I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But I would like to have a little fun here.

A Winter in Wisconsin

Chapter 10: Somnium

Winter was finally relinquishing its bone numbing grasp upon their little corner of the world. The snow had melted and the land looked was though it was readying itself to awaken from its slumber.

Jimmy Darling saw all this and felt stirrings of hope in his chest.

It's gonna be a good day.

He followed the mouth-watering smells to their destination where he found Evie and Ma Petite giggling and chatting over their morning preparations in the brewing kitchen.

"Mornin', Jimmy!" Evie greeted him brightly.

"Good morning, ladies! And what have we got here?"

Ma Petite's dark, bright eyes sparkled with delight.

"Hotcakes!"

Evie chuckled at her tiny friend and gently reprimanded.

"And sausages and eggs and hash browns too, Ma Petite."

Ma Petite leaned conspiratorially toward Jimmy. He leaned toward her, a crooked grin on his face.

"Hotcakes," she whispered adamantly and he nodded with a smirk.

"It'll be ready soon," Evie relayed, brandishing her spatula aloft.

Her handsome face practically glowed and Jimmy thought he'd rarely seen her so happy.

"Okay, I'm going take a walk around and see what else is going on, then."

They turned once more to their work as Jimmy headed out the back door into the misty morning sunshine. A chill still hung in the air but only in the way that it does when it knows the sun is coming to drive it away soon.

Suzi and Meep sat in chairs on the edge of the yard, shelling beans. The little man was happily meeping away at her and the smiling lady in blue seemed to be letting him go right along with a patience Jimmy knew he himself could never possess.

"Meep!" The pointy toothed man greeted Jimmy.

Jimmy returned the smile and squatted down next to Suzi's humungous belly.

"How's the baby? You doin' okay?" he inquired gently.

Due to her singular frame, Suzi was growing straight out rather than out and down. The doctor'd cautioned her to be very attentive to any sudden pains or changes in her condition. So far, there had been none but the constant attention of nearly everyone in their unique little family was starting to drive her slightly crazy.

She switched her smiling attentions over to him and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Baby's fine, but I'm tired of peein'. And my man's over there's been watching me like a hawk."

At this statement, she grinned wider and waved at Paul, who was stacking firewood from yesterday's cut. He winked and pursed his lips in a shameless kissy motion.

"Don't think you could sneak me another cup of coffee, do ya?" she muttered in a low voice.

As Jimmy was cooking up a suitable denial, Paul called out to them, an armful of timber in his tattooed grasp.

"Don't let her josh you, mate! Doctor said only one a day and she's already had her morning cuppa! Anymore might send her into premature labor! We're trying to keep those lil' scamps in there as long as possible."

Suzi glared at him as he came over and pecked her cheek affectionately.

"Wouldn't do to give your body too much of the hard stuff, darlin'."

She cut her eyes slyly at him.

"Well, I wouldn't be in this condition if you hadn't already given me the hard stuff!" she replied suggestively.

Meep turned red as Suzi reached out and grabbed Paul's shirt, pulling him in for a smooch.

"Can't argue with that, Paul!" Jimmy laughed, clapping the man carefully on the shoulder and headed on around the house.

In the front yard, Salty and Pepper were preparing the soil for the flower bulbs they would soon plant.

Well, Salty was preparing the soil. Pepper was relaying instructions in simple words and guiding gestures.

"Careful," she directed, moving the soil with her hands like so. "Careful hands."

He nodded and patted the soil a little more gently than before.

"OK," he grunted obediently.

From the side of the house, Jimmy watched them in awe, absently scratching the back of his neck. They were both pinheads, odd-looking individuals with smaller brains than the average human. Most of their kind died young and could only interact with others in a limited capacity.

Then there was Pepper. Pepper constantly showed patience and love for Salty. She genuinely rejoiced with him every time he accomplished a task correctly. And when he made a mistake, she just showed him over and over again until he did it right.

Jimmy had never seen such a gentle, kind spirit as Pepper. Sure, sometimes she got a little . . . overexcited.

But hey who didn't, right?

"Looking good there, guys," he greeted as he walked up.

Pepper smiled brilliantly at him.

"Ready for flowers!" she exclaimed.

He nodded.

"Just about."

During this short interaction, Salty, the quieter of the pair, had not spoken a word.

Instead, his googling eyes focused raptly on Jimmy's appendages. Over the months, Jimmy had tried his best to grow immune to the simpleton's intense attentions. He'd finally decided not to try and hide his deformity anymore and now he let them hang straight at his side.

As always when Salty met Jimmy's eyes, a look of fear crossed his face and he flinched.

"Salty," Jimmy responded gently. "It's okay."

The Pinhead nodded jerkily, nonsense words spluttering from his mouth. Pepper patted him.

"Salty," she reiterated. "Jimmy okay. No pain."

He stared deep into her eyes for a moment, then calmed significantly and resumed patting the soil in front of him.

Jimmy sighed. He was trying his best to be patient like dear Pepper, but he was struggling after several months at it.

You gotta accept it, Salt, old buddy. If I can, anybody can.

Pepper smiled sweetly at Jimmy, her buckteeth poking out between her livery lips.

Dear sweet Pepper. If only I had half your goodness, Jimmy thought as he returned the smile before turning away. Dear sweet Pep.

He looked up at the structure before him.

A big, old, rambling farmhouse. Peeling white paint. Slightly warped doorframes and loose floorboards. Rattly windows. Drafty in the winter chill. Stifling in the dead summer heat. Sometimes the plumbing acted up and the electricity liked to flicker during storms.

Jimmy loved the place.

After the incident, they'd pooled their money, sold their trailers, and convinced a compassionate loan officer to aid them in their quest. After much searching and quarreling, they'd found just what they'd wanted and bought it and its small tract of land on the cheap.

He'd thought it was too good to be true. He'd thought he was in heaven.

And, in his own way, he sort of was.

The wrap around porch housed several dilapidated rocking chairs and a creaky, old swing.

Ma was sitting quietly in swing now, reading from a thin book in her hand.

Jimmy approached the house and crept up the steps, trying to avoid detection as long as possible.

"Hope is the thing with feathers," she intoned reverently.

Jimmy stopped and listened.

"That perches in the soul . . ."

He loved listening to her recite poetry, the smooth cadence of her distinctive voice. Even when he didn't really understand the meanings.

"And sings the tune without the words . . ."

She used to sit next to his bunk at night, his Ma, and stroke his hair and whisper verse into his ear.

"And never stops at all."

Then she closed the book, looked up with a secret smile and beckoned him forward.

He went and sat next to her. The rusty hinges squeaked. She patted his arm affectionately.

"Good morning, son?" she asked.

He nodded, watching Salty and Pepper.

"Yep, woke up. That's always a good start."

They sat in peace for a moment or two. Ma ran a plump finger over the gilded words embossed on the cover of the book.

Jimmy read them.

Poems of Emily Dickenson.

"Pain?" Ma queried casually without looking up.

He smiled ruefully. His ma, always looking out for him.

"A little," he admitted. "It comes and goes."

She seemed to want to speak but couldn't. Her eyes were bright and shiny.

"I figure it always will," Jimmy Darling shrugged. "But it's nothing I can't handle."

He sniffed a little, scratching his nose carefully with one hook.

His mother's eyes followed the flash of shiny metal accompanying his movements.

"You're a good boy, Jimmy. And I'm proud to call you my son."

He grinned his dimple at her.

"Thanks, Ma."

They watched Salty and Pepper for awhile until Ethel Darling broke their quiet again.

"You had hope, Jimmy, even when the rest of us couldn't see it. You carried it for us."

He didn't say anything. He couldn't for a moment. Then Ma slapped his leg and gestured vaguely around them.

"Moses . . . leading the Israelites," she declared with a knowing wink.

They shared a secret smile between them.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

She nodded in contentment.

"Yes, son, you sure did."

And they sat in the warming morning, with delicious smells of breakfast wafting out to them and the freaks around who were, thanks to Jimmy Darling's sacrifice, freaks no longer, but themselves.

Only themselves.

And Jimmy Darling, no longer Lobster Boy.

No longer son of Neptune, god of the Sea.

Just Jimmy Darling.

And his hook hands.

He awoke with a nasty start in the frigid, quiet darkness, groggy and discombobulated.

He reached to swipe at his slick, sweaty face.

And phowhumped himself right in the face . . .

Owww!

. . . with a numb, clunky, lobster hand.

Lobster hand. Not hook.

Gonna have a black eye now.

He lay still for a moment, til he felt the tingling awakening work its way up his elbows into his thick hands and fused fingers.

I'll just tell them Ma Petite beat me. Yeah, snuck in here in the middle of the night and walloped my brains out. I stole her last rabbit kabob or something.

Then he carefully reached and flicked on the light near his bunk.

And stared.

At his two, whole, fully functional lobster hands.

He wiggled them. He waggled them. He touched them to each other experimentally.

They were just the same as they'd always been.

And he couldn't quite process it.

I'm crazy. I must be crazy.

But he wasn't crazy. It had all been just a dream.

But sometimes dreams were portents, visions into the future.

Would it be worth it? To be free from the freak show but live with no hands?

How would he be able to care for his family? Feed himself? Wipe his own butt?

I'd still be a freak, but a different kind of freak.

He'd wanted to run out and wake up somebody, anybody, and show them his hands so they could say they were really there. Touch them and tell him they were just his flesh and blood.

But then they'd want to know why he was acting so weird. And how he could tell them of his dream?

They would laugh. Or think he was losing his marbles. Or worst of all, pity him.

Because sometimes dreams were powerful things.

He turned off the light and cradled his precious, lobster hands appreciatively to his chest under the thick mound of blankets.

And sometimes dreams were just stupid dreams.

Jimmy Darling fell back to sleep and dreamt no more that night.

Brigid1318 as my witness, I had this idea about two weeks before episode 10 aired. No lie.

So anyway, thanks to iwritexx, Jurana Keri, partyperson25, the1upguy, brigid1318, The Cry-Wank Kid, and Strummer Pink for your patience and your ever appreciated reviews.

And thanks to MakaOraLovesDestiel for adding your support to this story as well.