Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my twisted imagination.

A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply another product of three options: too much smutty imagination, too much time on my hands to help it thrive.

Pairing: Oliver Thredson/Lana Winters.

American Horror Story: Asylum

A Residual Haunting

Chapter Four

Since Oliver's arrival, the days seemed to drift by for Lana unnoticed like a stranger passing in the background. She spent a majority of her time occupying her cell when she could. Anything to keep a solid object between her and the man she so vehemently despised. Lately she only saw him just before lockdown at night, passing by her cell on his way to his own. Once the call for lights out was heard and the inmates were rushed into their cells was when the night long torturing was its worst.

During the day the halls were filled with the hollowed out screams and wails of the inmates with no point of their origin to be found, almost as if they the sounds came from within the walls of the asylum themselves. But at night, the deafening silence that was left behind was a haunting, chilling.

As Lana lay in her bunk alone in the dark, the sounds around the building were amplified against the brick lining the walls. It was then that she swore she could hear the quiet sound of Oliver's voice and her name bouncing off the walls, preventing her from sleeping like a haunting whisper that threatened to follow her into her dreams.

Sleep was hard to come by those nights. Whenever she finally closed her eyes to hover between that fine line of sleep and wakefulness, the memory of his long fingers exploring the sensitive passage between her thighs caused her to start and the promise of sleep disappeared further and further from her grasp. As she lay still atop the uncomfortable mattress with a restless mind, the emotional shock and humiliation she'd succumbed to were there to keep her company, taunting her throughout the long hours of the night in reminder of the way she found release from those same hands in that storage closet that day. The restless thoughts tormented her over and over, often times in the sound of Wendy's own voice because they were the same fingers that were responsible for dismembering her lost love and stripping his other victims skin from her hide like an exuberant taxidermist on his best day.

After what seemed like endless nights of torment, Lana awoke the next day to discover that the staff had actually moved Oliver from the cell he occupied at the end of her hall to one of the private cells around the corner in the men's ward. She couldn't believe how thankful she was when she discovered through bit of eavesdropping on the gossiping nun's in the laundry room that he was only there temporarily until they'd found space for him.

For the first time since she'd been in here, things were turning out in her favor. The staff had been keeping Oliver very "occupied" as of late. They were riding him hard, keeping him under constant forms of evaluation and various methods of treatment now that they had their hands on the real Bloody Face. During the trial, Kit Walker divulged the details of his treatment while he was imprisoned within Briarcliff and he actually managed to create a little bit of an uproar by going public with it, of course not without her help whenever she could offer it. The staff was busier than ever now in their efforts to keep up appearances and prove that the facility could successfully provide treatment for its patients. It was either that or face possible shut down.

Lana on the other hand couldn't have been more disgusted. She knew it was only a matter of time that once the heat died down, they'd be back to their old horrific tactics of mistreatment through blindly misguided teachings under the cloak of the Lord.

The sun rose slowly, illuminating her cell and warming the cold walls outside with natural sunlight that none of the facilities inhabitants would ever feel on their skin. When the door to Lana's cell opened followed by the clicking of the other cells in the hall, she climbed out of bed and pushed the door shut again as she always did to wait for another hour because it was 8:00am which meant two things: it was time for breakfast and Oliver was loose.

When the time arose, she finally slipped out of her cell, wandering down the hallways as it was almost time for kitchen duty to clean up this morning's mess, the only time when she could be left alone and in peace. As she turned the corner, Lana overheard the sound of voices, one in particular that said her name. Immediately she came to a stop, her heart beginning to race and she wondered if the night was now haunting her during the day. As she listened closely, she realized it was coming from one of the closed offices and after taking a careful glance up and down the hall to ensure it was empty, she stalked up to the door and perched against it to listen.

"Yes, Oliver… Miss. Winters. The staff alerted to me the fact that this very same woman you kept in your basement is here in this same facility. How they've managed such a travesty is beyond me and out of my control. She's not my patient and I can't gain access to her file, but Sister Eunice tells me it's been a struggle keeping you two separated. From what I've discovered in your file, she was the last of your victims and in fact, she was a patient of yours at one point."

Oliver was quiet, his arms shifting within the confines of the straitjacket he wore in order to get more comfortable. Offering up a small smile, his eyes wandered over the office and noticed the security guard that brought him was now perched in the corner, "In this very same office."

"You know, each and every one of your patients were counting on you to help them, including Miss. Winters." the psychiatrist across the desk stated while scanning over the scattered patient files all over her desk. "But you blurred the lines of ethical boundaries between doctor/patient in order to satisfy your own needs."

"How very observant of you…" he said in a calm, quiet voice and after a moment, he gave the doctor a dark look. "And I'm supposed to count on you?"

The doctor looked up from the papers and clasped her hands atop the desk. "Yes, I'd like to think so."

With a light chuckle, he leaned back in the small wooden chair. "I've sat here for the past two hours and all you've done is tell me what you think is wrong with me based on what you've read in my file. And yet, you haven't even established the basic principle of developing a solid profile based on your own interpretations provided through talk therapy."

The doctor sighed and Oliver continued, "You can't understand a mind not of your own without walking through it... unless you're uncomfortable with what you might find. And if so, may I suggest you're probably in the wrong profession."

This was the fifth psychiatrist that had been brought in to see him, the others having disappeared after either not being able to withstand the harsh conditions of the asylum or the fact that he'd simply refused to speak with any of them. And this doctor was proving yet again that he could practice circles around her and still manage to provide some form of development after only the second session. Of course it wasn't a competition after all seeing as he no longer possessed his license, but the challenge kept his mind occupied throughout the long days such as this one.

"From what I've seen, you can't even accept the fact that you'll never force the woman you're after in the common room to love you for who you are. What makes you think your interpretations of what you've fostered yourself into believing to bring you normalcy will somehow change my mind?" the doctor asked directly.

"You're not discussing anything that I haven't already figured out. And if I wanted to talk to a therapist, I would remain in my cell and talk to myself." he responded flatly.

"That may be so, but I do know this… You've spent your entire life trying to better understand this affliction of yours, to help yourself and supposedly help others and yet here you are on the opposite side of this desk. So whether you like it or not, you need my help more than you think." the doctor said matter-of-factly.

Oliver stared across the table at the woman before him, her long red hair and starched black suit, sitting where he once used to sit, living the normal life he'd always tried so hard to possess. But from the moment he began planning to take Donna Burton's life, his own life had been constantly slipping through his fingers like the grains of sand in a sand timer until it was too late to turn it back. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to flip this desk in a rage for everything that he wished he could've been and what he could've done with his life. And the last thing he wanted to do was sit here discussing the cosmic joke of his life as if he hadn't been living it for the past thirty five years.

After a moment, Oliver's eyes became glassy and he lowered them to the floor between his legs before pulling himself together. Deciding to divert the conversation, he spoke, "It's not easy taking someone's life, you know?"

"Of course not, the emotional weight and guilt is overwhelming."

"No, the physical act. The body is strong and resilient, but each body is vastly different. You have to find the best tactic of breaking it down piece by piece without destroying the most important element you want to salvage…." he clarified, glaring directly into the doctors eyes across from him. "You know, it took me six years to build up the nerve to skin Donna alive. Alison, three months. And eventually just a few weeks after Lana betrayed me. It was as if the flood gates had opened with no possibility of ever sealing them again."

"Oliver…" the doctor interrupted. "I'd prefer to stay on task seeing as we don't have much time left. What I'd like to do is spend this time talking about your mother. Your real mother."

His glazed brown eyes flitted back to the psychiatrist, her voice pulling him from the darkened depths of his mind. "I never knew her, it's as simple as that." he said, his tone lingering along the lines of boredom.

"Yes, but each of these victim's all have similarities. Fair skin, auburn hair, and a slender build. I understand you never knew her, but did you find information on her, a picture perhaps?"she asked.

His gaze grew dark, vacant as though he was mentally escaping the questions, but in reality his mind was wrapped around the documentation he managed to obtain from the local hospital where he was born and the city's public records. That was one of the few perks of working for the state. It was as if he had the keys to the castle. There were only a few women who had given birth to a baby boy on the day he was born and after several attempts to weed out the non matches based on appearance, he managed to find one that closely fit like none other. He was never sure if she was truly his mother when he stumbled over her picture within the records archives from the late 1920's. She didn't share the same last name, possibly unwed, but she no longer resided within the state and apparently had moved away shortly after giving birth. The picture of that woman was the closest he'd come to applying a face to the blank one he carried with him all those years. And since then, she was the vision that was tacked to the wall of his mind.

"Yes…." he finally responded.

"What I would like for you to do is to practice a method of disassociation with Miss. Winters and the woman you found in that picture. I want you to begin replacing that image with that of your real mother."

Immediately his dark eyebrows twisted in irritation. "Obviously you must understand that disassociation without a cognitive replacement that possesses a justifiable standing within the patient's psyche would defeat said purpose. So why would I do that, doctor? Lana has been the one and has done more for me in that short time we were together than my real mother has ever done in her lifetime, even if it was in jest…. The very idea is vexatious and unwarranted at best."

"Will you promise to give a try?" the doctor asked in a firm tone, standing up from behind her desk. When he still didn't respond, she pressed him again. "Or we could continue with your most recent method of treatment via the use of electroshock. It's not exactly a method I advocate as humane, but it can continue."

His mouth opened to form another argument and suddenly he began to recall his first experience under the electrodes. As he lay strapped down to a bed that was bolted to the floor, he stared up into the eyes of Sister Eunice silently hoping that he would go into cardiac arrest and finally be free of this life. When the shrill pierce of electricity whirred through the electrodes, the muscle contractions shook all the way down into his his bones after the sharp jolt flowed through his body with only a rubber guard between his teeth to prevent them from shattering. The crackling sound that lingered in the air once it was over danced between his ears followed by the sensation of the nun's fingers smoothing his damp hair away from his forehead. It's been several days and finally the trembling in his hands was beginning to completely subside….

Oliver let out a heavy sigh. By this time, he had grown tired of this conversation an hour ago and was ready for a change of scenery. "Yes." he muttered.

She gave him a small smile and walked around the desk to help him out of the chair since the straitjacket left limited mobility for balance. The guard moved forward and assisted in removing the jacket. "We'll meet here again in two days and I'll be checking with the staff on your progress and hopefully absence from Miss. Winter's sight."

When the door swung open and Oliver was ushered outside, Lana jumped. The door slammed shut behind him and he paused in his step at seeing her there. He gave her a small smile at the realization that she had been eavesdropping. Quickly she walked away.

"Wait! I need to talk to you." he called after, his hand shooting out to grab her by the arm.

"Don't you dare touch me." she said, pulling out of his grasp and his fingers wound into her red sweater.

"Just… listen." he almost growled, jerking hard at her as the sound of the stitching in her sweater came loose.

"To what? More of your lies? Am I supposed to believe what that therapist told you will work and that you're suddenly going to transform into some perfect model of integrity?" Lana spat, pushing against his chest to shrug off his attempts at pulling her closer to him. "I always said you headshrinkers are hypocrites. You're a monster and so is she if she thinks this little experiment of hers is going to work."

Oliver stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black sweater and leaned back against the wall. "As much as I hate to admit, I agree with you for once because you've finally realized that this… is destiny." he commented, his eyes wandering over her skin from behind the lens of his glasses.

Even now as she stood before him, angry and for the most part borderline irate, he longed to be reminded of what it was like to feel her smaller frame against him again. Or the way the warm, wet passage between her legs squeezed his fingers so tightly the moment she found release in that storage closet.

Lana shook her head, a small smile of disbelief spreading across her face at his statement. "You deserve every amount of punishment you receive in here, Oliver... And still I find it insufficient."

Brushing off her comment, Oliver shrugged. "In truth my level of trust with you is very miniscule at best... But I believe with the appropriate amount of therapy, all isn't lost. I'm still the same man you came to know and requested help from in that very same office there."

"You're insane. You may have escaped the electric chair, but the shock therapy will come back for you. And soon… you'll be a burned out shell just like Sister Jude."

"Is this the part where you try to break me?" he said, his low tone hinting at his aggravation. "When are you going to realize that you can't break something that's already broken? We're in here together which means the very thing that happens to me, could very well happen to you. But what makes you and I different is that unlike you, I've got nothing left to lose. So your threats hold about as much appeal as those lackadaisical cooking recipes you used to publish in that local paper of yours."

Lana's eyes narrowed. "I don't have time for this. I've got kitchen duty tonight and if you remember correctly, I don't think you want to be around me after knife count. Besides, I'd rather die than stand here and give you another minute of my life."

She stalked away from Oliver, her white tennis padding quickly over the cement floor. He knew she could feel his eyes on her as she made her way down the hall.

"There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be…" he called after her and once she was out of earshot he whispered under his breath, "And that's with me."

Lana was expecting him to be at her heels, but to her surprise when she rounded the corner he was nowhere to be found. Was that psychiatrist right in concocting a plan to keep them apart and that he may have been playing mind games with her? Or could it be that what she said would actually ward him off for a little while? A tiny smile spread over her face at the thought that perhaps it was just the trigger to keep him at bay.

The hours seemed to go on like days and eventually after kitchen duty was complete, Lana found herself exhausted and could only think of the lumpy mattress waiting for her in her cell. Never had she thought in a million years that after all of her efforts to chase her dreams, she would end up washing the dishes of the insane. Hanging up her apron, she quietly made her way back to her cell. It was the end of the night and a majority of the inmates had already made their way into their cells for lockdown. She didn't see Oliver again since she'd left him in the hallway earlier that day. He didn't even come down when dinner was served in the dining hall. Sluggishly, she crept along the dark hall of cell doors lining the walls until she stumbled across the one that belonged to her. With her eyes glued to the floor, she removed her sweater and shoes and pulled off the blue dress that was all but stuck to her skin as thought it were a part of her nowadays. Climbing into bed, Lana watched as the door to her cell was locked for the night along with all the others.

As the moonlight from the window behind her bed shone on the rusted cell door, Lana's eyes widened when what appeared to be large black lettering scrawled across the metal caught her eye.

'I see you.'

She gasped, her eyes searching the dark as a glint of familiar light reflected off a pair of glasses in the blackened corner adjacent her bed and she watched in horror as the figure who had been so blessedly absent, made itself known.

"I was beginning to think you'd never show up…" Oliver whispered. "Do you know how much effort it takes to keep a bed disguised as if I've been asleep all evening just so that I can have this time here… With you?"

====To be continued!=====

A/N: This has been a long time between updates! I've been ridiculously busy, but I'm finally back to finish what I've started. Including work on my other fics too. *stretches fingers* It feels good to be back….