A/N Sorry for the long break. This chapter marks the first of actual plot progression of the story, however minor. The chapter is pretty short but the next chapter is completely written and will updated very soon!

Also, this is pretty much the last of the development for Ash and Misty. After this I will focus on May and Drew (as a few people have requested ;). I did use it as a form of practice for Ash and Misty honestly, but I hope it added to the story as well.

I feel like this chapter was unfinished, but I have no idea what else to add. :P I'm sorry. Hope you like it anyway!

'Progress' was such an annoying word. It implied that something wasn't as it should be. That it needed fixing.

Did he really want to deal with all of this for 'progress?'

"Drew?"

Drew looked up slowly. "Yes?"

Victor sighed. They weren't getting anywhere, and hadn't been since Drew's last breakdown. Victor had come to the correct conclusion that Drew was a person that didn't like loss of control. He didn't want to break down. He didn't want to look or feel, or be, weak. He didn't want to feel fear that to rest of the world looked insane or ridiculous. He didn't want to go through what he had in front of his mother's closet again, so he wasn't trying. Problem was, there weren't many other ways to get over fears born from memories.

Victor didn't know what to do. He had seen it before, but it was always frustrating, even if he did understand that it was natural. He wasn't sure why it frustrated him, and he made sure that his patients didn't know it, but it did. It had, at one point, been a source of guilt.

"Well, let's try something else," Victor announced. He placed his coffee beside him.

Drew remained quiet.

Victor realized that now was the time to speak to Drew about what he had been considering. Pulling his arms back he placed his hands on his knees and looked to Drew. "You realize that I can't help you if you won't let me?"

Drew's mouth pulled a bit.

"The question isn't so much if you want my help, as much as it is this: Do you want to get over these fears?" He paused a moment to let that sink in. Drew looked a bit uncomfortable, but he was used to that and pressed on. "I realize that this is my job and that's not comforting to you, but here are the facts: You can't do this alone. And you can't do it by not trying or facing these fears. If you don't want to do this, then that's fine, you can leave and I won't stop you."

Drew glanced away as Victor became more intense.

"But if you do leave, and don't think I'm trying to scare you-this is just how it is." Drew nodded slowly and Victor continued. "If you do leave, if you do decide not to get help, this won't get better. People will tell you that time fixes your problems but it doesn't. The longer you leave this issue, the more it will fester. These feelings can seriously damage your mind. You've already experienced what it's like to break down, to forget yourself and be pulled into a memory. Imagine that getting worse.

"Your mind naturally does things to protect you when you can't handle a situation. That's where most mental illnesses are born from: fear. If this fear continues, your mind will continue to give you a way out, and it might not be what you want for yourself."

Drew had stilled, feeling overwhelmed and afraid as well as uncomfortable by the words.

Watching Drew closer Victor stated, "I'm telling you that you could develop a mental disease."

Drew swallowed, his eyes on the floor. He didn't know what to think about that. If he was really in that horrible of a state wouldn't somebody have noticed it? It was almost scary to take Victor's words seriously, but the way he said them, the words were portrayed so intently that they began to penetrate his mind.

"I've watched people go insane…. It's not easy. Not easy for them, not easy for the people around them, and not easy to cure. This, hard as it is, will be much easier on you then if you wait for your mind to seriously shut down. These diseases affect everyone around you, and if it does get worse, coming to me won't be enough.

"So my question…" Victor leaned forward. "Is do you want to fix this or do you want to leave it be? Do you want my help?"

Drew didn't want to do this. He didn't want to go through that again. He didn't want to shut down on the floor for half a day with his mother's voice ringing through his head.

But he didn't want the other things either.

A week ago he would have argued or disagreed silently. He wouldn't have considered himself susceptible to being…insane. He didn't feel crazy, and he wasn't hurting himself or anyone else. But the experience he had had days before, when he had forgotten himself, was fresh in his mind. He wasn't sure of everything he had said to May, but he was aware of how still she had been when he suddenly realized who he was leaning into. He had experience loosing perception of himself. He had sat in front of a closet and felt it grow before him while he froze from the fear of invisible enemies pushing him in. He had heard his mother's voice as clearly as May's. And according to her, he had sat there for hours.

He knew now. He had experienced insanity, if not a small taste, and it tasted like fear. Pure terror. A tight fist around your chest and devils peeking over your shoulder.

He couldn't do that again, but Victor was right. He couldn't handle it getting worse. He really would go insane. What could be worse than what he had experienced? Could it get that much more terrible? He thought of all of the things Victor had said could come to him.

Did he want to find out?

Slowly Drew breathed out and nodded.

Drew left the office with his head spinning. What was he going to have to face? And for how long? What would it take to get over his past? Did Victor expect him to let go of everything?

How was that even possible?

A feeling of hopelessness began to rise in his chest. He knew there was hope, but the prospect of facing this when he didn't even know if he wanted to was both depressing and … terrifying. His mother loomed in the back of his head, as terrifying dead as she had been alive. She had lived on in him.

Just not the way that people usually expected a legend to live.

His hands shook. The terrible things she had done to him. The things she had convinced him that he was. He had taken those to heart, believed her every word till he was past eight and she began having fits. He still couldn't let those things go. Here he was, nearly a man, and he still felt like a small child. Why couldn't he let go of the things she had told him and done to him? Why couldn't he just forget it?

Did Victor really understand what he was going through? Did he know the impossibility of being able to move past this? Drew had buried it and moved on. He was functioning in the world. That should be enough. Why did he have to go through this to get over it completely?

He swallowed. No, Victor was right. Obviously it was getting to him again, or always had been there even when he hadn't noticed it. He couldn't forget the embarrassment of May's arrival, and his fear before that. He did need to fix this.

Now that he had started would May even like him if he didn't get through this? Why would somebody want to start a relationship with someone who was unwilling to face and work through problems like she had witnessed?

But she didn't understand.

Drew looked to the ground, his whole body stiffening.

What if he couldn't do this?

Would anybody understand? …Was that what an asylum was for?

"Drew?"

Drew jumped from his thoughts and looked up to see May some feet away beside the fountain. In the back of his mind he registered that she must have been sitting on the side waiting for him.

Drew swallowed.

There was no wind that day, not many cars in this part of town, no birds. Drew wished that there was some sound distract him rather than this complete silence between them, deeper and more awkward for him as he looked at the obvious concern on her face. He realized then, looking past her that the fountain was off. That explained why he had heard no sound from that either. It didn't help.

"Drew? Are…" May dropped the hand she had begun to raise and took a short breath. "Are you alright?"

Drew was still overwhelmed. Thoughts of asylums, his taste of insanity, and the hopelessness of her and him…

Drew shook his head and started down the tall steps before the door. As he hit the leveled cobbled stones that led outside of the gate May still hadn't moved. The concern suddenly became annoying, coupled with everything else. He didn't need or want her to worry about him. He could take care of himself. He wasn't crazy.

May didn't need to be wondering these things about him.

"I'm fine."

May's bit her bottom lip.

"Really." Drew resisted sighing. "I'm . . ." And now he was tired. Sighing Drew brought a hand to his hair, not quite flipping but running beneath his bangs. It was close enough that not many would guess he was actually rubbing the stress from his brow. "I'm sorry."

May's eyes widened. Drew was apologizing. Again. Over the same thing.

Drew never apologized.

May couldn't help the feelings that came with the words. "Don't say that. Why should you be sorry?"

Drew dropped his hand, looking at her in surprise. "I would think that would be . . . obvious."

May shook her head. Softly she replied. "You don't need to apologize. It's what friends are for."

Drew was reminded, with the abruptness of a slap in the face, that this was May. May was the best friend he had ever had. May was the one who had taught him inadvertently what it meant to be a friend. She put more effort into it than anyone he had ever seen. This was May.

Drew looked down to his shoes, a silent but pained smile coming over his face.

This was May.

Suddenly everything changed. The hopelessness faded. May would put in the effort. She would be there, just like she had when they had barely known each other. May wouldn't judge him. May wouldn't care what he had to get over. She would support him through it. He didn't want her to worry, but she would be there anyway.

There was hope.

Drew thought back to Victor. He needed help with this. He would ask Ash, but then he would have to admit things that May already knew, and he didn't think he could do it again right now. "I think . . . I need help," he admitted. Even as he said it nervousness overcame him. What if this was a stupid idea? Showing May even more of his weaknesses?

May nodded, ready to help and the fear again faded.

Maybe it was stupid. He would just set that aside for a moment. He was good at doing what needed to be done. And this time he had May. It should have been embarrassing, but at that moment he could only feel relieved.

He wasn't alone.

"So… where are we then?"

Ash sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Misty sat beside him, not quite leaning into him but close enough to be.

Despite their confessions, both rather bold, it was still a bit awkward as they came down from the high of confession. They both understood the others emotions, now they just needed to make it real. They had been friends for such a long time, neither of them knowing the other liked them, that the old insecurities were remembered but not felt.

Still, it was enough to make it just a little bit awkward.

Ash had known this was coming. Misty would want it put plainly, as she had needed the plain confession. While that wasn't quite common, Ash was more than aware that they needed to make their relationship official. He hardly saw it as needed, considering they HAD just told each other they were in love and kissed. But woman seemed to be all about words. Still, this was worth it.

"Well, we're ah… we're in a relationship." He glanced at her nervously. "Right?"

Misty looked back calmly. "For real? This isn't something you're just going to fade out of?"

Ash sighed mentally. How much more of a confession did a woman need?

It was then that it hit him where she was coming from. How long had she loved him? It was clear suddenly that her feelings for him were very deep, so deep that she was still afraid he didn't feel for her quite as strongly as she did for him. Deep enough to cause her cry earlier. Deep enough for her to worry that Ash was just being Ash, and that while he loved her, eventually it would fade.

Ash put aside his frustration for the moment. A relationship would require him to do that…

…and he could do that for Misty.

Ash smiled. "Don't worry about it. I love you. That's all that matters."

Ash resisted smirking at the blush that travelled over her face. Quickly she glanced down, the smallest of smiles she couldn't stop joining the flush.

This time he did smirk. Maybe this would be better than he had expected. It wasn't as if they had to throw their friendship out the window and make a new relationship. They would just…build on what they had.

That was enough, wasn't it?

Suddenly words rose in his throat. He wanted to say something. Something corny. Something that would have made him blush in any other situation. He had thought it before to some extent, and now it rose in him till he couldn't contain it. He wanted her to hear it, out loud.

Swallowing the awkwardness at the words, Ash whispered, "You're beautiful when you smile."

Surprise lit Misty's features. Ash watched Misty's expression as she stared back warily, as if to check if he was sincere.

Only a moment of looking between his eyes and tears rose in hers. Quickly she ducked to Ash's chest, holding tight to him.

Ash understood part, but not all, of why she was reacting the way she was.

It was even more worth it.

Victor sighed and placed the two books back on his shelf. His last patient was fairly recent, and one that he was easing into the process by sharing his books with (the boy was quite the fanatic with reading). While it may have seemed unorthodox, he had learned that unorthodox was the way to go. Everyone had a different way of becoming comfortable with sharing their secrets.

The day had been tiring, but now he was done.

Finishing with the placement of the books he turned to the table behind him. Softly he pulled the box of photos, along with fabric below them across the table and opened the lid. He was moving on automatic-just a quick look through the photos before he retired for the day. He was just pulling over the last of the uncovered photos when the door across the room opened unexpectedly

Victor looked up, wondering who would be coming to him so late, and without knocking for that matter. He had no other sessions set up for the day.

He was surprised to see the pretty face of Victoria, one of his most sickly patients, peeking shyly around the door.

Her blond hair curled over her shoulder as she looked towards him, her hands twisted when she rose them to her chest nervously-though the faintest of hopes was in her gaze.

"Victoria," Victor stated in surprise. His hand skimmed the edge of the white kerchief above the photos still in the box. "What can I do for you?"

The question seemed to hit a wall in her mind. She pulled back just a bit at the words, her shoulders curling. Obvious confusion tempered with worry in her eyes. Her mouth opened, only to close a moment later. A high, soft voice whispered, "I . . . I thought . . ."

Victor watched her stumble, heard the words she stated as though she had expected she should be there.

His hand gently began to flip the kerchief in the box.

Victor blinked and looked down to his hand vaguely. Beside the box was the stack of photos he had taken out, the ones uncovered, and at the top: her photo.

Victor stared at the photo for a few more moments then rose his head again to Victoria.

"Victoria," he started again, his voice much more inviting. "Why don't you shut the door? I've been looking forward to seeing you."

Victoria's expression relaxed. She stepped into the room with a smile.

Victor closed the box and smiled back.