It had been almost two years since they had even spoken to each other. In the beginning he understood as much as he could. He had been a different person when he did all those bad things, surely she would see that. They were meant to be together. Tate Langdon had clung to that fact for years, it was the only bit of hope he had in this dark and vile place. He had told her she was his light, and he had meant it. His Juliet, his angel. And all these things still rang true, but they were now tinted red, hidden under the veil of his anger. Tate had always been quick to anger, and the fact that he hadn't lashed out in all this time was proof he had changed, that Violet had changed him. He could have killed them, all those people who came to clean up after Vivian's death. Or the people who had begun to pour in over the last year, getting the house ready for people to move in. But instead Tate remained hidden in the shadows of the upstairs hall, only coming out to scare people if they tried to see what was behind the locked door at the end of the hall. He was doing his best to show Violet that he was changed, and she could trust him. She just wouldn't see it. She stayed locked in the room she had once lived in; he had lived in it too, and wouldn't come out into the house that was their world. For fear of him.

Hearing her say his name Tate froze. It had been so long since he had heard her say it; it clenched his heart, reminding him all over again that this was his Violet, that he made her feel like no one in the world had ever made him feel before. Tate had thought of this moment for years, what he was going to say, how he was going to win her back, once her venom was gone. Here it was, he was his chance to say all those things he wanted to tell her, and he couldn't bring out the words. He couldn't make himself say "I Love You, Violet" like he had said so many times before. He couldn't say anything. He just stood there, looking down at her on that bed they had shared so many times before. Back when they were happy and in love. He could see himself making a declaration of his love and then crawling onto that bed with her, welcomed back into her life like he had been before. But he knew this time was different. He knew it wouldn't be that simple.

"You should probably go." Violet's voice was softer than it had been in years. All the anger, all the pain and rage she felt towards him seemed to disappear. Where it had gone, Tate didn't know or care. There was sorrow inside her now, like after she died. Tate knew what this meant. He knew her better than he knew himself, something she had pointed out to him when she told him all the horrible things he had done that caused his death. It wasn't good, that was for sure. He had seen Nora go crazy with grief, all the lengths she would go to get herself a child and kill the loneliness inside her. Tate didn't want Violet to fall victim to the level of sorrow. This was all his fault. Or was it? That little voice, the darkness inside him that took over when things were just a little too crazy, reared its ugly head and started whispering in Tate's ear. In the beginning it made sense. Her anger was justified, and no one but Tate could be blamed for making her feel as bad as she did. But five years? Five years of silence, five years of anger, five years withholding the one thing Tate wanted more than anything, her love? Just as Violet's walls were beginning to come down Tate felt his own start to go back up. She might have been the 'wronged' party, but he was hurt too. She had to say sorry for sending him away, for hiding away from him for all these years. For starving the love he needed so badly, the only thing that kept him sane.

"Yea, I guess I should." Tate said stiffly, taking a step backwards. He kept his eyes on Violet, begging her to say something, anything, that he could take as her asking him to stay. But she didn't say anything, just rolled onto her side away from Tate. If he hadn't been listening to the darkness in his head he would have known this was a good sign. She wasn't screaming at him, that was a good thing. But all he saw was a repeat of the last five years, the solitude and silence, the anger and betrayal and abandonment. He only saw that she didn't love him. Tate turned to leave her room, grabbing the doorknob and slamming the door behind him on his way out. If she wanted silence, then he would give it to her. She wouldn't know he was there anymore. He thought she wanted him to prove he had changed, and he did what he could to show her that. Now he was wondering what it was that she really wanted, and if he was part of it at all. The slamming of the door was the first thing Tate had done out of anger in years, and he had to admit it felt good. The part of him that ached for Violet and the light she brought him was dampened. Like when he was alive still, the anger and the violence numbed the pain. It was the dead's version of cutting, of the coke addiction, things that just didn't work like they used to.

"If you're going back to that, you stay the hell away from my daughter." Tate turned to see Vivian standing in the hall, her arms crossed and anger on her face. If death agreed with anyone, it was Vivian Harmon. Maybe it was the lack of pregnant hormones that makes women go crazy, or maybe it was the clarity that came with being dead and knowing she wasn't making it up, but since her death Vivian had become a presence in this house, and more than just another ghost. It would always be Nora's house, driven by her wants and desires, but if any of the spirits had the ability to tip the scales in their favor, it was Vivian. Tate had done his best not to cross paths with Vivian since that night, he knew she would either be a valuable ally or a formidable foe in the battle for Violet's forgiveness, but just like Nora and Vivian could control the force of the house, Tate was controlled by that force. In the end he was powerless to work against her in any way, not that he wanted to. He knew that in order to gain access to Violet, he had to receive forgiveness from the woman whose death he had caused. From the mother of the bride. Vivian had figured this out quickly, within days of her death, unlike Violet who still didn't have the whole story. "I might have forgiven you, Tate, for the awful things you did to me and my family. I might even understand why you did them, but that doesn't mean my daughter does. She's stubborn and willful and acting out is not going to gain her trust again."

"Nothing will get her back." Tate spat. Getting angry with Vivian was dangerous. She had made that clear from the beginning. But the darkness inside him was fighting against the goodness Violet had put in his heart and Tate was starting to lose control. "I've done everything I can to prove to her I've changed. That I am not the horrible things that I did. But fuck, how long am I supposed to wait? You said you would help me, Vivian, if I helped you. And I did! I did everything you asked that ni-" Vivian raised her hand and instantly Tate stopped talking. Vivian looked away from Tate and down the hall towards the sound of footsteps coming closer. Tate knew who they belonged to, Constance. His mother.

"You did a very good job, Tate, and I am helping you. We'll talk later. Right now I need to have a word with your mother." Vivian adjusted her blouse before heading towards Constance, presumably to ask her to get something for the house or one of its other occupants. Tate sighed in frustration, leaning against the wall opposite Violet's door. He knew he should probably leave, it had been a while since he had played with Beau or hung out with Travis, who despite the fact he had been nailing his mother was a pretty cool guy, but Tate wouldn't leave Violet alone. Even if she was on the other side of a closed door he would make sure she wasn't alone. Reaching into his pocket Tate fished out a deck of card, sliding down the wall before sitting in the hall and setting up a game of solitaire. At least it would pass the time.

"When are you going to stop being such a fucking emo kid?" Tate didn't bother to look up, flipping the first card over and beginning his game. Hayden wasn't worth his time. All she did was cause problems. Problems for the living, problems for the dead. Most of the spirits in the house had purpose, were there for a reason. Hayden was an accident, killed on the property by someone who didn't understand the house's power. While Tate liked Dr. Harmon, he was pissed he let Hayden die on the property. Not that he had a lot of say in this death; Tate wished he could have had a hand in it. Hayden was just fucking annoying. "She's never going to fuck you again, so why keep this up? How long have you been sulking out here? Five years? I bet those balls of yours are as blue as the pills she took to off herself when you told her you loved her."

"Fuck off, Hayden. Isn't there someone else you should be fucking? Oh right, everyone else is as fucking TIRED of you as I am." Tate still kept his eyes don on the game, trying to look interested in the cards he started hating years ago. He played cards with Violet, not by himself. Not with anyone else. It was the little things he missed most about them being apart, the fun he had with her, the ease he felt at being with her. Not like being around Hayden, who hadn't left after the insult. Tate wondered if she liked the abuse. Even the neglect didn't deter her. She actually sat down across the hall from Tate, her back against Violet's door, her smug little face smiling at him with secrets dancing in her eyes. Tate didn't understand how she always seemed to know things, how she always had answers to questions before they were even asked. But she did. That nosey little bitch. "What?"

"Why should I tell you? You'll just run and tell your little girlfriend. Opps, I'm sorry. Your EX girlfriend. Then she'll tell her mother and all the plans will be ruined." Hayden stood back up, heading down the hall. She was always like this when she actually knew something big, all high and mighty even though the information she had was never hers to keep. "But I will say this: Junior is coming home for a visit, daddy. It's his birthday. And the party won't be the only surprise in store." Hayden turned into an open room, laughing as she went. Tate just sat there, watching her as she went. He had no real feelings towards the thing he created with Violet's mother. He no joy in making it, and no joy in its return. Like Violet, he wished it had never happened. It had ruined his only chance at happiness. But there was something nagging him about what Hayden had just said. Why would Vivian have Ben bring the child to the house? Surely she knew it was a bad idea. Even though the years had passed, the house still wanted a child, this child. All the occupants could feel the longing as if it was their own, and Tate was no exception.

"Tate honey?" The annoying sound of his mother's voice broke his concentration. His face darkened as he gathered up the cards; clearly he wasn't going to get to play his game after all. Tucking the deck into his pocket Tate stepped from the shadows directly in front of Constance. The look she gave him, the one she saved just for him, passed over her face. Tate could read it, even if she thought he couldn't. Hatred and disgust for the things he had done, disbelief that her perfect child, her perfect angel could have done those things. Sorrow for losing her favorite child. None of it could be hidden in the smile she gave, the one that lied and said she was a loving mother. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Did she know once, when he was just a little boy, he had told a ghost he wished she was his mother over Constance? Nora would have been a better mother to him, and perhaps things would have ended up differently if she could have taken him up on the offer. Nora would have had the child she longed for, and Tate wouldn't have been the dark thing he grew to be. But that was decades in the past, events had unfolded the way they did, and poor little Tate grew into a monster. "How are you doing today, sweetie?" She only ever called him 'sweetie' when she knew something bad. Tate didn't even have the energy to ask.

"No better, no worse." Tate replied callously. He wondered how long until she accepted that he would never forgive her for her neglect, her shameful ways, for the pain she had caused him. Both in life and in death. "What do you want now, Constance?" He knew she was headed for Violet's room. While everyone knew Tate lingered on this floor, just outside of the room of the girl he loved, no one came looking for him. He hadn't been good company these last years. If he was feeling social, he sought others out. He just wanted to hurry this along, let Constance talk to Violet so she would leave and he could get back to his eternity. The dark thoughts were always harder for him to control when Constance was around. Yes, better she gets going and leaves him in peace.

"Your Violet rang. You know how that girl can g-" A slight growl, something animalistic and violent, raised up in the back of Tate's throat, causing Constance to fall silent. No one insulted Violet in front of Tate. Constance should know better, he shouldn't even have to give her a warning. "Well, I'm just coming to see what it is she needed. And I wanted to check on you. Do you want me to bring you anything?" Tate didn't have the patience for this anymore He hooked his thumbs into his jeans, standing a bit taller, towering over his mother. He saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, the knowledge of what he had done and what he could do to her. But Tate would never harm her, never kill her. Not from a sense of loyalty, but because he didn't want her here with him forever too. The house was filled with enough people who didn't like him.

"Bottle of whiskey and an eight ball would be nice." Tate answered, brushing past her. He had better things to do than try and play family. Violet wasn't alone now, he didn't need to be there. No, better go find out what Hayden was talking about. Tate hated to be the last to know these things.