There it is. He thinks, bemusedly, picking up the toy to cradle it to his chest. Maybe Addy, the name Violet wants to name their daughter, would play with this when she's older? He likes the idea of handing down an heirloom, even if it'll tear him bit by bit to part with something so precious. For so long, the simple toy truck was his only friend. He had Adelaide, Beau (in doses), and Bianca never was that close to him but he still had her, regardless. (Despite the fact that as soon as she graduated she left them alone with the cock sucker; no calls, no letters, not anything—it's like she wanted to forget about the shit, even if her siblings were a part of it. Bitch.) No matter how attentive his older siblings were, he was still alone.

He hears sobbing of a familiar woman in the background. A woman that has been more of a mother than his own for as long as he can remember; "Life is too short for so much sorrow." He quotes what she told him as a little boy, comforting him after Thaddeus tried to attack him. She promised to protect him, to love him like her own, and from then on he was indebted to her. "No." She chokes out, grasping her chest desperately, "it's an eternity. My baby…"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Tate remembers why he's here in the first place: he has to admit what he's done is wrong and has to, no matter how much it's going to kill him, tell his surrogate mother he can't give her the simple thing to make her face smile. He always liked it when Nora smiles. "I-I can't give you Violet's brothers. I know I said I would, but I can't do that to her. I love her."

Her face fades from tear stained sorrow to something else. Something he's never seen before. "There's another one. Don't lie to me, I'll know when you're lying: there's another in the stomach of that all too skinny teenage rat—"

"Don't call her that." He warns voice stern as he holds his boyhood toy tightly to his chest. "I can't give you my daughter," he realizes that Vivian's babies are his, too, but he considers the life growing inside Violet's womb his child, rather than his consequence on something he now regrets with a vengeance. "I won't give you my daughter."

Nora disappears, leaving Tate with bile in his throat.

"Tate?"

He hears Violet on top of the stairs. Violet tells him she's about to end her second trimester in a few weeks, but he's still transfixed that she's pregnant with his baby. All worry, all anger, and all regrets he's had moments ago fade when he sees her standing on the top step, tilting her head in confusion. "You okay?"

It doesn't take long at all for Tate to rush up those stairs and bend down, placing a loving kiss to the swollen belly he's come to enjoy lavishing so much attention to. "I am now." He answers honestly, standing up and begins to gently guide her from the basement and back into her room. On the way there they pass Thaddeus' old room.

It seems the nursery is being Queer Eyed for the Straight Guy.

Gross.

"Well, if it isn't Elvira and Norman Bates Jr." Chad sneers once he realizes he and his sham of a husband are being watched. He eyes Violet from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, judging her with a manicured brow, before giving a scoff. "Oh, sweetie, you even have no taste when it comes to maternity. See? This is why you're so not ready to be a parent—"

"Shut your mouth you goddamn queen!" Snaps Tate, protectively. "Why the fuck are you decorating the nursery for two, anyway? Vivian's going back to Florida as soon as the twins are born."

"Oh, aren't you adorable." He then eyes Violet's stomach, which causes her to protectively hold it, as if Chad's some vulture devouring it's new meal. "Might add a third crib if there's enough room; while I'm thrilled to have two bouncing baby boys, as I know Patrick is, too," he turns to his husband and they share a grin together. It's sweet, if you were into that shit. "But I always dreamed of having a little girl to dress up…"

It's Violet's turn to look aghast: "You're sick! You're not having this baby, or my mom's babies!"

"What are you going to do—murder me?" He asks looking at Violet. However, his eyes trail over towards Tate, intending the jab to be for the teenaged boy. "Too late."

Violet doesn't ask questions, she's too disgusted to form words, and merely stalks off with Tate right behind her. Once they're in her room—their room—she angrily bites at her nails, pacing the room. Tate comes behind her to wrap his arms around her, soothingly. He hushes her with kisses that are soft, sweet, and strokes her belly lovingly as he whispers anything and everything to calm her down. She's tired, it seems the little girl is always making her tired, hungry, horny, or having to pee, so he leads her to the bed and spoons her from behind. "Do you think my mom will make me come with her to Florida?"

Tate doesn't want to think about that. He can tell, or at least he hopes, that she doesn't either by how she asks; she wants to be reassured. He can't deny her anything.

"No." He says his tone final. "We can't be apart, Violet: I won't let us. Do you want Addy to grow up without a dad?" She shakes her head no, a lone tear seeping down the apples of her cheeks. "We're a family now. Together forever."

"My dad still wants to sell the house, Tate," she says, her voice breaking and it causes his heart to break. "It's like t-they want me to be away from the only thing that makes me happy. It's like they're punishing me for their fuck-ups."

Tate only holds onto Violet all the more tighter; "I won't let anyone take you two away. I promise."

It's only when he's certain she's asleep he sneaks out of her room and begins to form a plan in his head.

He isn't happy to be putting the black, rubber suit on once again. He doesn't like doing this, but he has to. He's known light, known love, and is going to have an honest-to-god family for the first time in his life; Tate isn't going to allow that to be stripped away, even by a man he respects. Sure, he treats his marriage like shit, but he's a good dad. He's even been pretty cool about him getting his kid pregnant, since now he's a dad himself, Tate wouldn't be too pissed if Ben wanted to bash his head against the wall. He's pretty sure he'd do that, too.

The sound of the zipper and his image in the mirror makes it easier to detach himself for what he has to do. If he doesn't, he could lose everything, and that would eat him up to where there isn't anything good about him left.

He attacks Ben while the man still is in his towel. He gives a good fight, but Tate isn't into it as he usually is, but the younger man still overpowers him and once he's in a choke hold, placing the chloroform to his mouth forcibly, he rips off his mask. He doesn't know why, but something compels him to do it, because he wants Ben to know how dead serious he is. "I like you, and you're her father, so I'm not going to kill you." He promises with labored breathing. "I didn't want to hurt you, but she can't leave. I need her here. I need both of them here."

When Ben's feet give out beneath him, Tate vanishes to the basement to peel the godforsaken suit off his body for the last time.

In a state of panic Ben causes Violet to go into early labor when he all but forces her out of that god-forsaken house. Tate's scare tactic only makes him more hell bent on getting Violet as far away as he can, especially since he knows his wife, his poor wife, has been telling the truth the entire time. He forgets; he's the liar, not Vivian. "Dad!" She calls out to him, clutching her stomach, but he ignores her, continues to drag her body until her legs give out. "Dad!" He turns around and she's screaming. Screaming, crying, and panicking the paramedics can't be there fast enough. Ten minutes she's hooked up to some IV and, thankfully, any sign of early labor is prevented. Thank God.

Her Obstetrician releases her with ordered bed rest for the duration of the pregnancy. Ben suddenly hates that thing growing inside her, his grandchild, because she's putting her mother and herself in danger by staying another moment in that house. So when she pulls up to Constance's drive way, he isn't even fazed by Violet's protests. "What? I want to be at home in my own bed!"

"I don't want you in that house or around that monster." He hisses, fingers clutching the wheel. "I asked Constance to take care of you for the time being and she agreed." His tone is final and she has no choice but to begrudgingly do as he says. He doesn't get out of the car to greet Constance, he merely nods his head in acknowledgement as the older woman ushers the inconsolable girl inside and doesn't drive away until she shuts the door.

He defies traffic and much longer than he likes, he finds his way to Vivian's room, eyes red and brimming with tears as he looks at her. She looks so tired, so weathered, and still she strokes her stomach so softly as if it'll break. "I'm so, so, so sorry, Viv." He crumbles to his knees before her, taking her hand in his. "I sh-I should've never doubted you. I know now."

Vivian gives him a sad, soft little smile. She looks so much like Violet it breaks his heart. "There's more," he warns, finding his way to sit on the chair beside her cot. "They didn't want me to tell you in this state, but one of those babies isn't mine. Apparently it's possible, just a one and a million chance that it can actually happen." Vivian's eyes are wide as she takes it in, but she's strong. She always has been. "Babe, I'm so sorry…"

She holds him.

Benjamin Harmon is yet again filled with the fact that he doesn't deserve a woman like Vivian in his life.

Her parents are gone for the next few days and Constance agrees to help her back into her own house, so she can relax in her own bed as intended. (Even if she'll have to quickly go back to Constance's couch once Ben calls to tell them they're on their way home.) Tate stays by her side while Constance fusses by fluffing the pillows. She's still a bit peeved that Billie's spell to exorcise ghosts was all for naught. Violet thinks it's just because Constance doesn't want to be reminded a gay couple lived here. "Now, I want you to rest, alright?" She asks Violet pointedly. "This child still needs to grow up big and strong and if she comes too soon, she might not be as strong as we'd like."

"She'll still be perfect," grumbles Tate.

Constance rolls her eyes and leaves, mumbling about how even as a ghost her youngest is going to give her gray hair.

Violet doesn't know when she fell asleep, or how long, but when she wakes up its Chad looming over her. She starts, fear evident in her eyes, but he merely shakes his head and scoffs. "I can't believe you slept through that." He admonished, eyeing her bed sheets and general décor with disgust. "Oh, child, I do hope your little one has taste."

"What do you want?" She asks, sleep still evident in her voice, but so is being royally pissed.

"You didn't know? Mommy dearest decided to go into labor early." He comments as if it's no big deal. "Looks like we're getting another permanent resident, but you can blame your psychopathic baby-daddy for that: let's just say his demonic spawn is what finally done mommy in."

"Shut up."

"Oh, I'm sorry: I thought you knew that!" He asks with faux-shock as he places his hand to his chest. "It should really be a Greek Tragedy, don't you think? Baby boy Harmon-Langdon has a half-sister and niece all in one. I'm not surprised: Norman Bates Jr. was the one that killed me and my unfaithful love of my life, or was, Pat. He's one literal mother fucker."

She feels nauseous. She leans over, huddling into a little ball, as the bitter ghost scoffs cruelly. "Go away." She whispers.

He does, leaving her alone with her sobbing and scattered thoughts.

He's lying. He has to be.