A/N: When Asylum was still airing, I had a deep seeded fear that Oliver would give Lana a lobotomy or something and she'd end up his Stepford Wife. I was as pleased as punch when that wasn't the case, but I finally decided to tell that story. So enjoy this "what-if" scenario. You should know that this story is going to be dark and all is not as it seems. I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are always nice. I don't own anything. Yada yada yada. Here we go.

1965

Lana stared blankly at the ceiling above her; she wasn't sure how long that she'd been imprisoned in Oliver's basement, but it was long enough to know that there were exactly 147 cracks in the ceiling. She had counted them day in and day out and 147 seemed to be the most frequently occurring number. Time to Lana really didn't matter anymore since each and every day was the same; Oliver brought her breakfast, assured her that there was no way that she could escape this time, kissed her head, went to work, and left her alone with her thoughts. He came home and their evenings were more of the same, except for the once or twice a week he insisted she give him sex. Since she was chained at the ankle, she didn't have a choice but to comply.

While he was gone she did what she could to entertain herself and occupy her mind; even though he insisted that it would never happen, she still thought of ways to escape, though the thought occurred to her less and less frequently as time passed, and that bothered her. Becoming complacent in this situation was what Lana feared the most, but she was running out of options. She wondered just how much the bump in her belly had grown; she had been around 8 weeks along when Oliver had once again taken her from Briarcliff, and now her stomach was visibly protruding. Oliver told her every day that she was going to have the baby there and they were going to be a happy family whether she liked it or not, and in her condition she was in no position to argue with him.

In the beginning she had offered resistance as she always had, but now the fight was disappearing from her. She depended on Oliver to care for her, and she had the baby to consider. Initially she hadn't felt anything for it, but it was the only companion she had most of the time. During the long hours alone, she talked to it about what their lives would be like once they were free, and it was beginning to answer with kicks, which she had grown to find immensely comforting.

Oliver WAS starting to be kinder to her, though his inner maliciousness couldn't help but to seep out from time to time. The other evening he had allowed her to go upstairs long enough to take a bubble bath when she didn't put up a struggle before the sex he demanded of her. Of course, he had been a relentless voyeur at the bathroom door the entire time, but she'd still gotten the bath. Things were always better when she humored him. Sometimes she actually thought that he cared for her. Maybe if she gave in a little more often she could earn enough trust to be rid of the chains and that much closer to her freedom. She was out of options. What else could she do?

The days grew longer as her belly grew larger. The conversations that she had with the baby became more frequent, and they hadn't gone unnoticed by Oliver. Initially he had berated her in a tirade that lasted for the better part of a half hour because she had failed to inform him that their baby was moving and he wanted to be included in everything. She found herself apologizing, but her captor was not having it. Just as he had drawn his hand back to slap her across the face for her insolence the baby had come to her rescue and moved just in the nick of time. She grabbed the hand that was about to strike her and placed it on her stomach and Oliver instantly calmed down and his tirade against her turned into a long session of opining about the miracle of life, his impending fatherhood, and the "happy" life that they were going to have together. With hopes of being left alone, she agreed with everything he was saying.

Things didn't go as planned, though. Momentarily dropping his hand to her inner thigh, he had pinched the inside of her leg roughly, "because she needed to learn a lesson". She yelped in pain and he stroked her face telling her that it was "for her own good" before returning his attention to her stomach. The gentle caresses to her belly quickly turned more intimate and she had to once again give him what he craved most. As of late, she had begun to enjoy their intimacy. The pleasure that she wanted no part of was a huge upgrade from the little abuses he put her through. She wasn't sure if the foreign feelings she got while Oliver had his way with her were a result of her isolation and need for human contact, her pregnancy, or the madness that she was all but sure would completely consume her any day. Sometimes she thought it was a combination of all three factors, but she always felt dirty and ashamed when she found herself enjoying the carnal things that he did to her. Her body was betraying her. She feared that her mind was following suit.

With each passing week, Lana lost more and more of herself and increasingly found herself under Oliver's spell. After he had nearly struck her and instead pinched her for her insolence, he'd vowed to never do it again, and in her fragile state she believed him, though there was still a voice in her brain desperately screaming for her to stop. His promise was broken a few times when she had been less than enthusiastic about his attention or advances. If he struck her, it was rarely in the face; he favored slapping her thighs or bottom. Following his abuse he was always apologetic and went out of his way to show how kind he could be. Lana believed none of it, but she had discovered that he would grant her small favors in exchange for her cooperation in things he desired from her. The fight and pluck that had been so ingrained in her persona was dissipating into nothing; every day she lost more hope and appeasing Oliver to make her life more pleasant was much easier than living in complete misery.

After she had allowed him to lay his head on her belly to listen to the baby move and gently stroked his hair without resistance and without being asked to do so (why she had been inclined to pet him she didn't quite understand) he had allowed her to remain in the basement unchained the next day. Lana considered it a small miracle and was grateful for a chance to stretch her legs without Oliver around to supervise. She'd only tried to pick the lock on the basement door for about fifteen minutes before realizing that her body was no longer used to physical exertion and giving up. Oliver thoroughly inspected the lock when he came home and was not pleased with what he found. He immediately joined her on the bed and turned her on her stomach, and Lana cringed at what she knew was coming next. She gritted her teeth as his rough hands rapidly struck the soft skin of her bottom. When he went through his usual spiel of betrayal and loss of trust she denied any wrong doing and stroked his face to calm him down. He believed her; he always did. He gently rubbed over the throbbing area of her bottom and begged her forgiveness. She offered it; these days she always did.

When she smiled sweetly and said "Of course." after he had mentioned sleeping down in the basement with her he had brought her a few books and a journal that she had requested. He had been so pleased with her progress that he left the basement door unlocked the next morning and gave her free reign of the house. She had slowly sauntered upstairs, planning on getting the hell out of there after a much needed shower, only to find that Oliver had of course thought ahead and locked all the doors and windows from the outside and hidden the phone where she couldn't find it. Pushing the constant feelings of disappointment deep inside her gut, she decided to make the most of her break from imprisonment and settled in the tub for a long bubble bath instead. The loud voice in her head was screeching at her to break a damn window out and run for it, but she didn't think she was able to do so in her condition. There were so many good things to watch on television when she had been without entertainment for months and months. She got up from her place on the couch and wandered into the kitchen to make a sandwich which was a privilege that she hadn't had the opportunity to do since before she was locked away at Briarcliff the first time. She figured that she was probably around seven months pregnant at that point and found that quasi freedom was enough for her. Once the baby came, she told herself, she'd take it and run.

But she didn't. Oliver delivered the squalling 6 pound baby girl one humid late summer night. The birth had been excruciating but Oliver had made it as comfortable for her as possible. When he laid the newborn on her chest Lana found herself weeping, glad to finally meet the creature that she had initially detested but had grown to appreciate as a companion. She realized that she loved this baby, and hadn't been sure that she'd ever be able to love anything again after everything that she had endured. Oliver quipped that he wanted to name her Stella and she agreed without any objection. With the overwhelming sense of euphoria and exhaustion after just giving birth, the thought occurred to Lana that maybe she didn't hate Oliver. He had shown never before seen kindness to her for the latter half of her pregnancy and already doted on and adored Stella. He wanted them to spend more time as a family unit and agreed to move Lana out of the basement and upstairs with him permanently if she'd keep up the progress that she had made.

Lana quickly agreed, figuring that she'd recuperate more quickly outside of the basement. She didn't mind sharing Oliver's bed (he spent most of his nights in the basement with her anyway and she had grown accustomed to his sleeping form beside her). As soon as she was healed enough to safely escape with Stella in tow, she planned on making a run for it. The loud voice in her head often reminded her of what she needed and planned to do, but she found the domestic life that she had built with Oliver to be simple and uncomplicated. He went to work; she stayed home. He did the grocery shopping; she attempted (and usually failed) to cook. He provided her with everything that she and Stella needed. Her body healed and every day she considered busting out the window to gain her freedom. She wasn't sure how far she'd get on foot or if anyone would believe what she had to say before Oliver caught her again and threw her back in the basement permanently. She knew that Oliver had rid the home of any evidence of his past wrong doing and she feared that any chance at real freedom would be fruitless. The voice in her head continued to make its presence known but more often than not she found herself shushing it. The voice would only get her into trouble that she didn't have the energy or desire to deal with any more.

And 9 weeks after Stella came into the world her womb was occupied again.