…

2018

He was in child form when Tate first saw Chloe within the confines of Murder House. He saw her from behind and managed to shift up to his normal age before she saw him. She, like most ghosts, could sense when another one was close by so she did see him once she'd turned around. Of all of them, only Constance didn't register to the spirits like another spirit; her and Rubber Man. Tate still wasn't aware his mother had died - and if she had her way, he never would.

When she saw Tate, Chloe scowled. "Leave me alone."

Tate held up his hands like her hateful gaze was a loaded weapon. His snake ring slipped down to rest on the knuckle of his thumb. "Look. You have… every reason to hate me," he said with utmost sincerity.

He entered the room, moving slowly, like one might approach a wild animal that was about to run or fight. The dark-haired girl folded her arms and frowned deeper. Tate lowered his arms just as slowly.

"If what everybody says is true about me… I deserve it," he went on when she didn't throw a fit about his coming into the room. "I swear I don't remember any of it. I never knew you. If I did- if I did shoot you… I'm sorry." His eyes misted over and a tear slipped free but he ignored it and plowed ahead. "I know you want to know why I did it but I don't even know. I don't know why we're all stuck here. Or why the bad things that happen here happen. I wish to God I did."

"Yeah," Chloe said, tone stiff. "Right. Let me guess. You don't remember blowing up the school either."

He felt an inappropriate smile try to surface and he had to fight hard to keep it off his face. "No. I remember that."

"You're such a fucking asshole!" the cheerleader exclaimed. "It wasn't enough that you stole my life and my family from me? You had to go and blow up the only other place I had left? And now I'm STUCK here! With YOU!"

She stalked over then and gave him a hard shove. He let her. He didn't fight back or defend himself. He didn't even try to hold his ground; when she pushed, he fell back a step. She shoved him again. There wasn't as much strength in the second strike but she quickly followed it with another double-handed push. It was even weaker, as was the next one till she finally just gave up and started crying.

"I hate you!" she wept. "God! Why did you do this to me?!"

His shoulders slumped. His eyes burned but the tears didn't fall. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't matter but I am. I'm gonna go away now. You won't see me again. We can do that. It's a crowded house… But only if you let it be."

He turned and stepped back out into the hall and was surprised to hear her call out to him.

"Wait," she said in a strange tone.

He paused and looked back into the room.

"How… How many people are trapped here?"

Tate made a little shrug, brows steepling up. "I don't know. Lots. Maybe thirty. Or more."

Chloe sniffled and shook her head. The action made her dark ponytail sway. "Holy shit." She shook her head again. "Do you know where Doctor Harmon is?"

It was Tate's turn to shake his head. "I haven't seen him since… I haven't seen him in a while." He wasn't getting into what happened in the cellar with her. It wasn't even entirely clear to him and what little he remembered wouldn't make him look any better.

"If you see him, could you… tell him I need to talk to him?" she said, rubbing her face with the sleeves of her sweater.

Tate nodded then he left the room and headed upstairs to find Violet.

…

"How in the world did you do it?" Constance asked Charles admiringly.

The dark-haired doctor smiled at her. It was a dreamy, hazy look thanks to the large amounts of ether he'd inhaled. "It took some trial and error," he said. "But in the end putting a metal plate in his head is what did the trick. I found by physically blocking the tissue with inorganic matter the healing process slowed. Metal worked best." He might be high as a kite but he could exhibit interest in explaining his work to someone who seemed genuinely interested. "I tried several different types but only iron was able to fully arrest the man's regenerative abilities. He's quite a specimen."

His enthusiasm for his work was a refreshing change from the slump he'd been in the past few years but it only confirmed Constance's fears: If she left Mr. Ambrose in the care of the doctor, eventually he would kill the man with his experimenting. As much as she detested the house's present owner, she needed him to be kept alive for now.

"You're sure it will hold, then?" she probed.

He nodded. "I've checked and re-checked. The iron really works."

"That's wonderful, Charles," she praised with a smile that belied her true feelings. "You really are a brilliant surgeon."

"You think so?" he said and his smile melted into blissfulness so profound he almost looked pained.

"I know so," she assured. She reached over and brushed his cheek with her fingers then withdrew again. "I'll just go ahead and get him out of your way then, since he's fixed. Let you get back to more important matters."

Charles looked vaguely disappointed. "Oh. Must you?"

Constance's smile twitched. "You don't want that big ol' man-monster hangin' around here getting' underfoot. He'll be better off someplace where he won't mess up your work. Where is he at anyway?"

The doctor wasn't as sure as she was that he was better off without the mortal. The surgeon had actually started to like working on the big man and had a few notions as to how to try and harness that regenerative ability. Perhaps, he'd thought, it could be used to make Thaddeus more human. But he lifted a hand to motion toward the back of the cellar. "I chained him up back there to keep him from wandering off."

Constance nodded and headed back in the direction he'd indicated. When she found him, Ambrose was secured to the back wall by a chain that linked to the black iron collar Dr. Montgomery had placed on him. He had prominent scarring on his forehead and scalp from the multiple times Charles had cut into his head. The gray-haired brute was just sitting there staring vacantly into space, just short of drooling. She drew closer then paused when the smell hit her. He was sitting in his own filth.

Constance had no sympathy for him. As far as she was concerned, he was a nuisance to the last. "What am I gonna do with you?" she muttered, waving a hand before her nose. It didn't help.

She couldn't entrust his care to any one person in the house; each one had liabilities that made them unsuited to the task. But the chain gave her an idea. She smiled to herself then; a plan was unfurling so fast in her thoughts it made her wonder why she hadn't thought of it sooner. Trying to ignore the smell, she released the chain from the fastener set into the wall and reeled it in.

The attic had been the ideal place to house Beauregard after he had gotten too wild to be allowed to run loose in the house. All the hardware she'd had Larry put in to chain the boy up with was still in the rafters up there. It would be the perfect place to put Ambrose where he would be contained and easy to forget about. All she'd have to do would be to remember to feed him and provide him with water. Moira could handle the cleanup and Constance was pretty sure she could rope a few of the mansion's other occupants into providing him food - if for no other reason than it would give them something to do.

The arrangement would serve until she could pull some strings to bring in a lawyer who would see to it that Mr. Ambrose signed all of his property over to the care of Father Jeremiah. Then she could move the brute out of the house to some discreet location and have him killed there, where he would never be a problem for anyone again.

She wished she could ask Father Jeremiah to take care of the man when the moment was right as he was the most capable and could go the farthest distance from the house. But she wasn't keen on the idea of asking a priest to murder someone. That felt dark even by her standards. More than likely she would have Tate do it on the next Halloween. It would be easiest. She knew he could kill a helpless man. He may not like doing it but it wouldn't be the first person he'd killed; probably not the last either.

"I guess I'm stuck with you till next fall," she said smugly. "After that, it's harvestin' time."

She unchained him from the wall then. She gave the length of chain still attached to his iron collar a sharp tug. "Come on. Let's find you a corner in the attic. You can keep Beauregard company."

She'd chained her son up there many times. It would be simple enough to deal with Ambrose the way she'd dealt with her handicapped boy. It would be just as easy to forget about him up there too.

…

Author's Note:

Poor Charles. Constance took his toy away. I do wonder if that metal plate's going to work till next Halloween. This is another one of those hanging questions that I'm afraid I won't get to answer this season. Likewise the same goes for whether or not Constance has Tate take Ambrose out someplace and kill him. I'm also curious to know how Chloe will factor into Ben's existence now that Vivien's told him to 'go away'. Undoubtedly these matters will turn up later, in the one-shots I promised.

So. Wow. Next chapter's it. The end. Are you ready for it? It's all written except the epilogue segment but I just don't feel like it's over. Maybe it never will be for me. I think Murder House has staked its claim on my imagination.