I do not own American Horror Story: Freakshow.

I doubt Ryan Murphy would even recognize it now.

Wherever You Are

The Other Cost of Fame

Just about the time Reagan and the Russian guy were spending the summer of '87 arguing over walls . . .

"This new job is so awesome!"

"I'm glad you like it."

. . . Annabel was facing her own life changing choices.

"Except, uh . . ."

"What?"

Which were going to have a profound effect on . . .

"Well . . . Sarasota."

"Yeah."

. . . her entire family.

"To here?"

"Yeah?"

Even the dog.

"I don't want to drive an hour one way."

Silence.

"And I really want to be able to . . . you know . . . really do it, you know?"

More silence.

"I mean, I'm not trying to get away from my parents . . . I know you love being around them and I like it too . . . I . . . just . . . I don't . . ."

Deathly silence.

"Patrick?"

It was the dead of night.

They had gone to bed hours ago.

Little Jimmy sandwiched between them.

One hand with fingers dangerously close to being jammed up Daddy Patrick's nose.

And a foot currently threatening the spleen of Mommy Annabel.

She was used to it.

Sleep was evading her for other reasons.

And leaving her just laying there, quiet as possible.

Listening to her husband who hated her, just hated her, she knew it, breathe.

Breathe deep and evenly amid the earth-tilting, heart-breaking revelation she had dumped on him hours before.

And then watched him be silent and withdrawn ever since.

Washing up the dishes together.

Bathing Little Jimmy.

Taking Scruffy Sam the Sublime for a walk, the three of them.

Sitting next to her on the couch to watch Moonlighting, arm around her.

Curiously quiet even during Bruce Willis' snark-filled, witty comebacks.

Brushing his teeth, using the facilities.

Kissing her nice but not particularly passionately.

Arranging himself according to Little Jimmy's arms and legs.

And then still and silent.

And now here they were.

And Annabel wondered if this night was ever going to end.

And what the coming days would be like when it was over.

He finally has the family he always wanted .

And I'm taking it away from him.

Because I'm me.

And bad.

Oh god.

Then Patrick shifted.

Turned to her.

Reached out with a tender hand.

"I want to support you in your dreams, Annabel."

But . . .

As if reading the thought bubble hanging over her head in vibrant, flashing neon.

And then he spoke again.

"There is no but. I support you in your dreams, Annabel."

And just as she felt herself beginning to shake, he continued.

"We'll make it work with your parents. Weekend visits, maybe even have them come down to us on vacation when we have a big enough place."

A pause, Patrick in its consideration and lengthiness.

"I don't know what we'll do with The Baby while we're working. But we'll figure something out."

Then silence fell.

Broken by Annabel's sniffing and snuffling.

"I just . . . I just don't want you to hate me, Patrick. For taking you away from them."

He leaned to her then, earning a disgruntled wiggle from the splayed little one between them.

"I could never hate you, Annabel."

Kissing whatever part of her face he found first.

Ridge of the eyebrow.

"I love you."

And she was grateful, so, so grateful for him her husband.

"I love you too, Patrick."

I don't believe it.

Grab the ductape, Sister. We're going to keep her in one place if it's the last thing we do.

Jimmy's lined face was closed and careful.

"You've, uh, you've been driving it okay, haven't you? To your job and back every day?"

As Annabel hesitated, nodded.

Jimmy bit his lip, chewed on it.

Thinking.

"Is it the gas money? We could help with that."

Annabel shook her head, looking like she wanted to cry.

"No, no, I just-"

"Is it something we've done, darling?" Dot cut in quietly.

"Are we . . . overbearing? With Little Jimmy?" Bette now, matching her sister's tone and clutching her hand.

Tears from Annabel's eyes fell.

"No, no! You guys have been really great! I mean, that's the thing we're going to miss the most, actually, right, Patrick?"

Smearing her blue eyeliner and red rogue.

"I mean . . ."

And she rambled on and on, fumbling and falling over her words and loving her parents and wishing she wasn't so determined to go off into the world.

Without them.

And she hoped it would be alright.

Patrick, on the other hand . . .

Sister, it is too late for cheesecake.

I heartily disagree.

. . . simply showed up at their back kitchen door later that night.

"Patrick, darling, is everything okay?"

While Jimmy was in the bath with Annabel.

"Yes. I was just taking Sam for a walk."

And Bette was haranguing her much too disciplined sister . . .

"Oh. All right."

"Won't you come in, darling?"

. . . for a quick nibble.

He stepped inside, seeming slightly awkward but determined.

What is going on, dear Sister?

I don't know. I've been with you all day.

Elizabeth Ann-

Yes, Dorothy Jean?

"I just wanted you to know I'm very grateful for your support of Annabel."

Their hearts swelled.

"And me."

And painfully, metaphorically, exploded.

"I know you don't want us to go."

Patrick's voice was steadily getting quieter.

"And it wasn't really what I was expecting either."

Thicker.

"But it's not because we don't care about you or Jimmy or this family."

Heavier.

"But Annabel is everything to me. I have to support her dreams."

And then, because they couldn't stand his pain any longer-

Oh, Sister-

Hug the dear boy!

-they reached out to him, emotionally . . .

"Patrick, darling . . ."

-and physically.

". . . we love you! We're so grateful you and Annabel found each other out there in the mountains."

"We're so grateful she brought you back."

"You are such a wonderful young man-"

"The best!"

"And we could not be prouder of you."

They were stroking his hair, squeezing him with all their conjoined twin strength.

"You have brought a new light and joy into our family-"

Sandwiching him between their necks.

"-and have only made it better."

Like a beloved son unto his adoring mothers.

"You may be going further away than we preferred-"

Doing their supreme best . . .

"But you are no less a part of this family for it."

. . . to make up for every moment of his life . . .

"And you can come back-"

. . . he had ever felt unloved and alone.

"We insist!"

Honestly.

"For visits anytime-"

Sincerely.

"-every weekend if you like-"

Simple because he was him.

"And we will always welcome you with love-"

And wonderful.

"-and a smile."

And good.

Then they finally spoke together, drawing back so they could see him.

Hands pressed gently to either side of his face.

"We love you, Patrick Oliver Anderson. More than you could ever know."

And watched him smile an unashamed, beautiful smile.

Oh, Sister-

What a boy-

Realized they were all having a group breakdown together.

I love him so.

Yes.

And tried . . .

"But since you are here for now and we've all wept properly . . ."

. . . to lighten the mood somewhat.

". . . how about sharing some cheesecake with us?"

And Patrick, his own adoration glowing out of his chest . . .

"Okay."

. . . agreed.

"Thanks."

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I'd like that alot."

And moving to cupboard for the plates.

So we're doing this again, are we? Yeah.

Thanks to brigid1318, midnightrebellion86, and autumnrose2010 for reviewing before. :)

Hope everyone's enjoying whatever holidays they celebrate!

Or at least just being alive, if that's your thing. :)