This is my first American Horror Story fic. I hope you enjoy it. I own nothing.


Understanding

"I want to go to a football game," Adelaide Langdon announced at dinner.

Tate stared confused at his sister, while Constance slammed her fork down.

"Why would you want to do that?" Tate asked. "Only assholes go to games."

"Says the track star," Adelaide snapped. She looked between her family members. "I want to go. I want to feel like I belong."

Tate wanted to tell her that she did belong. She was his big sister, and he loved her, which he wasn't sure held true for their mother. Before he could, there was a soft knock at the back door. He smiled to himself, knowing exactly who it was, but feeling slightly let down that his mother didn't notice his rude departure.

Julie Gray stood in the afternoon light. Her dark hair was loose and curling wildly, a sign that Tate knew she hadn't taken the time to blow dry her hair. He wanted to ask her what the hurry was about, but he knew she'd tell him if there was something to worry about.

"Hi honey," she said, wrapping him in a tight hug. She was radiant with happiness.

"Hi," he said softly. When she released him, he took her hand and led her through the house. He stopped by the dining room first. Apparently, things were escalating.

"You can't go, Addy!" Constance yelled. "You aren't normal! You won't fit in! I will not take you!"

"I will," Julie said, in a voice that was soft but firm. All eyes turned to the pale girl.

'I can't burden you, Julie," Constance said, dismissing the matter with her hand and taking a swig of vodka.

"Addy is never a burden!" Tate snapped, making every lady present jump. He looked to his sister. "There's a game tonight. Julie and I will take you."

Adelaide smiled and jumped up from her seat. "I have to get ready!"

She ran up the stairs to her room, leaving Julie to accompany Tate to his own room.


"I'm actually looking forward to the football game," Julie said with a sigh, snuggling against Tate's body.

He laughed, the warmth of her skin against his own was comforting. "Why would that be?"

She looked at him almost uncertainly. "It will be our first family outing."

Tate's mind went into hyperdrive. For some reason, his mind refused to come to a conclusion on how to feel. "Are.. are you...?"

"I'm pregnant, Tate," she said gently, as though talking to an escaped mental patient.

He was panicked, but he rode it out and forced himself to think about it. Julie wasn't some tramp turning up after a one night stand. She was special. When he thought only Adelaide understood him, she appeared out of nowhere, and proved him wrong. When he got angry, she held his hand, and talked him down. She loved his sister. She encouraged him to go out for track, as a way to cope. She was helping him kick his coke addiction. Julie had a faith in him that no one else had. And she was giving him a baby.

A light came on in his mind. A baby. He was going to be a dad. He wasn't going to run away from his responsibilities like his own dad. He wouldn't abuse this innocent thing like his own mother had done to his siblings. He would teach his son to become a better man than he was, or protect his princess from the evils of the world. He imagined snuggling it and spoiling it rotten. And just like that, to his own surprise, Tate Langdon was ready to be a father.

"We have to tell my family," he said excitedly, springing up and throwing his shirt back over his head. Julie flopped back against his pillows and sighed in relief.

"Mom!" he yelled, rushing done the stairs. He heard Julie trying to catch up behind him. "Addy!"

Both were in the livingroom, and Tate realized that they had been waiting for him and Julie anyway.

"What is it Tate?" Constance asked, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Come to tell me again how awful I am?"

"Julie's pregnant."

Tate watched as his mother waffled for a response while his sister leapt from her seat to hug him. Before he knew what hit him, Constance was hugging him too.

"Oh Tate," Constance said softly. "A sweet little baby could heal our family."

For the first time since he could remember, Tate hugged his mother.


The game had ended and Tate, Julie and Adelaide were walking home in the dark. Adelaide couldn't stop talking about the fun she'd had, and how she was convinced one of the boys on the team kept winking at her. She and Julie were giggling like children.

"Ha!" came a loud voice from across the street. The group turned to see several boys, none of which they recognized. "Are you doing community service, or is she just ugly?"

Julie pulled Adelaide towards her as Tate took a step towards them. "Excuse me?"

"Why are you with that retard?" The group burst into laughter. Tate heard Julie gasp.

There were no words; he didn't even look back at his sister. Tate made a gutteral roar and charged towards them, his rage giving his feet wings. He didn't notice the car that almost clipped him, just that the boys were turning to run.

He chased them down the street. The group in front of him obviously were scared; no one made to turn but rushed blindly forward. He was vaguely aware of the girls running on the opposite side of the street. Then he heard Julie yell, "Addy, no!"

A few heartbeats passed, then screeching tires, and a sickening thud. The boys in front of Tate had stopped and turned back. Tate stopped and turned.

He heard Adelaide scream before he saw anything. He saw a dark car, with several shadowed people halfway out.

"Oh my god, dude," one of the passengers cried. "We have to get out of here!"

The others agreed and sped off, but Tate was only vaguely aware of the sound. His legs suddenly had trouble holding him up. Adelaide was on her knees, looking down at a what looked like a large rag doll. He ran to them on unsteady feet, collapsing beside Julie's broken body. He scooped her up in his arms, holding her close.

"She pushed me," Adelaide said between sobs. "She saved me, Tate."

Tate's eyes and nose burned. He had started crying and hadn't noticed. Julie's eyes fluttered open.

"Julie, stay with me," he wimpered.

"You know," she whispered. She took a rattling breath. "I can't do that, honey."

"You have to. What am I supposed to do without you?"

"Be good, Tate." The corner of her mouth quivered in an attempt to smile. "Be happy."

"I can't without you."

"Try."

Her breaths were more labored; he didn't have much time left. Luckily sirens were coming.

"I love you, Julie," he whispered, kissing her gently. "Don't make me say goodbye."

"I love," she answered slowly. "You too, Tate."

She managed a weak smile. Paramedics arrived, pulling him off of her and getting her into the ambulance. Tate sat in the waiting room of the hospital for hours, before he was told that mother and child had perished.


Tate couldn't focus. He dropped track, hiding away in the library, trying to escape into the imaginary worlds contained there. He went back to coke. He started cutting again, to remind himself that he still could feel things physically. But that was it. Tate was dead inside. His mother started screwing around with the neighbor, and Tate hated her for ignoring him when he needed her most. He knew he'd lost it anyway; he swore that even a month after losing her, he saw her everywhere. She even spoke to him, but it was only a few words here and there, nothing to prove he wasn't delusional.

Then Larry killed his brother Beau. He knew that's what happened, even though the ghost of Beau wouldn't say it. Larry was responsible for his brother's death just as much as he was responsible for his wife and daughters's deaths. He had wanted to explain his need for Larry's repentence; that Tate knew what it was like to be completely unable to save your family. But Tate never got the chance. Constance never let him speak about it for reasons she never gave. Staring across the table at the man who took not only Tate's but his own family for granted, Tate knew what he had to do.

He was almost to Westfield High when he saw Julie again.

"Please, Tate," she pleaded. "I know what you're doing and you can't."

"Somebody has to pay," he said evenly. "They never found out who took you away from me."

"It won't bring me back, Tate."

"Yeah, but it will bring me closer to you."


The gun shots rang out across the neighborhood from the upstairs bedroom. Outside of Murder House, however, someone else was screaming. Julie tried to enter the yard, but something stopped her.

"No," she sobbed. "This can't be happening. Tate!"

"You can't get in there," Kyle said, coming up behind her. "We tried already. Ghosts can't go in, Ghosts can't come out."

Julie jumped at being surrounded by the victim's of Tate's rampage. She blinked away more tears. "So, what, I'll never see him again?"

Her cousin Chloe wrapped her in a hug. "I'm afraid so, sweetie."

No one could take their eyes off the house. The dead teenagers huddled around the front gate as though being together gave them comfort.

"Do you think he'll remember me? Remember what he did?" Julie sniffed. Chloe stroked her hair.

"No," Stephanie said sadly. "At least not the way we will. I read about this in a psychology text book. That's the way our minds work. Whenever something is too unpleasant or shameful to entertain, we reject it. His guilt over not saving you and killing us will erase us from his memories, and make it all feel like a bad dream."


Please no flames. This isn't canon in any way, and it wasn't trying to be. I'm sure this was better in my head. God, I'm insecure. .