Disclaimer: I do not own AHS.

A/N: Surprise! Another story I didn't tell anyone about! I mean, what else am I hiding from you guys, am I right? haha Maybe it's a Freak Show fic? Maybe it's more Bananun, who knows? lol But to be fair, I only started this today in the morning on a total whim when I was supposed to be studying but I was inspired and it just happened.

Also, I've read a few reviews before from people who are itching for me to write a romantic relationship between Lana and Oliver and since I never really give those two a shot, I thought, why not? this one is for you guys.







Oliver Thredson swore he would never forget the first time he ever saw her. She sat on a recliner in the recreational room with a cigarette between her fingers; her eyes were set on the world outside the dusty window. And even though she was dressed in that God awful faded blue patient's dress with a ragged maroon cardigan and her short chestnut hair was tangled and greasy, there was an undeniable beauty that he just couldn't overlook. She appeared to be young, possibly no older than thirty or so.

And so he watched her from across the room like he did any of his other patients at Briarcliff. He watched her stillness as if it was some form of art; the tantalizing gaze in her chocolate brown eyes that was more lost than not. To a mere passerby, this woman would seem insane. However, the more he watched her, the more Oliver grew interested. Her eyes never left the window and he could only imagine what she was thinking.

A thin line of smoke emanated from her cigarette, rising into the air like a twirling snake, smoky and desolate. A tight rigid line along her brow. A distant thought, possibly far past lunacy.


That was the word Oliver found to describe her.

What was she looking at?

What was she thinking?

What was she feeling?

What was her name?

Question after question filled Oliver's thoughts; causing him to ignore the patients he had been there to see on that July evening. All of them were forgotten when he laid his eyes upon that woman. He had sworn he had never seen her before. Oliver had been at Briarcliff for four weeks straight starting that very Sunday. So instead of waiting any longer, he caught the eye of a nun and stood to his feet, making his way over to her.

"Excuse me, Sister." He spoke softly, catching her attention as she tented to an older gentlemen who Oliver had seen sit still for hours.

The young nun turned to look at him. She was blonde and sweet to look at. As if the world had not yet tainted her. "Yes, Dr.?"

"That woman over there," He pointed across the room to the brunette with the still cigarette between her fingers. It was burning closer and closer to her skin. "I've never seen her in my stay here, is she new?"

The nun glanced over at the woman and smiled, "Oh, no. That's our precious Lana. She's been with us for about…hmm," She pressed her lips as she thought it over, "About fourteen months now."

Oliver glanced back to the woman, "Why am I only seeing her now?"

The smile upon the young nun faded and she saddened quite a bit, "Oh, well, you see, Sister Jude thought a few weeks in solitary would soften her a bit. She was growing quite restless."

"How long was she there for?"

"I'd say about two and a half weeks. Then straight to her chambers. Sister Jude finally let her out today to stretch her legs."

So that had explained where she had been for the past month he had been there. Alas, the thought alone was enough to anger Oliver. He didn't believe in the cruel punishments Briarcliff deemed upon its inhabitants and solitary was cruel enough even for three days alone. However, two weeks was absolute hell.

Nevertheless, the more Oliver looked at the woman, the more familiar she seemed to him. As if he had seen her somewhere on the street or perhaps in a dream. "What did you say her name was?"

The nun smiled again, "Lana."

"Thank you, Sister McKee." Oliver said. The young nun beamed at him and returned to her work helping an older gentlemen get up from a chair and move across the room.

Oliver continued to watch this Lana from his spot a few yards away. A light frown appeared along his dark brows, wondering where in the world he had seen her before. He just couldn't place her face but she seemed so familiar to him.

The woman's eyes remained out the window and she didn't notice when the man walked over to her and plucked the cigarette from her fingers. She turned at this motion, jerking her head as if she had been spooked but made no sound or effort to scream. Instead she looked up at the man and watched with parted lips and confused eyes as he threw the cigarette into an ashtray upon the wooden coffee table.

"You don't want to burn yourself, do you?" he asked her with a friendly smile.

The woman so named Lana continued to gaze at him with lost eyes so deep, Oliver felt himself drowning in them. He needed a moment to pull away and snap out of the state she had somehow managed to put him in.

Alas, she didn't answer and Oliver only continued to stare at her until her eyes slowly fell from him and her head moved back to the window. Oliver tilted his head slightly to study her exterior. She looked even more beat up and rugged from up close. As if she had gone through many punishments in her time there. Oliver softly raised his hand, careful to see if she would flinch. Lana stayed still. Oliver lowered his hand and studied her body posture. She was a bit hunched as if she had grown tired of carrying her own body. She was thin too and pale. Malnourished to be more exact and Oliver knew she hadn't been fed much in solitary.

"Lana?" he spoke her name.

Lana didn't respond. He waited a moment. "Lana?"

But the woman did not respond. Oliver frowned lightly at this. Perhaps all the time left in solitary had left her a bit deranged if not detached from reality. Whatever the case, she would need a moment to regain herself at least.

"Mr. Thredson, there ya are." Came the thick accented voice Oliver had come to know very well and was sure he would never forget. He turned and found Sister Jude, head of Briarcliff heading his way.

Sister Jude was an older woman, early sixties, or so Oliver had guessed. She was a strict woman who carried herself very well. Fearless and tenacious as well as close minded and stubborn, or so Oliver had merely observed her to be. Still, he did as she often told.


"I've been lookin' fer ya." Sister Jude spoke, placing her hands together. Oliver noticed when she gave a mere glance over to the poor woman on the recliner as if checking to see if she was staying out of trouble.

"Sister," Oliver interceded, "I'm rather concerned with this patient here—"

"Oh, Sister Mary Eunice will take care of it. Come with me." Sister Jude waved away the presence of the woman named Lana and lead Oliver out of the rec room until he could no longer hear Dominique playing on a loop.

Sister Jude mainly filled in Oliver about the problems of the patients he had been there to see. They mostly argued; Oliver didn't believe in the punishments Jude did and so the two hadn't been able to meet eye to eye on anything. Oliver attempted once more to ask about the woman named Lana but Jude suggested that he only focus on what he had been assigned to and not concern himself with something that did not deserve a second thought.

However, Oliver was deeply concerned.

When he was done speaking with Sister Jude, Oliver returned to the rec room to find the lost woman but she was gone. The recliner was empty and Oliver was left with the lingering memory of her beautiful yet expressionless face, gazing out the window.

When Oliver arrived home later that night, he poured himself a glass of scotch and sat in his office, twirling his glass cup, lost in deep thought. For some strange reason he just couldn't pull his thoughts away from her. And so he continued to think about the woman in the maroon cardigan with the big brown eyes. Just the look in those eyes made him believe that there was still something in there fighting to get out. A form of life just waiting to be set free and Oliver was itching to set it free.