Okay, so I'm just starting out in this fandom. I watched all the episodes over the course of like... a week. I know that not a lot of my "fanfiction friends" are really into AHS, so I'm not really expecting an abundance of reviews. All the same, I'd love to see a few good ones. I haven't read a lot of AHS fanfiction...

Um, this idea sprang to me the minute I finished watching Afterbirth. I'm like, invested in Tate and Ben's weird doctor-patient relationship, and absolutely hated the way they left things. Ryan Murphy was practically begging for fanfiction.

Sorry if someone's already used this idea, like I said, I haven't read like anything in this fandom.

Enjoy :)

Quite a few years had passed since that last stupid wimpy couple left.

Maybe more than a few years. Decades perhaps. I could probably count the amount of couples off using the fingers on my hand. I've got all the time in the world, right? Time spent lurking around, somehow avoiding Ben, Vivien, and Violet. After the Ramones there were the Smyth's- an incredibly dull family; driven insane by yours truly. They're still here though, because Hayden thought the mom was trying to make a pass at her precious Ben Harmon.

After the Smyth's died in here, there were the Jacksons, who left, and then the Lombardo's, who also left.

I've tried to stop killing the people who came and left, because I figured that it could only get more crowded in this place, and the last thing I need is more people to grow to hate me.

Like Ben, and basically everyone else in the house.

There was this one time I ran into Ben, though.

Usually we would have probably gone our separate ways, but, as it turns out, holding something in for years and years works it's way onto the top of a person's mind until they have no choice but to say it, and they have no choice but to listen.

"Out of my way, Tate." He stood in the doorway of his old office, stern-faced.

He knew well as hell that he could just go wherever he wanted. I guess it was just the principal of the thing.

"No.. no, I should talk to you." I don't know when I had decided that, but I guess gut-decisions were my thing.

"I think you know that talking to you is the last thing I want to do." Him and everyone else in the house. And world. I knew that much.

"Yeah, I do know. I know that nobody in this house wants to talk to me. Not you, not Violet, not Nora, not anybody. I haven't talked to anyone in a long time, other than myself. The walls. Bo, sometimes. I'm going to be alone. Forever."

"You know you deserve it, Tate. Half the people who are stuck here are stuck here because of you. You killed so many people-"

"Don't you think I know that?" I clenched my teeth in anger. "Don't you think that the only thing I've thought about has been about what kind of monster I am? And that I know exactly what I deserve?"

Ben just kind of stood there, waiting for something.

"I deserve to rot in hell. But I can't do that, can I? I'm dead, but all I'm ever going to be is a psychopathic ghost, forced to live among people who hate me. Nobody's ever going to forgive me as time goes on. Not the way they forgave each other. Not the way they forgave you. Because you said yourself that you were like me. Only you don't have all of this hanging over your head-"

"Oh, I think I do." He interrupted me and I almost asked him politely to shut the fuck up, but I figured that it wouldn't be a great way to get him to listen. "I think I understand perfectly. I was the reason Hayden died. I know what it's like to have something to be guilty for, forever. And I almost lost my wife forever. So don't pretend I don't know anything about how you feel."

"Oh, shut up, Ben. Everyone forgives you. Everyone. Hayden forgives you because now you can finally spend time with her or some shit. Your wife and daughter forgive you, and apparently, nobody else had anything to forgive you for. You're not as much of a screw-up as me. Nobody is as much of a screw-up as I am. I... I think I'm doing something for the good of everyone else, but I'm not. I thought doing all that stuff was the right thing to do-"

"What on earth made you think that killing and raping people would be a good idea, Tate? What convinces a person to do that?" He doesn't listen.

"I told you, and don't pretend like you don't remember. I take them out of their misery." And he looked like he bought it for a second. That he actually remembered, and maybe I'm not crazy. And something got shot into his brain, and he was about to protest but I spoke quickly. "But I changed."

"I don't think I could count the amount of times you've said that, and you know none of that's true. You know you're the same little psychopathic teenager who set your mother's boyfriend on fire. You know you're the same stupid kid who killed those people at school, and you know you're the same, messed-up individual who raped my wife." And I haven't shed a tear in a while, but everything about this conversation was close-minded and unfair.

"I changed, because of you. I changed because someone finally believed in me." My voice shook, and I could tell he sensed it. "Or so I thought... Because you never really believed in me. Never believed in any one of your patients. You said it yourself, we're all pathetic. You just think I'm a psychopathic, murderous freak. With no heart; don't you?" There was no reply. "DON'T YOU?"

"Give me one reason. Just one. Give me one piece of evidence to show that you've changed, Tate. That you're not just feeding me a bunch of bullshit so I can convince everyone to forgive you. That you're not a psychopathic freak. And maybe I'll consider believing you." I could see it in his eyes, that he didn't think I could do it. That somewhere he knew I wouldn't be able to find something genuinely good for once.

It hit me like a stack of bullets. "I saved your daughter's life."

His stare hardened. "She's dead, Tate."

"On more than one occasion, for your daughter, and your family's sake, I saved her life- or tried to- when you weren't there for her." Suddenly confident in what I was saying, I gained momentum, pacing towards the window. "When those people broke in... I got them away from your daughter and wife, remember? I- I sent them downstairs and they got killed, not your family. And- and then when Vi committed suicide, I tried to help her-"

"What the hell do you mean, you tried to help her? Are you the one who gave her the pills?"

"No, no!" I shook my head and stepped towards him, looking down. "After she took all of them, I found her, you know, laying on her bed, and, and so I took her all the way to the bathtub, and I tried to make her throw it up, and she did... but it wasn't enough." I looked up and Ben, who wasn't even looking at me anymore. "I tried to help her. Not for me. Not for you. Not for anyone. I tried, Dr, Harmon. It... it shows I've changed since meeting her, meeting you, getting your help. It shows that not all patients are nut-cases or psychopaths. It shows that I have the capability to change, and help other people. That I wanted so hard for her to be alive."

"But she's dead, isn't she?" My eyes were locked in his cold stare.

"But I tried. Doesn't that matter?"

He looked around for a moment and took a deep sigh. "Of course it matters. Maybe you have changed." He started walking away, "but it's going to be hard to forgive you." He paused and I almost argued with him, convinced that I could make someone believe again. He spoke again before I could even try. "Hard, Tate. But not impossible."

Maybe that's all I needed.

For someone to believe in me again.

For someone to tell me that it wasn't impossible.