A/N: So I seem to be unable to write a simple little one-shot lately. Or anything without a Prologue. Whatever. Anyway, you can thank jandjsalmon and shootingstella for this fic since they inspired it with one of their Tumblr convo's wishing for a fic that killed a cute little four year old (Ladies, you're right - it sounds awful out of context). I couldn't get it out of my head and with some additional input from jandy I got to writing. So, I hope I'm doing her justice, and of course I wanted to say thank you for basically being awesome and amazing. If I could bake you cookies I would, but I can't so I'm giving you this instead.
Important stuff: The Prologue is written from Violet's POV, but the rest is from Tate's.
Prologue
The house wasn't sentient. It didn't think. But it did feel things. It did have needs. Like a carnivorous plant. I could feel it around me, restless, twitching, pushing me out of the wood and plaster and glass that had been my safe haven since that Christmas, and back into it instead of being a part of it. I opened my eyes at the end of the hallway by my bedroom, feeling the air around me heavy and expectant.
I heard voices moving through the hallways and I strained my ears trying to make them out, catching words here and there before the same realtor who sold us the house rounded the corner flanked by a couple ooing and awing their way through the classic L.A. Victorian.
I scrutinized them as they approached. The wife, some fake Barbie bitch, was more plastic parts than actual flesh. She might have been pretty at one point; before the cheek and chin implants, before the nose job, the tit job, the lippo, the tummy tuck, the bleach bottle blonde and contacts making her eyes technicolor blue.
The husband reeked of womanizing almost as badly as the noxious cloud of cologne that followed him around, burning my nose. His phone chimed in his pocket as they made their way down the hall and he ducked into my old room to bark orders at some flunky, giving me a better understanding of his wife's many, many enhancements.
Apparently if you want to land a Middle-grade, middle-aged Hollywood producer you have pull on your big girl britches and get nipped and tucked and trade in those ballet flats for stilettos. Sooner or later she'd get traded in for a newer, faster, sleeker model because in her late twenties she was probably getting a little long in the tooth for him.
So when the sullen looking little mousy brown haired girl rounded the corner clutching the hand of a nanny to join them I had no doubt what role she played. She was a meal ticket, a safe guard, a security blanket to make sure that when daddy did dump mommy, as he inevitably would, she'd get a nice fat check every month, at least until the little girl was eighteen.
It was amazing how the house could attract shitty parents; The Mongomery's; The Langdon's; The Harvey's; The Harmon's. I had accused my parents of benign neglect, but these two took it to a new level.
I wondered why they had even brought her along because it wasn't that they ignored her, it was that she didn't exist to them. She walked down the hallway, craning her neck to look in each room, her mother oblivious as she excitedly discussed decorating options with Marci, and her father only lifting his eyes away from the phone he was furiously tapping on to give the nanny a look full of innuendo, making a blush stain her cheeks.
As soon as she was clear of the other adults her eyes locked on me, and I froze in place at the improbability of it because she shouldn't be able to see me.
"Hi." Said a small, girlish voice in my head and if I hadn't heard Constance's CraigsList psychic do the same thing a lifetime ago I would have dropped dead of of shock right there.
"Hi."
"Who are you?"
"Violet." I said more calmly than I felt.
"Do you live here?"
"Yes. Does that scare you?"
"No." Her little voice held a note of defiance. "I'm not scared of anything."
I smirked. "I used to say that too."
"My grandma Lily comes to see me sometimes; she's dead too." She smiled at me as if talking to dead relatives was the most natural thing in the world.
"Who are you smiling at Emma?" The nanny asked suspiciously, making me wonder if the house just generally gave her the creeps or if its other inhabitants were pulling out all the stops before the new family had even signed the papers.
I shook my head vigorously. "Don't tell her I'm here; she can't see me."
"I know." She said simply, in that know-it-all-voice that is so annoying in little kids. She lifted her face to the nanny. "You can't see her." She said audibly this time.
She pulled her hand free and walked into my old room, stopping to look out the windows. I followed, watching, taking in the her small frame and pale skin; the freckles dotted sparsely high on her cheeks and the soft sea green eyes that sat above them.
"Who's that woman downstairs?"
"Was she in a black dress?" She nodded. "Moira; she's the maid."
"Oh. Do lots of ghosts live here?" She asked curiously.
"Yes. How old are you Emma?"
"Four; I can spell my name though." She added hastily, as if to impress me with how grown up she was. "The other kids at preschool can't do that." She said proudly.
"How do you spell it?"
Her face screwed up in concentration. "E-M-M-A."
"You're pretty smart aren't you?" Her eyes were brilliant with the complement and her cheeks flushed pink.
"Emma? Come on, we need to go downstairs now." The nanny motioned her towards the door, and she looked from her back to me, scowling.
"I have to go now. Can I talk to you again sometime?"
"Sure." I said uncertainly, fighting against the knot of dread in my stomach and resisting the urge to follow her out, just to make sure none of the other spirits hurt her, to protect her.
It had been going on for weeks now. Every afternoon when Emma was supposed to be taking a nap she'd whisper for Violet, and then she'd appear, right by the bed. Just like that. I couldn't count how many times I'd cried out for her over the years; whispers, wails, whines. She ignored them all. But not for the little girl. Not for Emma. For Emma she'd appear out of thin air before her name even finished passing her lips.
They'd sit and 'talk' until the nanny recalled her to the world of the living. Not today though. Today, her daddy got busted fucking the nanny when mommy came home early from pilates or the spa or shopping or whatever the fuck she did other than parenting.
Currently there was shrill screaming coming from the upper floors, the nanny having collected her things hastily and hurtled out the door. The woman didn't know how lucky she was; if Mrs. Cooper was anything like Constance she'd be a permanent fixture of the house. I had a suspicion that Moira was the one who had tipped off The Little Missus; she could get so territorial about the men in the house.
Whatever her reason for doing it, I needed her help now and went to beg it while she was scrubbing the counters with a sinister smile playing on her lips. "I want you to tell Mrs. Cooper to hire Violet as the new nanny."
"Why would I do that?" She asked shrewdly.
"Because you don't want another hot piece of nanny ass coming into the house and usurping your position as head Jezebel?" I offered. She stopped scrubbing at the counter, glaring at me with her dead eye, and I dropped the bullshit sarcasm. "It makes her happy; I want her to be happy. Besides Emma knows about us, and if Vi's the one taking care of her we can at least have run of the house during the day."
"Fine."
"Thanks." I slid down off the counter and I decided to go visit Beau. All the screaming would probably have him cowering in the corner in fear. It took me awhile to coax him out, but eventually the red ball was rolling back and forth between us; neither it nor Beau taking up much of my attention.
It hurt that she came back for the girl and not me. She had been gone so long, but I always knew she'd come back, even after her parents had given up hope. I knew when she came back she might ignore me, have gotten over us; that she might move on to someone else. It still hurt because while it was easy for me to say all those things, it wasn't easy to live with them, to ignore them.
At least in the months after that Christmas, even though they were the worst of my life, even though Violet was terrifying in her brokenness and her self-destruction, it was because she still loved me. It could have been worse, I guess. If I had to watch her with another guy I was sure the pain of it would have killed me. But even though it was a little girl, a little girl who couldn't touch what Violet and I had, it still hurt.
In the weeks she'd been back she hadn't sought me out, not once. The little girl, Emma, could see us even when others couldn't. I knew she saw me even if she never talked to me. If she told Violet about it, and really she had no reason not to, she didn't tell anyone. That hurt too. More than anything I wanted her find me; to scream at me; to rage and storm at my for spying on her. It would have been better than her callous indifference; it would have given me hope because if I could still hurt her, she still loved me.
Maybe if Moira let slip that I had tried to arrange things, whether they worked out or not, it would make a difference. Maybe she'd see that I still wanted to be hers, that I wanted to be the one that made her happy, that I took care of her; proof that I'd changed and not just mere words. Maybe if she got the job she'd find me and offer an awkward 'thank you'. It would be a start, something to build on, and one day maybe I'd be enough for her; be all she would ever need.
I rolled the red ball back one last time, and pushed myself off the dusty floor. Even if I swore I wouldn't do it, I did. Every time I visited Beau in the attic it ended the same way. I wended my way through the maze of boxes to the far corner, shifting some around to reach ones on the bottom of the stack. Her boxes.
I fingered through the clothes and books, the ephemera of life; the ugly yellow cardigan she was wearing the first time I saw her; journals and notebooks full of her thoughts. They only chronicled the part of her life I wasn't a part of, and it felt like fate's cruel joke because I would have chopped off my right arm to read words that her warm hand had scribbled across the page about me no matter how good or bad they were.
My chest tightened convulsively when I ran across a picture of her and I laying in the yard; her face resting against my chest, mine buried in her hair. We were smiling, happy; two teenagers in love. I remembered what the picture didn't show; her hand holding up her phone to take the picture, mine slipped up under her shirt and curved around her side.
When I could breath again I put everything back where it belonged and made my way back to the basement, only stopping for a second to listen to Moira consoling the current Lady of the House.
I was standing in the corner of the living room the next morning when Violet met Mrs. Cooper for the first time. She came in the guise of a neighborhood girl taking a year off between high school and college. They discussed what would be expected of her: that she keep Emma entertained and out of trouble the five days a week she wasn't at preschool from nine in the morning until she fell asleep; on nights when they were out or they were having a party she had to stay until they got home or went to bed.
It was all pointless really. The only thing she cared about was that Violet not be her husbands type and after running a disparaging and judgemental eye over her decided she'd be perfect. I was amused by Violet though; even though she'd only have one day a year to spend it she haggled for a bonus on the nights when she had to stay late, arguing that she'd be giving up her social life to do so. Her only caveat was that she be paid in cash, and considering that she wouldn't fuck Mr. Cooper with his dick, it was no problem.
No one was really concerned with getting The Cooper's out of the house after that. During the day, as long as the the only living person in the house was Emma, we could carry on as if the place was empty. There were other benefits, like paying the electric bill so we could have air conditioning over the summer, always having a well stocked fridge, and their Hollywood coke and champagne socials provided ample opportunities for sport sex for some of the ghosts.
My days fell into an easy routine. Violet would come in through the front door, and I'd be waiting. I'd follow her upstairs, going up to visit Beau while she got Emma changed and ready for the day. I'd watch them play; watch Violet sit through endless tea parties and coloring, dress up and reading Dr. Suess. All things she probably wouldn't have had the patience for if she was alive, but reveled in because she was dead and lonely.
I was grateful for Emma, at first. She made Violet laugh and smile, kept her in the house instead of a part of it. I was jealous for the same reasons, but mostly grateful. Violet was happy for the first time in a long time though, and whatever jealousy I felt I squashed because I could endure it if it brought her happiness. It wasn't just happiness though; I could see the fondness growing there in Violet's eyes for Emma and the contempt for her parents every time they slighted and ignored her.
And they did ignore her. It was a throwback to the times of Nora around the house; children were to be seen and not heard when they're seen at all, and the only time they seemed to see her was when she had to sit quietly through dinner on the nights they weren't partying. Mrs. Cooper barely deigning to drive her to preschool twice a week on the Violet's days off.
But as time wore on I could see Violet slipping further from me. She doted on Emma, nothing made her happier than making Emma happy, and to a little girl who only had two uncaring parents and previous nannies who had only seen her as a paycheck it was the best thing in the world. Even through the gratefulness and jealousy was envy; Violet mothered her in the way I'd wished Constance or Nora or anyone had done to me at that age.
The quiet moments were the ones that stung the most. The way Emma would wrap her arms around Violet's middle and rest her face against her hip as she talked to Moira or her mother; Violet's hand unconsciously dropping down to smooth the girls hair or rub her shoulder. Even if no one else could see it I could, because it was like watching myself. Emma was stealing Violet's heart, just as Violet had stolen mine.
As if I'd needed any confirmation of it Hayden made the mistake of referring to Emma as a 'little freak' within Violet's earshot one day. It earned her a swift and unceremonious trip down the stairs, head first. Emma was making her forget, blotting out the past and me and us in Violet's memory, or at least making me unnecessary. I withdrew to the crawlspace, hiding next to what remained of Violet's body, bones now, to think.
The first gift I gave Violet was one she didn't recognize as a gift. It was sleep. She was tired at night now, preferring to actually sleep than to fade out until morning. Even if taking care of Emma wasn't hard work, it was tiring chasing around a four year old twelve hours a day. So when she fell asleep on a futon in the smallest bedroom I made sure nothing disturbed her.
I watched her hungrily, my eyes tracing half forgotten curves while she slept because it was the closest I'd been to her in years. It was late and the house was quiet when her breathing hitched and she shuddered around a few words that might have been my name, but were too garbled in sleep to be sure of. When a tear slipped out under her lashes I gingerly put a hand on her and she stilled, comforted.
I felt tears cascade down my face because even if she didn't know it, she was happy I was there, and that made the hope inside my chest flare; maybe she still did need me, she just needed to be reminded, and that was exactly what I was going to do. I kept my hand there until morning, withdrawing when the house started to come alive around us with a gentle kiss to her shoulder and a murmured I love you in her ear.
The next gift was more obvious. I had been scouring the house since my sojourn to the crawlspace for gifts, not really for Violet, but for Emma since she was clearly the way to Vi's heart now. The games were ancient, but intact, so one day when they were in the backyard I left Candyland and Chutes & Ladders on the play table in her room. Emma squealed with delight when she saw them, and after her bath when she was supposed to be going to sleep Violet let her stay up late for one last round.
The third gift wasn't something I'd planned on, but it was the most overt; the one that would tell her exactly who was watching in an undeniable way. The only furniture in Emma's room was kid sized, and on the nights Violet had to stay with her it was uncomfortable for her. So a few days before the Memorial Day blowout The Cooper's planned I was sanding the chipped and warped paint off my favourite chair and applying a fresh coat. She didn't react when she was it, but the fact that she didn't throw it out the window or light it on fire or something I took as a good sign.
The last gift I gave her was something that I had to wait for, but the most important. So far Emma hadn't been down to the basement. Violet wasn't letting her anywhere near the more unstable ghosts of the house, but she was a bold and curious little girl, and even though Violet told her there were monsters down there I knew one day she'd be tempted.
I didn't have long to wait. It came at the end of a morning when Violet had kept her inside due to the unseasonably hot weather. They decided to play hide and seek in the house. Naturally Emma tried to hide in the basement as soon as she was out of Violet's sight.
As soon as Thaddeus crawled out from under a pile of junk she shrieked and I scooped her up into my arms and away from danger. "Go away!" Emma was hiding her face against me and trembling, but she was safe in my arms.
The basement door danged open. "Emma!" I could hear how frantic Violet was and stepped out into the main room as she clambered down the steps.
"She's fine." I said quietly as she rushed up, completely ignoring me and totally focused on the girl in my arms. She was close enough for me to smell her, to feel her breath as her hands brushed against me, fluttering around checking Emma for injuries.
"Did he hurt you?" She shook her head, but still seemed too scared for speech. Violet lifted her out of my arms and held her tightly. "I told you not to come in here, Emma." She might have been scolding, but the relief in her voice was unmistakable.
"I don't want to play hide and seek anymore." Emma's voice waved, muffled against Violet's neck.
"Okay."
"Can we go outside?" Outside in the sun; far removed from the dank basement and it's monsters.
"Sure." Violet finally lifted her eyes to mine. "Thank you." She said stiffly and turned to leave, but Emma lifted her face away from Violet and looked at me.
"You can come play too, Tate." She pulled back looking at Violet. "He can right?"
"Yes." Her voice was tight, but it didn't register with Emma, and I ignored it, obediently following them upstairs and outside.
As soon as Violet set her down in the middle of the yard I crouched down to her level, asking her if she wanted to see the nest of baby birds hidden in one of the trees. I knew she loved birds, had spent weeks biting my tongue in the shadows every time she asked Violet what kinds of birds made their homes in the backyard and she couldn't tell her.
She smiled at me sweetly, nodding her head in excitement, and I lifted her up onto my shoulders. Violet followed along, silent. "Do you know what kind is it?"
"A flycatcher." She made a small chirping noise and the mother bird cocked her head curiously as Violet laughed behind us.
We toured around the yard looking at the finches and bluebirds, thrushes and orioles, before I finally set her down in the gazebo, out of the harsh sun, for the lunch Moira had brought out. Emma watched me with open fascination as she ate and I tried not to watch Violet the same way. She was somber and uncomfortable, and other than her laugh earlier she didn't speak at all, audibly anyway, other than to remind Emma to thank me for saving her before they went back in the house.
It was a start anyway.
I expected Violet to find me once she got Emma to sleep. Expected her to be angry about today. Expected her to make me swear to stay away from Emma and her. She didn't. Once she got her to sleep tonight she made her fake exit from the house and disappeared. I couldn't find her at first, and the fear that she might have gone away again made my heart race and shoot up into my throat.
I found her, later, in Emma's room. She looked anxious as she sat in the rocking chair that had formerly been my home. Tensed and waiting, for what I wasn't sure, but her eyes never wavered from Emma as she slept; thin arms wrapped around a stuffed animal, lips barely parted.
I wondered if she was worried I'd try to hurt her, if that was the reason for tonight's vigil, but pushed the thought out, unwilling to believe Violet would think that. It was late and the house was still, Emma's parents having finally poured themselves into bed, when she started tossing and turning. I wasn't sure Violet was breathing she was wound so tightly, and when Emma let loose a volley of frightened noises she moved to the bed, gently placing her hands on her shoulders and shaking her awake. "It's okay, Em. It's just a dream."
Emma looked up at her for a moment with wide frightened eyes before practically leaping into Violet's lap, shaking in fright. "Don't let him get me."
Violet picked her up and moved both of them back to the chair, holding her tightly, and trying to soothe her. "I won't let him hurt you."
"Don't go." Her voice was still terrified, but she wasn't shaking anymore, finding safety in nestling against Violet.
"I won't." She rocked them back and forth until Emma fell asleep again.
"She was talking about Thaddeus, not you." I walked out of the shadows, grabbing up a soft fleece blanket from the foot of the bed and spreading it over them before sitting down in front of her.
I dropped my gaze from her. "How did you know I was here?"
"You're always there. She always asks me why you look so sad."
"Because I am."
"Me too." She rested her face against the top of Emma's head and closed her eyes for a moment. "She makes me forget though. It's easier living in her world than mine because mine means you, and it hurts too much. But you know that don't you? That's why you've been so kind to her isn't it? You don't want me to forget."
I could lie to her, tell her that she was wrong, but what was the point? She was right, and we both knew it. "I just want you back. I want you to remember me, us, the way it was, the way it could be."
"That's the problem. Every memory of you touching me makes me wonder if you touched my mother the same way."
Her words were like a punch to the gut, and my mouth was working before my mind had time to catch up. "I didn't. It wasn't like... I raped her, Vi, it wasn't like it was with us." She glared at me, murderous. "I was thinking about you-"
Before I could say anything else, she did. "Go away."
The ball rolled unwavering between us and like always I was trying to find a way to fix things with Violet. I had spent the last two days berating myself for what I'd said to her. I had hoped that the next day while Emma was away at preschool I'd be able to talk to her, apologize, something, anything to make up for the stupid, hurtful words that sprung from my mouth. She wasn't there, disappearing into the house before I had a chance. I knew Violet and Emma were in her room right now, but I couldn't just burst in there; Violet would probably beat me to death if I did.
All my plans, all for nothing. What was the point of making friends with the little girl, of using her to show Violet how I'd changed, if I was going to blow it every time I opened my stupid, unthinking mouth?
"She wants you to come to her tea party." Violet's voice was restrained and tired, and when I turned around to look at her she was hunched in on herself, hands around her elbows. She could barely look at me.
I rolled the ball back to Beau one last time and stood up slowly, walking towards her carefully like she was a frightened animal. "Okay." She turned to go down the attic stairs. "Violet?"
She stopped but didn't turn around. "I don't want to talk about it." Her words were strung as tightly as the muscles across her back. Suddenly she whipped around, advancing on me like she was going to hit me. I'd let her because I deserved so much more than that.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing with Emma. Getting her to love you isn't going to make me love you again." She reached out, knotting a hand into my hair and pulling me down to her so she could whisper in my ear. "If you hurt her, no matter how disgusting I find it, I promise you I will make you watch your dad fuck me in every way you've ever fantasized about fucking me."
Her eyes were hard and furious slits and I had no doubt it was a promise she'd follow through with. I nodded as much as I could, wincing at her nails digging into my scalp before she released me and went downstairs. I tried to rearrange my features into something approximating excitement for the tea party I'd have to sit through, and forced a smile when Emma greeted me with excitement, imperiously telling me what chair to sit in.
She poured out the invisible tea and talked about all the things she'd done at preschool the day before. I barely noticed, too focused on how Violet angled herself away from me; the waves of pain she was trying to hide on her face. While Emma was distracted, busy with pots and pans in her play kitchen, I reached out for Violet. As soon as my fingers brushed against her hand she was up out of her chair, and out the room. The door slamming behind her with a sickening finality.
Emma turned around and looked at me, her face falling into a mask of tragedy as she sat down, hard, in her chair. "I just want to cheer her up." She thought at me, her hair hiding her face as she hung her head.
"Hey." I reached out, hooking a finger under her chin and lifting it up to look at me. "She's not mad at you. I said something mean to her; she's mad at me, not you." I tried to reassure her.
"Did you say 'sorry'?". I shook my head, struggling for words to explain to a four year old what happened, and not finding any. "You should tell her 'sorry'." She said reproachfully. I smiled. It would be nice to be her age again, to be able to fix things so easily.
"I will." I promised her. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest and watching me. "What? Now?" She nodded. "No, Violet wouldn't like you to be left alone. When she comes back I will, okay?" She didn't look too happy with my offer, but shrugged her little shoulders. "Do you want to play a game or something until she comes back?"
"Can we go outside and pick flowers?" She asked hopefully.
"Sure." I let her drag me downstairs, her hand small in my own, and out into the yard. As soon as we were outside she released me and ran off to a bed of daisies, picking them in bunches while I trailed along behind her, filling my hands as well. She sat down busying herself with making a daisy chain.
"Why do you watch Violet all the time?" She looked at me curiously.
"I guess because I miss her." I said slowly, unsure if answering her question was the right thing to do.
"But you're always there."
"She can't see me though, and even when she can she won't talk to me. It's not like it used to be." I added before I could stop myself, and immediately regretted it.
"What do you mean?"
I hung my head. "Violet used to be... my friend. I did something bad... really bad. She doesn't like me anymore."
She handed me a flower. "I like you."
"Thanks." I said awkwardly and tried to distract her. "So how long have you been able to talk to ghosts?"
"I don't know; forever. Violet says it's because I'm special." She smiled up at me.
"Do you remember the first ghost you talk to?"
She shook her head. "But I used to talk to my grandma Lily a lot before we moved here." The house was probably keeping her out like it kept out my fanclub.
Violet came out the backdoor at dusk and Emma ran to her, jumping into her arms, before she gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek and placed the daisy chain she'd made on top of Violet's head like a crown. When I reached them they were speaking silently, expressions sliding across their faces in synchronization before Vi set her on the ground and turned to me. "Thanks for watching her." She said simply.
Emma watched me narrowly from where she was cuddled up against Violet's hip as I handed her the flowers I'd picked, praying that she wouldn't throw them back in my face. "It was no problem. It was kind of nice, actually." She looked at me like I was full of shit. I let it go. "I'm sorry... about the other night."
Her expression was guarded before she turned and sent Emma inside. "I wish I could say something else; something that would fix everything." I continued.
"I know."
"I miss you, Vi." My voice was broken and pathetic even to my own ears. "I just..." I looked around hoping something would inspire me. "I fucking love you and I hate that I can't have you."
Her expression hardened. "Whose fault is that, Tate? Because it's not mine."
She turned to go in the house and I grabbed her wrist. "I know. I know it's not. It's my fault, everything is. I just-"
"What? Want another chance? It's not going to happen. There isn't anything you can say to fix things, to make me feel better or forgive you." She tugged her hand free and stood glaring at me. That's when it started.
The far off rumble that sounded like a freight train growing closer and closer until it sounded like it was barreling through the house. The earth shivered under our feet before going into a full-tilt shake and jolt, and my body reacted before my mind could even form the word 'earthquake'. I grabbed Violet, dragging her inside, scooping up Emma as she ran to us, and pulling them both under the kitchen table; one arm slung around Violet where she crouched over Emma, the other holding onto the table as it bounced above us.
It seemed to go on forever, but it probably lasted less than a minute. Still it was enough to send the kitchen cupboards flying open, disgorging their contents in a cacophony of shattered glass and china that skittered across the floor around us. The shaking faded just as it had come, one last little shudder making the house groan and creak.
I crawled out first, extending a hand to Violet which she took, leading Emma out with the other hand. "Are you okay?" She nodded, turning to Emma and lifting her on top of the table and asking her the same thing. Before long we were joined by what seemed like every ghost in the house.
She lifted Emma into my arms once she was satisfied she was unharmed and reached for the phone. "Forget it." I told as Emma goggled at all the ghosts milling around, many she probably hadn't seen before. "They're going to be useless for hours." She ignored me, dialing a number and then hanging up in frustration when she got nothing but a busy signal. "Do you know where they are?"
"Comic-Con." She said, meeting the confusion in my eyes with a roll of hers. "San Diego. Trying to pimp some horrible movie." Moira and Ben came in dragging trash cans and ordering everyone out. Vivien handed off the baby to Violet so she could help too, and we made our way into the living room with everyone else to watch the news.
I didn't think I'd been more happy for a natural disaster, ever. If Fate was an entity I'd kiss its feet for creating something so distracting. Our fight was forgotten amid the sounds of nervous reporters and excited scientists filling the air with reports of damage, where the epicenter was, and the magnitude. If Violet was scared she didn't show it, focusing instead on keeping Emma entertained and the baby in her arms quiet.
Whatever petty envy or jealousy I might have had for Emma drained out of me as I watched because I realized that the house, for as fucked up as it is, had a way of giving us what we needed. Maybe not right away, but in the end it would. It gave me Violet, kept me perfect for her for almost twenty years. She was my gift, and I lost her because of the choices I made. Emma was Violet's gift; she filled a hole in her heart in a way that I never could, at least not now.
Emma was always meant to be Violet's just like Violet was meant to be mine, I decided; the realization coming swift and absolute. And if you looked past the darker hair and different colored eyes she was Violet; bold and curious and brave; not afraid to speak her mind, but caring and kind even at four years old. As I watched I wondered if Emma hadn't come along if Violet would have felt the need to be a mother. Probably not, I decided. There had been kids in the house before and she never showed herself to them.
But it wasn't one-sided. Emma didn't ask for her parents the entire time we sat there. Where most children would be screaming for their mother every time an aftershock rocked the house, she'd cling to Violet's side until it stopped, and in no time Violet would have her laughing again. When they called, finally, hours later she didn't care at all; just sat on my lap eating the sandwich I'd hastily made her in the destroyed kitchen when she said she was hungry. The same ambivalence couldn't be said of Violet though, who got hung up the phone looking like she wanted to break things.
Emma had fallen asleep against me by the time the clean up in the kitchen finished. "Come on." Violet said quietly after handing her brother back to her mom. "Let's take her upstairs." She sighed as she opened the door to Emma's room, taking in the books and toys scattered on the floor. I followed carefully, picking my way through them as we made our way over to the bed, letting Violet take Emma's shoes off before I settled her under the covers and she kissed her goodnight.
"I'm glad you have someone." I whispered and Violet's eyes snapped to mine from the other side of the bed.
"it's not like that." She said sharply.
"Yes it is. She loves you, and you love her; it makes you happy. I want you to be happy."
"You just wish it was you making me happy." She moved around the bed and started collecting the books that were scattered across the floor.
I leaned down next to her, helping. "Can you blame me?" I waited a beat to see if she'd answer and the only reply I got was stony silence. "So her parents aren't coming home?"
"No." Even with that one little word I could tell she was raging inside. "She wasn't even the first thing they asked about." She hissed, looking disgusted.
A small aftershock rolled through and she gripped my arm until it stopped, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Emma was still asleep. "Vi? What are you going to do when they leave?"
"They're not going to, and why would they? Everything is quiet around here." She said dismissively.
"That's not the only problem." I said quietly, pointing out the obvious.
"I know." Her anger collapsed and I saw tears well up in her eyes. "I just want to love her while I have her. Make her life a little bit better while I can. I can't keep her."
"Why not? Her parents don't care. You love her and she loves you."
"I know." She said miserably. "But she's leaving this house the same way she came in, alive, because they can give her the one thing I can't: a life outside these walls."
"Violet, that's not-"
"No, Tate."
"Fine." I snapped in irritation.
"I'm nice to you because of her Tate, don't read anything more than that into this uneasy truce we've got going on." Violet snapped as she lifted the cigarette to her lips, twisting her head to watch the tea party in progress on the other side of the basement from where we were sitting on the stairs. It was the first time in weeks Violet and I didn't have to participate in one.
"Why haven't you told me to stay away, or forbid her from being friends with me then?"
"There's an exercise in futility." She muttered before exhaling. "What difference would it make if I did either of those things? You might stay away for a few days but unless I disappear again you'll haunt me forever. We both know I won't go away, at least while she's here, because in all these years she's the only thing that's made me feel better."
She ground her cigarette out with unwonted force. "And as for me forbidding her to see you, we both know that's bullshit. I can't deny her anything that makes her happy and she's enchanted with you, not that you don't know that."
I didn't even bother looking contrite as her face flushed angrily. "Margaret and Angie look pretty, did you teach them that?"
"Yeah. Took a while though. They didn't remember what they looked like before they were charbroiled, so I had them imagine what they'd look like as princesses."
"Aren't you just wonderful?" She snapped. "The Great and Powerful Tate. He who brings friends and games and knows the names of all the birds-"
"Jesus, would you shut up." Hayden snapped from behind Violet and we both whipped around. "You two are like divorced parents trying to be nice for the sake of the kid. It's wearing really fucking thin."
"Go fuck yourself." Violet snapped and turned back around.
"Rather be fucking your dad."
"He's probably getting a blowjob from Pat. Tell me does it make you jealous that he's rather his lips around his dick than yours?"
She vanished with an irritated hiss and Violet sighed. "You using Emma to get to me doesn't exactly make me feel forgiving, Tate." It was an honest and unguarded statement, and I repaid her in kind.
"I know. I'm not going to lie and deny it because that's what it was at first, but not now. She's part of you. A part of you I can make happy, and it makes me feel better to make her happy the same way it makes you feel better."
She leaned forward wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her head against them. "If I let you be around her don't make me regret it and don't make this about us."
"You make the rules around here." She tilted her head and looked at me for a moment before turning her attention back to Emma.
"Yeah, I do." Her tone left no room for argument.
"Could you at least not look at him like you're going to eat him?" I snapped, picking at the frayed edge of my jeans so I didn't have to look at her, soaked clothing clinging to her body obscenely.
She giggled, adding her voice to the symphony of little girl squeals filling the air as Emma, Margaret, and Angie dashed back and forth through the sprinklers, chased by a shirtless Travis. "Jealous?"
"Yes." I hissed.
"Don't be. He's not my type."
"What is?"
She looked me. "Beautiful, sad, broken boys apparently." My heart stopped. Literally stopped, before it threw itself against my ribs frantically as she gifted me a little smirk.
"Her birthday is coming up. Want to help me pick out a gift?"
"How are you going to manage that?"
"Stole the password to her parents Amazon account."
"Yeah, okay. What did you have in mind?" Just then Emma bounded up.
"Can I go inside and get some popsicles for us?" She asked breathlessly.
"Yeah, but come here." Violet pushed herself up onto her knees and grabbed the towel next to her. "Moira will skin me alive if you track water and grass into the house." She rubbed her over with the towel, tickling her as I tried to ignore the great view I was afforded of Violet's ass.
"Who's that boy?" Emma asked, looking over Violet's shoulder as she wrapped the towel around her.
We both turned to look at the blonde haired, blue eyed boy peering at us over the fence, and my heart stopped for an entirely different reason. "Just the neighbor." Violet said, her voice on the verge of tears. "Go get the popsicles." She sent Emma off with a pat on the behind and sat back down heavily, her eyes somewhere far away.
I saw her wiping away tears before they had a chance to roll down her cheeks when she asked in a strained whisper what it felt like to be a parent. "You tell me." I said harshly. "Sharing genes doesn't make you a parent. You're more of a parent to Emma than I am to that thing. Shit, you're more of a parent to her than her biological parents are."
"I wish she was ours." She said quietly and pushed herself off the gazebo floor to rejoin the watery game of tag in progress, leaving me to tears of my own.
"Fucking finally." Violet walked out of the shadows in the office as Mr. Cooper's footsteps faded up the stairs.
Violet sat down at the desk and flicked on the computer as she pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket as she brought up the website she wanted and typed 'bird house' into the search bar.
I leaned forward in the chair I was sitting in behind her. "That one." I pointed to a yellow one painted with flowering branches and a twig roof. She added it to the shopping cart along with a hummingbird feeder made from a vintage glass bottle and a matching seed feeder.
"You'll have to hang them up while she's downstairs." She murmured.
"I know." I reached forward, aiming for the mouse and meeting her hand instead. She recoiled slightly, and I muttered an apology. "We should get her something else too though, something she can unwrap. You should always have something to unwrap on your birthday."
"What did you have in mind?"
I nudged her out of the way and comically tapped on each key on the keyboard one at a time until she got annoyed and shoved my hands out of the way, and her own fingers flew across it. "Is this what you were looking for?" She asked with a smirk.
"Yeah; red ones though."
"Hey birthday girl, time to get up." Violet tickled her and she squealed, curling up in a little ball. "Don't you want to open your presents?" She sat up, pushing hair out of her face, smiling broadly, and practically vibrating with excitement. I picked her up and carried her to the window, pushing back the blinds to show her the little birdhouse with a feeder on either side, already humming with activity as a pair of bluebirds picked at the seeds and looked at her quizzically.
"Do you like it?"
"I do!" She squealed, and kissed me on the cheek before she leaning out of my arms and placing a kiss on Violet's cheek too.
"We got you something else." Violet pulled a wrapped box from behind her and presented it to Emma. I let her slide down to the floor and she eagerly ripped the paper off, beaming at us when she found a pair of red converse.
"They're like yours!" She exclaimed, pulling them out of the box and holding them out to Violet so she could thread the laces. Violet stayed with her, invisible, when her mother came in. I went downstairs and nicked a hefty plate of food for Beau, leaving him with the promise of a slice of cake later.
When I went back downstairs Violet was waiting for me. "If Emma knows any of these people I'll take a swan dive off the top of the house. It's just another party for her parents to impress their friends." She spit out spitefully as we hung around the edges of the party.
We watched Emma blow out the candles on her birthday cake and bust open a pinata to shower the yard in candy and streamers. It wasn't until she was sitting on her mothers lap opening presents while her parents ignored her, her father talking shop on one side, her mother gossiping on the other, that Violet lost it. I chased her into the house, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into the office where we had some privacy.
She was crying and for once, at least, she let me hold her. "They don't deserve her." She gasped against me.
"She's yours, Vi." I said quietly, trying to soothe her and all it did was make her cry harder.
"She's not, Tate, and in the little ways she is, she shouldn't be. I can't do this anymore." She sobbed. "We have to get them to leave."
I could argue with her that we should keep Emma forever, that she'd be happier with us than out in that filthy horror show of a world, saddled with parents even more unfeeling and callous than mine, but I knew how that argument would end, and I wasn't going to waste my breath on it.
Whatever fresh hell it brought down on me I didn't care; Emma belonged here, with Violet. This was finally something I could give her; finally a way of giving her everything she needed to be happy; finally a way of making things right. I knew she'd be livid with me at first, might actually follow through with her threat, but in the end she'd see I was right.
The house had been a hive of paranormal activity for weeks now. Violet and I spent our nights now in Emma's room watching over her as the other spirits terrorized her parents.
It made me giddy that they thought they were going insane. Their daughter flatly denied anything 'weird' going on; they were beginning to think it was all in their heads. It was perfect. I didn't want them here, infringing on our happiness. They would leave, alive, but Emma would be staying forever, even if I was the only one who knew it.
I was spread out on the couch, running a weary hand over my face as I tried to refine my plans. It was pointless, no one knew how it would happen, and I'd just have to wing it, but I hated leaving so much up to chance for something so important. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't hear her approach.
"It's going to break her heart if she leaves."
"I know."
"Do you?" The soft lilt of her voice over those two words conveying so much more.
"Just get them out the of the house." She nodded and withdrew.
It was nearly three in the morning when the screaming stopped and a terrifying silence followed in its wake. "I can't be here." Violet said in a strained whisper. "I can watch them take her away, Tate." She pleaded with me.
"Go, Vi." I urged as I heard footsteps coming closer. "Go. I'll be here for her." She disappeared just as Emma's mother burst through the door, shaking her awake frantically and standing her on her feet. She was still rubbing sleep from her eyes as her mother began dragging her out the door and into the hallway.
As soon as she realized what was going on she started crying and screaming for Violet first, and then me. I knew wherever Vi was she could hear, and it was tearing at her heart the way it was tearing at mine, only so much worse. I disappeared coming out at the top of the stairs. Emma was twisted around, looking down the hallway, with her back to me when I reached out and fitted my hands around her neck.
I had to repress the revulsion rising in my throat like bile as I snapped her neck and tossed her body down the stairs in one quick movement. I stood for a minute, looking at her small broken body laying at the foot of the stairs, letting my mind dredge up the memory of her and I playing Go Fish in the gazebo that afternoon, and her declaration that she wished Violet and I were her parents. It wasn't the first time she'd said it in the last few weeks.
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to find Violet staring at me halfway down the hall, her expression unreadable as I reached out a hand towards her. She disappeared and I dropped to the basement, appearing a few feet behind her. "Violet?"
She whirled around and the next thing I was aware of was a the sting of split lip and her screaming at me. "You son of a bitch!" She shrieked, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "How could you!"
I straightened up, wiping the blood away from my mouth. "Because you're her mother in all the ways that matter! She loves you as much as you love her! How could you listen to her screaming for you and not do anything to keep her here!" I screamed, my anger matching hers.
"Violet." Vivien said gently, stepping out of the shadows next to me. "She belongs here." She said firmly.
Violet's eyes were wild with confusion and anger for a moment before they narrowed to slits. "What happened to not wanting anyone else to die here?" She shot at her before she turned on me. "And you." She pointed a shaking finger at me. "Did you ever think that your life might be better if you weren't constantly trying to please the women in this house?"
"It wasn't her idea."
I took a step forward, but Vivien placed a hand on my arm and stepped forward into the line of fire instead. "I don't want anyone to die here." She said calmly. "But those people upstairs who have the gall to call themselves her parents are anything but that. They don't care about her. They don't love her. She's nothing to them and she deserves better than that. She deserves someone who will love her forever. Just because you didn't give birth to her doesn't mean anything; she's yours."
Her anger wilted and she stumbled backwards into the wall, trying to catch her breath as sobs wracked through her small frame. Vivien walked up, placing a hand on her shoulder, and Violet slapped it away angrily.
She slapped at my hand too at first, but let me pull her against me as she cried after that. I kissed the top of her head. I let her cry as sirens approached the house; as the heavy front door swung open with a bang and feet pounded across the floor. "Violet. She's going to wake up soon, we have to find her." I reminded her and she nodded vaguely, letting me lead her around the basement by the hand until we found Emma in a small alcove, perfect but unanimated.
She slid down the wall and waited, smoking her way through half a pack of cigarettes as the minutes ticked by. Finally Emma stirred to life, lifting up her eyes and looking around curiously. She looked intently at Violet and I saw tears slide down her cheeks as she motioned Emma into her lap to wrap her arms around her tightly.
I knew they were talking; knew Violet was trying to explain to her what happened. I couldn't hear their words or see their faces, and a paranoid panic picked at my brain about what Violet could be telling her. Even though we were only a few feet apart I'd never felt so invisible, so alone as I did in that moment. I felt cold and empty, excommunicated, from the things I loved and terrified of the future.
Emma fell asleep against Violet eventually, and when the sun was high in the sky I couldn't stand the silence anymore. "Are you okay?" I asked Violet, and she slowly lifted her face from where it had been resting against the top of Emma's head, meeting my eyes.
"Don't talk to me."
"Violet?"
"No." She snapped. "You don't get a say in this decision, just like I didn't get a say in her death. And when she starts crying for her parents guess what? You're going to be the one who explains to her that she has to stay with us. You're the one who's going to dry those tears. I don't care if you never wanted to be a father. You're one now and you're going to own up to your actions for once."
A/N: So since this ended up being about 5,000 words longer than I anticipated I'm posting it in two halves. The second half will be up Monday or Tuesday. Reviews are always loved and appreciated.