2018 - present day

Vivien left Joshua with Nora for the day so she could have some time to herself. Of course Nora believed it was Vivien's day off. She was a sweet woman but her memory was so flawed that Vivien never faulted her for her strange beliefs. It was much easier to agree with her and have the intermittent help caring for the infant. Vivien knew she could just as easily have been like Nora. Or worse.

She spent her free time playing her cello in the music room on the third floor. Few of the other ghosts went in there and she had the room all to herself that morning. She sawed out somber Bach and Beethoven into the hollow chamber. It was the perfect room for acoustics, especially when the door was closed and her back was to the windows.

She'd been going over what Ben had said to her since he walked out of the room last night. Obviously Tate had said something about that night that had upset Ben. Vivien's memory of the events had been unreliable even when they were fresh. Years of actively trying not to think about it had successfully clouded the whole experience. All she had left were impressions: Intense sensation. A rubber suit. Ben.

She stopped playing and used her hand that held the neck of her instrument as a cushion for her forehead. She felt like she was being put on trial a second time for a crime she never committed; the victim of an unfair witch hunt. Again. She considered talking to Chad about it but he couldn't be relied on, given his situation with Tate. Being confined to a limited population had drawbacks she'd never considered outside the context of prison.

Vivien sighed and tipped her head back so her hair would fall away from her face. She knew she would have to talk to Ben. But it could wait until after his latest experiment was done. He would focus better if he wasn't distracted. She'd learned that much about him over the years. A fight with him now wouldn't get anyone anywhere. So she would continue to play the dutiful housewife with him in front of Violet, for the girl's sake. Vivien knew how to wait.

She lifted her bow and began to play again.

...

Ben and Constance were both sitting in the boxy leather chairs in Ben's office. They were both smoking cigarettes and looking at each other.

"You're looking well, Constance," Ben said.

And she was. Once she'd figured out she could alter her appearance Constance had started winding the clock back. Just tiny increments for the time being; she didn't want it to be too noticeable to the people who were used to seeing her.

"Thank you," she smiled and patted her hair with one hand. "New hairdresser." She tapped her ash then pressed her palms together, with the hand on top holding the cigarette. "I was wonderin', Ben, how... How do you think my son is doin'?"

"It's funny you should ask," the doctor said. "We just started a new type of therapy... Lucid dreaming. I mean, we literally just started last night. But I think it went well."

She was puzzled by the answer but thought it sounded like good news. Which gave her hope. "Lucid dreamin'? How's that work?" She paused, then added: "This doesn't involve the gays, does it?"

"No," Ben said. "No, it doesn't. Just Tate and me. It's a type of therapy that involves teaching the patient to recognize when they're having a dream, while they're having it. Essentially it's learned nightmare control."

"And you think it'll help him?"

Ben nodded and put his cigarette out. "He told me this morning that last night was the first night in weeks that he didn't have any nightmares."

"Really?" Now Constance was surprised. "It works that fast?"

"So far, so good."

"Huh," she said. She sucked on her cigarette. "Well. I'd like it if your future treatments don't include those homosexuals. I don't want them influencin' my son."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ben said smoothly. He had no qualms with lying to her. "Lucid dreaming is a solo process once the patient grasps how to do it. Hopefully this will help your son learn to help himself."

She smiled faintly and put her cigarette out. "I appreciate your lookin' out for him, Ben. I'd thought you might be the one to help him get out of this place but... I think I know now that there's- there is no gettin' out. But I know my boy needs your help. Especially if he's stuck here."

Ben leaned forward and took her hand. She looked at him in surprise but she didn't pull away. "I promise you I'll do what I can to help your son."

He let go of her. She withdrew her hand and pressed it to her collarbone. "I'm countin' on you," she said.

...

After her visit with Dr. Harmon, Constance went looking for her son. She didn't even have to call him; Tate met her at the stairs.

"Hi," he said and he gave her a little smile.

That in itself was a drastic improvement over the last few times she'd seen him. She pulled him in close for a hug. "How are you, honey?" She released him to look at his face and pet his messy hair away from his eyes.

"I'm okay," he said. "How're you?"

"I'm just fine, sweetheart. Doctor Harmon said you and he are doin' some kind of new dream therapy."

Tate nodded and brightened a little. "Yeah. It's kind of neat. I had a dream last night where he told me I was dreaming and I was. Kind of like the perpetual mirror in a mirror thing."

Constance smiled and pet his hair some more. The blond mess resisted being smoothed down; it wanted to be unruly. "Well, I hope it works. You don't look as tired as you did last time."

"I'm not," he agreed. He tugged his sleeves over his fingers. "Mama? You know, it's going to be my birthday soon..."

She stopped messing with his hair and looked at him quizzically. "Sweetheart, you don't have birthdays anymore."

He frowned a little but the look passed quickly. "I want to have a birthday party. Since Michael's got canceled. We could have it next month, when my real birthday would be. I want Michael to come. Okay?"

There was nothing inherently wrong with the idea but Constance couldn't help thinking it wasn't a good one. As always, she trusted her gut instincts. "I'll think about it," she said.

He knew what that meant. "Come on, please?" he said, tears welling up. "It's just one party. You'll be there! Please? Pleeease? I won't ask for anything else for the rest of the year."

She didn't believe him but the promise was cute. It softened her resolve. "I said I'll think about it. Now stop beggin'. I'm bringin' Billie Dean back later. I'll tell you what I've decided then."

Tate heard the medium's name and winced. But he caught himself before saying anything. He needed to stay on his mother's good side until he was sure he'd get his party. So he just nodded. "Okay. When will you be back?"

"I haven't even left yet!" she mock-scolded. Constance actually found her son's enthusiasm refreshing, if pestiferous. She hadn't seen him so animated about something in months. "Why don't you run along now. I'm goin' to go see if I can find Travis. Give me a kiss."

She collected her goodbye hug and kiss then went upstairs. Constance didn't yet know how to deliberately home in on another ghost but she could tell her dead boyfriend was somewhere above. She followed that impression and found it got stronger when she was moving in the right direction.

She found Travis in one of the third floor rooms, sitting at an old roll-top writing desk with a thin notebook computer. The Black Dahlia girl was with him, much to Constance's displeasure. Travis smiled at her when she came over to where he was sitting. She put a hand on his back, just below his neck and gave Elizabeth a tight smile.

"Hey, Constance! Look," Travis said, turning the computer a little so he could show her the screen. It was a ghost hunting website. "Me and Beth are total celebs!"

Mission: Paranormal had done a full section on their abbreviated tour of Murder House. Travis and Elizabeth's photos both featured prominently. A square ad-box announced their intent to return to the house for a second investigation. Constance glanced at the site but didn't bother reading any of it. She was unimpressed.

"Wonderful," she said sarcastically. "You made the front cover of Weekly World News. Every crackpot in the nation can pin you to their wall."

"It's Mission: Paranormal," Travis corrected, missing the insult entirely. "Me and Beth set up a Tumblr account. Check it out: We're going to pretend we're fans pretending to be us. Get it? And we're going to post pictures and stuff. People'll think it's people posting as us but it'll really be us."

Constance could tell he felt very clever. Normally she'd throw him the ego boost he so obviously craved but she wasn't about to praise anything that also involved Elizabeth.

"How interestin'," the blonde woman said dismissively. "Travis? Could I have a moment of your time... in private?"

She shot Elizabeth a look that invited her to die a second time. The black-haired woman looked vaguely wounded and confused.

"I'll... talk to you later, Travis," Beth said.

He looked disappointed. "Oh. Okay." Then he smiled at Constance again. "I figured out how to link the Tumblr account to the videos the paranormal dudes made. It's like I'm my own agent. We have fans!"

Constance waited till Elizabeth left the room then she pushed the computer away from Travis's hands and sat down in his lap. It had been years since she'd gotten physical with him so he was a surprised at first. It didn't take him long to shift gears. But it never occurred to him, even in the middle of screwing her on the desk, that Constance was dead like him.

...

2010

Tate didn't often stay around for the fights. The men never got physical but the verbal cruelty was just as bad. He didn't want to hear them berate each other over how fat Chad had let himself get or how many dicks Pat had sucked lately. So Tate hid in the basement where he couldn't hear them. They fought almost every day now so he hid downstairs most of the time.

He had some old toys in the basement to occupy himself with. They weren't as interesting as life had been upstairs when things were nice but the Matchbox cars and Star Wars figures didn't fight unless he wanted them to. Which he did. But they played by his rules: They only killed each other. They didn't say mean things first.

"If you're that bored," Nikki said behind him. "I've got some books you can look at."

Tate stopped rolling the fire truck over the Ewok chief but he didn't look back at her. "What do you want?"

"To apologize," she said. He could tell she'd moved closer to him by where her voice was. "I was hoping to catch you someplace less dank but I haven't seen you topside. Sam told me about the laptop... And how he hurt you."

Tate didn't like how she sounded. She sounded the same way his mother did when she wanted something from a man. "He didn't hurt me."

"It's okay," said Nikki. "I hurt him back. He won't do it again."

She was right behind him now. He glanced to the side and he could see her thigh right next to his head. It was wrapped in black fishnet.

"I'd really like to make it up to you," she said. She ran her fingers through his hair.

He ducked away from her hand, scowling. "Don't."

"I don't bite," said Nikki. "Unless I'm asked to. I'll leave you to your... toys. If you want to see what the big kids play with, look me up sometime."

She left him alone then. Tate took an angry swipe at the toys on the floor, scattering them. Then he hugged his knees under his chin and sulked. He knew Nikki was trying to be nice to him, in her weird way. He didn't want her to be nice though. He wanted the owners of the house to be nice to each other.

But they weren't. Patrick was cheating and Chad was slowly going crazy. They were going to get divorced or whatever gay people did and there would be no baby. Mrs. Nora would be upset. She'd been so happy since Tate had promised her there was a baby coming.

He put his forehead down on his knees and circled his head with his arms as the tears started to fall. Things had to get better. He didn't want to tell her there wasn't going to be a baby.

...

It was almost Halloween. Chad and Patrick were fighting again. It started so quickly, Tate didn't have a chance to get away from them before things got ugly. That's when he found out they were trying to sell the house. A fight over pumpkins and apples turned into the death of a dream. Patrick was going to leave, just like Tate's dad had. And Chad was going to let him, just like Constance had.

Tate wasn't prepared for the harsh way the realization hit him. It was like having his insides pulled out. And as bad as the pain was, the anger was worse. It felt like it was burning up the place where his guts had been. He went to their bedroom, partially because it was a familiar retreat and partly with the intent to destroy the place. But then he saw the black rubber suit.

It made him think of dark super-heroes and KMFDM. And suddenly he knew what he had to do. He replaced his clothes with the tight second skin of shiny black. Putting it on felt like he was suiting up for the Noble War. And no mission could be more noble: He was saving a marriage.

Mrs. Nora was upset when she found their brutalized corpses in the basement and the tears on Tate's face confused her. But after he explained to her that the men had changed their minds about having a baby, she agreed that they needed to make way for a couple who would have one.

Tate stayed with the bodies until someone came to find them.

...

Author's Note:

And that's love, then and now, in the Murder House.

In an earlier episode, when Tate told Chad he didn't know he'd get stuck in the house when he killed them, he wasn't being entirely honest (shocker, I know). What he meant was that by preventing Pat and Chad from ever leaving, he thought everything would go back to being perfect. His black rose for them. Yes, everybody Tate likes ends up dead and stuck with him. Everybody except Michael, so far.

There's a couple more bipolar chapters to this episode then things get weird. Er. Weirder. Episode 6 is all about memories and we know how tricky they can be.