Blood Relations ` An American Horror Story: Murder House fanfiction ` By hrlyqin

TWO

That thing that Moira was not going to think about ever again had happened 6 weeks ago. She knew it was exactly six weeks because she knew exactly when she should have gotten her period and exactly when she didn't. She could do the math from there.

She didn't know what she was going to do. She had a lot of ideas but none of them were good ones. She could keep it, or she could get rid of it, or she could really, really get rid of it. She could make Hugo give her money, or she could tell Constance and make her give her money. She could move to Boston where no one knew her and say she was a widow. She could kill herself.

Shit, she didn't know. How was she even supposed to know?

It was worse because she kept it a secret. There was no one to talk to because she didn't want anyone to know. She didn't even go to the doctor because it was pretty obvious. She got sick all the time. Her tits felt like they have been shoved into a meat grinder. There was also the curious absence of Aunt Flo's visit. She wished there was someone, anyone, she could confide in. She wanted to grab strangers on the street and scream into their faces that she was pregnant, just so she could talk about it.

It hadn't been so bad not thinking about Hugo until she figured out that they had ….she didn't know how to say it...conceived together. He had been nicer and even though nothing else happened, she could tell he expected it because he was at home more. He was even civil to Constance and the kids. She couldn't even look at him without wanting to punch him. She watched him smiling at his wife while their fingers twined together and she wanted to drag him into the woods and set him on fire, just like her uniform with his stuff all over it. At least he didn't mention it. Short of playing grab ass a few times, he was downright cordial to her, exactly like a boss should be. But she looked at him and just...he would smile and all she could think was You Lousy Motherfucker. Motherfucker. Mother fucker. You fucked me and now I'm a mother. Son of a bitch. It was like a chant in her head that was driving her crazy.

At least her mom was so busy at work that she didn't really have time to notice what was going on. Or maybe she just pretended not to. Moira pretended not to notice that Dorothy's bones swelled and ached and Dorothy pretended not to notice that Moira didn't drink anymore but seemed to have 'the flu' a lot. Maybe that was where Moira got her cues from, because for now she decided the best thing to do was to do nothing. She would figure it out eventually, until then she couldn't worry about it. Maybe if she thought about it real hard, it would just go away.

Yeah, and maybe rabbits would start shitting gold.

But she couldn't keep it a secret for very long, and the person who noticed was the last person she expected to. Mrs. Langdon had been sunnier and nicer herself lately, she figured Hugo was in such a good mood he had spread the fuck around a little bit and maybe that was all Constance had needed. So when Moira was sponging up that a fresh drunk-throw-up stain out of the carpet and tossed her own cookies, instead of laughing at her like she was a moron or sending her home, Constance had let her get all of it out of her system and then sat her down in the kitchen for a cup of tea.

It was weird. First because apart from coming in for liquor and to pretend to make dinner, Moira didn't think Constance knew where the kitchen was. Second because she was stone sober and sympathetic as Moira sat down. It was all too familiar as they started talking, and Moira had enough humor left in her to hope Constance didn't try to fuck her too.

Well, at least that didn't happen.

They spoke about the job for awhile. Constance said that Addie was very fond of her, which Moira didn't buy at all but it was nice to hear. It was almost like gossiping with a friend. They had been chatting for a half hour when Constance sipped her tea, tapped out a cigarette and said, "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

She thought about lying, or swearing, or running, but instead she started crying. She was so ashamed and so relieved that someone else had said it before she had to. She was an ugly crier, all snot and red eyes and puffy lips, but Constance didn't say a word and even offered her a dishtowel to dry her face with when she was through. "I haven't told anyone yet." she said as way of an explanation.

"Yes, well, I could see why you wouldn't. Times are different these days, and this is California, but...there you have it." She sucked on the end of her cigarette and blew smoke in an elegant gesture that didn't at all call Moira a whore without saying a word. "Whose the father?"

"He's um, not in the picture anymore." she answered, looking down at her own hands in her lap.

Constance made a noise in her throat and did another one of those smoking glares that made Moira feel like trash but so pleasantly. "This is quite the predicament for you."

"Yes." She nodded.

"It doesn't look good for me either, having a servant waddling around my kitchen with a bastard in her belly. No offense dear."

No, of course not, you uppity bitch.

"Do you know what you're going to do with it?"

"No." she answered honestly, shaking her head.

"Well, I might be able to help you with that." Constance smiled at her and it was the most frightening thing Moira had ever seen. She felt like the woman might jump across the table and rip the kid right out of her belly. So when she started talking, Moira listened.

.

.

.

So now there were three big mistakes Moira could count in her life.

Mistake one was dropping out of school to help her Mom with money. No one was ever going to believe she had a brain in her head if she looked the way she did and didn't even finish high school. Maybe if she had, she could have done something with her life more than scrub toilets.

Mistake two was Hugo. He hadn't touched her since that one time but she knew that he was thinking about it whenever she was in the room. He'd make sure to slip in whenever she was on her knees or bending over something trying to get it clean and she'd catch him watching her, remembering the way she looked with her mouth open and her legs around him. She was glad when she didn't have to see his face anymore and feel his eyes on her.

Mistake three was what had brought her here. She had never felt so far away from home as she did in this room, but she couldn't risk anyone seeing her the way she was right now. When she had started to show, Constance had first sent her home with a terrible flu that was sure to last a month at least, with full pay of course because that's what good wealthy people did. She wore baggy clothes around the house and her Mom was either sleeping or working so she didn't even notice that Moira was bigger. When there was no hiding it any longer, Constance arranged some Machiavellian plan involving a trip back to the family farm in Virginia and desperately needing Moira to help with the children. Hugo hadn't argued, he was probably laying into some secretary or starlet right now, getting all his whiles out while he could before 'Constance' had the baby. Her mother hadn't minded, not when Moira gave her some pay up front to make sure things would be taken care of while she was summering with the Langdons. Dorothy had acted so proud of her daughter and her extra responsibilities that Moira had wanted to die from the shame of lying, but now she just wished she were here. She would give anything for her Mom right now.

As far as taking care of the kids, Constance and they were in the main old house with Constance's father and the nursing staff. Moira was shuffled off to the garage apartment where she only saw Constance or the doctor Constance had obtained for her. No kids in sight, except for the one growing heavy in her belly. She had books to read, and some cards if she wanted to play solitaire, but Constance didn't like her to go outside much, in case someone saw her and started asking questions. So she hid herself while Constance padded her own aged body and wore silky maternity dresses and did everything possible to display that she and Hugo were eminent parents once more. When she did talk to Moira, it was to ask how she felt and berate her for not eating enough fruit or not doing her stretches or just in general being a lousy person. She didn't know what the doctor had been told, but he was even worse and Moira suspected that in a past life he might have been a very angry nun.

So the only company she really had was this stranger inside her. She knew the deal, that she was going to give the baby to Constance and just try to get on with her life once this was all over, but she couldn't help but feel a connection to it. She would lay awake at night and talk to her stomach about everything she had wanted in life and about how Constance and Hugo might be fucking worthless people but they had money at least so it would have an easy life.

"You don't have to like them." she was saying to it. "But they can send you to the best schools, whatever college you want, and you can have piano lessons and a pony and all that good stuff. All these people want is a kid that's normal so they'll treat you like a princess, or you know, a prince, whichever, and I'm going to be around so I'll try to be your friend. Unless they fire me, but then their little secret would come out, wouldn't it?" She laughed at her own cleverness. "I might be cleaning their shitty shorts but I am going to get paid to keep my mouth shut. And maybe, if I get enough money and I can leave one day, I'll take you with me, okay kiddo?"

Moira patted her stomach and a great wave of sadness came over her. It was nice to talk about it, but she knew that was never going to happen.

This was how things went for three months. Finally, late in August when she felt like she was going to just explode, she finally did. One minute she had been laying in bed reading The Bell Jar, the next minute she thought she pissed herself, and then the minute after that it started hurting.

She had no idea how much it was going to hurt. Women would never even have babies if they knew how much it was going to hurt. The species would die out. Twelve hours of labor with Constance pacing and smoking and the doctor making little jabbing comments and Moira feeling like she was going to be ripped in two before finally, FINALLY, it came out. Bleeding, smelling like shit, Moira let them cut the cord and carry it away before she collapsed back onto the bed. Just before the gray of exhaustion overtook her, she heard it crying.

When Moira came to, she was laying on clean sheets and smelled considerably better. Someone must have cleaned her up, not Constance she was sure but maybe Constance had supervised. That was almost nice of her. In fact, Constance was there with her right now. She was positively glowing, sitting in a chair by the bed with something tiny wrapped up in a fuzzy white blanket.

"What was it?" she asked tiredly.

"A boy. A little boy. And he's perfect. Mommy's perfect little son."

"Can I...?" she stopped, not sure what to say.

"Of course. I thought you might want to say.." she stopped too, also not sure what to say, and passed the boy over to Moira.

She looked, she inspected, first thing, checking for webbed toes or club feet or any extra pieces that shouldn't be there, but he really was absolutely perfect. How the fuck had that happened, with her for a mom and Hugo for a father? He didn't even really look like either of them, just a delicate boy with soft hair and big eyes and all the right parts in all the right places. She looked at him and felt so many things at once she didn't know how where to start with processing them. There was shame still, for how he had came to be, but also fierce bright pride in how amazingly normal he seemed to be, like she had at last done something expertly. Then there was fear, fear that he would have a bad life or be unhappy, but she was giving him the best possible chance at life so there was nothing to be afraid of.

She would stay, to make sure he was alright. To make sure that bitch didn't screw him up and that he didn't turn into some smug philanderer like his father. His father who would think he was the father of Constance's baby, not knowing that the baby was actually his and Moira's. There was a small spiteful tickle inside her thinking that only she would really know the truth about their family, that it had taken her, a high school drop out in thrift stores clothes, to give them a perfect child. And he was, he really really was perfect.

"I was thinking of calling him Dashiel."said Constance. Moira had forgotten she was even there.

"Yeah if you want him to get his ass kicked every single day of his life."

"I've always been fond of Clancy too." she continued, ignoring Moira's sass.

She rolled her eyes but that was also ignored. "Maybe you should your husband pick he name this time."

"Maybe so." she shrugged breezily. Nothing was going to ruin her day today, not even snark from the common trash. "He'd like that. But he's going to be so busy with the new house. Anyway, time to give him back now Moira. Addie and Beau will want to see their new brother."

Her greedy little fingers reached for the child and Moira could see in her mind's eye the horrible farce that was going to take place now. Constance would pass the baby off to the doctor and trot back to the main house so she could slip into bed, muss her hair a little, work up a sweat and then present herself as the exhausted new mother. Moira would have to stay here, with flu, or food poisoning, or some other shit. Kept out of sight. And now, more alone than ever.

She clutched at him for a moment. She could easily shove that old bitch over and run. She could take the baby and run and then...well, she could hop on a bus and go somewhere, anywhere would work, and she could get a job waitressing again or maybe find a nice hotel. She'd have to make hotel money to be able to afford a baby sitter, and then she could send for her Mom. She couldn't go back home so Mom would have to come to Moira, leave her life and her friends behind and be uprooted and she'd still have to work, that was for sure. That was all if Constance didn't track her down and she was pretty sure that she did not want to see what this woman was capable of if she were truly, truly pissed off.

She sighed. It wouldn't work. It wasn't practical. She needed to stop thinking crazy. She looked away as Constance took the child from her, blinking her eyes and tears blurred her vision. She wanted...something different, anything, but she had no idea what. This couldn't be her life. It just couldn't.

Slow steps outside of the room and then she was by herself. Her arms, which had so recently held her son, felt as empty as the rest of her now.