Chapter Text
Ash is lying back on the bed, propped up by two pillows so that he’s almost sitting up, but not enough to aggravate the wound in his abdomen. His head lolls slightly, the tranquilizer coursing through his system, leaving him groggy and unfocused.
After his collapse, Jenkins called for a nurse. A young woman arrived quickly, calm and efficient, and helped Max and Jessica steady Ash as he gasped for breath. Despite his resistance, she injected him with a tranquilizer and worked with Jenkins and Charlie to get him back onto the bed.
Now, Max stands with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Ash’s dazed glare follow the nurse as she adjusts his IV drip. The guilt gnaws at him, and he can’t hold back his frustration.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have given him the tranquilizer.” Max mutters, his voice low. He shifts uncomfortably, his fingers tapping against his arm. “Not without his consent.”
Charlie sighs, avoiding Max’s gaze. “He was erratic.” He says, though the justification sounds weak even to his own ears. “We couldn’t risk him getting hurt even more.”
Max’s jaw tightens as he looks at Ash—pale, vulnerable, his green eyes hazy and unfocused. He can’t shake the feeling that they’ve made the wrong call. The boy had been terrified, struggling, yes, but they hadn’t even given him the chance to try calming himself down.
“He didn’t deserve that.” Max says quietly, almost to himself.
Jessica, standing a few steps away, glances between them but says nothing. The tension in the room is heavy, guilt hanging unspoken in the air.
Max wonders if Golzine and the others ever drugged Ash for being erratic . The answer comes to him too easily, twisting his stomach. He wonders how different they really are from those monsters, and the thought makes him feel sick.
Jessica must notice. She always does.
“You good?” She murmurs, her voice low as she places a gentle hand on his back. Her eyes, however, are fixed on Ash, who is fighting the tranquilizer’s effects with every ounce of his strength.
Max bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. He can’t ignore the sour feeling rising in his chest. Without thinking, he steps forward, placing himself between the nurse and Ash like a barrier.
“Just leave it!” He snaps, his voice sharper than intended. “He’s good now, you’re making it worse.”
The nurse freezes, startled by the sudden outburst. She glances towards Jenkins, who simply shrugs and nods, waving her off with a dismissive gesture.
The nurse hesitates for a moment before gathering her supplies and leaving the room in silence. The door clicks softly behind her, but the tension lingers, heavy and unspoken.
Max’s shoulders sag as the tension drains from him. He turns to look at Ash, who lies pale and groggy on the bed.
“I’m sorry.” Ash mumbles, his voice faint but laced with guilt. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I’m sorry.” He looks up at Max, and there’s something vulnerable in his gaze, something close to fear.
Max blinks, caught off guard. “Oh.” He whispers, unsure of what else to say. “Oh, Ash.”
Ash grimaces, blinking slowly as if the effort alone is exhausting. His gaze shifts upward to the IV drip, and for a moment, he seems far away.
“Ash…” Jessica calls softly, her voice warm and steady. She steps closer, moving to the opposite side of the bed. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
Her hands twitch at her sides. She wants to reach out, to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder or brush the unkempt strands of blond hair from his pale face, she stops herself, knowing that touch might not bring Ash any comfort right now.
Ash nods numbly, his eyes glazed over. Jessica watches him carefully, unsure if it’s the lingering effect of the sedative or something deeper, something she can’t fix. Maybe it’s both.
Jenkins clears his throat, the sudden sound making Ash flinch.
“If you don’t mind, we’d like to go over what happened.” Jenkins says, pulling a small notebook and pen from his pocket. “And hear your side of the story, too.”
Ash nods faintly, his expression unreadable.
“Okay, so… Blanca said he heard a gunshot from the library after meeting you near there. When he went to check, he found you sitting at one of the tables, bleeding out. He called Charlie first, luckily, because otherwise, you’d be in prison right now. Or worse.”
Ash exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging as he absorbs the information. He leans back against the pillows and closes his eyes for a moment. “Where am I now?”
“We’re in New York.” Charlie replies.
Ash’s eyes snap open, wide with alarm. “It’s not safe—!”He says sharply, trying to sit up, but his body betrays him. He falls back with a wince.
“Take it easy.” Charlie says, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “We know. We’re planning to move you as soon as you’re stable enough to travel.”
Max steps in, nodding. “You’ll come to Los Angeles with me and Jess. Stay with us until we figure out what to do next.” His tone is calm, but there’s no mistaking the finality of the decision.
“No.” Ash says, his voice firmer than before. “No, Max. You can’t risk your life for me again . You two have a kid.”
The memory of that night flashes through Ash’s mind: those men invading Jessica’s home because of him, Michael’s terrified face… The guilt twists in his gut. He can’t let that happen again. He can’t put their family in danger.
The sharp beeping of the heart monitor grows faster. Jessica, noticing his panic, places a hand over his. The warmth and weight of her touch snap him out of the downward spiral.
“I’m sorry, Ash.” She says firmly, meeting his gaze. “But this isn’t up for debate. You’ll come with us and stay until you get better.”
Ash stares at her, the words lingering in the air. You’ll regret it , he thinks bitterly. You’ll regret letting me back into your lives. And by the time you do, it’ll be too late. But he’s too exhausted to argue further.
Charlie clears his throat again. “What about your side of things?” he asks. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Ash looks away, staring at the far wall. His voice is distant as he speaks. “I met Sing at the library and after he left, I let my guard down. Lao came out of nowhere and stabbed me. I shot him, killed him, and then I went to the library to rest.”
He doesn’t mention Eiji’s letter or his plan to abandon everything and follow him to Japan. Some truths feel too raw to share.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ash notices Jessica’s hand flying to her mouth in shock.
Max breaks the silence, his voice soft but heavy with emotion. “Why didn’t you call for help?” He asks. “You realize you would’ve died if no one noticed you weren’t just sleeping?”
Ash shrugs, his face carefully blank. He can’t tell them the truth, that dying had felt like an acceptable outcome. That he would’ve been content knowing Eiji was safe, even if it meant he wasn’t alive to see it.
Instead, he deflects, turning to Jenkins. “Shouldn’t I be in a prison cell?” He asks, his voice flat.
“We’ll take care of that, too.” Jenkins says, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “You deserve some peace, Lynx.”
Ash snorts bitterly. “Peace? That’s not for people like me.” His voice drips with cynicism. Peace, for him, is nothing but a distant, childish fantasy. He stopped believing in it the first time he was forced into the bed of a man four times his age.
For a moment, something flickers across Jenkins’ face, pity, maybe, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “We can make you look like an innocent man.” the detective says, almost too casually. “You’ve already stirred up enough trouble for some very powerful people with what you exposed about Banana Fish and Club Cod—”
“Exactly.” Ash cuts in, his voice sharp and unyielding. “A lot of powerful people want me dead. Why would they ever let me be free?”
This time, it’s Jenkins who snorts. “Sometimes, Ash, dead people are louder than living ones.”
Ash glares at him, skeptical but silent.
“If you leave the criminal world behind…” Jenkins continues, “…start a normal life, and keep your mouth shut about what happened, they’ll leave you alone. They’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
Ash stares at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He says, his voice low and brimming with barely contained rage. “So what? You want me to just move on?”
“Please, Ash, try to see that this is a rare opportunity.” Jenkins says, his patience fraying. “Charlie and I are already crossing legality by even considering letting you walk after what you’ve—”
“ Legality ?” Ash interrupts with a sharp, humorless laugh. “Don’t tell me you cops suddenly care about legality after ignoring everything Golzine was doing! After ignoring the fact that hundreds of kids were treated like disposable fucking sex toys!”
“Ash—” Max starts, his voice calm but cautious.
“Do you know how many men who came to Club Cod were cops? Police officers? Detectives?” Ash’s voice rises, each word a snarl. “I don’t owe any of you sick bastards a damn thing. If you want to let me rot in prison, then do it. If you want to kill me, hand me a gun, and I’ll do it myself!”
“Ash.”
Max’s voice cuts through the chaos, steady and commanding. It’s the tone Ash has come to recognize, the voice Max uses when he’s trying to get through to him.
Ash’s jaw clenches, his words dying in his throat as he turns to glare at Max. His chest heaves with the effort of holding it all in, his fists clenched tightly against the sheets.
Max clears his throat, breaking the tense silence. “I get it.”He says gently. “You have every reason not to trust them. Hell, you have every reason not to trust any of us.” He pauses, studying Ash’s face. The boy looks utterly worn out, far too tired for someone so young. “But you’re just a kid. And I know you don’t feel like one, never got to feel like one, but please, Ash. Let us adults do our jobs for once, okay?”
Max is right about one thing: Ash doesn’t trust any of them. But there’s something in Max’s voice, in the way it pleads without demanding, that tugs at him. He glances at Jessica, who’s watching him with quiet affection, and then at Jenkins and Charlie, who both seem resolute but strangely earnest.
For the first time in a long time, Ash feels something stir in him.
Hope .
And hope, he knows, is dangerous.
“Fine.” He mutters, his voice laced with exhaustion. Whatever happens next, he’ll accept it. If he gets to live, so be it. If he doesn’t, that’s fine too. He’s tired of fighting, tired of resisting a fate he’s not sure he even cares about anymore.
Eiji’s words float into his mind: “I wanted to protect you from your fate.” Ash feels the faintest hint of a smile tug at his lips. Those fleeting moments in the library, reading Eiji’s letter, had been the most peaceful he’d ever known. The memory of it is like a soft blanket against his frayed nerves.
“Can I have the letter back?” He asks suddenly.
Jenkins looks at him, confused. “What letter?”
Ash’s expression tightens. “The letter I was reading at the library. It was from Eiji. Where is it?”
Charlie and Jenkins exchange puzzled looks before Charlie speaks. “We didn’t find any letter, Ash, and we searched the whole place.”
Ash’s heart sinks, realization dawning on him. His lips press into a thin line as he leans back against the pillows.
“Blanca, you bastard.”