DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN AMERICAN HORROR STORY AND ITS CHARACTERS, NOR THE POEM "ODE TO A GRECIAN URN" BY JOHN KEATS.
Author's notes: I just recently discovered American Horror Story. Like seriously, I just watched S1 this month, and S3. I am now a proud shipper of Violate and Zyle, though I recognize I have come to the shipping party late. I worship Taissa. I'd watched The Bling Ring last year, and while watching AHS S1, I didn't even recognize Taissa! It wasn't until I got on tumblr that I read a post about the Bling Ring cast that I caught on. Damn, I just love her.
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Cordelia's first decree as Supreme is to expose their coven and academy to the world. At first, the announcement carries out its purpose and brings so many girls gifted with magic to their doorstep, more than twice the number that the academy had hosted at its peak. But then, it also doesn't take long before the anti-crowd makes itself known and heard.
That is how the second wave of the Salem witch hunt marks itself into history.
Being revealed to the world was a double-edged move; it would be easier to have witches come to them, but it also opened them to persecution of the worst kind. Maybe Madison was on to something when she said torches and pitchforks would soon make its way to their lives, or maybe she'd unknowingly placed a curse on the coven when she uttered that damnable threat.
Cordelia, Supreme as she is, cannot hold back everyone pounding at the academy gates, holding rallies and demonstrations, the denomination of the angry mob growing day by day, so much so that they become aware that it's only a matter of time before they break down the gates and the doors to invade the academy and drag everyone out.
Cordelia realizes, that as powerful as she is, she is not God. She can't protect everyone, not with a threat as great as this. There is a power in numbers that even her skills as Supreme cannot compete with, nor dominate. She may be able to tide the onslaught with telekinesis, but she can't stop a bullet, blessed or not, when it goes off from a gun. She may be able to bring back to life a fallen witch, but vitalum vitalis has its limitations; her life force will be drained, thus speeding her aging, and her body won't be able to sustain the strain. Giving life would mean losing her life, little by little.
This is a war they cannot win.
Sadly, Cordelia makes the difficult decision to disband the academy, and disperse the girls back into hiding for their own protection.
The three witches of the council brainstorm a plan and enacts it once it's polished. Cordelia evacuates the students one group at a time, each group consisting of no more than five members. When the last set of students had escaped, only the council remains. They all decide it would be better if they separated and went off on their own. They were prominent faces, and seeing all of them together would make them easier to track down.
Since Kyle is not a witch nor a warlock, Cordelia gives him the option of going off on his own, the choice of how to live his life.
Kyle looks offended at the offer. With a grim face and taut expression, he sidles to Zoe's side and holds her hand. "Zoe and I stay together." Turning his head to the side to hold the gaze of the willowy young witch, he continues his pledge, "Wherever she goes, I go."
Kyle was adamant on being with Zoe, wherever, forever; as long as he had breath, he would only surrender it in Zoe's kisses. As long as he had fight in his bones, he would protect her. As long as he had life pumping through his heart, he would live for her.
Cordelia doesn't try to convince Kyle otherwise. The boy's determination and loyalty has negated any other option, any other choice or path that does not include Zoe with him.
Zoe also doesn't attempt to discourage Kyle from his decision. It's selfish of her, but she doesn't have the bravery to be a martyr and take the high road by convincing Kyle to forget about her and rebuild a normal existence, the one before he met her.
With a resigned but accepting nod of recognition, Cordelia hands them the documents regarding identification that they will need to use for their escape.
"I thought you might want to get to choose the names you want," Cordelia instructs the couple and Queenie, her accompanying smile coming off more disheartening instead of encouraging. "When you've decided on your names, put your hand over the space where the name should be, and concentrate."
Queenie and Zoe already know what to do.
The fake documents were produced with magic, though Zoe doesn't really know how Cordelia did it. As far as Zoe can tell, the papers are enchanted, Cordelia explains, so that they can easily change the information on them whenever needed, with just a little bit of magic and the right amount of focus. Not a difficult feat at all for a gifted witch; pulling out a bunny from a top hat would have been more of a challenge.
"Alright, girls," Cordelia sighs dejectedly. "This is when we go our own ways."
Cordelia and Queenie are paired up, while Kyle and Zoe are going their own way.
Cordelia instructs the council that they will reunite once again when all the Salem witch hunt 2.0 hype has blown over, and the witch persecution frenzy has died down to nothing more than a past event, a faded trend that is no longer in practice. If they are still alive in five years' time, then they must make their way back to the academy on the first night of the full moon on October. Hopefully by that time, everyone has forgotten all about the witches coming out, and the council can finally convene to rebuild their coven in secrecy, and revive their special education to develop witches and their craft, ensuring the survival of their kind.
"Be safe," Cordelia whispers to Zoe as they hug for goodbye. Zoe nods to the older witch as they part.
"Both of you." Cordelia adds after patting Kyle's shoulder and then taking a step back to stand next to Queenie.
"Hey girl, don't let 'em roast you," Queenie's light and comical tone can't dissipate the apprehension and fear weighing down on them all at the moment, and which would probably hound them for their entire lives. "I'd like to catch up with you two a few years down the road, you feeling me?"
Zoe giggles, and nods. "Sure thing. You two keep safe. Don't let them get you."
Queenie snorts in derision at Zoe's well wishes. "Girl, I'm with the Supreme. 'Nough said."
They all laugh at that. But even with that bit of comedy, they feel the inevitable heavy doom from their imminent parting, because though they are fleeing to escape from persecution like the Salem witches generations before them, safety is still not guaranteed to them with their fresh start. With sadness, they finally say their farewells and take off in different directions, escaping at the back of the greenhouse, leaving behind the clatter and roars from the unsuspecting crowd of protesters just outside the school gates.
Like déjà vu, Zoe and Kyle dash through the bus station hand in hand, hoping to catch up to the last bus. The timing of their arrival is just right as they are the last ones to board before the bus takes off into the night.
Myrtle's words come back to Zoe, 'you were supposed to spend your days in romantic splendor with your true love'. It feels like a premonition now rather than an admonition.
Zoe still has the sapphire and topaz harvester ant and jar jewels from Myrtle, along with two grand cash that Cordelia had given them. That's more than enough to last them for quite a while, so money is one less issue to worry about.
On the bus, Kyle uses Zoe's shoulder as a pillow, while Zoe rests her head on top of his blonde curls. His hand is in hers, holding on tightly even as he sleeps. It's around 1 AM, and drowsiness still hasn't touched on Zoe yet. Unease keeps her awake; worrying about how Queenie and Cordelia are, where they are, are they safe, are all the witches they've evacuated lying low and blending in, or have some been captured and burned alive?
Her nightmares do not invade her sleep, oh no; her nightmares manifest themselves when her eyes are open, and it prevents her from escaping to somnolence. But for now, she is with her beloved on a journey, she was not alone in this life, and that was reassurance enough, hope enough for better days ahead.
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They have settled into their cheap motel room after hours of bus travel. Instead of unpacking, they just dump their bags in a corner and hop on to bed, finally relaxing into horizontal sleep. They wake up around dinnertime; they order take out from a fast food joint just next to their motel, and eat in peace in their room. After finishing their greasy meal, Kyle throws away the trash and takes out the folder from Cordelia that contains their identification. He peaks inside, rifling through the papers, while Zoe lounges on the bed and turns on the TV. Eventually, Kyle takes out two passports and birth certificates and hands them to Zoe. She turns off the television and sits cross-legged, making room for Kyle to take a seat in front of her.
"You'd think this was as easy as choosing a username," Kyle commented as he opens his passport, inspecting his picture and the blank spaces in it. "It feels more pressuring."
"Do you have a name in mind that you want to use from now on?"
Kyle shakes his head from side to side. "Can't think of one. You?"
Zoe mimics his gesture. She comes up with a blank in her mind too. "How about this: instead of choosing our names, we pick a name for the other, both a first name and a last name. Sound good?"
"I like that," Kyle agrees with the suggestion.
For the next two hours, they concentrate on thinking up of a name for the other. Zoe has retreated to the bathroom because she feels it's more conducive to sit and think on the toilet cover as she contemplates a new name befitting Kyle. Meanwhile, Kyle takes his spot on the bed, a pad and pen in hand, writing down names of fictional characters, musicians, and other iconic figures, and any other pretty name that comes to mind.
When they are done and ready, they sit Indian style across each other on the bed.
"On the count of three, we open them together, that ok?" Zoe asks. Kyle nods his assent. They exchange slips of folded paper, and Zoe counts. At the same time, they both finally peak at their new identities.
"Violet Harmon," Zoe tests out the name aloud. She smiles widely in approval. "I like it." She bites her lip, waiting for Kyle's reaction to the name she picked out for him.
Kyle is silent; he's still staring at the tiny rectangle of a paper that held his new name, picked by Zoe herself. His lack of a response was making her think that perhaps he was pondering on a way to let her down gently, working out on how best to break to her that he wanted a different name, without offending her? Anxiety gnawed at the back of Zoe's mind.
Kyle holds his hand out to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Violet. My name's Tate Langdon."
A bright smile curves Zoe's lips, and the happiness Kyle sees in her feels like the sun on his face. A bubble of laughter accentuates her smile, and she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss that steals extracts his breath in exchange for warmth and love.
They break apart, but their foreheads and noses remain in contact.
"Do you kiss every person you just met, Violet?"
Zoe bites her lip coyly, deciding to play along, taking this as practice in getting used to their new names. "No, Tate, I don't. I was just gripped by this overwhelming need to kiss you because I knew I just had to."
A bemused laugh comes out of him, along with his dimples.
"Hey Tate, I just met you, and this is crazy," Zoe is feeling playful, and tonight, she just wants to be carefree and coy. She straddles his waist and leans her head down to his, her straight hair creating a curtain. "But we're already in a motel, so have sex with me, maybe?"
His unspoken 'yes' gets through to her when he lunges forward with a kiss, and that is enough permission.
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"Do you like how Violet Langdon sounds?" Kyle suddenly asks as Zoe lies in his arms, both of them lounging in bed.
Zoe props herself up on her elbow so she can look at Kyle directly. She tries to bite back her smile in an attempt to get a hold of her heartbeat fluttering wildly like butterflies trying to break through her ribcage. "Are you… proposing…?"
Kyle just looks at her with wide eyes, but the roseate blotting of his cheeks give him away. Shifting towards the side table to retrieve the envelope of their magically forged documents lying next to the lamp, Kyle takes out another set of papers that Zoe wasn't aware of, and hands it to her to read. Sitting up fully, Zoe takes the file into her hands. She stares at it in bewilderment, before she returns her eyes to his, and she realizes how vulnerable he's allowed himself to be right at that moment, right in front of her.
He looks down as he sits up, his blonde bangs covering his face from hers. He shrugs when she doesn't speak, wringing his fingers. "You're eighteen already."
Zoe never knew that Cordelia had added a marriage license along with their birth certificates and passports.
The lack of response unnerves Kyle, and he decides to be the one to fill the space between them with words. "So… do you want to be Mrs. Langdon? But if you want, you can keep your maiden name, I don't mind."
Zoe's answer comes not in words, but in a crushing kiss that can more accurately convey her feelings to him more than any sentence or speech.
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The next morning, while Zoe finalizes their papers, using her magic to fill in the details of their new lives, Kyle goes out to get them breakfast. He returns after an hour, apologizing for taking so long, but he bought a lot of options for breakfast: pancakes, waffles, crepes, croissants, bagels, coffee, tea.
Breakfast later turns into a naughty buffet. They frolic in bed again, tangled in sheets and moans and limbs, connecting in kisses and breaths and hips.
The following day, after quite the struggle to leave the room and take a break from sex, they go to a jewelry store to pick up wedding bands. They go with silver, and Zoe requests an engraving on their rings: 'more happy love' for her, and 'more happy, happy love' for him. Kyle loves it, and his smile reminds Zoe of his lightheartedness during their first interaction at that frat party.
When they get their rings, Kyle takes her left hand and slips her wedding band. She does the same to him. And even though they're not at a church surrounded by their nearest and dearest, she's not wearing a white wedding dress with a train and he's not in a tuxedo. But that's okay; those superficial wedding features are inconsequential when you're being tied to your true love with however long their forever will last. Because it's all the same in the end: a happily ever after.
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They go on a honeymoon of sorts. They hop from one town to another, one state to another… Whatever memorable landmark, must-see tourist site, well-known land formation or architecture they want to see, they go there. By the end of their honeymoon tour, Zoe can brag that she's had sex on all 50 states of America.
Their last honeymoon destination is the sunshine state, Florida, though they travel to a different location from the one they'd been to before; Zoe fears the homeless man that she brought back to life might recognize them, and turn them in.
At a public park, on a bench by a large oak tree, they lazily spend one afternoon there. Zoe, a large brim hat shielding her face from the sun, holds up a book of poems by John Keats while Kyle has his head on her lap, his legs dangling on the armrest of the bench.
"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter…" Zoe rakes her fingers through Kyle's blonde locks; he is almost purring from the motion as he basks in the sunshine, loving Keats' Ode to a Grecian Urn in Zoe's deep yet dainty voice. When her hand changes to stroke his cheek, her fingers gliding across his skin like a piano player's reverent touch on keys, he takes her hand lightly and brings it to his lips, planting feathery kisses. He does not let it go; instead he brings it to his heart, and lets her poetry reading refresh him like a cool sea breeze, ushering peace in his heart that had seemed only to be stuffed with deep suffering.
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal-yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss
Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
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Eight months into their exodus from Robichaux Academy, they finally find a place to settle in, a small, obscure town that has captivated Kyle to lay down roots there. Because as much as the extensive travelling and exotic landscapes marvel them, living in motel rooms and eating out in fast food joints or restaurants have become tiring. Zoe wants to have a big closet and a wardrobe that's more than what fits in a bag. Kyle wants home-cooked meals and a well-furnished kitchen (he'd always loved cooking, way before he was revived). They want their own bedroom, their own closets, their own bathroom. Their own bed, their own sheets, their own desks. They long for a place of their own, a permanent residence.
Kyle discovers a decent house for rent around the area; the bungalow is quite spacious for two or more, and at a very cheap cost. Kyle gets a job as a gas station attendant at Woodall Gasoline, while Zoe works as a cashier at a boutique. It's not that money is tight for them; they have enough money from pawning some of the jewelry they have, and they still have a few considerable pieces that would amount to a hefty cash amount. They just want to have something to do, and it makes them blend in with the typical grind of the townsfolk.
After furnishing and refurbishing their house, the two of them eventually settle into a modest routine. They work five days a week. Friday night is date night; they go out to eat, and most often go for a movie. On weekends, they typically travel to somewhere as a sort of mini vacation. They are mostly seen holding hands when they're out together, and their friends always comment on how they're the sweetest couple they know of: Kyle is overprotective and reserved, while Zoe is upbeat and sociable. Those who know them lightheartedly tease the couple, about how Kyle mostly keeps to himself and while Zoe does most of the talking, he always reaches out for her hand; how Zoe has this quaint mannerism of running her hands through Kyle's hair when she's leaning back in her seat and talking away… they're just so romantic, they say.
About six months in, Zoe and Kyle talk about attending community college and enrolling in some courses. Kyle wants to take up engineering again, while Zoe is choosing between sociology and history. They even talked about kids once, both of them agreeing on adoption. With unprotected sex all this time and still no bun in the oven, they're sure that they can't get pregnant.
It's nice to have this normalcy in their lives. They feel safe, out and far from the persecution they were hiding from.
This is when Kyle finally confides in Zoe about his mother's abuse. She cries, and Kyle panics, fearing he'd lost her forever (his greatest fear was that he would never be loved because of what his mother had done to him). All this time he's been seeking absolution; somehow, for reasons he can't understand, he wants to be granted some form of forgiveness for everything that has transpired with his mother. However, that is not what Zoe grants him; the release that comes to him from divulging his experience of abuse for the first time is not because of forgiveness, but from acceptance. Zoe didn't think he was weak or perverted in a sick way, she didn't reject him or grow disgusted with him, she didn't laugh or dismiss him. She still loves him despite what he confided in her, despite being aware of that part of himself he was most appalled by, his greatest secret. She broke all his walls and discredited his fears by embracing him instead of pushing him away or putting space between them, still accepting him even knowing his darkest shame.
Pity is not the prevailing emotion for her, but rather guilt due to her unwitting role in bringing him back to his mother when he'd finally escaped her, and she apologizes profusely for it. Kyle forgives her because she couldn't have known; no one had. She promises that she'll take care of him and love him and give him the happy family he deserves to be a part of. She encourages him to get therapy and counseling, and though he doesn't want to, he does it anyway, if only to assuage her (much later, he'll thank her for it, because even though he didn't want it, he needed it).
Staring into her lachrymal hazel eyes, Kyle realizes now why exactly he'd been so drawn to her the moment he spotted her in the dark at a sorority party, and why even in his addled state of mind in the regressed stage of his reanimation, he'd been so attached to her. Maybe he'd done something right in his life to deserve this angel to love him unconditionally, through every fault he had and every wrong he'd done.
Zoe hypothesized that maybe his attachment to her was probably due to Madison using Zoe's blood during the spell. Kyle believes it's something more; he'd felt the pull from the very start when he'd seen her blurry visage in a dim, smoky room filled with so many random people, and his short and brief conversation with her had affirmed that for him. Perhaps that magnetism was strong enough to latch on his mind and heart and cross over to his life after death, but the only acceptable explanation for him was the red thread of kismet.
Kyle styles his shorter hair differently, opting to pull back his hair away from his face instead of sporting bangs, making him look more mature. Zoe was supposed to have her hair cut and dyed as a disguise, but Kyle adamantly protested. She didn't have the heart to refuse him, not when he sported such a cute pout as he twirled a lock of her hair, looking like a sad little boy saying goodbye to his beloved puppy.
"But I love your hair," was Kyle's singular reasoning behind his objection, and Zoe couldn't deny that she found it too adorable to rebuff, so she kept her hair as is, with only the occasional trimming for split and dry ends.
They'd believed that they were finally living out their happily ever after, and life could not be sweeter.
Everything was going so well, so peacefully, that they were unprepared for the catastrophe that befell them. The lull of idyllic, simple living had dulled their alertness and quelled their sense of urgency, their survival instinct of flight. A sentimental attachment to the place had ensnared them, and they hadn't fled when they should have.
The catalyst of their tragedy had been Billy, the nephew of Al, the owner of the gas station and Kyle's boss. Kyle tended to stay out of Billy's way, avoiding him as much as he can. Billy was rude, and acted like an entitled douchebag. Even his uncle didn't like his attitude, and the boss made it known. The problem was, Al also made his high regard for Kyle known, more often than not rubbing it in his nephew's face whenever he was around. And that grated on Billy's nerves and ego.
One afternoon, Zoe got out of her shift early and decided to wait for Kyle at the gas station so they could go home together. On her way to Woodall Station, Billy, driving his truck, slows down next to her, catcalling and throwing lewd comments at her. Annoyed, Zoe tells him to fuck off and flicks them her middle finger, quickening her pace so she can get to the gas station, which was already in sight.
The truck comes to a stop and Billy gets out of the driver's side, leaving the engine running. He grabs Zoe's elbow from behind, turning her abruptly so she can face him. Upon seeing his face, Zoe brazenly spits at Billy.
He lets out a disgusted growl, releasing her as he wipes off her spit in his eye with his sleeve.
"Don't touch me or you'll regret it."
Zoe hadn't seen the backhand coming. Her head whipped to the side from the force of the slap from Billy's lanky hand; he had such graceful, long fingers like a sophisticated lady's, who'd have thought he could pack one hell of a bitchslap with them?
Before Zoe could gather her wits and slap the bastard in retaliation, Billy was on the ground, wrestling with an enraged Kyle.
"No! Stop!" Zoe grabbed onto the collar of Kyle's uniform, pulling at him with all her might to try to get him away. She didn't care about Billy; that trash could die and she wouldn't shed a tear nor feel bad about it. But if Kyle were charged with murder and sent to jail, she wouldn't be able to handle it.
Al, seeing the ruckus as he came out of his office came out at that time to help Zoe in breaking up the fight. With his help, he managed to pull off the two men from tearing at each other, and being a wedge between them. Kyle was ready to launch himself towards Billy again, if not for Zoe tightly holding him back.
"Babe, hey, hey," Zoe ran a hand over Kyle's cheek, hoping her touch would help to calm his anger, though he never turned his face to regard her as he was too preoccupied with glowering at Billy and finding a way to get to him. "Let it go, babe. Let it go." Zoe pressed herself to his side, resting her forehead on the side of his chin, whispering, "Just let it go. For me."
They'd taken to calling each other 'babe' or 'baby' in public, because even though they'd gotten used to other people knowing and calling them by their new names, they still had a hard time referring to each other with their alternate monikers. So to prevent any blunder, they used pet names and endearments in public, and called to each other with their original names in private, which they only did when they were within the walls of their modest home, segregated from society.
Billy was also trying to find a way past Al who was blocking him, matching his nephew's every step side to side in finding an opportunity to lunge once again at Kyle. When Billy tried to dart past the old man, Al caught him and roughly pushed him back before shoving him, causing him to hit the hood of his automobile.
"Get the fuck outta here, Billy. Get in your truck and turn around, and you never show yourself here, you hear me, boy? I am banning you from ever coming here!" Al threatened, a pointed finger raised to his nephew's face. Breathing deeply, Billy went back to the driver's side in silence and drove off.
Zoe was glad Kyle didn't possess pyrokinesis, because he'd have set the Billy's truck on fire with his glare. When the truck is out of sight, Kyle turns to Zoe, his hands gently caressing her cheeks, just like the way he did on the night of their first clandestine night flight long ago, asking if she's alright through his heavy breaths, and she reassures him with a nod and a kiss. Al apologizes profusely for his nephew, and tries to make up for it by allowing Kyle to get off work early.
Later that night, the incident with Billy is lost in Zoe's memories while she lies naked next to Kyle on their bed. Kyle on the other hand, is kept awake by unease, holding a peacefully sleeping Zoe in his arms.
Try as he might, Kyle could not shake off an ominous foreboding in his gut that stirred his apprehension. He didn't know what Billy was planning, but he knew he had to be ready to defend himself and protect Zoe at all cost if Billy decided to strike again, and he just knew that bastard would. Without letting Zoe know, Kyle bought a shotgun and ammo, making sure to keep it hidden but easy to access by stashing it under their bed.
Kyle would get to use his shotgun one night, a week after his tiff with Billy.
Since their house was out of the way, they had no nearby neighbors, ensuring them complete privacy from nosy locals who might feel inclined to drop by at their doorstep at any time. The setting was exactly what they wanted from the start, but would work against them that night. As Kyle and Zoe lay in bed after a session of lovemaking, they were suddenly jolted out of their cocoon of somnolent bliss when a truck suddenly came on their property, weaving back and forth in front of their house. Along with it came a cacophony of noise from continuous honking and belligerent loud taunts. It was Billy with his two friends, calling out for Kyle in addition to hollering dirty fantasies of what they wanted— or perhaps, planned— to do with Zoe.
Kyle does not hesitate to pull out the shotgun that had been already loaded. Nobody talked about Zoe that way; Kyle's blood boiled with wrath coupled by murderous impulse that came so easily to him in his second life.
Zoe's eyes widen. "Oh my god, when did you get a fucking gun?!"
"I had a feeling he'd pull some shit like this," Was Kyle's only answer as he cocked the shotgun after checking its chamber and collected some shells, stuffing as much as he could in his pocket. "Can't just fucking leave us in peace. Stay here. I'll make them go away."
"What? No!" Zoe pulled him back down to the floor when he attempted to stand. "You can't go out there! You don't know what they'll do to you!" She hissed. Her frightened, watery eyes suddenly hardened with resolute rage. "I will handle them."
"No!" This time, Kyle is the one who gripped Zoe's wrist to bring her back to her previous crouching position. "Do you hear them? I don't know what they want to do to me, but I know what they want to do to you!"
Zoe raised a haughty eyebrow with a cruel jeer. "I'd like to see them try."
Then Kyle remembers the genetic curse/gift she possesses. His eyes narrow at her. "No."
He won't let them have their way with Zoe, even knowing that it would result to gruesome suffering and deaths for Billy and his two friends, not even if Zoe was considering going that route.
"Well they're not just going to go away and leave us alone even if we barricade ourselves in here and stay quiet!"
Billy's and his friends' derisive shouts were really getting to Kyle. He was ready to murder, the law be damned.
Firmly holding his face in both her hands to divert his thoughts to her, Zoe drove her point through. "I am not going to let you go out there alone!"
Kyle took deep breaths, trying to come up with a plan, tamping down his feelings so it would not control him. He had to do something, think of something. He took a last calming breath, and laid down the shotgun. "Get to the phone and call 911. We need the cops here. I'll keep an eye out."
Zoe nodded, crawling away to where the phone was in the kitchen. They also left their cellphones there as soon as they got home instead of taking the devices everywhere with them, because they decided that all the hectic and stress of the day would be left at the door; when they're both at home means exclusive time for themselves, and restricting communication is a way of blocking out the outside reality, letting it all fall away outside their front door to ensconce themselves in a world of their own, where they were the sole denizens of a small space in the vast universe. Zoe finally reached the phone and dialed 911, whispering urgently as her call was received, stating the emergency and the situation.
Unbeknownst to Zoe, Kyle's resolve to stay put broke the moment the three outside merrily talked in loud voices and making use of graphic, obscene details about what they wanted to do with Zoe using the baseball bat they brought with them. Without Zoe to keep him down, Kyle strode undeterred to the front door, his shotgun in hand, ready to confront the trio attempting to terrorize them.
But he should not have been impulsive, because as soon as he got out the door, one of the guys had been waiting, crouching and keeping to the wall beside the door with the bat, and when Kyle came out with the gun, he was bashed, and he fell to the ground from the force of the swing, dropping the shotgun. Before he could recover and get up, Billy's two friends had grabbed him by the arms and dragged him farther away from the front door.
Zoe noticed the commotion, and realized that Kyle had gone out to confront the fuckers. Suddenly, fear coursed through her veins, not for her, but for Kyle.
Though she had successfully channeled vitalum vitalis before, she didn't know if she could harness that gift once again, because Queenie, though having performed it before on Misty, failed with Zoe.
"Kyle!" Zoe screamed as she heard him cry out in pain. "Kyle!"
When she got out the front door, her blood froze at the sight.
Billy's second friend had hooked and locked his elbows through Kyle's elbows, effectively pulling back Kyle's arms in restraint. The bat was behind Kyle's neck, with the guy holding on to it with both hands as added leverage so that Kyle would not be able to free his arms in any way of struggle. That was effective in subduing Kyle and keeping him in a vulnerable position where Billy could practice his punches.
Kyle's face was bloody; he didn't have the strength to retaliate or break free. The last guy in their company of three was off to the side, leisurely smoking a cig with the shotgun propped up on his shoulder. He cheered on Billy as pummeled, watching on with glee as Billy delivered blows to Kyle's abdomen and face, as if he was just watching a game on TV and not seeing someone get beat up to an inch from death.
"Hey Billy, his bitch finally joined the party!" The smoker commented, having noticed Zoe's presence.
Billy grinned. "You look hot, babe!" He strode towards her, the other two snickering and catcalling. "Keep him still while I fuck with his woman!"
Suddenly, anger rushed through her. The pounding in her head was a gavel, demanding justice. Spite and vindictiveness overpowered better judgment so throwing caution and discrepancy to hell, she summoned her gifts to punish the three men who had dared to deface her home, her protected paradise, by attacking both of them.
Zoe evilly smirked back at him. "Don't call me babe." She made a gesture with her arm the way one would send off a servant, and suddenly, Billy felt himself flung backwards through the air. He landed hard on the ground, knocking the wind out of his lungs with a thud. The other two froze in shock, their eyes widening as they stared at Billy on the ground groaning, as he muttered, "The hell…?"
"Zoe! No! Just run away! Zoe!"
Zoe wanted to admonish Kyle; as honorable as his intentions were, he should have known that she didn't need a man to protect her.
Suddenly, Billy's friend who was smoking cried out as the shoulder of his denim jacket suddenly sported fire. He shrieked as he backed away, flailing in panic as he tried to douse the flames rapidly eating away his skin at the nape and ears.
By this time, the only one left standing knew something was terribly off, and he needed to get away. With no regard his two friends, as if forgetting they were even there, the man let go of Kyle, letting the beaten up blonde slump to the ground, took off and got in the driver's seat of Billy's truck, thankful that the key had been left in the ignition for a quick getaway. The engine started and he stepped on the gas. He didn't make it a couple of meters before he realized the steering wheel would not move to the direction of his own hands. The truck turned left on its own. He screamed, holding up his hands to shield himself when the truck crashed into a big oak tree situated near the front yard.
Billy stayed down on the ground, his breath hitching in fear. He whimpered, and when he saw the shotgun dropped by his friend fly across the distance to come in contact with Zoe's hand, as her palm was a magnet. When Zoe trotted towards him, he started pleading.
"You think you can just come here to our home, and try to fuck with me and Kyle?! Did you think it was going to be that easy?!" She pulled the trigger, but the shot missed Billy by two feet. Zoe cocked the gun, and Billy crawled backwards to add space between them, hoping to escape unscathed, without him having to shed blood.
Mercy was not inspired in Zoe's heart, not when the rush of vindictiveness still thrummed through her, not when she was still riding on the high of her very effective retaliation. She was going to make Billy pay. She held up the shotgun to her face, aiming at Billy, ready to shoot him, when he was saved by the sirens.
Just then, the cops arrived along with an ambulance. The friend on fire was doused, and immediately transported to the hospital to treat his third-degree burns. Bruised, bloody, and sporting a broken arm and dislocated shoulder, Kyle was also taken away by an ambulance with Zoe riding along. As for Billy and his other friend in cahoots, the police arrested them. They were charged with trespassing among others, and they were going to spend quite a bit of time incarcerated.
That particular event should have rung an alarm, should have served as warning. The thought to pack up and move someplace else to start afresh should have occurred to them, but it didn't. The fact is, they were too attached to the place. This was the home they'd purchased to build their dreams in and spend their lives with each other, well into their golden years, and eventually die together.
They would get to die together all right; but they would not live to see their golden years.
They came for them a few short months after the attempted home invasion of Billy and his friends. Even though the three were serving jail time, they had contacted someone and told them about their suspicions. And a covert investigation began.
The two could have been safe, but what gave them away was that Billy had heard them refer to each other with their real names, and that helped to track down their real identities.
Kyle was at work when a group of men in a car pulled up to the gas station and nabbed him, stuffing his head with a pillow and tying him. Around that same time, a lone man came into Zoe's workplace and covered her mouth and nose using a cloth dabbed with chloroform while she had her back turned to him.
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Behind the darkness brought by the blindfold, she could hear the angry shouts of the mob. The speaker whose voice resonates above the indignated din of the people informs them that the male companion of the witch was supposed to be dead already from a tragic bus accident, so why was he among them? Because of devil sorcery, of course! The speaker proclaims that the witch's lover must also be burned at the stake, because he is unnatural, just like the witch, perhaps more so. The crowd roars its damning approval.
Once, upon the brink of their leaving, she'd told him firmly, that she was not afraid of him. It never occurred to her that there would come a time when she would be afraid for him. Zoe screams, pleads, begs them to spare Kyle; he's innocent, he's not a warlock, she's the one with magical gifts. She's the unnatural one, not him. Her headache throbs against her skull, aggravated by her shouts, but Zoe ignores it, struggles with whatever strength she has left against her captors. It's of no use; they're stronger than her, and they have no problem dragging a petite, lightweight girl along the ground.
Just by being deprived of her sight, Zoe can't grasp her telekinesis nor her transmutation. That was a very clever move on their part, and it begs the question of whether they'd had experience before, of burning down a witch and the struggles that came with subduing one. Or perhaps, they can't stand to see the eyes of someone tortured and burned, pleading for mercy and shrieking from so much pain as their flesh blackens from the fire.
Zoe is hauled to what seems to be a wooden platform, and she is tied to a wide wooden post. Her hands are secured at the sides by heavy metal chains, ensuring that she wouldn't be able to free herself from her confines. Her blindfold still is not taken away. She continues shrieking, her throat feeling the scratches of desperation in her voice, but she is ignored.
Not long after, another set of furious shouts joins hers, asking where she is, demanding that they release her, vowing that he will kill them all if they hurt her. She recognizes Kyle's voice and she emits a despairing wail; she can't see what they're doing to him, but she deduces that they're not gentle in their treatment of him, and he's violently struggling against them. The wooden platform she's on reverberates with footsteps. Kyle's angry tone becoming nearer and louder, and Zoe finds her voice again, calling out for him.
They tie him at the other side of the post so they are back to back. Only their hands find contact with each other.
"Kyle?! Kyle?!" Zoe sobs, finding his hands and tightening her grip on them.
"Zoe, I'm here, I'm right here." He squeezes her hands in reply.
"I'm blindfolded, I can't see anything."
"So am I."
"Kyle…"
"It's alright. We're together. That's all that matters."
Zoe is weeping unceremoniously, in front of a large number of people she can't see, and perhaps have never even laid eyes on.
Zoe flinches when she hears the echoing sloshes of something liquid. The smell of gasoline fills her nostrils; she can hear the cadence of the gasoline slapping against wood, being spread all over them, despite the loud upheaval of the multitude.
The mob roars once more, and then fire makes its own noise, adding to the approving clamor of the people.
As the flames begin, Zoe and Kyle hold hands tightly.
"I love you, Zoe." The finality, the firm reassurance in his declaration... He'd told her that so many times.
"I love you too, Kyle. So much. I'm sorry I dragged you into this." Zoe is wracked by sobs, because if not for her, he wouldn't have been condemned to die in this miserable, horrible way.
"I don't regret anything. Not with you. I love you."
For all the noise they previously made, they are now silent. Zoe grits her teeth and tightens her grip on Kyle's hands, as does he. The fire claws at their feet, like alligators and vipers snapping at their flesh and clothes. Amidst the smell of smoke and the roasting of flesh, Zoe hears Myrtle's kooky voice. Kyle is groaning behind her; the flames must be getting to him. So she whispers, knowing that he hears her.
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young…
Kyle quiets down, Zoe's somber recital of the poem bringing him peace. Perhaps, unconsciously or not, she is casting a sort of analgesic spell, because he no longer feels pain but smells burning flesh still. He knows there is no escaping this, but he's not afraid of death nor dying; he's more terrified of not being with Zoe. He'd been more afraid previously while in lock up, when he didn't know what had happened to Zoe and what they were doing to her, but being with her now, even at the brink of their execution, is a much better place to be.
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Somehow, dying together doesn't make Zoe sad. As her consciousness slowly dissolves into darkness, the flesh dissolving from their bones, it feels as if they are fulfilling a forgotten promise from another lifetime by dying together knowing they are with the person they love the most and knowing they are loved back.
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A/n: Well, this became longer and longer than I originally planned in my head the more that I worked on it. And I couldn't resist adding little references to other seasons of AHS. ^_^ Anyway, all the poem snippets (italicized) mentioned in this fic are from John Keats' Ode to a Grecian Urn.