A/N: This was the fic I wrote for the AHS LJ Exchange, for Unveiled Creativity. I've never done an exchange before (I'd never written fanfic before AHS), so I erred on the side of keeping it short, which I sort of regret. On the other hand I re-read it and still really like it, so I hope my giftee does too :)

And of course a huge THANK YOU for Jandjsalmon for running the exchange and being generally awesome.

I was sitting on the roof reading when I heard it; little giggles in the neighboring yard. I knew what it was, and I should have just gone back inside, but I couldn't. Constance and that thing were in her backyard; he was running around behind her as she gardened. Even from this distance he had the same shaggy blonde hair as Tate. From the bodies I'd seen her bury in the backyard he had the same murderous penchants as well. I stayed up there well after dark feeling disgusted. I hated that thing; I hated Tate for it. It was easy most days to ignore what he'd done, but some days, like today when it was staring me in the face, I couldn't.

He'd told me, the night when I found everything out, that he'd changed, and maybe he was honest. I liked to think that, liked to believe in the transformative power of love, but I always doubted, just a little, because he had violated my trust so thoroughly. And that was the problem. He wanted me so badly the desperate words he'd said to try and keep me could just as easily have been lies as they were the truth, and I didn't know which they were. I loved him, but I couldn't trust him, and I couldn't trust him until he made the right choices on his own, and not for me. The unlikeliness of it crushed me; made me think he was and always would be a monster, and I hated that I still loved him.

When I finally went inside I was full of petty ire, and it peaked when I found Tate waiting for me in the attic. "Did you want something?" I asked as I crawled in the window.

I felt his hand on my elbow, steadying me. "You know you can just appear and disappear, you don't have to use the window."

My feet found the floor and I straightened up and looked at him. "It's more interesting when I can fall."

"Are you okay?" He was looking intently at my face, and I wondered how long he'd been waiting for me; if he'd been privy to the same show I was.

"I didn't fall."

"That's not what I meant." I knew it.

"I'm Fine." I wasn't.

"You don't look it." I glared at him for a moment, willing him to drop the subject before I completely snapped and started yelling at him. I stepped around him to the ladder desperate to get away. "It's Halloween in a few days." He said suddenly. "I just wanted to know if you'd like to do something… with me, I mean."

"Did you have something in mind?" I asked as I descended. He followed me to my bedroom, flopping on the bed.

"We can do whatever you want."

"Promise?" He looked at me apprehensively, but nodded. "Let me think about it." I sat down in the desk chair, the space between us filling with a tense and awkward silence; there were a lot of those since I started talking to him again a few months ago. I still didn't know if that was a good idea, and that was part of the reason I had escaped to the roof today. I needed to get away, to breath and sort through the things between us, and it had been a mistake. Seeing Michael didn't help; it never did. I hadn't been able to shake or make sense of feeling that Tate and I were reaching a breaking point. The side he'd land on was a foregone conclusion, but not mine, and I wasn't any closer to a decision. The only thing I knew was that I couldn't keep doing what I was doing with him; something had to break.

"What are you thinking about?"

In my abstraction I didn't realize my eyes had gone unfocused and I was absently rubbing my thumb along my bottom lip. "Critical mass."

"Do you want to explain that or should I just assume you want to visit a nuclear reactor on Halloween?" His expression was teasing, and his voice sarcastic, but I ignored it.

I turned away and lit a cigarette, letting silence settle over us again. When I finished it I asked, "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" It was an honest question. He'd done so much bad in his existence that I would need to be more specific.

"Kill all those kids." I had never asked, and it wasn't idle curiosity this time. Halloween was coming up; he'd have visitors. The Dead Breakfast Club would be hanging around, hoping that this year, unlike years passed, they'd finally get their question answered.

"Do we have to talk about this now?"

"Yes."

"I don't like to think about that." He got up and took a cigarette from the pack, lighting it and blowing smoke out of his nose in irritation.

"Neither do I."

"Then why are you asking?" He snapped.

"Because I want to know." I kept my face and voice impassive as we looked at each other. Both of us knew there was more to my answer, both of us knew I wasn't going to explain it, but I didn't want him to get suspicious either, because dimly I was aware of how I could use them. "It's your choice." I waved my hand dismissively.

"It always is." He said coldly and walked out, slamming the door behind him. I almost laughed at the childishness of it because I knew it was a show; I knew he'd give me what I wanted because that was the way it was.

It wasn't until much later that night, when I was lying in bed smoking with the lights off that he reappeared. He was predictable, if nothing else. He sat down next to me, pulling the cigarettes from the nightstand and lighting one. "Why should I tell you?" I just looked at him. He glared back at me like a petulant child. "This is so fucking stupid." Exasperation and anger visible on his face and in his movements, even in this dim ambient light. He got up to pace, and I waited patiently. It was the patience that broke him. It always was.

"I tried... my Freshman year I tried to fit in, be normal. I wanted that; I wanted to belong. It didn't make a difference; no matter what I did to conform I was invisible, worthless; not worth any ones time or concern. If I'm honest though it started long before high school. It started with the cocksucker and my shit-bag father. I wanted their love and I was never good enough for it. My dad left, bailed on me because I could never be the son he wanted. I was too sensitive, too emotional; too much of a pussy even at the age of 6 for him to be someone he could be proud of. At least that's what I thought at the time; I didn't know the cocksucker had killed him and Moira." He took a deep breath. "The cocksucker... it never mattered how good my grades were, how good I did on the Track team, nothing was ever good enough for her. I never knew the love I desperately wanted from her; I only knew pain because I could never live up to her perfect ideals. I was never good enough for her."

He stubbed out the spent cigarette and lit another one, still pacing. "It all kind of peaked though when she killed Beau; I was so angry. I'd tried to fit in somewhere in the patchwork of high school, but I never could. You were invisible because you chose it; I didn't. It sounds pathetic I guess, but it's the truth. It was like the students were all her, and like her it didn't matter what I did, it was never enough for them. I envied them, the ones who all fit in somewhere; everyone but me."

"I tried to convince myself that I didn't care; that high school was bullshit, but after Beau... I gave up hope; it's so easy to die when you have no hope that things will get better, Vi." He looked at me, begging me to understand. "I could lie and tell you it was the drugs or the house that made me kill those kids, but really they just made it okay, made it easier to pull that trigger because I wanted to anyway." His voice was a little dreamy, distant, when he spoke again "It was the happiest I ever was in life. Shooting those people was equal parts revenge and salvation. I was the better man because I took them some place clean and kind." His face clouded over. "Or I thought I did anyway." He was breathing hard when he turned to look at me. "Does that answer your question?"

I got up, putting my arms around his neck, but he refused to look at me and turned his face away. "Thank you." I whispered and kissed his cheek. I felt him relax, just a fraction, and when I reached for his hands he let me take them, let me pull him onto the bed so I could rest against him.

"So have you figured out what you want to do for Halloween yet?" He asked, his tone light and conversational now.

"Still thinking about it." I already knew what I would be doing, had known since this afternoon actually, but I was still apprehensive about it. I had to know one thing with absolute certainty, and I couldn't think of another way to figure it out. I didn't know if it was going to work. I didn't know if it would make a difference to me if it did.

Two days later I was walking across the parking lot of Westfield High for the first time in five years. Everyone I ever knew who went there had gone on with their lives, so I wasn't particularly worried about someone recognizing me. The only ones who would were the only ones I wanted to talk to. I made my way to the Library, waiting until the wheelchair bound librarian was in the supply room to slip inside. I wasn't exactly sure how to go about this, so I stuck to the back rows and one of them found me.

"Did he kill you too?" I turned and came face to face with a blood stained cheerleader, her voice unexpectedly kind.

"Where are the others?"

"Around. Are you going to answer my question?"

"Yes and no. I took a lot of pills when I found out what he did… here." I looked around and suppressed a shudder. "I took too many."

"You're stuck there with him?" Her face hardened. "He must be so happy."

"Not really. Other things happened… things he did…" I took a minute to collect my thoughts. "Imagine having to live in the same house with someone you're desperately in love with and they shun you completely. It's not exactly paradise." She seemed to thaw at my words and I could see curiosity bloom on her face, but she didn't ask about it, or maybe I didn't give her the chance. "Do you stay here because you can't leave, or you just won't until you get answers?"

"The latter I think. The others that he killed aren't stuck here. What about you?"

"Can't. Something about the house keeps us here."

"I'm sorry." She was looking at me sadly, pityingly.

"Do you still want to know why he did it?" She nodded. "We'll be at that beach tonight, the one you found us at last time. Come after dark."

I turned to leave, but she grabbed my hand. "Do you really think he'll tell us?"

"I don't know; maybe. Just don't mention me being here, setting this up. If he doesn't you guys have all night to beat the shit out of him, so that should be fun. I've killed him a few times and it is satisfying." I smirked, and snuck back out, stopping at Starbucks on my way back for my cover story.

Tate took a sip. "When did coffee turn into dessert?"

"Hey, I'll drink it if you don't want it."

I reached for his cup and he whipped it away. "I didn't say that."

"Then be nicer about the fact I woke up super early to get coffee for us."

"So what do you want to do today? We can do anything you want."

"I want to go to the beach tonight. The same one you took me to on our first and only date." He smiled at me, huge and genuine and elated that I wanted to spend my day of freedom with him, at a place that meant so much to us. He looked at it in the best light, and I couldn't return his smile because I couldn't see it that way.

We got to the beach a little while before the sun went down, and when the wind picked up and it got cold he made a bonfire again and held me close. We didn't talk much, or maybe he tried to get me to talk and I was too lost in my head to really notice. It was going to be a sort of sick replay of our first date tonight, and I wasn't sure it would end differently than it did that time. Nauseating waves of fear and deja vu washed over me, amplified by nervousness as it got later and they didn't show up.

I wasn't worried about Tate wanting to leave; he'd do whatever he thought would make me happy, and if that meant staying we'd stay. But that was the problem; he would do whatever he thought I wanted. I needed to know if he'd changed the way he said he had regardless of what it meant for us. I wasn't sure if I was distracting him or me when I pulled him down on top of me and started kissing him, yet another replay of events past. I was tempted to slip my hand down and feel if he as limp as he was the first time, but decided against it. No girl needs that hit to her ego a second time.

I had my hands up under the back of his shirt when I heard footsteps, and slipped them around to his hips, pushing him off me. They were all there; the Dead Breakfast Club stood in a loose circle ranged around us. I could feel his pulse quicken as he took them in, the discomfort of having more of his sins in his pushed in his face where he couldn't ignore them. It satisfied me in a childish way. "Are you going to tell us why you did it or not? Because if you're not I'm perfectly fine with spending my Halloween beating you to a bloody pulp." The football player threatened.

He was quiet for a long time, long enough that I thought it was pointless, and I was going to start screaming at him in a second if I didn't leave. I turned away from him, pushing myself off the ground, but he grabbed my hand. "Vi? Don't leave me, please." His voice was scared and child-like, and I knew he needed me if he was going to do this. Someone made a noise of disgust as I sat behind him, one arm around his waist, my face resting against his back, but I ignored it. He took a deep breath and started talking to his knees, telling them what he had told me. "It wasn't anything personal." He finished. "It was just... you were there and I hated you... not 'you' like each of you specifically, but students... as a group... no one cared, everyone had shunned me, and I hated you for it." He buried his face in his knees like a child. "I'm sorry."

"That's it? That's why you killed us?" Someone, one of the girls, screamed.

"No one said it would make sense." I said quietly not lifting my face from where it was resting against his back.

"She's right you know." One of the guys said. "What he did was insane, we shouldn't have expected it to make sense to anyone but him." I looked over Tate's shoulder, and watched as Chloe crouched down in front of him. His face was still buried in his knees, but I felt him stiffen and recoil from the sound of her steps as she approached.

"Tate?" Her voice was gentle, like it had been with me in the Library this morning. He finally looked up, meeting her eyes. "Thank you for telling us." She stared at him for a moment more and then faded into the thin mist that had crept over the beach. The others following suit until only two of them remained: Stephanie and Kevin. "I don't forgive you." Stephanie spat, and stomped away; Kevin simply glared at Tate and I before following after her.

When he leaned back into me I could feel how weary, how drained he was. "I'm sorry… about tonight." His voice was brittle, on the verge of breaking completely. "I guess I kind of ruined Halloween… again."

"It's okay." And for once it is.

He pushed himself away from me and walked off down the beach. He wanted to be alone I guess, so I went home. I was sitting in the window my bedroom smoking when he walked up to the house at dawn. In an instant he was in the room with me, sitting on the bed, reaching a hand towards me. I let him pull me into his lap and he buried his face in my neck.

"Why?" I'm wasn't surprised he figured it out; I actually expected him to at the beach.

"They didn't have to stay here like we do. They just wanted answers."

"Is that all?"

"No."

He pulled away and looked at me. "What else?"

"Michael." He froze. "I hate him because he's living proof of what you did."

"Is this what it's going to be like? Every time you see that... thing... you're going to punish me for it?"

"You will never understand that hurt, Tate. I don't know if it will ever go away no matter how long we're stuck here for. I loved you; I let myself be vulnerable with you, and I trusted you not to hurt me. You did. You betrayed everything; your love for me and every promise you ever made to me spoken or not." My voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but it was enough. I felt him shaking around and under me like he was going to shatter and explode into a million pieces.

"I told you I was sorry. I've told you every day you've let me."

"Words." I sighed. "They're just words."

"You said you believed me when I said you'd changed me. You lied." His voice was angry and accusatory, but he didn't move away from me.

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath through my nose, willing myself to not smother him with one of the pillows behind us on the bed. "I didn't lie to you, but without action words are meaningless. Tonight, the Dead Breakfast Club, I wanted to know if you were really as sorry and as different as you claim to be. I wanted to know what your choice was." He looked up at me. "It wasn't punishment what I did tonight, not really. I wanted to know if I could trust you this time because I shouldn't have last time. I was too in love with you, and I don't trust myself to make that judgment again."

His eyes were deep pools of pain, the irises swimming in unshed tears as I pressed my lips softly against his, cradling his face in my hands. "I love you, still." I whispered and he whimpered; the sound of a sob stuck in his throat. I kissed him again, gently, testing the waters. "I wish I didn't, but I do. I just needed to know, and I didn't know how else to find out because I couldn't trust your words." He reached up and brushed his knuckles against my cheek. "I'm sorry I had to do it the way that I did, but I needed to know. What you did tonight though... I'm proud of you." A smile lit up his face, and it was finally one I could return.

I pressed my lips to his again, and this time he responded; his hands slid up under my shirt, pressing me against him as he lips pushed mine open, making me moan at the slippery tickle of his tongue against mine. The years apart hadn't deadened the need I had for him. I tried to wish and will it away so often, but it never worked. This time I gave in to it. I moaned, small and high, when he sucked a bruise into the soft skin under my ear as his hands moved up my back, warm and calloused against me. "I missed you." I said it quietly, just for him to hear, and I hoped those three little words conveyed so much more.

He pulled me against him, laying us down on the bed, twisting us so he hovered over me. I pulled his shirt off, let my fingers relearn the contours of his body; things long forgotten and hidden away from me. I wanted to touch every part of him and maybe he felt the same. I closed my eyes relishing the feel of his hands and lips roaming my body; his lips stopping to contemplate the slight jut of my shoulder bone, as he left marks stretching like a puzzle over my body. My eyes snapped open when his body retreated, letting the cold air hit my bare flesh. He was above me, looking at me with lust and fear painted across his face. "Are you sure about this?"

"I want to, Tate." I smirked at the symmetry; words I'd spoken before, like so many other things in the last twenty-four hours. He closed his eyes and for the space of a heartbeat was completely and utterly still before he pressed his body back against mine. "I want you." Three more words I hoped said more than they seemed to. Maybe he understood. I twined my arms and legs around him, pulling him into me; my lips pressed against his skin to stifle the moan that rose up in my throat as he entered me. I let my body hum and sing, reveling in the familiarity of him; the touch I had dreamed about and been haunted by for so long.