American Horror Story Fractions

_Just a small AU idea I have. I'll be depicting Lana and Johnny's lives every 5 years._

_Everything is canon up till 2x11_

_I own nothing. Not even the clothes on my back. Nada._

_Let me know what you think. Thanks! _

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><p><em>A woman's scream. Blood pooling everywhere. Pain, unimaginable pain as if being torn in two. A child's cry. Emptiness and then the relief of darkness.<em>

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><p>The soft clicking of heels on vinyl flooring slowly woke her from her reverie. A small tap on her door, and then a pair of hesitant steps into her room.<p>

She heard her name being called, dragging her away from her piece of respite despite her body's protest. Then her name was called again, and she gave in, opening her eyes.

Blinking again, it took her a moment to gather where she was; a hospital, not the former home she shared with Wendy. Instead of Wendy holding a child in her arms, just like she had always wanted to, it was a nurse. A child that was supposed to be her's and Wendy's, not his.

The nurse looked desperately at her as Lana tried to hold her composure, the baby in the nurse's arms wailed pitifully.

"I'm sorry, Lana." The nurse began, Lana's eyes desperately avoiding the child, "I hate to do this to you, but-"

"What are you doing?" She asked, knowing that the nurse would try and coax her to bond with the baby regardless of her requests. "I asked not to see him."

"I know," the other woman said, gently rocking the baby in her arms to try and ease his cries, "but he's allergic to the formula and he's been crying like this for seven straight hours."

"That's not my problem," Lana returned briskly, wanting nothing more than to get out of the stifling hospital room and move on with her life.

"I know," the nurse resigned, "I just took a chance. I couldn't bear to see him suffer."

And in another life, in another situation, Lana would happily take the child in arms, look after him with all the motherly love and affection that the child needed. She and Wendy would've raised him together, with Wendy having loved him before even he was born. But she wasn't here. She would never come back. His father made sure of that.

He was innocent of his father's crimes, but he brought forth all memories of the evil misdeeds his father did to her, to Wendy, and to every single woman he murdered, and for that, she couldn't muster any feelings of affection for him.

"I thought maybe if he suckled a bit, he might calm down..." and when the nurse realised that Lana refused to even acknowledge the child, she turned to go, "I'm sorry. It seemed worth a try."

The child continued to cry, crying out for his mother, unaware of the abhorrence he was conceived in. It wasn't fair, it could even be considered as cruel, but it was better to severe the bond now than later when it could cause even more damage. Life isn't fair, she reasoned to herself, but as she watched the nurse leave the room with the baby wailing for her to cease his hunger, there was a small, but nevertheless apparent, tug at her cold heart.

It wasn't love she felt for him, but a small sense of pity, even compassion, for the child who begged for a loving mother, but instead received a woman who couldn't even bare to look at him when he was first brought to her.

Wendy would've embraced the child despite how he was conceived, and she wished she had that strength to do that.

She couldn't.

"Give him here," she heard herself say, and didn't even realise she began to unbutton her gown as the nurse placed him in her arms for the first time. Her arms cradled the child almost instinctively, and slowly, ever-so-slowly brought him to her nipple, breathing shakily as he latched on and began to suckle hungrily.

This was becoming far too real, but she had to give him anything to make him stop crying; Wendy would've wanted that.

She watched cautiously as the child took the necessary substance he needed from her, waiting him to morph into his father as he suckled the very same breast in his father's basement almost a year ago. She was on the verge of panicking as the onslaught of that memory began to overwhelm her, but the voice at the back of her head reminded her that she was in control of this situation. She was willingly, albeit reluctantly, offering this baby to her breast rather than having the clothes she had been forced to wear ripped apart and being threatened to dieby some maniac.

With some hesitancy and some new found strength, she brought a tentative hand up and rearranged the blue woolen hat that had gone slightly askew. The child snuggle deeper into the warmth its mother gave, and Lana felt a small pull at her heart.

He wasn't a monster Lana had always envisioned. She assumed that the evils of his father would present themselves physically on the child, but all she could see was a pair of small of fluttering eyelids, concentrating intently on the milk she provided, a small button nose and mouth, and a few smooth dark hairs on top of his head.

He wasn't a monster, no; he was a small child that couldn't help who his father was.

She swallowed a painful lump in her throat because she knew she should have never asked the nurse to bring him back. She knew parting from this baby she had sheltered for almost nine months, who was feeding from her breast at this very moment, would be difficult, and she hated it.

She needed to get to get as far away from him as possible before it was too late.

As soon as he finished, she pushed the child back to the nurse, frantically pulling her gown back together.

"Never do that again," she ordered, avoiding the nurse's disappointed gaze, "He has to learn to live without me."

She watched with unshed tears in her eyes as the nurse walked away with the now quietened baby in her arms. He would be gone by tomorrow morning, the agency would be taking him to his new parents who would provided all the love and affection she couldn't give to him. They would be giving him some shot at a life she could have never have given him. It was for the best, she had been assured of that.

A part of her would always carry that small, insignificant moment she had with him, but she would do her level best to move on with her life as if he never existed. The old part of her life was so close to an end, she would walk out of the hospital tomorrow morning, discharge papers in hand, and be on her way to New York City.

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><p>It was close to midnight, and the ward was closed. A handful of nurses who were in the middle of their nightshift talked under hushed tones and giggles. Newborns were crying out like wailing sirens, in their cribs all aligned in the window-panelled room, on display for visitors to observe.<p>

Lana has been sleeping fitfully since the last nurses round, unable to get the much needed rest she needed to help her recover from the last few days. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about what would be happening to her son-

No, he wasn't her son. How could she keep the child of the man who raped her and killed Wendy? What kind of mother would she even be? She couldn't provide all the love and care he would need. She had her career to think about, also. She had almost finished finalising 'Maniac' which would be sent to the publishing offices in the next few weeks. No, a child would impede on that. She had already written that the child had died, she wouldn't change that.

But she had to see him, see him before he would taken to his new family tomorrow. She had to say goodbye to the life she had sheltered for almost a year.

She shouldn't be doing this, she told herself as she made her way down the corridor. The nurses were too distracted with other patients to be paying attention to her as rushed out of her room. She told herself to go back many times, but she couldn't stop herself from moving forward, she didn't want to.

She was so close, all she had to do was go through the door, find him amongst the other dozen of babies, say good-bye and she can be on her way. No tears, no regrets, she can move on with her life. But as she approached the door, it sprung open.

"Oh, Ms Winters," a young nurse gasped, clutching at the used bottle and rag she was holding. "What are you doing up? You're meant to be resting."

_Shit_, she thought, she'd been caught.

"I know," Lana scrabbled for something to say, "but I had to say good-bye to him before tomorrow."

"Well, Ms Winters," the nurse began, the trained resolve she'd been told to have with patients breaking, "I'm not sure if-if I can-"

"Please," she begged, almost hating herself having to beg to see...him, but her determination was beginning to wane, "I have to see him before he goes away forever."

The nurse struggled with herself for a moment, trying to catch a glimpse the other nurses in the room.

"Okay," she said, "but you have to be quiet," opening the door more to let Lana in, "I think he's over there somewhere," pointing to a crib at the other side of the room.

"Thank you," she replied, rushing into the large nursery.

She kept her footing light as she made her way down to the end of the room. The door clicked shut, the only source of light coming from the large viewing window. She thought that maybe she should have located him on the other side, saying good-bye to him and watching him one last time through the window, but she was here now and it was too late to turn back.

She saw that the babies had been placed in blankets the colour of their gender; boys blue, girls pink, and a few had been wrapped up in white. She got to the end of the row, the baby in front of her wrapped up in a white blanket, with the name tag: BABY BOY, WINTERS.

She eyed his chart, seeing that he'd been cleaned, and changed regularly, and a note saying: _Allergic to formula; mother provided milk._

She'd been glad at least gave him something before he left tomorrow, starting a new life with parents who wanted and loved him, unlike herself, who couldn't because she just wasn't strong enough to.

He was sleeping peacefully, unaware of what was happening to him tomorrow, unaware that his mother couldn't bring herself to love him. In the dim light, she could see a resemblance of his father, something that should repulsed her, but he would never grow up to be like him, she told herself. He would grow up in a loving home, with a mother and father, living a normal, quiet life. Living the life she couldn't provide for him

He began to stir, his blanket slipping off him slightly. Lana moved the blanket back up, covering him so he wouldn't feel cold. Her hand softly lingered on his stomach, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest, hearing the minute snores her emitted. She couldn't help but smile sadly.

"Isn't he a little miracle?" she heard a low voice say, one that she will always dread to hear.

She closed her eyes, unable to move and turn around. She didn't need to, she knew it was him. She could hear the tap of his shoes coming closer until she could feel him behind her. Her whole body tensed with fear, even though she told herself that he was a twisted figment of her imagination.

"Isn't he the most precious thing in the universe?" He continued, "Look at him, Lana. All he wants is his mother...a mother to hold him, keep him safe and warm...feed him."

"Go away, Oliver," she muttered, gripping the edge of the crib.

"Now, now, Lana," he goaded, "You're not going to give him up, are you? Give him away to some couple who you don't even know. They can't provide the necessary comfort and warmth only your touch can do."

"I'm not his mother," she retorted, "I can't be his mother."

"Oh, but you are, whether you like it or not, Lana," she could almost feel his breath on her neck as she tried to repress a repulsed shiver. "Only you can give what he wants...what he craves..."

"Lana?" She heard her name being called through the haze of this nightmare, likea beam of light break through dark clouds, "Lana, baby, it's me."

A pair of soft, cold but comforting hands held her head up.

"Wendy?" She mumbled in awe, "Wendy, is it you?"

An ethereal glow surrounded Wendy as she smiled and nodded across the cot. All thoughts of Oliver had vanished, and she felt a hope inside her she hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Yes, it's me, baby," she replied, wiping away the tears streaming down Lana's face, "I'm not here to tell you to keep your baby, but look at him, Lana."

Lana glanced down at the baby underneath her, shaking her head.

"I can't, Wendy," she trembled, "I can't be the mother he needs."

"You can, Lana," she told her, "You're capable of so much. Look at how little he is."

Wendy took one of Lana's hands and brought it near the baby's own. She watched with trepidation and shock as the baby instinctively gripped her finger in his tiny palm.

"He's our baby, Lana," Wendy watched the two together, "We can raise him together, watch him grow up and be the man his father never was."

"But, you can't possibly be here with me-"

"I am," she took Lana's other hand and placed their linked hands on Lana's chest, "I'll always be here."

Wendy leaned forward and kissed Lana on the cheek, and then Lana was left alone with the baby holding onto her finger.

* * *

><p>"Now, Ms Winters," greeted the agency woman, "the papers are all here, we just need you to sign them."<p>

Lana, hair, dress, shoes and make up immaculate ready for her move to New York, went to grab the pen on the desk in front of her. She could hear the baby crying in one of the nurses arms across the room, the agency woman looming over her.

"I thought his new parents would be here to pick him up?" Lana inquired to the woman.

"Well, there's been...a mishap as such," replied her.

Lana dropped the pen back on the desk, turning to the older woman, "A mishap? What kind of mishap? You said his parents would be ready for him today."

"It appears that they've chosen not go through with the adoption."

"Why?"

"I'm not allowed to disclose-"

"You're not allowed to?" Lana asked with added vehemence, "This is a child's future we're dealing with here, and they've suddenly chosen not to have him? He's a child, for godsake! People like that don't deserve to have children."

"Ms Winters," the older woman cleared her throat in impatience, "If you could kindly sign the papers and we'll be out of you hair."

"How long will it take to find a new family for him?" Lana asked, taking a glimpse at the baby in the corner.

"Usually it would take about two weeks to finalise everything."

"Two weeks? And what about during that time? Where would he stay till then?"

"Ms Winters," the woman's impatience apparent, "I can assure you that he would be under the best care we can provide for him-"

"That's not good enough," Lana returned, "I wanted to give him to a nice loving family, who can provide him a safe environment, but I can see I've been let down on that front."

"Ms Winters, if you don't want to go through with the adoption, then that's fine with me but-"

"No, no, I do," she blinked, "but I need to know what kind of environment he's going to be raised in. That's why I've decided to help look over possible families for him, I need to know he'll be getting the best love and care."

"Once again, I can assure you-"

"But you've mislaid my trust, and that's why I've decided to keep him until a proper family has been found," she declared, glancing at her son from across the room.


End file.

American Horror Story, Drama, Hurt-Comfort