Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story

A/N: This is my first AHS fic. I'm branching out into multiple fandoms. Yay. If you read my sasunaru/sasusaku Naruto fanfiction, I'm sorry for the delay on my other story. I just had to get this out. Also, this was inspired by a song called The Nurse who loved me by Perfect Circle. If you don't know them, look them up because they're amazing.

Tate had been in the Asylum for at least ten years now. He used to be one of those 'highly unstable' patients but, somehow, he was better now. They had moved him to a more public ward. He could speak to people there. He was allowed to play cards with the other patients. Mostly, it was an improvement but now he had to go to group therapy.

"So what made you go crazy?" they'd ask him.

He would shrug and say, "A house."

Tate was in an out of a drug state most of the time. Time didn't seem like much of a factor here so he was never able to pinpoint the exact moment that she came into his life.

She blazed like a orchard on fire and he was instantly obsessed with her, before he even knew her name, before he even saw her face.

It was the hands, he decided. Those hands attached to those wrists. And the arms, those slim arms attached to those shoulder blades that moved like wings.

She wore a nurses uniform. It was white and stiff. She didn't belong in it, Tate decided. She should be naked and free. Her bare skin should kiss the air. He should be able to kiss her skin. He only half remembered the first time he saw her because he had been drugged out of his mind, as if he wasn't already out of his mind. Somehow, he preferred it because than she had been all texture. It was like she had been made of nothing but light. He remembered the smell of her when she walked into the room but not her face, not the way she walked. When she leaned over to inject the needle into his spotted forearm, he felt the tips of her hair briefly drift over his skin. She smelt like ink and dust and strong tea. She smelt of old books. Her hair was like lavender and her skin, her goddamn skin, was like satin and silk and everything that had ever made Tate feel good.

She was poison. She was obsession. She was what he used to kill the time.

That night he jacked off to the thought of her. Even though he couldn't recall her face, he came just from the texture of her skin. He decided she was a virgin. She would bite her lip when he touched her, his fingers would softly drift across her warm sex, and she would moan. He would make her gasp for breath with the pressure of his lips on the right place.

He wanted her to want him. He needed her to need him. He began to live for the days he would see her, when she would come in and change an IV drip or hand him a new set of pills. He only ever took the pills she gave him. If another nurse gave him pills, he'd hide it under his tongue then spit it out when they weren't looking but with her, it was different. He trusted her and anything she gave him. When the numbing high set in and he began to drift off to sleep, he always knew that he would dream of her.

She had been more helpful to him by just being in the same room as him than eight psychiatrists had been in ten years. In her presence, he almost felt sane. He felt coherent. He even felt guilt about what he had done.

One day she walked in and Tate couldn't keep his eyes off her. His eyes watched her move around the room. At first, she didn't notice then she looked up, saw his dark eyes haunting her and looked down, embarrassed. It was adorable. When she looked up again and he was still staring, she said.

"You're staring." It was a fact. They both knew it. Clearly her question was, why?

"Yes," He answered anyway.

"Well, stop it. Its making me feel uncomfortable."

"I can't stop."

"And why is that?"

"What's your name?"

She blinked then said, "Violet."

"You're so beautiful. I can't take my eyes off you."

Her eyes went wide, she blushed and looked away. Could a human really be so hauntingly adorable?

"But you know, right? You know how beautiful you are. You know the affect you have on me."

She looked at him. Her brown eyes glistening in shock.

"Um, I should go."

Tate made to grab her wrist but he was shackled to the sides of the bed. He tried to wrench himself free but the bounds wouldn't give. He struggled and the more he did, the more he realised how trapped he was. He started feeling claustrophobic. How long had he been here? In this place, without her?

His breathing quickened and he could hear his own heart beat echo dully through his veins. Throughout his panic attack, she was just leaving. She was fading away like air.

"No! Violet! Violet!" He shouted after her. There were dark shapes oozing out of the walls, whispering dark thoughts on ethereal tongues. They were his mother, all the kids he had killed at that school. They were after her. Everything he had ever done wrong was going to hurt the one thing he had done right.

"VIOLET!"

then people were holding him in place, holding him down.

"He's having a fit," he heard someone say over the sound of their own heart beat.

"You have to help her. She's going to die. I think I'm going to kill her," He said frantically.

"Just relax, Mr Langdon."

"No, you don't understand."

Then a needle dipped in and out of his arm and he instantly became numb and relaxed. He didn't understand. What had just happened? Why had he panicked like that? There were no dark shadows anymore and Tate wasn't sure if there ever really was.

The next day, he was in his latest psychiatrists' office. He was wearing a threadbare jumper. He hooked the sleeves over his thumbs and sat crossed legged on the plushy armchair.

"Do you want to tell me about your seizure yesterday?" asked his psychiatrist.

Tate shrugged, "I don't really remember what happened."

"You were calling out one of the nurses name," the psychiatrist stated, "Violet."

"She was in danger."

"From what?"

"I think it was me," Tate said and his voice cracked, "I don't want to hurt her."

"Yes, she's very special," the psychiatrist nodded, "Do you like her?"

"She's special," Tate repeated, "I can trust her."

"And you can't trust the other nurses?"

Tate shook his head.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

There was silence for a bit then Tate said, "She's in love with me."

"Excuse me?"

"She loves me. I can see it in her eyes. She's completely and utterly in love with me."

"Have you spoken to her?"

Tate laughed, "Of course I have. She told me her name... Violet."

There was silence for a moment then Tate grabbed his blonde curls in his hair.

"I don't know. I may have been hallucinating. I don't know what's real any more. It's all so confused."

The psychiatrist smiled sympathetically and it made Tate want to rip his throat out.

"It's okay," he said, "we're here to help."

"No, this place made me like this. I've spent my whole life in haunted houses that are always driving me insane."

"This place isn't haunted."

Tate smiled bitterly, "Then why are there so many ghosts?"

It was awhile before he saw Violet again. He was sitting in the rec room and she began to hand out pills in little paper cups. Tate's eyes followed her until she got to him. She handed him a paper cup and Tate accepted it like it was champagne.

"Open your mouth," she said sweetly, "I need to check if you swallowed your pills."

Tate opened his mouth, lifting his tongue. He had nothing to hide, not from her. She looked at him and smiled. Tate realised that he would kill for that smile.

"You have everything I need," Tate said and held up the empty paper cup, "Pills in a little cup."

She laughed, "Aren't you charming?"

"Only for you," he said honestly but she must have thought he was making another charismatic joke.

"well, thank you, Mr Langdon."

"Please, call me Tate."

She moved away and Tate's eyes followed her. He whispered to himself, his lips barely parted,

"She's falling hard for me. I can see it in her eyes. She acts just like a nurse, with all the other guys."

A/n: Some of the dialogue are lyrics from the songs, just by the way. Please review/ favourite if you like it. Let me know what you think? It means a lot to get feedback, you know? Thanks so much for reading.