I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.
I do not own a Massimo. Or an Elsa
Everything That Has a Beginning Has an End
Absolution
She felt almost a sense of relief when she saw him.
She'd asked for him, summoned him.
With her song, her performance.
With her decision to die.
And now he was here.
Along with all his other denizens of eternal damnation.
And he, only he could grant her peace.
Peace away from the misery of her unbearable existence on this plane.
That peace would come at a terrible, eternal cost.
Which she, in her desperation, would grimly pay.
Just to escape this agonizing mortal coil.
And so she welcomed him.
Edward Mordrake.
And he, the gracious, gentlemanly ghoul granted her request.
He lay in the bed of the hospital, weakened, helpless.
He was dying, he knew.
After all this time, after all he'd endured.
He was dying, as all living things are fated to do.
And he was ready.
As ready as he could be.
He had always tried to do what was right.
He had lived his life in the best way he could.
In the end he didn't know if it had been enough.
But he had tried.
His sins had been few and far between.
For he had committed himself to acting with a pure, clear heart and conscience.
His only sin, he believed, had been loving her too much.
And it had cost him.
Dearly.
And her.
And he could not take it back.
And so he had prayed, after a fashion, for peace.
For her.
For himself.
The last thing Massimo Dolcefino did as his eyes slipped closed in the embrace of death was pray.
And then the simple carpenter passed on.
She found herself alone then in the darkness.
At Fraulein Elsa Mars' Cabinet of Curiosities.
Past the carefully painted banners of her precious monsters.
Those she had treated so badly in her selfish ambitions.
Through the hideous face meant to chill the marrow and arouse the dark fascinations of those who entered..
Into the big top, more brightly lit and pristinely glowing than she had seen it in decades.
Or maybe ever.
And then she saw them.
The roustabouts, the workers, setting chairs, preparing for the performance.
And her.
Beautiful, tiny, ethereal, dead her.
Ma Petite.
But . . . it cannot be. You are dead, my precious one. So sorrowfully dead.
But she wasn't.
She was alive.
And smiling.
And welcoming.
And stunned Elsa picked the doll-like beauty up, cradled her gently.
And felt the first sensation of renewed happiness beat within her.
Legless Suzi was there, walking on her hands, as confidently and easily as Elsa had not seen her do in the final years of the freak show.
She would venture to guess that there was no aching, lingering pain in those strong shoulder joints and muscles.
And though she did not exactly smile, all the timid fear and uncertainty seemed to be gone from her as it never had in real life.
As though she finally felt safe.
Paul the Painted Seal and his Lizard Girl Penny traipsed by her then, aglow with martial happiness and bliss.
More carefree than she had ever seen them in real life.
Ima Wiggles, the beautiful fat lady. Toulouse the tiny Frenchman. And Amazon Eve, beautiful and delicate and strong.
Even Meep, somewhere wandering in the background, meeping happily away in his little blue feathery suit and hat.
They all were there.
Working to prepare for the upcoming show.
Real happiness and contentment upon their faces.
And Elsa Mars felt awe and wonder and delight blossoming within her. Spreading out to every cell, every fiber of her being.
And then she saw her.
Her best friend.
Her constant, her strength here at the Freak Show.
The one she had murdered in cold blood, out of anger and fearful self preservation.
And regretted ever since.
Ethel Darling, the Bearded Lady.
Relaxed. Smiling. Confident.
Alive.
Directing the performers.
Preparing for the show.
Alive.
She would drop Ma Petite if she didn't set her down now.
And so she did, carefully, with love and gentleness.
And approached the one person she had missed and regretted hurting more than anyone else.
With tears in her eyes and hope thrumming in her heart.
She threw out the first of many questions.
And was absolved of all she had done. All the horrors she had committed.
Everything.
And, tears slipping down her face and even more questions in her heart, she felt a surge of gratitude and appreciation.
For it was over.
All her life of misery and woe.
Mistakes and misgivings and sins.
She was free.
Absolved.
She was home.
And she could start anew.
She could be what she had always set out to be.
A good person.
A performer.
A light.
She did not deserve it. She had not earned it.
But she was going to take it.
And do it right this time.
When Ethel began her grand opening spiel, Elsa realized she was missing someone she dearly wished to see.
Jimmy, her precious lobster boy.
He was not here.
And she wondered at him.
And decided it was not his time.
And wished him well.
When she did see him, she would hug him and kiss his handsome face.
And welcome him home.
But for now, there was a performance to be given.
And she, she was going to sing as she had never sung before.
It would be beautiful, transcendent.
And full of joy and hope and gratitude.
As she approached the microphone, bathed in lights and applause, she saw them.
A full house, just as Ethel Darling had said.
They were standing and applauding for her.
Fraulein Elsa Mars.
And she felt the thrill of excitement and joy and exhilaration.
Because they truly loved her.
Her beautiful precious freak family.
And the audience wanted to hear her.
The music was perfect and so would finally be her voice.
She opened her mouth and . . .
Saw him.
In the crowd.
End of the middle row. On the left.
Smiling, warm and bright.
He had finally come, after all these years of waiting and wondering and yearning within her secret self.
He was here.
Massimo.
Healthy and well and happy.
And so she sang.
She sang for him.
She sang to him.
She sang.
She was beautiful up there on stage.
Beautiful and full of wonder.
And when their eyes met, he saw a jolt of recognition and joy flash through her eyes.
And all the troubles and tribulations of the past melted away.
And all was just as it should be now.
She kept her eyes trained on him and he smiled wider, knowing a good performer engages all the audience.
But unable to contain his own welling of joy and love and happiness at her unbridled delight.
For he felt the same.
All the pain in his lungs and body was gone.
The dark memories but a passing unimportance.
He was whole and well.
As was she.
The legs beneath the powder blue fabric she wore were still wooden.
He knew it somehow.
For how could they have come together any other way.
But he also knew now that they would never hurt her. Never ache her stumps. Never blister. Never chafe.
He knew that they, both he and she, were free now.
And absolved.
Forever.
If he had looked away from her, his singing, happy angel, he would have noticed many of those in the crowd carried upon their bodies, wooden appendages.
He would have seen the appreciation of him on their faces.
Would have seen their smiling nods, mouthed thank yous.
The gratitude for a gentle master craftsman who would only called himself a simple carpenter.
And perhaps another time, he would.
But for now, it was all her.
And him.
Together.
Finally free and happy.
When the performance was over, she found herself enveloped in his strong arms, at home in his passionate, tender kiss.
Heedless of everyone and everything around them.
And when they broke apart for air, he gently wiped away her tears, asking why she wept.
And she told him it was because she was overwhelmed with a joy and gratitude and freedom she did not deserve.
And he told her it was okay, to enjoy it, appreciate it.
And make it count.
Let us away, cara mia, he said, just for a little while.
And with an arm around her, holding his beloved close and cherished, they turned toward the exit.
Ethel called out to them the time of their next show.
And like a teenager on a date, Massimo smiled reassuringly and promised to have her back well within the schedule.
They stepped out of the big top . . .
And Elsa blinked into the bright, warm sunlight of their small, clean, welcoming apartment.
His woodworking tools were there.
The narrow bed with its handmade quilt lay resting upon it.
A small kitchen filled with the aroma of some, simple, sumptuous Italian fare.
And a balcony.
With a lovely, quiet vista of the Appia Way.
May we? She requested, almost shyly.
He smiled, as lovingly and happily as she had ever seen him.
Of course, cara mia.
And danced her out onto it.
There. Did I fix all the anguish that they (and I) have caused you?
I surely hope so.
Okay, some people have speculated that Elsa is in her own version of Hell at the end. When she actually opens her mouth to sing, nothing comes out or they boo or something.
I disagree. I believe it is her version of Heaven. And here's why. Ma Petite and Meep are there. And they, strange as they (Meep) are, they are innocent souls who have committed no sin. And no version of the God I believe in (not even the bizarre AHS one) would send them anywhere but eternal peace and contentment.
You are, of course, welcome to have your own opinion. :)
And thank you so much for reviewing, brigid1318, GG, and jessicalangefan. It means so much to me that you would stay so constant and encouraging throughout these heart rending chapters.
Thank you to the silent readers as well. You are very much appreciated as always.
Now, everyone, go be happy and well and do some good out there, yeah? You don't have to save the world or anything. Just be a light in your little corner.
After all, that's what we're here for. :)