The Piano || 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬

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Author's note-
> Wrote this out of spite because my boyfriend kept saying all fanfiction is poorly written

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Ashley debated whether she should go to sleep at all, but Colby's disapproving shake of his head made the decision instead of her, and, surprisingly, she slept through the entire night without dreams. Again. Waking up, she was flooded with hope. Maybe this was the new normal. Maybe there wouldn't be new dreams. Maybe they wouldn't actually need to go to the Pythian Priestess, and everything would get solved without further involvement.

No matter how sweet these thoughts tasted, there was a certain bitterness to them. She knew it was bullshit, and that she was lying to herself. Ilse would be back, especially if Ashley gave up fighting the attachment. Maybe even if she did. Maybe...

A horrifying thought dawned on Ashley, sending her heart into a sprint. She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to breathe slowly and steadily.

What if it will forever be like this?

Ashley had to admit it. She may feel comfortable in those dreams, yearn after them right before going to sleep – but she also knew that was only her feelings speaking. Not her logic. Sometimes our minds don't listen to logic. Fuck it, she would make hers. It may break her heart, but she would get rid of her dreams. In her head, she started listing reasons to do so.

One; she couldn't keep lying to Colby. Maybe she'd never tell him the truth about all of this, but she wouldn't have to continue lying. Two; Dreaming of ghosts wasn't normal. It wasn't... how the world is supposed to work. It could be dangerous, who knew. Three;

Three;

Three...

Ashley got up to eat breakfast.

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Pythian Priestess was waiting for them in front of her house. It was a few hours' drive away, so they planned to leave before lunch and get fast food on the road instead. Ashley had always liked long drives, but this one in particular; none of them talked about any paranormal stuff. At times it felt awkward, but someone would always come up with a story to tell and fill the silence.

Ashley contributed to this by telling the story of how she'd married her best friend to Sam as well – after Colby had suggested it. At least it got a good laugh out of all of them and lightened the pressure she'd felt on her chest all morning.

She often told herself she wasn't the kind of person to get strongly affected by stress or mental strain. This was slowly proving to be a wrong assessment of her personality since she started to zone out increasingly more often the closer they were to their goal. Silly little girl, she scolded herself over and over again. It's not even this deep. This is not the hard part. Why are you being so dramatic about it?

And then they arrived, and she pushed the thoughts away. Tried to.

Pythian Priestess welcomed them in her apartment, offering them a cup of steaming hot herb tea. It took all of Ashley's might not to comment on the stereotypical feeling of the situation. Or on the shelf with jars and herbs and stones right in the middle of the living room. Or the carefully assembled furniture, all the golden, brown and red tones matching – with the occasional jump to a light pink and white lightening the mood. It looked and felt cozy, and Ashley gladly settled down on one of the couches. Sam and Colby left them to it, knowing they couldn't help in this case – even though Colby did seem hesitant to leave the room. He glanced over his shoulder several times before walking out.

"So, you have an attachment," Pythian Priestess said after a few hospitalities towards her, letting her eyes wander over Ashley's form as if looking for something specific.

"Sounds like a self-help book," Ashley muttered, getting a smile out of her. "But yeah, I think we've established that," she continued, her words accompanied by a nervous laugh.

"I don't see it on you," was the response. "Not a single trace."

"I'm... is it supposed to be visible?"

"I'm a medium so I can usually see when a spirit leaves traces on a human. But not on you. This is very unconventional."

"Do you think there might not be anything after all?" Ashley asked, her voice betraying a mix of relief and worry as she straightened her back ever so slightly.

"I doubt that after all you've been telling me."

With a sigh, she sagged against the back of the couch. "Then what should we do?"

"The question is what can we do," Pythian Priestess corrected her.

"Oh. That's..." Not very reassuring. Terrifying. Good?

Ashley received a crooked smile. "Don't worry, we'll solve it. I've faced a lot of attachments in this line of work, I'm sure yours won't be the most complicated."

She followed this up with questions over questions – about stuff Ashley was sure she could've looked up and assumed she just wanted to hear from Ashley herself. Who Ilse was, how she died, that kind of questions. But also more personal ones – how Ashley felt around her, how the light was in her dreams, whether she remembered where she got the ring from. That last one made Ashley pause. Where had she gotten the ring from?

"A marketplace," she responded finally. "Second hand. In Cologne."

Pythian Priestess just looked at her, and Ashley was about to ask what was wrong, when it clicked.

She's gotten the ring second hand. In Germany. Of all places she'd ever been to.

It felt like she gained a sense for every muscle in her body and had to force it to move. Her breaths kept coming, slow and steady, but what she really was focused on was the weight of the ring in her pocket. When had she even put it in there? Didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing had ever mattered.

How could she have been so foolish? Never to connect the dots, never to see the obvious? A wave of frustration rushed through her mind, and Ashley sighed.

"Of course," she muttered. Not in defeat, no – what she felt was victory. However close she'd been to Ilse before, this was more. More than just a dream, a longing, a fleeting touch. This was physical. This was undeniable.

Pythian Priestess watched her closely. Unsure about her own reaction, Ashley kept a steady expression. A closely calculated worried glance to the woman sitting opposite of her. Her right hand clutching into a fist. Her left hand running a finger over another ring over and over again. Was this convincing?

"You'll understand that the ring is your primary connection to her," she said. Ashley nodded.

"This means that the first chance you get, you have to leave the ring." Ashley nodded again.

"I'm aware this didn't work out last time, so this time you will have to work with my help." Nod.

What followed were close instructions, a leather bag and a handful of soothing herbs. Ashley nodded over and over again, until her eyes fluttered with dizziness that didn't come from the motion alone.

No matter how long the visit seemed to stretch, all of a sudden she was back in the car, back with Sam and Colby, thrown back into normalcy.

She recited the instructions almost word for word, showed them the bag with the herbs, explained their functions, explained everything about the meeting, what they'd found out, thought, concluded. What she left out was how she felt.

Ashley talked about relief. Hope. The longing for normalcy. She didn't mention the weight of the ring, the desire of the memories. Not once.

At the end of the drive, one thing was clear:

They would go back.

"Third time's the charm," Colby said, and she saw his smile. It was less convincing than hers. Mainly because hers was real, this time. They would go back.