It's that irrationality in him that Kate's protective of the most. She trusts him to be able to take care of himself, to make hairpin-trigger decisions in the heat of an emergency, but when he works himself into a tither he makes all the wrong choices, getting both himself and other people hurt along the way.

(It's, unfortunately, something she's intimately familiar with herself.)

She wraps her hand around his wrist, holding it where it is, grip strong from years of taking care of business. Her gaze is steady.

"Then we'll take care'a this together. Or not at all."