.
The fire. The creak of the room. Katie shifting beside him. Thoughts tripping over each other too fast to settle into anything useful.
And then, slowly, his mind did what it always did whenever things got quiet enough.
It filled the silence on its own.
The Regime came to mind first.
Not the title. Not the power attached to it, or the control, or any of the things Ash usually forced himself to care about when he thought of it.
The people came first instead.
Tubbo was chaos held together by confidence alone, constantly building things that should have exploded in his face and somehow never did. Loud, reckless, impossible to predict… and yet weirdly dependable underneath all of it.
Then there was Haiper.
Or at least the version of him Ash still tried to hold onto.
Before something in him shifted into something harder to reach.
Ash shut the thought down before it could go further. He wasn’t giving up on him.
Not yet.
And then there was Katie.
Katie was impossible to think about quietly.
She was the kind of person that was always too loud and bright for her own good. She’s constantly moving, and talking, and always throwing herself into situations with absolutely no regard for whether she belonged there or not.
In theory, she was useful. Charismatic, easy to like, and very gullible. She could talk her way into almost anything, and half the time they didn’t even realize she was doing it.
She exhausted him.
And somehow, against all logic, he’d gotten used to her.
Used to hearing her voice somewhere nearby. Used to the way she smiled at him like he was someone easier to approach than he actually was.
That should’ve been all she was.
But somewhere along the line, watching her had become a bad habit he couldn’t quite let go of.
every time she disappeared from his line of sight for too long, something ugly crawled beneath his ribs before he could control it. His mind immediately jumped to the worst possibilities like it was preparing for them in advance.
Gone.
Hurt.
Dead.
Ash clenched his jaw hard enough to ache.
They were supposed to be underlings. People useful to him and nothing more.
So why did the thought of losing them feel personal?
Why did Katie, specifically, linger in his head as someone he wanted to keep safe?
The thought alone was enough to make his stomach twist.
Pathetic.
He knew better than this.
The second people became important, they became weaknesses and targets. Something that could easily be ripped away from him if he wasn’t careful.
Ash knew that better than anyone.
And still—
when he pictured the Regime falling apart, the thing that terrified him most wasn’t losing control.
It was losing them.
His jaw tightened immediately after the thought surfaced, like he could physically force it back down.
No.
That wasn’t what this was.
They were pawns. People he worked well with. That was all. Keeping distance was what made things… safer for all of them.
Anything beyond that complicated things.
A weakness he can’t risk himself to have.
Something restless had started building beneath his ribs, and the more he tried to pin it down, the worse it became. He could feel the pattern now that he was looking directly at it, the way his attention lingered too long around them. The way his focus sharpened whenever one of them was involved.
Ash’s expression tightened, even with his eye closed.
Something warm stirred uncomfortably in his chest, pushing past the walls he usually kept locked down so carefully. It wasn’t sharp enough to fight. Wasn’t cold enough to control.
It felt painfully human.
His stomach twisted.
Ash swallowed hard and forced the feeling back down before it could settle into something real.
This was exactly the problem.
This was how people lost control of themselves.
You show one moment of weakness—
Allow even just one person too close.
—then eventually there was nothing left holding the structure together.
If he stopped seeing them as expendable then—
No.
His jaw clenched.
The thought alone made his pulse kick unevenly in his throat.
A restless anxiety crawled beneath his skin the longer the thoughts lingered. His hands curled tighter against his arms without him noticing.
He could already feel the cracks forming in places he’d spent years reinforcing.
Then another thought surfaced, quieter than the others but somehow worse for it.
But, they aren’t expendable, are they…
Ash’s breathing caught slightly.
He shoved the thought down so hard it almost made him nauseous.
They had to be.
That was the only way this worked.
Because if they weren’t—
If losing them would actually—
Something shifted beside him.
Ash’s eyes opened a second too late.
Katie had moved closer without him noticing. Not just closer— close enough that she’d crossed fully into his space, and he hadn’t tracked the exact moment she did it.
Under normal circumstances, that alone would’ve bothered him.
Before he could lean away or put the distance back where it belonged, her arms wrapped around him.
Ash froze.
Every muscle in his body locked on instinct, shoulders going tight as awareness hit him like cold water. His brain scrambled to catch up with what was happening while every defensive reflex he had immediately started screaming at him to move.
“What are you—”
The words came out sharp out of habit more than anything else.
But they died just as quickly.
Katie didn’t pull away.
Didn’t react like she’d done something wrong.
She just stayed there like this was completely normal, like she hadn’t bulldozed straight through every boundary he’d spent years building.
“You looked like you were spiraling,” she said quietly. “As your therapist, it’s my professional responsibility to fix that.”
Ash stared at the wall over her shoulder, visibly tense.
This was ridiculous.
His hands hovered awkwardly for a second, caught somewhere between pushing her away and not knowing where else to put them. He could feel how tense he was compared to her, Katie holding onto him easily while he stood there.
“This is unnecessary,” he muttered finally, though the words lacked their usual bite. “You don’t have to do this.”
The second he said it, he regretted the phrasing.
Katie only shifted slightly against him, getting more comfortable instead of backing off.
“You’re thinking too loud again,” she said.
That shouldn’t have made sense.
Somehow, it did.
Ash let out a slow breath through his nose and closed his eyes for a brief second, like maybe that would help him regain control of whatever this had turned into.
“I was not—”
“You were,” she interrupted, calm and completely certain. “You do that thing where you get really quiet, but your face looks like you’re fighting somebody.”
“That is an exaggeration.”
“It really isn’t.”
There was no edge to her voice. No teasing, even. Just that same stubborn certainty she always had whenever she decided she understood him better than he did.
“And I don’t like seeing you upset with yourself,” she continued softly. “So I’m fixing it.”
‘Fixing it.’
Like there was something wrong with him to begin with.
The thought should’ve irritated him. Normally, it would have.
Instead, all he could really focus on was the steady weight of her against his side and the way she kept holding onto him like letting go had never crossed her mind.
It was… nice.
Which was a problem.
Ash refused to look too closely at that feeling. The second he acknowledged it, it would become real, and he absolutely did not want to unpack why being held by his older sister made something tight in his chest relax so easily.
His attention drifted before he could stop it.
Not toward the room this time. Not toward exits or weak points or everything that could go wrong.
Toward her.
Katie smelled faintly like flowers.
The realization caught him so off guard it almost annoyed him.
Not strong perfume or anything artificial. Just something soft and clean, mixed with the sharper scent of pine and cold air that always seemed to cling to her clothes.
It was distracting in a way he didn’t know how to deal with.
“…You can let go now,” he said finally, trying to recover at least some amount of dignity.
Katie hummed thoughtfully, like she was actually weighing the option.
“No,” she decided. “Not yet.”
Ash’s jaw tightened, even as that irritating warmth continued settling deeper into his chest.
“I hope you know that you are actively ignoring a direct order from your supreme leader.”
“I’m simply prioritizing your emotional wellbeing,” she replied without missing a beat. “Also, if I remember correctly, you said you weren’t the supreme leader during therapy. Your words, not mine.”
Damn it.
He had said that.
Ash opened his mouth, fully prepared to argue again, but stopped when she moved.
Slowly.
Carefully enough that it didn’t trigger the usual instinct to pull away, but confident enough that it was obvious she wasn’t asking permission.
Her hand lifted and rested lightly against the side of his head.
Ash went still.
Though he wasn’t confused this time; if anything he was panicked.
“…Katie,” he warned, his voice lower now. “What—”
Her fingers slid gently through his hair.
The rest of the sentence disappeared.
It wasn’t rough nor was it invasive.
Instead it was just warm fingers combing carefully through his messy hair like this was the most natural thing in the world.
Ash went still.
For a second, his brain seemed to lose track of itself completely.
His shoulders, tight with tension only moments ago, loosened before he could stop them. His breath caught faintly in his throat, uneven enough to annoy him immediately afterward.
This was ridiculous.
It was just Katie.
Just her hand in his hair…
Warm fingers brushing slowly against his scalp, patient and absentminded in that way she did everything when she was deep in thought.
And somehow that made it worse…
Because she wasn’t doing it to tease him. Wasn’t trying to get something out of him. She was just being gentle with him in that effortless way she always was, like caring about people came naturally to her.
Ash didn’t know what to do with that.
A part of him—
small, quiet, deeply humiliating
—wanted to lean into it immediately. Wanted to stay exactly where he was and let himself enjoy it for a minute longer.
He shut that thought down on instinct.
Absolutely not.
His fingers twitched at his side, like he meant to push her hand away or at least step back enough to think clearly again.
He should step back.
He should move.
He didn’t.
Ash hated this feeling.
Hated how quickly his body reacted to it, softening before his mind could catch up.
Hated the small flicker of relief that crept in anyway, quiet and unwanted and embarrassingly genuine.
Katie kept combing her fingers through his hair without hesitation, completely unaware of the internal crisis she’d caused. Or maybe she was aware and simply didn’t care.
“There, there,” she murmured softly. “See? Not so bad.”
Something warm twisted unpleasantly in his chest at the sound of her voice.
Not unpleasant because it felt bad.
Unpleasant because it felt nice to hear.
Ash stared stubbornly at the darkness behind his closed eyes, like refusing to acknowledge the feeling would somehow make it disappear.
It didn’t help.
If anything, it only made him more aware of the warmth of her hand, the steady rhythm of her fingers moving through his hair.
Without meaning to, he leaned into the touch slightly.
The second he realized he’d done it, embarrassment crawled hot up the back of his neck.
Katie, thankfully, didn’t comment on it.
Or maybe she noticed and decided to spare him the humiliation.
Either way, Ash was grateful for it in a way he would never admit out loud.
Her hand kept moving through his hair in slow, absentminded strokes.
Ash exhaled, quieter this time.
“…You better not tell anyone about this,” he muttered, though the warning lacked most of its usual bite. “I’m serious, Katie.”
Katie smiled faintly against his shoulder, not moving away. “What happens in therapy stays in therapy.”
Ash almost rolled his eyes at that.
Almost.
The silence that settled afterward felt different from before.
It wasn’t as sharp are before.
The tight grip he normally kept on himself loosened little by little, enough for the feeling underneath to finally surface.
And, annoyingly, it was pleasant.
There was a strange, distant thought somewhere in the back of his mind.
This was probably what cats felt like…
Ash nearly frowned at himself.
The comparison was stupid. Embarrassing, even.
But there was this strange loose feeling in his chest and limbs, like someone had reached into the tightly wound parts of him and told them to calm down for once.
He didn’t like that.
He liked it even less when another quieter part of him admitted that maybe he didn’t entirely hate the contact either.
It would be easy to stay like this for a little longer, that part whispered. Just long enough to—
No.
Ash shut the thought down hard.
His jaw tightened slightly.
There was also the deeply concerning possibility that Katie had done this intentionally.
That somehow, through pure instinct and reckless trial-and-error, she’d stumbled directly into the exact thing capable of disarming him and was now using it without even realizing it.
The thought lingered for half a second.
Then Katie yawned into his shoulder and nearly dropped her notebook on the floor.
Ash stared at it in silence.
…No.
Katie was many things.
But she was no evil mastermind.
The idea of her orchestrating something that precise was… unlikely.
…Probably.
Ash exhaled quietly, grounding himself back into something resembling control.
Katie’s hand slowed.
Then stopped.
And just like that—
She pulled away.
The absence was immediate, annoyingly so.
Ash straightened a fraction too quickly, the shift almost mechanical as he reassembled himself piece by piece back into his real, intimidating persona.
Though, internally something petulant and deeply undignified tightened.
He looked at her, expression flat.
“…Was that part of the exercise?”
Katie blinked at him.
“Uh— not entirely.”
She rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly looking a little less certain.
“Sorry. I kind of just… did that. You looked overwhelmed and I thought it would help.”
Ash held her gaze for a moment.
Then, after a beat—
“It was unnecessary.”
There was less bite in it than there should have been.
Katie didn’t seem to notice. Or chose not to.
“Okay, well,” she said, clapping her hands together once like she was resetting the entire situation by force, “Let’s move on from exercises! Back to actual therapy.”
Ash said nothing.
Katie flipped to a new page in her notebook, determination snapping back into place like nothing had happened.
“Alright. Let’s track back to the questions, but this time I'm gonna need you to actually answer.”
“That sounded like a threat.”
“It wasn't," she said, already writing something down. “But it might just become a threat if you don’t take my questions seriously.”
Ash watched her for a moment.
Then, unexpectedly—
He laughed.
Not loud. Not uncontrolled. Just a short, sharp exhale of amusement that slipped out before he bothered to stop it.
It was enough.
Katie froze mid-writing.
“…Okay. What the fuck was that for?”
Ash leaned back slightly, something almost entertained flickering through his expression.
“You just attempted to threaten me,” he said, dryly. “You.”
Katie’s pen stopped tapping.
“I don’t see why that’s so funny though,” she said, immediately defensive.
“You and threatening in the same sentence is hilarious,” he replied.
There was a beat.
Then, quieter, but with a pointed edge he continued.
“I’m fairly certain you are incapable of being threatening to anyone.”
That did it.
Katie stared at him like he had just personally offended her entire existence.
“That’s not true,” she said immediately.
Ash tilted his head slightly. “It is.”
“I can be threatening,” she insisted, sitting up straighter like posture alone could prove her point.
“To what?” he asked, almost curious. “Small animals?”
Her mouth dropped open.
“I am serious!” she snapped. “I can be intimidating if I want to be.”
Ash’s expression didn’t change. If anything, it got worse.
“I have yet to see evidence of that.”
Katie made a noise, sharp and frustrated, and scribbled something aggressively into her notebook. The pen dug into the paper like she was trying to stab through it.
“Okay,” she said, voice tighter now. “You know what, fine. Whatever. That’s not even the point.”
“It seemed to be your point,” Ash replied calmly.
“It’s not anymore,” she shot back. “We’re moving on.”
Ash leaned back slightly, watching her with that same distant, analytical look that always made it feel like he was three steps ahead of a conversation he wasn’t even participating in.
“By all means.”
Katie took a breath.
Then another.
Trying to reset.
“Okay,” she said again, slower this time, like she was forcing herself back into something resembling professionalism. “We’re going to circle back to something you said earlier.”
“I say many things,” Ash replied.
“That you’re ‘stable,’” she clarified, making little air quotes with her fingers. “Which is just… not true.”
“It is true,” he said.
“It’s not,” she insisted. “You literally hover around me like— like some kind of hawk.”
“I already told you that I do not hover.”
“You do!” she snapped. “You follow me around, you show up out of nowhere, you scare people off when I’m talking to them—”
“I am just ensuring your safety.”
“But, gI didn’t ask you to!”
The words came out sharper than she meant them to.
They hung there.
Ash went still.
Not in the usual controlled way.
Something else.
Katie didn’t notice. Or she did, and pushed anyway.
“Like— it’s constant,” she continued, frustration building now that she’d started. “You’re always there. Watching. Interrupting. Acting like— like I can’t handle myself.”
“You cannot,” he said flatly.
That hit.
Katie blinked at him.
“Excuse me?”
Ash didn’t hesitate. “You consistently place yourself in situations without properly assessing risk. Your judgment is—”
“Okay, wow,” she cut in, laughing once, sharp and disbelieving. “So that’s what this is?”
He frowned slightly. “What?”
“You think I’m weak.”
The word landed heavier than anything she’d said before.
Ash’s expression shifted, just slightly.
“That is not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant,” she pushed, sitting forward now, eyes locked on him. “You don’t trust me to do anything on my own, so you just— what? Follow me around like I’m some kind of liability?”
“I follow you because—”
“Because you think I can’t handle things,” she cut in again, faster now, the words tripping over each other. “Because you think I’m going to mess something up, or get hurt, or— I don’t know, ruin something for you—”
“That is not—”
“Then what is it?” she snapped.
Silence.
For a second too long.
Katie’s grip tightened around her pen.
“Because from where I’m standing,” she continued, quieter now but sharper for it, “it really just feels like you don’t think I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
Ash’s jaw tightened.
“You are not as capable as you believe yourself to be.”
That did it.
Katie let out a short, incredulous laugh, like she couldn’t decide if she was more annoyed or hurt.
“Wow. Okay. Good to know.”
“You are interpreting this incorrectly,” he said, tone colder now, more controlled. Defensive, even if he’d never call it that.
“Am I?” she shot back. “Because it sounds pretty clear to me.”
“It should not,” he replied. “Your conclusion lacks—”
“Logic?!” she finished for him, voice rising. “Yeah, you love that word, don’t you?!”
Ash’s gaze sharpened. “If you are going to be emotional about this—”
“I am allowed to be emotional,” she snapped. “That’s literally the whole point of this!”
She gestured wildly to the room, the couch, the notebook— everything.
“This is therapy!”
“This is not therapy,” Ash said flatly. “This is you projecting your own misunderstandings onto—”
“Oh my god,” Katie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You are so—”
She stopped for a moment before shaking her head.
Then looked back at him, something more pointed settling in her expression.
“Is that really it?” she asked.
Ash didn’t respond.
“That’s the only reason?” she pressed. “You follow me around, you intimidate people, you hover over everything I do— just because you think I’m weak?!”
There was a beat.
And then, quieter, more uncertain, but definitely still stubborn:
“Not because you—”
She cut herself off.
But it was already there.
Ash heard the rest of it anyway.
Not because you care.
The room went very still.
Ash’s expression didn’t change at first but he felt something under it shift.
“That is a baseless assumption,” he said, voice even, but lower now.
Katie frowned. “I didn’t even—”
“You implied it,” he cut in.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” he said, sharper now. “And it is incorrect.”
Katie stared at him.
“…Okay,” she said slowly. “Then correct it.”
Silence.
Ash held her gaze.
Said nothing.
Katie’s frustration flared again, quick and hot.
“See, that’s what I mean!” she snapped. “You don’t explain anything, you just— you just shut down or act like I’m stupid for not magically understanding whatever’s going on in your head—”
“I do not owe you an explanation for every decision I make.”
“No, but you could at least try!” she shot back. “Especially when it involves me!”
“It involves your safety,” he corrected.
“And I can handle my own safety!”
“You cannot.”
“I can!”
“You have repeatedly proven otherwise.”
Katie actually recoiled slightly at that, like it hit somewhere she wasn’t expecting.
“Okay,” she said, voice tightening again. “So that’s it then.”
Ash didn’t respond.
“You don’t trust me,” she continued. “You think I’m weak. And that’s why you’re always there. Not because you want to be— just because you think you have to.”
That last part sat there.
Ugly.
Ash’s expression went completely flat.
“If that is the conclusion you wish to draw,” he said, voice stripped of anything warm, “then I will not waste time correcting it.”
The words came out quieter than intended.
Katie didn’t notice.
Or didn’t register it.
“Then stop.”
He froze, holding her gaze, long enough to confirm it.
‘Then stop.’
Something in his chest tightened once.
Sharply.
Then—
Nothing.
“…Very well.”
The words settled into place easily.
Maybe too easily.
Katie’s expression shifted.
Ash stood.
The movement was abrupt, final.
“If that is what you want,” he said, already turning toward the door, “then I will cease all unnecessary involvement moving forward.”
Katie stood up too, immediately.
“No, don’t— you don’t get to just leave when it gets slightly uncomfortable—”
“I am not uncomfortable,” he said without looking at her.
That was a lie.
Not like it mattered.
“Then why are you leaving?”
He paused at that briefly.
Then:
“This session is resolved.”
His hand hovered near the door.
“Anything I say beyond this point would be redundant.”
She stared at him.
Ash did not waver.
“You’re being dramatic,” she said. “This is not that big of a deal.”
Ash didn’t respond, didn’t turn back.
The door closed behind him without sound.