I do not own American Horror Story: Freakshow.
I doubt Ryan Murphy would even recognize it now.
Wherever You Are
What They Said
She arrived first thing in the morning.
As they had agreed upon.
Her and Jimmy.
And Bette and Dot Tattler Darling Walker turned their gazes first upon her.
"Lucy, darling! What a surprise to see you here!"
"How are you? Is everything alright?"
"Yes, I'm well. I'm here for you, Bette."
And then they turned their eyes to Jimmy.
Well, Bette's did.
"Jimmy?"
Dot's flickered guiltily between her sister and her husband and their friend.
Bette did not miss it.
"Dot?"
And then they all sat down.
First she examined Bette.
Pulse. Blood pressure.
Checked her eyes with a light.
"You may as well add 'blind' to whatever list of symptoms my husband and sister have concocted for you."
Hearing.
"-pping! I can hear fine, we listen to Annabel on the radio every day!"
Ear, nose, and throat.
"-want to cough in your eyeballs, Lucy, but you're making my throat tickle-"
Reflexes.
"Ouch, what'd you do that for?"
And, of course, asked questions.
"Do you know your name?"
"Elizabeth Ann Walker."
"Do you know the year?"
"1989."
"Do you know who the president is?"
"The actor that was in those spaghetti westerns. Reagan. No, there's a new one. Um, shrub?"
And more questions.
"Do you ever look around and not know where you are?"
And more questions.
"Do you ever feel confused and lost and it makes you feel unusually angry?"
And more questions.
"Do you ever have trouble making decisions that were once easy?"
And Bette, tears dotting her cheeks, first tried to trivialize.
"Well, of course, but, goodness, haven't we all felt that?"
Then redirect.
"I don't know why you are asking me all these stupid questions instead of talking about about Annabel and The Baby and . . . and . . ."
"Patrick?"
"Yes, Patrick! I know his name, Sister! I'm just very distracted by all these questions!"
And, of course, argue.
"You seem very angry, Bette."
"This conversation is making me angry right now."
Only to have her interrogator dare to respond calmly.
"Why?"
To which she could not clearly . . .
"Because . . . because . . . well, I'm perfectly fine and you haven't even touched your coffee yet!"
. . . and rationally reply.
And finally, Lucy stood up.
"Alright. Let's take a break. Bette, try to calm down. I am your friend. I'm here to help you. I'll step from the room for a moment to allow you to decompress."
And of course, because Dot could not follow her from the room, Jimmy did.
"Lucy?" he whispered, hoping Bette and Dot were having one of their silent communications that sometimes made him feel lost because they tended to space out and leave him behind. "What's wrong with her?'
Lucy turned to Jimmy.
The calm composure, the strong gaze.
The woman once so unsure and afraid, now so confident and capable.
"How long has Dot been experiencing shortness of breath?"
Jimmy Darling Walker looked momentarily confused.
"What? Who?"
And Lucy was not to be moved.
"Dot. How long has she been experiencing. . ."
". . . shortness of breath?"
Dot blinked.
"Oh, uh, sometimes. It comes and goes. All this humidity. Why?"
"I'd like to examine you."
"Pardon?"
"Pulse. 96."
"Is that good?"
"Blood pressure. 162 over 103."
"Is that good?"
"Have you been eating regularly?"
"Yes, we-"
"No. You."
"Well, um, I actually-"
"She just moves her food around on her plate," Bette interrupted, face worried and pinched. "She says she's not hungry but we share a stomach and I feel hungry."
"That doesn't mean we all have to eat cheesecake like the world's ending just because you do, Bette!"
"Dot-" Jimmy started.
She silenced him with a glare.
And Lucy remained focused.
"Do you ever get dizzy? Nauseated? Anxious?"
"I'm feeling pretty anxious about this conversation right now-"
"Dot."
"Yes," she grumbled defeatedly. "All three."
"Tired? Upset stomach? Pressure in your chest or stomach?"
"Sometimes."
"Do you ever sweat?"
"It's Florida. It's what we do."
"Alright. More than normal."
"Since we went through menopause and live in Flori-"
Ouch, what did you pinch me for, Bette?
Answer the question, Sister. Or I'll pinch you again.
"Yes. Sometimes."
"Have you ever had chest pain, jaw pain, or tingling in your arms that you couldn't get rid of?"
"Jaw, yes. Chest and arms, no."
"Bette, Dot, I'd like you to make an appointment with a doctor as soon as possible."
They answered at once, hardly a blink between their voices.
"No."
Lucy looked stern.
"Bette, you are suffering memory loss and confusion. There are medications and treatments available for you that might slow the advance of what you may have."
"And what may I have, Ms. Not-A-Doctor?"
Ms. Not-A-Doctor continued on, unabated.
"Dot, your pulse is up, your blood pressure is up-"
"Of course my blood pressure is up, Lucy. You show up on my doorstep at breakfast and to say there is something is wrong with me. I am fine. I am more concerned with-"
"Bette, yes. I agree. Her condition is a concern. But we need to care for you as well. You need to go to a doctor, a real doctor. Get blood tests, x-rays, the a complete workup so that-"
"No."
Lucy seemed to take this complete and utter rejection with a grain of salt.
"Bette, Dot, your individual problems are only going to get worse. And affect the other of you. You need to . . ."
But the conjoined twins, unified forever in body, were now also unified in mind.
"No."
Then Lucy turned to Jimmy.
Jimmy, who already knew and understood exactly what his wives were driving at.
What they were . . .
Oh girls, please . . .
. . . thinking, having known them for so long.
"Jimmy, they must receive treatment. I-"
"Lucille Mary Barrett, look at us."
It was Dot that spoke, spoke for them both.
As they held hands.
And spoke to two of their loved ones.
Quietly. Calmly Firmly.
And with finality.
"We will not go to any doctor. We will not allow it. We will live our lives as much as we can, everyday. We will take care of each other and our Jimmy. Our Annabel and Patrick and Little Jimmy. Our friends."
Dot paused for breath and Bette took up the thread for her.
"And when there is no more life for us to live and our end is come and we must, we will die."
Jimmy, dark eyes filling with tears, looked away.
Out the window.
To a cold and dark and lonely world devoid of his wives.
One day.
As Lucy, Brandon, Florida's first woman Emergency Medical Technician and friend to the Walker family would had first saved, then given back, her life, flinched.
"Dot. Bette. It doesn't have to be this way."
Dot smiled gently. Bette followed, taking her sister's hand.
And Dot spoke again.
"Yes. It does. We will not be made spectacles, medical curiosities. We will not be stared at, gawked at. Poked and prodded and studied. We are women."
Bette now, seamlessly.
"We are wives, mothers, grandmothers, friends. Bakers, gardeners, dreamers. Drivers, adventurers, radio-personalities. We are not things. We are not freaks. We are simply, us."
And that . . .
"Please call me if anything happens, alright? If they change their minds. Or, if it comes down to it, after you call the ambulance."
. . . was the end of it.
Jimmy nodded numbly. Lucy continued.
"And remember to take care of yourself, Jimmy. If you're not in good condition, you can't take care of them either."
Jimmy nodded again, wishing he had more than stumps to care for his darling wives.
"Will you tell Annabel?"
He clenched his jaw.
"If they'll let me."
Lucy nodded.
"She needs to know so she's prepared. It will be much harder on her if she's not."
And then, with a hug and a kiss on the cheek for each of the three of them . . .
"I understand why; I really do. I just hope you reconsider."
. . . she said goodbye.
"We love you, Lucy."
"I love you girls too. And you, Jimmy. You are the best friends I have ever had."
And took her leave.
They were in the living room when she said it.
Later that night, that very same damn day.
Watching something on the TV.
Something stupid and pointless, he was sure.
"When we die-"
A sudden slap in the face would have been less of a strike.
"What?! What the hell, Dot-"
Dot and Bette, however, were calm.
"Hush and listen, Jimmy Darling. And listen. When we die, don't let them make freaks of us."
Darning lowered and still in their lap.
"We don't want to be studied and poked and prodded and cut apart and examined."
Their dark, depthless eyes direct.
"It would shame us. It would shame you."
And unwavering.
"And Annabel. She's been through enough on our behalf."
Jimmy shook his head in denial.
"Bette, she loves you two-"
A lovely smile from Dot as she spoke.
"Yes, we know."
And now, Bette.
"We love her as well."
And together.
"So much."
Pulling down into solemn frowns.
"But to know her mothers were on display somewhere like freaks would hurt her badly, we think."
Yet voices still, still without hesitation.
"And we don't want to be oddities and freaks anymore."
Jimmy stared at them uncomprehendingly.
"What are you sayin', Dot?"
As if he didn't know.
"I'm saying we want you to take care of it., Jimmy. Take care of us. One last time."
Jimmy floundered.
"When? How?"
Because they had to say it.
"When the time comes. However you can. However you must."
He sat, stumbling and fumbling, mouth tasting sick.
Stomach churning. Brain stuttering and stammering.
And then they hit him with another one-two punch.
"And if one of us goes first, don't leave the other of us alone."
His eyes were in danger of dropping from his head.
"What?"
The sisters clenched their jaws, a fraction of a second apart.
And it was Dot again who spoke.
"Don't leave us alone with our dead sister. Help us. We can't go on without each other. Literally. Please do what you must to help the other pass on quickly, painlessly."
Jimmy thought he thought he himself might fall dead from the conversation.
"Dot . . . Bette . . . I can't . . ."
"Do you love us, Jimmy Darling?"
He nodded, heart hammering, body quaking.
"More than anything. You know that."
And Bette nodded.
"Then promise us. Promise us you won't run away when the time comes. The one that is left will be scared, grieving, maybe confused and in pain. Do what you have to do to stop our suffering."
As Dot implored him.
"Please, Jimmy. Please promise us."
And of course, Bette.
"Don't leave us alone with our dead sister. Please help us die."
He looked from one to the other, feeling them alien more than he could ever remember in their lives.
"How can you talk about this? It's so . . . terrible. It's so horrible. It's . . ."
Sad, slightly bemused smiles.
"It's part of our reality, Jimmy. It's part of our future. It's part of our life."
Because it was the truth.
"And death."
More true than anything else could possibly be.
"Please promise us."
He looked from one to the other, unable to fully process what his beloved wives were so plainly telling him.
It's madness, it's crazy, it's . . .
It's real for them. And for me.
He heard himself speaking the words, felt his soul crack at the promise.
"Okay. If that's what you want. I promise."
But his darling wives weren't done with him. Not quite yet.
"And keep Annabel out of it. We don't want her to bear the weight of responsibility of it."
What about me? Jimmy wanted to ask selfishly. What about me bearing the weight of killing my wives?
But he understood. The things he had done in his life, the things his wives were now requesting he do in the future. Annabel need not suffer the burden.
Dot and Bette drew a deep breath together. Let it out separately.
And nodded.
And then, unbelievably more so, they picked up the cloth and implements in their hands.
And resumed darning his socks.
As if nothing . . .
- the goddamn hell?
. . . had happened.
Well, that's Bette and Dot for you.
And Jimmy.
How are you doing out there, gentle readers?
Particularly midnightrebellion86, autumnrose2010, and brigid1318 for reviewing previously! :)