A/N: Opening scene is a flashback. The rest takes place in the present.


It only took a split second for her to decide that she wanted to dive off this particular cliff. Lucky for her, she found Norman at the bottom, ready and just as willing to give in to what now seemed so inevitable. Something inside her had known for a long time that they would end up like this: desperate for each other with no regards for logic or ethics.

So, now, they're here, tangled up in the sheets, her straddling his lap while he holds her close. Every so often their lips would meet and those were the moments where Norma became certain that this was the greatest feeling she'd ever known. There's safety, there's security, there's love; all the things she'd felt early on with Sam, only better. So much better.

She kisses Norman again. Cups his face in her hands and deepens it, feels her heart speed up when his response is a moan. His arms tighten around her waist as he gives in to her heat. The need for sleep clouds up his brain, but her kiss injects new life. That is, until she pulls away and he's forced to observe her dark eyes and swollen lips. God, this woman would end him.

There are so many things he wants to say to her. He wants to tell her how much all this means to him; he wants to tell her how much he loves her, but the words won't come. The words he actually does say just tumble out of his mouth of their own accord.

"What is this?"

He wants her to define it for him. Saying the wrong thing would sink this ship faster and he wanted to avoid that at all costs. He couldn't lose her, not now, not ever.

She smiles at him and her eyes say more than her mouth ever could. "This is you and me." She says. "You and me having something that's just ours."

Her hands run along his shoulders. "It's good, right?"

He drops his forehead to her collarbone and breathes her in. Everything about her was intoxicating. Her fingers trail through his hair as he looks back up.

"Better than." He replies.


He stays quiet for a long time. There's nothing he can say to her that could alleviate the newfound tension between them. The apology didn't help, that much he knows. She can't do anything with his apology; words aren't tangible. He can't count on them to fill her empty spaces.

Still, he's at a loss. Touching her could scare her away in the aftermath of Keith Summers' sexual assault so he avoids doing anything at all. There's a body sinking to the bottom of a lake and his mother won't look at him. He never imagined that they could end up like this.

Sleep's impossible, but Norman heads to his room anyway. His heart still beats out of time, hurried and frantic. He watches long shadows dance along the ceiling, trying to push tonight's events far away.


She stands in the foyer long after he goes to his room. Her mind races in every direction until it's clear that she's stuck in a place that will eat her alive if she will let it. The easiest thing to do would be to forgive Norman and let this thing go. Except that she didn't necessarily want to. He'd gone off to some party with some girl instead of being here with her. Some girl who'd probably let him touch her; some girl who'd probably smiled at him and turned him into putty. Norma seethes. How dare him.

She grabs the bannister as the tears begin to fall. He's all she's thought about for days and he went and betrayed her. Now, all she can think about is him and that girl. Her footsteps echo heavy on the stairs. She needs something, anything from him. Anything that'll prove that he's still hers; that that girl doesn't matter.


He doesn't succeed in ridding himself of all of this because soon enough his bedroom door creaks open and his mother's standing there. She's dressed in a tank top and short shorts and Norman's breath catches. Her long legs are on full display; all he can think about is how they feel wrapped around his waist. The heat that pools under her skin when he strokes his fingers down her thigh. The way her muscles clench and tremble.

He closes his eyes. Her voice floats to him through the haze of his desire.

"Norman."

He opens his eyes slowly. She falls back into focus and everything hurts.

"What is it, Mother?"

Her steps toward him are hesitant. She seems determined, but she's also visibly frightened. Frightened of what, Norman couldn't guess. He sits up and moves to the edge of the bed, where he reaches his hand out to her. It's an invitation he's all too happy to send, though things between were less than stable. To his surprise, she comes to him, threading her fingers through his and situating herself between his open legs. He locks his free arm around her waist, staring up at her with an expression that's hard and soft in all the right places.

Three days ago, he had the thought that they could do this. They could make it last as long as they maintained the façade of normalcy to the outside world. Now, he knows that's not possible. In the aftermath of Keith's murder, eyes will be on them and Norman will have to protect her from every knowing glance. Normalcy will crumble under the weight of the secrets they share and so will their collective sanity. Norman knows this well and yet, he still drops his forehead to his mother's belly and grips her firm around the waist, seeking the comfort only she can give him.

She holds him there the way a mother should while everything inside her twists and bends and shatters.

"I need you." The words are heavier than stone as they land on Norman's shoulders. The weight bears down on his bones, creating needlepoint fissures that will only span outward with time. He doesn't raise his head. He can't bear to look at her.

She goes on. "I do. You're everything that means anything and I need you with me." Her fingertips tick along his jawline and force his head up. Her thumb rubs over his split lip, the wound she left in the rush of her fury. "Okay?" There's a threat laced within her words. He's intuitive enough to hear it. The venom on her breath falls into the space between them and burrows its way beneath his skin. He can feel it in his veins, eating away at his strength and all that's left of his resolve. If he's ever wanted to defeat her, it's far too late.

She's a brand on his skin, a voice in his ear, an ache in his heart. She's everything that means anything and her spell can't be undone.

"Okay, Mother." He replies. His tone is soft, resigned; the puppet to the puppeteer. Barely a moment passes before he's on his feet, right in her face. Her hands fall away from him as his glide down to her hips.

"Do you forgive me?" There's a question beneath his question. It's rooted in the newfound depth of their relationship. Did she still want him despite what he's done?

Her bright blue eyes shine with things unspoken. He doesn't know what's hiding there, can't begin to decipher the pregnant silence. Something like pain crosses her face and Norman can't help but gather her to him, pressing a kiss to her hair and hugging her close. She sobs into his chest, the sounds violent and heartbreaking. Guilt closes in on Norman, inching its way through his guts and up into his chest cavity. Once there, it fans out in every direction, burning red hot and sucking the oxygen from his lungs.

His only response to it is to tighten the hold he has on his mother until the sobs fade away.