Author's Note:

Spoilers through 1x12.

Okay, so, I'm depressed over the season finale of AHS. Who isn't? I've been thinking of something like this since the big reveal about Violet's death, and fanfiction seems like the best form of grief counseling for fandom, haha. So, here it is. Haven't written for these characters, so I don't know if I'm spot on with characterization or not. The flow of the fic is different in each part, because I wrote it over the span of a few days.

I just wanted to do something for this fandom, because it is such a great effing show and Tate is awesome (even though he shouldn't be) and Violet is just the bee's knees. Everyone else is cool too.

Yeah. So. Hope you enjoy! Review, or don't, no pressure. I'm gonna go weep some more.

OH. And the song lyrics I use are form Modest Mouse's "Little Motel" which was ridiculous fitting for what I was going for here. Kay. Bye.

that's what i'm waiting for

we treat mishaps like sinking ships

It didn't take long.

Or maybe it took longer than it should have.

No sooner had the final glimmer of light fled Ben's eyes, Constance had swooped in, assessed the situation, laid claim to her golden-haired angel (leaving Hayden seething and gurgling curses in the basement), and made that central phone call to the police department all in under two hours. It was almost rather impressive; Violet had a sneaking suspicion the woman had a plan all along, and she was unsure of whether she should feel unsettled by that or not.

They could hear her in the kitchen, talking in swift and hushed tones, affecting a sob catching in her throat as she regaled whoever was on the other end of the line with this terribly tragic story's end.

Violet maneuvered carefully into the kitchen to watch her, and when Constance caught her eye, the woman provided what could only be considered an affectionate, if not pitying, look. She nudged her cigarette purse with pristine fingertips toward the younger girl with a knowing nod, still all Academy Award-winning actress over the phone. A final sniffle of farewell, and she placed the receiver back into its cradle with a haughty smile.

She hummed as Violet clicked the Bic to life, dabbing at the corners of her eyes to wipe away any evidence of her charade, and she squinted at the flickering orange tip of the freshly lit cigarette. "Now, pray tell, child: where are you?"

"Uh … right here?" Violet deadpanned with her hand fanning out as reference.

Constance fingered a cigarette out for herself and smirked around the filter. "I meant your body, dear. I know you have to be stashed somewhere around this lot, seeing as your parents had no clue that you had passed through this, our living world."

Violet hesitated at the woman's confidence in her assumption, and Constance's leer softened as she lit the cigarette perched between her lips. Her hand skimmed across the counter to fold over Violet's smaller, colder palm. "I told them you ran away with the baby. It's imperative for me to find out where you are, to keep you hidden, so things can work out for the best. We don't need any more trouble."

The girl withdrew from the woman, and Constance responded in kind with a scowl. "Wait, are you saying you're taking him?"

"Well, of course," Constance scoffed, with the tinkle of a laugh and a plume of smoke exiting directly into Violet's face. "What, would you rather I leave him here, in this house of horrors? This is no place for a baby, Violet. Even your darling mother, may her soul find some peace at last, agrees with me on this point. There are evil things here; things that may wish to do that beautiful child harm—"

"You wanna be a little more specific?"

Constance's eyes snapped toward her and, if Violet weren't mistaken, there was the barest tremor at her lips. "You know, girl. You know very well of what I speak." Her eyes switched throughout the room, hitting every pane of glass and empty doorway. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

Long fingers curled around the purse as she prepared to leave, but Violet reached forward to snatch out two more paper sticks. She waved them back at Constance, who looked torn somewhere between amused and indignant at the young girl's daring. "Just to tide me over, 'til you bring me more," Violet replied with arched brows as she twirled to make her exit.

Constance's voice hit her back, echoing in the lonesome home. "Are you gonna tell me where I might find you, or do I have to search this whole godforsaken acre?"