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Chapter Text

Wednesday was not unaccustomed to flesh wounds. Nor was it a sensation she disliked. Was it her favorite form of body mutilation? No. She preferred the more classical torture devices, ones that kept their victims clean (to an extent).

Laying on the dirty ground of Crackstone’s Crypt with a jagged knife twisted into her gut made her realize some things. One: She preferred her exploration of pain tolerance to be consensual and, frankly, self directed. Two: A knife to the gut was not a pleasant form of pain in the slightest. There was no art to it. No poise, no skill. It wasn't beautiful. But it hurt like a bitch.

She could feel her brain getting foggy, her vision blurring as she laid there slumped on the steps. How annoying. She would've preferred the gargoyle. But, as she spent many years practicing, Wednesday began to gather her final thoughts. Perhaps she could muster up enough energy to write a final goodbye in her blood. That would certainly make her departure memorable.

As she attempted to sit up and begin her words of woe to the world, Goody appeared. Perhaps she wouldn't die alone after all. Pity. As Wednesday locked eyes with the other girl, she noted that Goody seemed more emotional than when they last spoke.

“Wednesday.”

“Goody.” Wednesday said with a small nod. “Quite the…sticky situation I've gotten myself into isnt it? I suppose it’s more stabby.” She said with a glance at the blade embedded in her gut.

“There's no time to jest, Wednesday. You need to end this.” Goody glanced at her with a grim expression. Wednesday found the entire situation slightly humorous, dying with her ancestor’s ghost as her witness in the crypt of the man who killed both of them, but evidently she was the only one.

“That pendant you’re wearing can save your life.” Goody said with urgency. She began to enlighten Wednesday about the truth behind the trinkets' spiritual connection, and Wednesday silently, and secretly, thanked her mother for the gaudy parting gift. After the exchange and a quick goodbye combination possession (a new experience that Wednesday would need to study further and she if she could replicate) she was up on her feet and headed towards Nevermore to kill a dead man.

+ + +

Wednesday did not appreciate getting shot in the shoulder. Xavier’s second attempt at life saving chivalry since her arrival at Nevermore somehow ended up worse than the prior. But, she supposed she returned the favor, as it would’ve been him with an arrow through the chest if not for her self sacrifice. Add it to the list of things she wasn't expecting to do in the last week, if ever.

Xavier, of course ran over all concerned and though she found (to her surprise) that she didn’t mind the action, it would've been received better had there not been a more pressing issue.

“Xavier, go.” He eyed her shoulder with concern.

“I cant just leave you like this-”

“GO. They need your help,” Wednesday interrupted, indicating towards a group of frightened students. He paused, but nodded before standing and quickly retreating to help. Thank god.

Wednesday yanked the arrow from her shoulder with gritted teeth and took up arms once again, standing to face the undead pilgrim with a glare.

+ + +

Defeating Crackstone was a challenge. Her sword had broken and her confidence had wavered for a moment, until Bianca, a surprising and skillful ally, appeared and created enough of a distraction to drive the shattered hilt into the bastard's chest. He erupted into flames, smoldering before them, the smell of long dead flesh becoming ash filling the air as Crackstone vanished, ring landing uselessly on the crimson soaked earth.

Bianca turned to her, exhausted though she appeared, and smiled. “You and I make a pretty good team, I have to say,” she said. “Maybe you'll even beat me in a sparring match someday.”

“I hope you don't expect me to reciprocate the sentiment,” Wednesday noted. “And, for the record, I could beat you even if all I had was this,” she said, lifting the useless sword hilt with a raised brow. Bianca scoffed, but her expression remained slightly soft, before shifting into one of shock.

“Wednesday-”

“I'm so happy to see you two finally bonding,” a voice said from behind the two. Wednesday turned to see Mrs. Thornhill, no, Laurel Gates, aiming a gun at her chest.

“Bringing a gun to a swordfight, how original,” Wednesday snarked with an eye roll. She clocked how Laurel’s eye twitched at the comment. So, she was unstable. Good to note, but bad for them.

“I wouldn’t be acting so high and mighty Wednesday. After all, you are going to die for me one way or another.” Laurel held the gun with both hands, a tremor in her body and a manic look in her eyes. Wednesday, against her better judgment, goated her on.

“You don't look too good Laurel. Are you sure you don't need to take a break and smell the roses?” The older woman glared and cocked the pistol.

“Wednesday, I know Ive said this to you a lot the past few days, but shut up,” Bianca said from behind them. She seemed unnerved, a new emotion from the normally stoic and snippy queen.

“Ive found I dont know when to hold my tongue,” Wednesday replied with a glance to Bianca. “Though Ive held many other types,” she added, turning back to Laurel. “Lizards, birds, rodents…but not yet human-”

“Listen to the girl and SHUT IT, freak!” Laurel screeched, steadying her aim.

It was at this moment Wednesday realized she didn't actually have a plan. It wasn't like she had Rowan’s telekinesis, and any sudden movements would likely trigger the mad woman into shooting. Just as quickly as Wednesday had escaped death's doorstep due to a timely ancestor, she found herself right back in its threshold. This time the cause even less desirable than the former.

What she did not expect was for Bianca to open her mouth. Like a fool.

“This is no place for you, leave at once,” Bianca’s voice carried an unfamiliar weight as it traveled with intention to the woman in front. This was Wednesday's first time witnessing a siren's ability. It was intriguing. She pondered for a moment on the extent of its persuasive power. No doubt Bianca would refuse to engage in any experimentation. Laurel turned and began to walk away at the command, Bianca approaching Wednesday with concern, but Wednesday’s eyes remained on the retreating form, and it was good she did because in mere seconds Laurel had turned around and leveled a shot at Bianca.

Wednesday shoved Bianca onto the dirt as the bullet whistled past where the Siren had been standing moments prior. Laurel’s eyes held a newly ignited rage. “Did you really think I didn't PLAN for this? For you outcasts and your ‘gifts’?” She raised an arm revealing a talisman. “It's a charm warding against your devil songs! Now…” Laurel eyed Wednesday, a question on her lips as she lowered the gun to Bianca’s form on the ground.

“NO,” Wednesday snapped. Bianca looked up at her, then to the barrel of the weapon. Laurel’s eyes gleamed.

“Then follow me, Addams,” she laughed, gesturing with the gun. Wednesday steadied herself and took a step forwards before being halted by a hand gripping her ankle.

“Wednesday no you cant-”

“Bianca.” Wednesday’s voice held no room for argument. “I trust you. Go.” She said with a small smile before turning towards Laurel and nodding. “Lead the way, you homicidal maniac.”

“Excellent choice.”

+ + +

Getting kidnapped for the second time in 24 hours was a new record for Wednesday, and as she walked with Laurel through the school, gun pressed firmly to her back, she was given time to think through the week's events. At this point she found herself curious at Laurel’s intentions, she couldn't summon Crackstone again, and wasn’t killing her immediately, so there must be some other motivation for her actions.

“Does kidnapping me for a second time help you cope with the failure that was this plan of yours?” She asked with annoyance. What she got in return was increased pressure of the gun at her back.

“It hasn't yet, but good things come to those who wait, Wednesday.”

They continued the eerie march to a smaller set of doors that opened into the darkening sky, a pathway on the side of the building winding down towards the edge of the woods. Gun still solid against her, Laurel motioned towards the path with her freehand. “We’ll be going on a private field trip, isn't that fun?”

“Im ecstatic…” Wednesday sighed. “Cant you tell?” She looked up at the woman with a sarcastic grin. Laurel tightly pinched her cheek in response.

“Good! Because this field trip is a surprise. Wouldn't want to spoil the fun would you?” And within moments Wednesday could no longer see ahead of her. All she could do was try to ignore the itchy fabric covering her eyes as she was led along down the path into the forest.

They had been walking for a while now. Wednesday had gotten quite skilled at telling the time from the moon, but with her eyes no longer available, she had to base it off of the growing chill. If she had known she'd be going on this impromptu night hike she would've dressed properly. Her uniform did not provide much comfort against the frigid air. Hopefully Bianca had alerted her classmates and the proper authorities of the situation and help was on the way.

Eventually they wandered off the beaten path onto much rougher ground, and she stumbled a few times in her blind state. In the far distance, Wednesday could hear the sounds of sirens. She knew by now that Tyler had been captured, since he wasn't accompanying them on the walk to her “surprise”. Laurel’s breathing was becoming erratic in response to the sirens as she pressed the weapon further into Wednesday's back.

Wednesday noticed a distinct chill as they came to a stop. “We’re here~” said Laurel in a taunting singsong voice.

“Oh, really? And to think I was just about to ask,” Wednesday snarked.

“I can't wait for you to change your tune, my little project. We have more than enough time to become wonderful friends, you and I," Wednesday shivered at the thought. She had long since realized the gravity of the situation once the blindfold had been tied around her eyes and she was escorted against her will into uncharted territory. However, her unease increased tenfold as the blindfold was removed.

As the fabric strip fell to the forest floor, Wednesday’s eyes widened as she was faced with a familiar cave entrance…and Laurel, seeing the distressed expression, let out a laugh.

“Why the sorrowful look? I thought we were bonding! Don't worry, You’ll be an obedient dog soon enough Wednesday…with the right education of course. After all you know as well as I that a Hyde takes time to properly train.”

Oh. Woe indeed.

Chapter Text

Bianca was left stunned as she watched Wednesday follow their former professor through the archway and into the vacant halls of Nevermore. Yet it wasn't because of the decision to follow a deranged normie with a gun who’d probably just kill her either way.

It was because Addams trusted her, or at least said as much. Wednesday even saved her life. With renewed energy Bianca picked herself up off of the ground and began her own hasty retreat out of the quad towards where she had directed all fleeing students and faculty. With luck she'd find Enid and Xavier there.

As she sprinted towards the gates, she nearly crashed right into Eugene, who (thankfully) did not drop the large wooden box he had been carrying. She picked up on a buzzing sound coming from within.

“Oh excuse me,” Eugene said from behind the box. “I’m in a little bit of a rush, Wednesday-”

“Is gone.” Bianca interrupted. “Mrs. Thornhill took off with her a few moments ago. Come on, I’ll get you up to speed as we regroup with the rest of the student body,” leaving no room for argument, she grabbed the smaller boy's arm and began leading him along. “And drop the bee box will you?”

Eugene scrambled to match her pace, managing to gently place the hive on the ground as they made their hasty retreat. Bianca switched to holding his hand, trying to hide the tremor. Eugene didn't comment on it, or seem to notice at all. Instead he was focused on her. “You said you'd explain, right? What's going on? What do you mean by gone? Wednesday's not…” He looked pale.

“She's not dead,” Bianca started. Eugene let out a breath- “Yet.” She heard him inhale sharply. “Mrs. Thornhill, she’s the one who knocked you out, yeah?” Bianca turned to look at Eugene who nodded. “Well not only is she crazy, but she and the weird zombie Crackstone seem to have a history with the Addams family. And not a good one.”

Bianca began to explain what she had witnessed from her perspective. Wednesday brandishing a sword and engaging the fire spitting demon in close combat. Watching Xavier attempt to defend Wednesday (a feeling Bianca would have to get over. She was too good for someone who didn't trust her) and subsequently watching Wednesday get hit instead.

The sword breaking, her surprising the pilgrim with an attack of her own and providing an opportunity for Wednesday to strike the man down. Watching him burn. Watching the school burn. Her home. Her friends her-

She had to remain calm. She recounted how the two of them had a moment of playful banter, an unlikely friendship blossoming from the ashes of a shared kill, as odd an anniversary as that would be, and how it all went south as soon as the gun appeared.

As she spoke she could feel Eugene’s hand trembling in hers and she squeezed in a motion of comfort. She knew how close the two were. Eugene was an awkward kid, she had left him alone because he hadn't been worth her time. Evidently that was a mistake, he was braver than half of the students who hadn't bothered to re enter the grounds upon escaping.

Hell he came out of a Hyde attack alive! She mentally praised his will as he smiled at the gesture of reassurance. Soon the two were outside, walking down the pathway towards the road and the academy's large iron gates. She could see a group just outside in the signature Nevermore colors.

“Hummers stick together. I told her, I promised-”

“We’ll get her back Eugene. Even if she pisses me off to no end, she's one of us.” Eugene nodded at that as they passed through the gate, officially off campus.

Eugene let go of her hand and stood up a little taller as they approached their peers. Bianca found herself doing the same. They had to be brave. For Nevermore. For Wednesday.

That brave face nearly shattered as a beaten, bruised and bloodied Enid Sinclair pushed her way to the front of the crowd with hopeful eyes. “Where's Wednesday?”

Chapter Text

Wednesday was two for two on things she hadn't experienced twice in a day. Kidnapping, and now being chained by her hands with an added bonus of a lack of mobility due to her lower than average height. She certainly didn't enjoy having to constantly readjust her standing position, but at least there was some comfort in the form of the scorched cave wall the rings were attached to.

Laurel Gates had her back turned and was rummaging through the ash with fervor, and try as she might, Wednesday could not get the right angle to see what for. Eventually, Laurel let out an “Ah ha!” before grabbing something from the dirt in triumph. She turned to face Wednesday with the same manic gleam in her eye she’d held all night.

“I have to make a little trip, but I’ll be back soon. I was considering just leaving you as is, but-” and she held up a small key. “I didn't exactly trust that you wouldn't miraculously find this.” Ah. The key to her restraints. Wednesday was surprised it hadn't burned with the rest of the cave. And with Eugene…

”I wasn't expecting to come back here at all to tell you the truth, but thanks to a little someone's newly acquired hero complex I’ve had to rethink things.” Laurel said with a knowing look. Wednesday wholeheartedly disagreed on the assessment. Hero complexes were derived from the desire to be praised and Wednesday had nothing of the sort. Quite the opposite.

She glowered at the woman as she attempted to turn herself fully towards her. “Oh you mean I’ll get a break from your nonsense? What a joy-”

…

The slap echoed through the cave as Laurel drew her hand back, breathing heavy. Wednesday knew she should've stayed quiet, and the growing red mark on her cheek was proof enough of that. “Tsk look what you've made me do…” Laurel said as she pulled a handkerchief from her coat and began to delicately pat the forming mark in mock sympathy. “That must hurt right? This is what happens when you don't behave!”

Wednesday scowled in response and debated on biting the woman's hand and not letting go until she took at least one finger with her to the grave.

“Mind you this will be happening whether you like it or not, I was just hoping to leave most of the painful bits until the end. Really savor the moment, you know?” Wednesday rolled her eyes as Laurel returned the handkerchief to her pocket. Of course Wednesday knew what she meant. On any other day she would have agreed that pain is better savored when given time, but she was positive their views differed on the true matter entirely.

When Wednesday wanted to experience the thrill of adrenaline or the tingling of a healing body part she’d give herself a few days off to really let it sink in. In fact she kept a journal detailing the different emotions and physical sensations certain types of injuries caused.

Unfortunately that did not seem to be what Laurel was referring to. The woman pulled out a set of keys and jingled them in the air before slipping the small key onto the ring, leaving Wednesday truly locked in until her (possible) rescuers came to her aid.

“You know Wednesday, you put a lot of blind faith into your supposed friends.” Laurel said as she gripped the keys in her fist.

“They're not…all morons.” Wednesday found herself admitting.

“Oh I wholeheartedly agree!” Laurel said. “Which is why I'm not entirely convinced they'll be coming for you at all.”

What? “What’s that supposed to mean, they-”

“I mean you and Enid certainly had quite the squabble. You never truly took an interest in her hobbies and projects, you only used her to satisfy your own ego in a childish battle against Bianca.” Wednesday frowned. The fight with Enid had been…a mistake. She had been under a lot of stress, surely Enid knew that. They continued to be roommates after, and Enid didn't seem the type to hold a grudge…

“Speaking of Bianca, you ruined her streak! Tore down her pride and even refused her gesture of kindness after you two murdered my months worth of work.” Wednesday hesitated. “That's right, I heard the whole thing! Bianca offered a word of encouragement, only for you to knock it down with snark and misguided confidence.”

That was…true. Wednesday did trust Bianca, what she had said to the girl before following Laurel off campus contained no lies. The upperclassman was smart and a quick thinker, a combination that no doubt led to her winning streaks in the first place…and then Wednesday had begun to take them away. Bianca offering an act of friendship, or at least an alliance, had come as a shock and Wednesday had not known how to respond. She had done what she always did. Refused.

Nobody ever meant it seriously anyways. Nobody, besides maybe Enid (maybe…what if Laurel was right?) ever extended their hand in friendship sincerely with her.

“And then who is your only other possible savior?” Wednesday was growing uneasy. She wanted the woman to stop talking. “Oh yeah, you accused him of murder and got him put in prison!” Laurel laughed. Xavier. That situation was complicated at best. Wednesday had noticed the way he looked at her when they met. But also noticed the look change when she went to find him in his cell. The warmth she had grown accustomed to in his eyes had been gone…replaced with the typical disgust she had grown familiar with at her many previous schools. He had told her to leave. She almost did!

But he also tried to protect her. That chivalry hadn't been out of a sense of obligation, had it? Wednesday realized something. When had Bianca shown up? Wednesday hadn't seen her until the girl had revealed herself and aided in their successful fight against Crackstone, but where had she been before that? What if…What if Xavier had noticed Bianca. What if she had been hiding out of sight for Wednesday, but in view for him?

What if his call and bow shot was never meant for her in the first place? She still would have taken the shot, of course. He would be dead otherwise. But what if he had run up to her afterwards because he viewed her as his responsibility. Injured by an arrow shot from his bow?

“I can tell you're finally getting where I’m coming from,” Laurel’s voice interrupted Wednesday's thoughts. How long had she been standing there pondering? She had no clue but the woman seemed pleased. “You see Wednesday my dear? Nobody is coming for you. I can't blame them, and neither can you.”

She wasn’t wrong. She had to think. Make a plan. One that only included herself because Laurel was right, who else could she rely on? She had no friends. She had to remain calm. Emotion was rising in her chest and the uncomfortable feeling was all consuming. She had to squash it down. Wednesday didn't feel regretful. She never will. Never…

Her mental panic increased as Laurel approached. Wednesday stiffened, glancing downward. Laurel turned her shackled wrist to face up, and within moments the familiar tingle Goody had healed back in the crypt had re emerged. Laurel pulled back, one of her more intricate keys held in her hand dripping with scarlet.

“There we go. Something for you to focus on while I’m out.” Wednesday could feel the sting. “I don't know how you managed to heal yourself before, but I prefer you this way.” Laurel smiled and wiped the key off with the same handkerchief she had oh so carefully cleaned Wednesday's face with. “I’ll be back so make yourself at home! You’ll be here for a while.”

Laurel walked away, quickly becoming concealed by the night fog as she traveled towards the cave entrance. Wednesday watched her go, an unfamiliar feeling settling to roost in her mind. In her gut. In her heart. And in that moment, as she was left to the quiet of the night and the burning of her reopened wound, as the blood traveled down her arm into her sleeve…Wednesday was grateful for it.

The cut provided a much needed distraction from the growing storm plaguing her thoughts.

Meanwhile on the other side of the woods, in front of the gates of a ruined Nevermore, someone was crying.

Chapter Text

“Where's Wednesday?”

Enid was looking at Bianca with innocent confusion. Eugene looked away. Bianca had to fight not to join him.

The werewolf looked awful. Her normally clean and colorful outer wear was drenched in blood, and though judging by her wounds it was mostly her opponents, Enid did not come out unharmed. There were cuts visible beneath her soaked blonde hair and she had approached them with a slight limp, clutching her arm. Ajax wasn't far behind, a reassuring hand on her shoulder, for mental or physical support Bianca didn't know.

“Enid, listen-”

“She’s just running late, probably examining the crime scene with a little notebook and magnifying glass. A real Nancy Drew. That's why you two came out first! That is so Wednesday, she’s probably going to talk my head off about the…disturbing details telling me to put it on my blog,” Enid chuckled. Bianca didn’t. Enid stopped laughing. “...Right?”

“Enid…” Bianca approached the girl and looked to Ajax who, seeing the look in her eyes, backed off and left Bianca to take his place. “Let’s go over here for a second, okay?”

Enid’s expression darkened and her brows creased in worry. “...Okay.”

The two left the group, Eugene following behind until they got a few paces away. Still in sight, but able to have the private hushed conversation she’d prefer. It would hopefully cause less panic that way. She pretended not to feel Xavier’s eyes on her back from the crowd.

“Enid, something happened to Wednesday.” Neither of them moved. Bianca sighed and continued. “She…Mrs.Thornhill is-”

“Laurel Gates, I know.” Enid interrupted.

“No- I mean yes, but that’s not what I'm talking about. After Wednesday took Crackstone down, Mrs. Thornhill came out of nowhere. She tried to shoot me.”

“Oh my god are you okay?!” Enid turned and began examining her uniform for any signs of blood. Bianca knew the concern was genuine, but the reaction was likely fueled by her desire to not hear the rest of the story. Enid wasn't taking it well and she didn't even know the full extent of what happened.

“I'm fine, Enid. Wednesday pushed me out of the way,” Enid moved to speak again but Bianca silenced her. “No, she didn't get shot either. But she has been taken hostage. In exchange for my life, she followed Mrs.Thornhill out of the quad. I’m not sure exactly where-”

“WHY DIDN'T YOU FOLLOW THEM?” Bianca took a step back as the shorter girl exploded. Whatever came next was out of grief, and maybe guilt, so Bianca knew not to take it to heart. Whatever Enid was feeling was probably mutual, to a degree. “YOU JUST LET HER TAKE MY BEST FRIEND AWAY???”

“Enid, why don't you calm down-” Eugene started. He had remained relatively passive throughout the initial conversation, but had noticed the emotional shift. When Bianca had told Enid what happened, her claws had come out, not that the werewolf noticed.

Enid turned to glare at Eugene. “Stay out of this, she’s the reason Wednesday could be ANYWHERE by now!!”

“I didn't DO anything!” Bianca shot back as she began to pace. So much for emotional maturity. “I didnt- do you think I WANTED to leave her there?? She TRUSTED me. To find you, to find ALL of you to make sure you were OKAY! I did what I had to do and so did she! Even if it was stupid and now she might-”

“Bianca!” Eugene piped in. He had a hand on Enid’s shoulder in comfort. Bianca paused her ranting. She looked at Enid.

Enid’s eyes were watering, and within moments tears were running down her cheeks, leaving streaks on her bloodied face and neck. Bianca’s eyes had also grown misty, though hers were formed out of frustration at her own weakness. At her guilt for listening to Wednesday, a girl who hadn't seemed to care about her impending death at all.

“I…It's okay-” Bianca said in an attempt to comfort her. Bianca wasn't good at this, emotional support. As a Siren, she could barely tell when people were being honest with her, or if it was her somehow affecting them without knowing it. So comprehending other people's feelings and knowing what to do with them? How to respond? Was uncharted waters. Another way she and Wednesday were similar, she supposed.

“It's NOT OKAY Bianca!” Enid sobbed.

“You're right.” But like Wednesday, Bianca would do what she could do. Which was to be honest. If lifting the mood was outside of her capabilities? She would just do what she could.

“...What?” Enid said, taking a shaky breath.

“You're right. It's not okay,” Bianca had lowered her voice to a murmur, noticing that their raised voices had caused some head turns. “It’s not okay. I’M not okay. This whole situation is fucked up. But I have to be strong right now, for all of us.”

“We.” Enid said as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, smearing more blood onto her face in the process. “We have to be strong. You’re not by yourself either you know.”

“Yeah,” Eugene said. “You might not be a Hummer like Wednesday but, I've got your back anyways.”

Bianca found herself smiling despite the circumstances, and the trio took a moment to breathe before Enid piped up.

“So, what's the game plan?”

“Well first, we need to talk to at least one more person,” Bianca sighed. This would undoubtedly be an awkward conversation that she did not want to have, but saving their classmate came before personal grievances.

“Who?” Enid asked. Bianca shifted her eyes back to the crowd and Enid’s widened in understanding. “Ohh….not it.”

Eugene put his finger on his nose. Enid followed suit. Bianca scowled. “Fine. You two start brainstorming, and I’ll go talk to him.” Before she went to break the news once again, Bianca locked eyes with Enid. “I know you're worried, but are you okay? Wednesday would kill us if she found out we were making you rescue her half dead.”

Enid smiled softly. “Thanks, Bianca. I’m a little roughed up, but furs are tough, I'll be okay.” Bianca nodded. Then prepared herself for the awkward exchange to come.

She left Eugene and Enid, who were already exchanging rescue ideas and coming up with potential leads, and began to walk towards the larger group. She didn't even make it halfway back before Xavier was rushing to meet her. “Was someone going to invite me into the conversation? What the fuck is going on? What did you tell Enid, where is she?” He didn't have to say her name. Bianca knew who he meant.

“Glad you're okay too Xavier, thanks for asking.” Bianca snapped. She couldn't help it. She knew he was worried, she might've been a Siren who struggled with reading feelings, but not his. The stress was obvious. It just hurt knowing who it was, and decidedly wasn't, for.

“I-sorry. It’s been a rough day, okay? I just escaped from the back of a police car after getting accused of multiple murders AND being a monster, and almost got shot by my own arrow flung back at me by a guy I thought was long dead! I just need answers. Is everything okay?”

“Short answer? No.” Xavier closed his eyes and took a breath, as if he expected that response. “I’ll explain everything later, but Wednesday needs our help. You in?” He nodded immediately.

Of course he did.

Chapter Text

Enid was nervous. So many things had happened in the past few hours and although she wanted to take a nice long bath and curl up in her not bloody bed, she knew it was going to be a while before she’d truly be comfortable.

Wednesday was her best friend. It wasn't a lie. Sure, she had made many friends on campus from all walks of life, but it was different with Wednesday. Though she could be harsh at times, she genuinely seemed to want the best for Enid, being brutally honest about it when needed.

At first it hurt. Enid genuinely believed Wednesday thought she was a moron. A hindrance to her “investigation”, but overtime Enid began to realize how the Wednesday clock ticked. You couldn't trust her smile. Everything was in the eyes. The hands. In fact, Enid had gotten so good at reading the gloomy goose that she had commented on it once.

(Flashback Incoming)

+ + +

“How do you do that?”

“Do what, Wennie?” Enid was lying on her bed in Ophelia Hall, glancing through the latest edition of K-Pop Superstars, a magazine she pressured her parents to mail her. Thing was, as per usual, on her shoulder reading along. He was a big softie and Enid found they shared a lot of the same interests. She had painted his nails the previous weekend, a lovely shade of lavender, until Wednesday showed up with acetone.

“Don't call me that. I will pull out your canines when you're sleeping.” Enid raised a curious brow. “And… replace them with… tacks.” Enid admittedly did shudder at the thought. “And you know what I'm talking about. Can werewolves smell emotions? Are you some kind of lycanthrope telepath?”

That had Enid closing the magazine and sitting up straight, much to the dismay of Thing. “I have no idea what you mean, bestie!” She noticed how Wednesday's brows knitted just a tad at the word. Mhm.

“You can… read me.” Wednesday sighed. “How do you always know what makes me… ugh I don't know, you're insufferable. You must be doing something.”

“It's called reading your body language, dummy! You put on this apathetic persona, but I know deep down you're a little, teensy weensy bit soft! It's not all snake skin and thorns in there. And don't try to tell me I’m wrong. I see the way you look at Poe Bear,” she winked.

Poe Bear was a gift from Enid. She had been saving it for a special occasion, and it felt fitting after the Poe Cup to give it to her. The bear was originally from her mother. There was a period of time where she had assumed Enid looking at “less cutesy beasts" (they were just stuffed animals, her mother was insane) would “bring out hers” and had sent her a disturbingly realistic bear doll. It was almost like a mini taxidermy. Super creepy to her, but she knew Wednesday would like it.

She never actually gifted it the normal way. If she had, Wednesday might've refused it entirely, so instead she just placed it on her desk with a bow. Wednesday had glanced up from her spot hunched over the typewriter at the new desk ornament, taken the bow off with the care of a bomb squad officer, marched over to Enid's side of the room, slapped it onto Enid’s desk with a thunk, and had gone back to writing. It was a win. She kept the bear. Enid had dubbed it “Poe Bear” in honor of the cup.

“All I'm saying Wednesday is that everyone has tells. For example, your fingers twitch when someone says something that makes you annoyed, but you stand up straighter after someone says something nice about you!” Wednesday stopped typing and spun around to level a stare at Enid.

“Well stop doing that. It’s unnerving,” Wednesday said with a huff. “It’s giving me writer's block and if it doesn't go away, I’ll make every second of our time together unbearable for the both of us.”

“Whatever you say, gloomy roomie!”

(End of Flashback)
+ + +

“Okay! No time to feel depressed Enid!” Enid did a little shake. She wasn't sure if it was the werewolf genes, but moving her body really helped ease stress. Bianca and Xavier approached the group, and Enid noticed that the taller boy was not looking too good. Apparently, reading Wednesday also helped her translate any brooding face.

“Xavier, glad you're here. Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just want to get Wednesday back, y'know? Let’s just get out of here quick so we can-”

“Get out of here?” The group turned to face a quizzical Sheriff Galpin. “Surely you kids aren't thinking of running away from an active crime scene, are ya?” Eugene looked at Enid, who looked at Xavier, who looked at Bianca. Xavier leaned in and whispered something into her ear that had the siren recoiling.

“No, I am not going to use my- on a police officer?? Do you know how much trouble I’d get into-” Bianca turned to face Galpin with a calm but guarded expression. “Forgive me Sheriff, but isn't this entire situation a little above your paygrade?” Sheriff Galpin cleared his throat.

“I’m going to pretend I didn't hear that. Now we’re going to need you all to come in for questioning. Especially you,” he said, pointing at Enid. Enid moved to respond. She knew that the whole situation with Tyler was going to cause a lot of paperwork for the school and a lot of uncomfortable phone calls with her mother. Instead, Xavier stepped up.

“Isn't this case too personal for you to be involved now, Sheriff? After all, your dickhead son was the monster. Shouldn’t you be the one getting questioned?” Sheriff Galpin glared, his eyes flashing with hurt, before he looked at Xavier in the eyes.

“That might be true boy, but at least in your case you, and I don't know how, managed to escape the back of a police car. That's a crime, son.” Xavier backed up. “Now I am more than happy to forgive and forget this little stunt if the four of you would just kindly regroup with the rest of Nevermore for some QUICK questions about what happened here tonight.” He nodded his head towards the gathering.

The group eyed the sheriff with increasing irritation, but what was done was dine. Enid made the first movd. She walked towards the crowd, spotting a worried Ajax glancing at her as he talked to a different officer. The other three slowly began to follow behind, but Enid suddenly stopped, Eugene bumping into her with a muffled “sorry.”

“What about Wednesday??” Enid turned to Sheriff Galpin with pleading eyes.

“What about her? Did she sneak off already? Goddamnit…” Galpin muttered.

“She was KIDNAPPED, Sheriff.” Bianca replied coolly. That got his attention.

“She was what!?” He pulled out a walkie talkie and murmured something into it before addressing them. “This is why we take statements. I’ve just put a couple of people on it. We’ll start a search. For now, just come with me. Please.” The man looked exhausted. They were all exhausted.

The four knew that a Normie police department “on the case” would not result in much, but neither would being stuck behind bars for not cooperating with the officers. So they regrouped, trying to find comfort in the presence of their schoolmates. Their minds were elsewhere.

They just hoped Galpin was telling the truth when he said the questions would be quick.

Chapter Text

It had been hours. Wednesday was cold. And not the pleasant kind of cold, like the momentary sting of a hand on dry ice, or a canister of liquid nitrogen. It was a bad cold, the “seep into your bones and make your skin crack” kind of cold. The moon provided small beams of light that filtered into the cavern from somewhere outside that helped minimize the dreariness of the space.

Wednesday was, truthfully? Bored. The wound on her palm had long since slowed in blood flow, the initial sting becoming a dull throbbing that left her unsatisfied. She loathed it. At this point, she wished Gates had killed her back on the quad.

At the start, after her kidnapper left her unattended, Wednesday thought her a fool. Surely she could get herself out of this and be back with the school in time to hear the city's depiction of the night's events. She had struggled in her bonds, twisting and rubbing her wrists raw. She had even attempted to use the blood as a lubricant.

All she ended up with were sore wrists and a bruised ego. So there she stood, legs growing numb from her awkward position, the chill an unwelcoming sensation that didn't provide its usual comfort. Her arms had fallen asleep, blood flow interrupted from her hours of hanging there. They had gone pale, either from the cold or the lack of blood. Wednesday wasn't sure which.

So she had attempted to scream. To call out for help as much as she hated having to do so. She called until her throat was sore. She had even, just in case, hit her high note in case the K-9 rescue dogs were dispatched in the forest somewhere. Nothing came of it except for her throat joining the parts of her that burned.

The worst form of torture her current situation had produced was one of the mind. The wound no longer provided a distraction, the sounds of the woods no longer noticeable against the deafening quiet of her own internal tempest. Her voice shot. When Wednesday got out of this, she was going to reassess her mental faculties.

Never in her life had she spent this long contemplating interpersonal relationships. In fact, until Nevermore, she had no relationships to contemplate in the first place. Finding out that she might (might) hold some sincerity for her incessantly social classmates was the true curse of the day.

Wednesday said she didn't care if people disliked her. That she found immense pleasure in it. This was true. It had been true. Until Laurel Gates had opened her stupid mouth and done something to her brain. Perhaps this was the first step in awakening a Hyde.

Laurel had not specified exactly how she planned on turning Wednesday into her latest tool, nor what she planned on doing with her should she succeed. Wednesday wasn't entirely sure the woman knew the answer to either. She wasn't sure if she could become a Hyde at all.

That likely wouldn't stop Laurel from trying until she succeeded, or until it became too much and Wednesday succumbed to the torture. Morbid curiosity got the better of her and she placed a mental bet on which would come first. Neither option was a satisfactory ending for Wednesday, but she could always find silver linings.

Wednesday twisted again in her restraints. She knew that time would not be her friend in this predicament, and tiring herself out would only make things worse, but she was cold. And pissed. Hopefully, fate would forgive her for expressing the dissatisfaction in the way she could.

There was a noise from outside. The rustling of bushes and the snapping of twigs. Wednesday hoped it was a bear. That would be a more pleasant way to go. Death by grizzly. Or black bears. She preferred them. The noises grew louder, and Wednesday feared her captor had returned.

As much as she hated the chill in her bones, she hated the idea of what Laurel Gates had needed to leave her here for much more. Was it some sick and twisted briefcase of instruments of pain (a kind she normally enjoyed)? A vial of chemicals designed to destroy her body and mind from the inside? Perhaps it was a simple blade, and Laurel was going to aim for quantity over quality. Many scenarios raced through her head as she braced for what was to come.

And from the shadows, with a hesitant but unwavering gait, appeared the true voice of reason in her life. Her backbone. Her (literal) right-hand man. Thing.

“Took you long enough,” Wednesday said, hiding her relief. Thing, of course, knew she was happy to see him. He made his way over to the wall and started making a fuss about her injured hand. Wednesday quirked a brow. “We’re twins now, shouldn't you be pleased? We’ll have matching scars, no doubt.”

Thing signed his disapproval at the joke. Evidently, he was not amused. He climbed up her leg onto her back, heading for the cuffs that trapped her in this bland cavity. “I doubt we have the tools to undo the restraints.” She said, “Laurel took the key, but I got a good look at it. As skilled as you are at locksmithing, this requires two hands.” He lightly flicked the top of her head.

Thing went to rest on her shoulder, providing some much needed physical comfort. Wednesday wasn't one for hugs, but Thing had always been an exception. He had slept in her room with her as a child occasionally. Her parents might've left her to her own devices once she reached the right age, but Thing had noticed her proclivity for staying up “too late” and causing midnight mischief.

Of course he didn't stay over every night, he had his own luxurious bedroom to go back to, but the two had become quite close from their night chats, and she had even convinced him to join her in a black-hearted practical joke or two. It became a regular experience as a child. Sleepovers with Thing. Looking back, her parents were definitely involved in why he approached in the first place, but she knew he had grown to enjoy it like she had.

Wednesday almost wanted to ask him to stay with her, to hide in the shadows while Laurel did whatever she was planning, just to have someone she knew close by, but she knew it was a foolish want. Not only would it be risking Thing’s life for a second time, she didn't want him to see her like that. So, against her deeper desires, she spoke.

“You need to get out of here.” Thing turned her way incredulously. In a challenge. “You know you do. Nobody else knows where I am. Go and alert Sheriff Galpin.” Thing tilted to the side in question. “They… they're no doubt preoccupied getting their statements taken. Plus, I don't need them. You and I are an adequate team on our own.”

Thing stayed on her shoulder, drumming his fingers impatiently. “Okay, fine! I'm not entirely convinced they're going to look for me. Any rational person would realize the risks far outweigh the rewards. I did my job and protected the school from destruction. Whatever happens to me now has no consequence.” Thing patted her shoulder in support.

“And… I didn't exactly end things on personable terms with any of them. Except for maybe Bianca, but she might want me out of the picture most of all.” Wednesday sighed. Admittance was a difficulty for her, but Thing had a way of prying honesty from her normally tightly wound and well contained emotional state.

Thing climbed down and Wednesday turned to look at him on the cave floor. “Find Sheriff Galpin. Tell him I’m here. He’ll know what to do. There's no more time for pleasantries. Gates could return at any moment.” Wednesday put on her bravest face. “I’ll be fine. I am capable of withstanding a lot of traumas, you know this. I've tested it.”

Thing moved towards the cave entrance, stopping to turn back to her, hesitance clear in his body (well… partial body) language. She narrowed her eyes. “Go. Before you get yourself killed. Again.” And he did.

In the cave's darkness, where the moonlight had dimmed and Wednesday found herself encased in darkness, she merely hoped she wasn't bluffing when she told Thing she could handle what was in store. Or at the very least, could do so long enough to get Laurel Gates caught, regardless of her own fate.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s eyes snapped open, consciousness returning through the sound of footsteps approaching her prison. She had fallen into an uncomfortable rest in an attempt to conserve energy. She, like wolves and other predatory animals, had trained herself to awaken on command at the first signs of danger. A skill that took months to perfect, relying purely on her subconscious to determine when something, or someone, warranted her immediate consciousness.

Laurel Gates was back. She waltzed into the cave with an infuriating confidence. Hanging off her shoulders was a large backpack. In her hands, a chain. Along with another, newer set of cuffs. Wonderful. Laurel grinned at seeing Wednesday's guarded expression.

“Did you miss me?” The cheery voice was sickening. It was Wednesday's least favorite kind of evil. Why bother pretending to be nice when you're anything but? Sweetness was lost when the words were laced with poison. Wednesday looked her up and down, and then spit on her shoes. Laurel’s eye twitched. The woman took a deep breath, closing her eyes, then an unsettling calmness overtook her.

“Wednesday, that was very rude. I can tell our obedience lessons are going to come in handy. Have to iron out that nasty attitude if we’re going to be working together!”

“I'd rather rip off each of my nails with an eyelash curler than work with you,” Wednesday sneered.

“That can absolutely be arranged, my dear. I should make a list. You always have the most wonderful ideas!” Laurel approached Wednesday with the swagger of a woman who had nothing to lose. Which, in her case, was true. She attached the second pair of cuffs to Wednesday's already chained arms and took a step back, admiring her work.

“Isn't this a little overkill? Two pairs of handcuffs for one girl? Anyone who sees this will think you're scared.” Laurel sighed, but chuckled.

“See Wednesday, one can't be too careful when it comes to you freaks of nature, especially you. And as for prying eyes, nobody else will! All of this will forever be between you and me!” Wednesday shuddered at the look in Laurel's eyes. Like a cat playing with a bird, watching it flap around uselessly under its claws. Wednesday did not enjoy being the bird.

Laurel slid the backpack off of her shoulder and unzipped it, pulling out a small black cloth wrapped object. “I honestly had some hope that you would have escaped your bonds. It's not like you would've gotten very far, but the chase would be thrilling, don't you agree?” Wednesday did not.

“I’ve already been dangling here for hours. Is this the torment you promised? If so, it is lackluster, and I’d recommend considering a new career path. Perhaps in comedy?” Wednesday snarked. Laurel ignored her. Which was not a good sign. Before, she would've been hit, or at least “chastised.” Something was happening.

Laurel held the cloth in front of her like a magician about to reveal the trick to the audience. Perhaps that would be a better career choice. “I brought you a present! I think it's a true testament to our special relationship!” Wednesday narrowed her eyes at the package, and stiffened as Laurel approached once more.

“Get away from me, you hag,” Wednesday snarled. Laurel did not seem to mind. Wednesday was experienced with intimidation, and did not plan on letting this new persona of Laurel’s throw her off. She looked her dead in the eyes, challenging the elder to look away first. Instead, Laurel merely unwrapped the “gift”, never taking her eyes off of Wednesdays. She thought perhaps they had reached a standstill, until Wednesday felt it. Cool metal, uncomfortable prongs. Familiar ones.

Wednesday's eyes widened slightly and Laurel beamed, clicking the latch in place and holding up a small remote. “I hope our time together is… electrifying.” And pressed the large button in the center. The silver shock collar Laurel Gates forced upon Wednesday's neck came to life, and with it a charge that had her cringing, hair on her arms raising. Teeth clenched as she rode out the sensation. It wasn't a weak shock, either. As strong if not stronger than her machine at home, though she mostly used hers for non personal experiments.

Exhaling, Wednesday tried to shake her head, to see how loose the large metal ring was around her neck to see if there was, hopefully, a way to angle herself away from the points of contact. It was snug. And no doubt had its own lock. Great.

“Now you look like a proper dog!” Laurel cackled. “Though in this case, that collar is technically meant for subduing slightly larger beasts.” She pulled an empty box from within the backpack. “Contain Your Inner Wolf” was written on the front in large block letters. Wednesday knew what it was. Apparently, so did Laurel.

“You're sick.” Was all Wednesday said.

“Come on now, this should prove that I’m not alone in my thoughts about your types, Wednesday. Not everyone wants to embrace the strange, and lycanthropy containment aids are a common household item for any family who is rightfully trying to escape from their… unfortunate DNA! I will say they made these for sturdier people, what with werewolves and their resilience!” She twirled the remote in her hand, gently tracing the button with a finger.

“I’ll have to be careful about what setting I put it on.” Wednesday knew Laurel was on a suicide mission. Negotiations would go nowhere. The entire thing was aggravating. Wednesday felt helpless, vulnerable. She didn't like it. So she did what she did best.

“I’m not a child. Put it on the highest setting. I love a good shoc-” Wednesday taunted before another pulsing wave of electricity had her coughing, the taste of iron filling her mouth. She had bitten her tongue.

“You'll speak when told to.” Laurel's voice held a calm malice, and she smiled with sadistic satisfaction. “I would hate for you to bite your tongue again.” Wednesday spit the blood out onto Laurel's coat.

“Fuck you.” Laurel pressed the button again. Worth it. Even if Wednesday's breathing was labored and her body felt twice as numb.

“As fun as this is, I’m afraid we’ve got places to be!” Laurel approached, holding the chain from before. Wednesday noted with growing discomfort that it split off into two sections near the end. One was hooked onto the new cuffs, the other, to Wednesday's great displeasure, linked to a hook on the back of her new neck accessory. “I had to improvise. Hope you don't mind!”

Laurel took out the keyring from before and unlatched Wednesday from the wall. Her arms felt like lead as they dropped from the hook like stones, and she fell to the ground with a hiss. She could feel ash and gravel underneath her. She no doubt scraped her knees with the rough landing. That's what dangling by her wrists for multiple hours (twice) would do to a person. Even an Addams.

Laurel yanked on the chain, and Wednesday was lifted upwards slightly. “Get up.” She said, and Wednesday tried. But the cold and the electricity and the overall wrongness of the entire thing had her stumbling like a lamb. Vulnerable. And embarrassing. Eventually she found her footing, but Laurel didn't give her time to center herself before she was walking out of the cave.

The chain went taught. Wednesday fell again. Laurel walked back over, disappointed. “I thought you were supposed to be tough. Unshakable,” she mocked, then slowly pressed a heeled boot into Wednesday's ankle, pushing it into the ground. Wednesday gasped. Pain radiated from the injury, but Wednesday refused to satisfy the woman with a sound. “Get. UP. This day’s been a disappointment for the both of us and I want to get to the good part.”

Somehow, Wednesday found the strength in herself to do so. She knew that leaving for a secondary location was a bad move, but Wednesday, as much as she talked about it, wasn't ready to die. And although she didn't expect Laurel to kill her for her disobedience, she would make it much harder to escape. She needed time to plan, and the physical condition to make it out. And even if she wanted nothing more than to take the chain she was being dragged by and wrap it around Laurel’s neck until she turned blue, Wednesday knew things would only get worse if she tried.

So she walked.

She breathed, she planned, and she walked.

Chapter Text

“Shit, shit, SHIT!” Xavier was going to lose his mind if he had to sit in this stupid tent for another second! After they had regrouped and started answering the routine “quick questions'' Galpin had promised, he realized he wasn't going to get out of this anytime soon. He had already been there for over an hour.

He could've lied, told the officer something completely unrelated, but with the unspoken threat of his “police car break out” looming over his head, he didn't have the guts. When the officer was done with the initial questions, an exchange that ended up taking almost two entire hours of foot tapping and, in his opinion, unnecessary paperwork, Xavier moved to Eugene and Bianca.

The two were watching a nervous-looking Enid from a few paces away. She seemed to be mid conversation with another officer.

“So, what’d they ask you guys?”

“I mostly got questioned about my decision to re-enter campus with a particularly venomous species of wasp, and my encounter with Bianca soon after. They let me go pretty quick once they realized I never actually saw Crackstone and Wednesday go at it.”

“Bianca?”

The siren eyed him. “Eager for the juicy details, are we, Thorpe?”

“Oh, so I'm ‘Thorpe’ now? Thanks for the information. You're a real pal.”

“Cool your jets romeo. They asked me a lot of questions about the fight with Crackstone. The sword, his staff, and the moment I saved Wednesday's life. You're welcome, by the way.”

“Oh, buzz off,” Xavier retorted. Bianca rolled her eyes.

“Good One,” Eugene added. Bianca glared at him.

“Listen, genius,” Bianca bristled, pointedly ignoring the hard stare Xavier was giving her. “I know as much as you do, if not less, about what happened with your new muse and that musty pilgrim. I told the officer as much. I recalled what I saw, and she sent me away.”

“Well, what's the holdup with Enid? She’s still not done yet, either?”

“No, Eugene and I have been standing here for almost twenty minutes. My guess is it has something to do with why she’s covered in blood. Blood that doesn't appear to be hers, considering she’s still standing.” Bianca was right. Although Enid had some pretty nasty cuts forming, there was no way that was all hers. Xavier knew exactly what it was.

“She fought the hyde.”

“She did what?”

“I mean, Galpin’s kid. Tyler? He’s the hyde. I haven't seen him around, and he wasn't with Crackstone or Mrs. Thornhill, so…”

“Damn, Enid kicks ass.” Bianca observed. Although she was a talkative, over enthusiastic extrovert, Xavier had seen some spark in her during the Poe Cup. Especially when she was willing to claw his (and by extension Ajax’s) boat in the name of victory, a feeling Xavier and Bianca could definitely relate to. “Apparently engaging in lengthy close combat with the sheriff's son turned raging homicidal monster takes a little longer than a witness statement.”

Xavier groaned in agreement. They had already been here getting their own interrogations done for an agonizingly long time, and Enid still had who knew how long to go. His fears only worsened when Galpin approached the other officer and had them escort Enid into the tent Xavier had just left. She turned to the group with a nervous expression before following the officer inside.

Galpin soon followed, and the officer who had originally been speaking to Enid left a few moments later, returning to the mass of nervous Nevermore students.

What ensued was another incredibly painful hour of waiting. Officers had come up and asked if they had all contacted their parents, to which they all replied “yes”. That was a lie, of course. Eugene was the only one who had actually done so. In fact, halfway through the wait for Enid to re-emerge, Eugene stepped away to call his moms. Xavier didn't blame him. Being recently released from the hospital only to end up involved in another crime would not be easy for them to hear.

He and Bianca, however? Couldn't give a damn about telling anyone, even if they had someone to call. It was something they had been pretty open about back when they were… Xavier didn't have the time or focus to dwell on that. He needed to plan. He stared off into the woods, wondering where on earth Wednesday had been taken to.

There were a lot of places that came to mind, unfortunately. The Gates Mansion, for one. The now revealed Laurel Gates probably had a few secrets in her childhood home. As he stared, trying to calm his nerves, he noticed a familiar someone sneaking towards the police tent. He stood up quickly.

“Holy- Thing!! Hey!” Bianca also stood up, startled. Thing paused and turned to him.

“What the hell are you talking about?! What are you looking at-” Xavier grabbed her and turned her towards the ground. Thing waved. Bianca screamed.

“OH MY GOD. What is that????” Thing crawled over to them. Bianca stepped back a step. Thing stopped moving and gave her a thumbs up. “Why are you not surprised, Xavier?” He watched as she looked from Thing to him, then back to Thing. A wave of understanding overtook her features. “It's a Wednesday thing, isn't it?”

“You could not be more on the nose, Bianca.” Xavier stood next to Thing, lowering his arm in introduction. “This is Wednesday's family member, Thing. He's uh… well, you can see-”

“A hand. He’s a hand.” Bianca studied Thing with cautious curiosity. “Can he…”

Xavier walked back over and whispered into her ear. “You know you can just ask him. He can see and hear and talk, in his own way. Not sure how, but I've stopped asking. He never answers seriously.”

“Okay well, Thing, it's nice to meet you… why are you here?” Thing gestured towards the tent with urgency and moved. Xavier followed. Bianca, unsure what else to do, also followed. They felt bad leaving Eugene, but he was still on the phone and from the bits they caught, things were getting private anyway. As Thing approached the backside of the hastily constructed tent, he motioned for the two to pause. Then he slipped under the tarp inside.

From outside the tent, Xavier heard a loud “HOLY SHIT! JESUS CHRIST-” and the sound of a thump and a folding chair collapsing. Followed quickly by a relieved “Thing!” From Enid.

Xavier and Bianca crouched down and pressed their ears to the tent, to see if they could hear the conversation happening inside.

“What are they saying-”

“SHHH”

“Thing oh my god, you're okay!” They heard Enid say. “I saw you wander off earlier, and almost went after you but, you're your own man so I thought it would be smarter for me to-”

“I'm sorry, I have to interrupt this creepy ass reunion and ask a clarifying question. What, or who, is that?” Xavier imagined Thing was gesturing obscenely to the sheriff.

“Oh. Sheriff Galpin, this is Thing! Wednesday's relative.”

“Of fuckin course he is, why not? What’s next, a toe?”

“Sheriff! That is quite rude. Thing and I take offense to that statement. Now listen, I know you're in the middle of a, frankly, long interrogation of me, but he probably needs to talk to me, right, Thing?”

Xavier could hear Galpin let out an exhausted sigh before, presumably, picking up the chair that had fallen to the ground with him. But then he heard Enid let out a sound of surprise.

“You want to talk to him? The sheriff? Alone? I mean, if you say so… We are DEFINITELY talking afterwards though, okay? No wandering off! You had me worried sick. I can't handle one of my favorite people missing, much less two!!”

Xavier felt for Enid. She’d been through the wringer tonight. Even if she had more spunk than he had previously thought, that didn't mean she wasn't overwhelmed. Sheriff Galpin spoke up.

“Alright, here's what I’m gonna do. You get out of here and get cleaned off. I’m sorry we didn't let you do that sooner. This whole situation is quite complicated. I hope you can understand. So I’ll get the rest of your statements tomorrow, and talk with this surprise guest for a moment. Alone.”

Xavier heard Enid protest, before eventually he heard a tent flap lift and saw a disappointed and apprehensive looking Enid walk out and scan the crowd for them. Xavier waved and beckoned her over behind the tent.

“It's going to be difficult to eavesdrop on a conversation when one of them doesn't talk, isn't it?” Enid whispered.

“At least we’ll get one side of the story.” Bianca replied. Xavier nodded. Even just the responses from Galpin could shed some light on whatever had Thing so on edge. They heard Galpin speak.

“So can I get you a pencil or…”

+ + +

GALPINS POV:

“So, can I get you a pencil or…” The hand, Thing, shrugged or, at least… that's what it looked like. He put a pencil and paper down on the table and the man (was that the right term? Man? Hand? Creature?) began writing. He wrote two things on the scratch paper. “Map” and “Calendar”. Galpin shrugged and pulled out his local trail map. Most officers carried one in case a call had them out in the woods.

He hoped it would satisfy. It covered a fairly large amount of the area, including Nevermore’s campus. Galpin wasn’t sure exactly what Thing was doing, but when a disembodied hand wants to speak to you privately, you listen.

Thing circled a spot on the map, and tapped it aggressively before waiting, staring at the sheriff, if a hand could. “What? How am I- oh the calendar!” The hand thumped the table. He pulled out his phone and opened the calendar app. This was the best he could do. Thing approached and tapped the “Wednesday” and then the spot on the map.

Realization dawned on him. Thing knew where Addams was. Or knew where she was last time he had seen her. It was a better place to start than nowhere, which was what they were going off of currently. He unclipped his radio, addressing his squad.

“All units, I have an updated search radius regarding the missing Nevermore student. Off of Route 13 towards Brush Rock, about 1800 paces. Extend a five-mile search centering on that point. I want noses on the ground people. This is a confirmed kidnapping, so monitor you and your partners. Contact me immediately with any meaningful updates.”

He looked back down at Thing, who was pacing on the makeshift desk nervously. “Hey uh, I don't know exactly what your whole deal is with the Addams kid, nor am I her biggest fan, but if I know one thing, it’s that she knows how to take care of herself. Maybe a little too well. She sent you here, right?”

Thing nodded, and Galpin hummed in approval. “It was a smart move, I hate to say it, but you wouldn't exactly be much help any other way. No doubt this Mrs. Thornhill or, Laurel, as I’ve been told, has ways to deal with the weirdness of Nevermore. You might be hard to spot, but if she caught you? You’d be done for.”

Thing seemed to acknowledge that point and stilled his pacing. Galpin understood the feeling. He got the vibe that Thing was a caretaker of sorts. A babysitter for the trouble making kid. He was probably worried sick, and it definitely took a lot of trust for him to leave her behind.

“Wanna ride with me? I could use someone who knows their way around the mind of Wednesday Addams. If we’re going to find her, we need to know about Laurel Gates. And something tells me you've been part of Wednesday's personal investigation long enough to be an asset in that regard.” Thing responded with a yes, then held up a finger for Galpin to wait.

“You’ve got ten minutes to do what you gotta do before I’m out of here. If you want to join me? Meet me at my truck.” Thing left the tent. Galpin ran a hand down his face. All of this fucked bullshit kept popping up, and he still hadn't had the chance to talk to his son.

On the other side of the tent, Enid, Xavier and Bianca were preparing to run for it.

+ + +

BACK TO XAVIER'S POV:

“You heard Galpin over the radio. I know where that is. There's this cave, the one Eugene got… you know. According to Thing, that's where Wednesday is! We have to move it, now! Before anyone comes trying to ask us any more questions.”

“Agreed. Lets-” Bianca began, before being interrupted by a quiet but eager Enid.

“Thing! Get over here!!” The girl bent down and lifted him up, hugging him for a moment before he began signing to her rapidly. Enid’s face fell. Xavier knew that wasn't a good sign.

“What, what is it?”

“Thing says… Thing says that Wednesday is planning her own escape.” Xavier had expected that. She wasn't the type to sit around and take things. She wasn't the type to be saved, as he'd learned.

“Yeah, that's Wednesday. So?”

“She’s planning her own escape, because she thinks we're not coming.”

… What?

Chapter Text

Laurel, to Wednesday’s relief, didn’t seem to be interested in chatting during their hike through the woods. It gave her time to think. Thing had hopefully made it back to campus by now to alert Sheriff Galpin, which meant that backup should be on the way, if she needed it.

Her hand stung, but she played it off well. She actually had to thank Laurel at the end of all this for slashing her palm again. Wednesday was not currently in the state to do so herself, considering her bonds, so having Laurel create this opportunity was a blessing in disguise, one Wednesday intended to keep secret.

From the moment they had left the cave, Wednesday had dug her nails into her palm, right where the jagged cut was attempting to close. She hid the ensuing wince, and focused on occasionally unclenching her fist, allowing drops of scarlet to soak the ground as they went. She just hoped the weather was on her side and that the night would stay clear until she escaped, or was found.

Her goal? The dogs. She knew Galpin had at least one trained police dog, and hopefully her trail would lead them straight to Laurel, regardless if she was still with the crazy woman or not.

Wednesday knew Laurel's goal was to intimidate her. The over the top shock collar proved that well enough. If Wednesday were in Laurel's shoes, she would've gone for a more traditional route. Sure, a taser was a fine starting point, but if fear was her goal, there were much better ways to incite it.

Aside from her hidden trail, Wednesday also kept track of any large or memorable natural formations, in case they came in handy. A large gnarled tree, the broken remains of a campfire, even oddly out-of-place bushes. She committed them all to memory.

Laurel was a fool for bringing her blindfolded to the cave, only to leave her eyes free for the second leg of the journey. Even in the darkness, her surroundings were crystal. And now she knew where she was going, and how to get back. Truly a foolish villain.

Eventually, Wednesday heard the telltale signs of water. Odd, they were not headed towards Lake Jericho (and the crypt) as far as she could tell. Bringing her to the island where their only exit was by boat would be a risky choice. Wednesday wouldn't be able to escape as easily, but neither would Laurel. Pros and cons. Plus, the lake would've been north of here, whereas they were headed south.

But moments later, Wednesday saw it. A much smaller body of water. Laurel stopped walking, and Wednesday nearly crashed into her, distracted by the new surroundings.

“Welcome to Lake Joseph. Our little getaway spot. Cute isn't it?”

“This is a lake? It's barely a pond,” Wednesday mused. Laurel, thankfully, didn't shock her again. To be completely honest, the weight around her neck had already become familiar. Wednesday didn't know how she felt about that. What she did know is that she had to get better at holding her tongue.

In her defense, Laurel Gates made it too easy for her. Wednesday turned to look at the woman, whose eyes were elsewhere. Wednesday would have taken the chance to strike her down, if she wasn't acutely aware of Laurel's hand clenched around the remote. She was looking across the water, where Wednesday noticed a dark cabin stood.

She hadn't seen it at first, but the moon had appeared from behind the clouds and illuminated the eerie building. Laurel tugged on the chain and walked around the pond (she refused to call it a lake) towards the home.

“My father would take us here as children. He had this cabin built, and we’d take a short drive from our mansion up here all the time in the summer.”

‘Aww how sad for you’, Wednesday wanted to say. She thought better of it.

“Mother would bring her knitting supplies and she'd watch from the dock as we’d splash about, looking for frogs to catch.”

'You're a frog. Actually, a toad.'

“That all changed in one year. Kids from Nevermore came and vandalized the cabin. Threatened us. Father didn't want us coming up anymore. He said it wasn't safe. He promised it wouldn't be forever. We believed him.”

‘Your father was a rat and so are you.’

“That was before Garrett became obsessed with your mother. I was too young to be of much help. We were relying on him to end Nevermore. To keep us safe. You know how that went, don't you Wednesday?”

“I know that he ultimately got himself killed with the very poison you used to murder Principal Weems,” That she couldn't resist voicing out loud. She had barely had time to think about her death and what it meant for Nevermore, but she wouldn't let it be in vain. Laurel grabbed Wednesday's wrist and pulled her close.

“Your FREAK parents killed my brother. He would still be here if it weren't for them,” Wednesday tried not to laugh. Laurel’s brother was an obsessive stalker who got himself killed because he couldn't handle the word no. He was weak. Laurel dropped her wrist, and Wednesday felt grateful that the woman hadn't noticed the blood still dripping down her arm.

“He failed to rid this town of that hell school and died in the process. For that, I’ll admit, he was a failure. I will not make the same mistake.”

“Oh boy, do I finally get to hear the grand plan?”

They were approaching the doors to the rundown vacation house, Wednesday noting a car parked under what remained of the covered driveway.

“You do, Wednesday! All in good time. For now, I’m proud to have you as the first, and last, outcast guest this cabin has ever hosted!” Laurel opened the doors with a click and dragged Wednesday inside behind her. “Unfortunately, it's in disrepair, but luckily for us, my father was a survivalist. Let me show you to your room.”

Laurel walked her towards another door that opened onto a dark staircase. A basement then. As they descended, she noticed how the grime slowly receded and thick concrete replaced wainscotting and other wall decor. Laurel flicked a switch near the last step, and a small bulb flicked to life overhead.

“Emergency generators, non perishables, plumbing. He was fully prepared for us to live down here in case of an emergency. I've just reorganized a bit.”

Reorganizing was one way of putting it. The basement room had become some kind of laboratory. A large table held all sorts of medical equipment, beakers, test tubes, and an assortment of scalpels. A red heat lamp illuminated an assortment of plants underneath it, many of which Wednesday recognized as poisonous.

So, the ex teacher didn’t keep all her eggs in one basket. Curious. “Welcome to my office! Make yourself at home.” Laurel guided her over to a corner that contained a chair with arm/leg restraints, and another lovely wall hook. Just as she thought she had escaped being strung up. It was an uncomfortable position to be in and she really hoped she wouldn't have to adjust for the third time in twenty-four hours.

To her surprise, Wednesday was attached to the wall hook, but with room. The chain Laurel had been escorting her with locked onto the loop, and allowed Wednesday to fully sit on the floor should she want to. A kindness that only made her all the more suspicious.

“You might think the Gates family has failed to end Nevermore Wednesday, but you're wrong. I’ll have to speed up my original process, but within the next forty-eight hours or so, I should have a beautiful new and improved beast to set upon Jericho.” Laurel turned from the table, and held up a vial. “I’ve been keeping this for a special occasion. I almost gave it to Tyler, but he was a means to an end. I think you'll make a much better subject.”

Wednesday eyed the vial. The liquid inside was black. How fitting.

“Once I unlock your hyde, this will act as my final signature. A personal concoction, with months of research behind it.”

“What is it, poison? Because you should know I’ve developed immunities to many kinds of-”

“Nonsense Wednesday, a poison made by me would most certainly kill you. I don't want that! At least not until you've finished your task, anyway. I suppose you could consider it a hallucinogenic steroid of sorts.” Laurel circled the basement, swirling the vial in her hands. “I noticed that with Tyler, he maintained enough control to spare you when on his hunts. Protect you, even.”

Wednesday eyed the bottle with a new sense of unease.

“Not only does this drug cause you to hallucinate every movement as a threat, it also stimulates the sympathetic nervous system. It makes the user ignorant of the state of their body.”

“Allowing them to fight until they die of exhaustion.” Wednesday realized.

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner!! And what is her prize? The honor of being its first ever human subject.”

“Oh, joy.”

Laurel put the vial into a stand and unzipped her backpack once again. This time, revealing medical gauze and varying sizes of needles and syringes. Some were filled with liquids, others empty. She placed them on the table next to the scalpels. “I'm going to need you to sit in that chair for me. We can either do this the easy way, or the hard way.” She said, waggling the remote in one hand.

Wednesday, not wanting to cause a stir yet, did as she was told. She sat down. If it was also because her legs were killing her, she'd never admit it. Laurel smiled. “If you could be a dear and remove the blazer?” Wednesday did, as much as she could considering the handcuffs. It was covered in blood, anyway. She lifted it over her head, the jacket falling into her lap, still attached to her forearms. All removing it did was make her realize how much blood she had truly lost before Goody had come to her rescue.

The entire bottom half of her sweater vest and undershirt were crimson. It was amazing how much blood was inside a person, and how quickly it could escape. Laurel approached the chair and strapped her arms in. “Just to be safe,” she winked. Wednesday stared at her. Perfectly still. The woman grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped the right sleeve of her shirt off in a smooth circular motion.

Laurel slipped on a pair of gloves before exchanging the fabric scissors for a scalpel. “Blood samples, and not for any ritual purposes this time, I assure you.”

“You shouldn't need a scalpel for- '' Wednesday hissed as Laurel nicked her now exposed upper arm with the blade. “For drawing blood,” she finished.

“Whoops wrong spot!” Laurel crooned. Wednesday didn't believe her. “Try not to distract me this time.” She just tried to manage her breathing as Laurel went in with the knife again, slightly to the left of the original incision. This time, Wednesday knew it had hit a vein. She just breathed.

“Saves me the trouble of having to guess where the vein is. Now I can just see it.” A syringe was inserted into the wound, which, as Wednesday glanced at her arm, was much larger than it needed to be.

“I'm no medical professional, but isn't there an easier way to do this? Like a catheter?” Wednesday offered.

“Easier? Sure. But is it nearly as fun? No.” Laurel pulled the end and Wednesday watched the tube fill before the action was repeated a few more times. The sensation was uncomfortable. Three needles of her blood sat on the desk. Laurel stared at the two cuts on Wednesday's deltoid. She had no idea what the woman was thinking. Suddenly she perked up.

“Oh, you know what? It's almost like a smiley face. And I know someone who could use more smiles!” Laurel grabbed the scalpel again and before Wednesday could get a word in, Laurel was slowly carving a curved line underneath the two cuts.

“There! Now at least something about you has a little joy!”

“That was unnecessary. I am absolutely brimming with happiness, can’t you tell?” Laurel ignored her and bandaged the wound. Tightly.

“Can't have you bleeding out on me! At least not until you've fulfilled your purpose.” Laurel turned her eyes towards Wednesday hands, which were currently clenched on the ends of the armrests. One of which was leaking red onto the floor. “Now, what on earth happened here?” She twisted the palm up in the air and peered at the reopened wound.

“Hmm… I had hoped this would have stopped bleeding by now. Did you reopen it during the sample collection?”

“Yes.” Wednesday lied. Laurel wrapped the hand up, too. Wednesday, let out an internal sigh of relief. Laurel walked over to her equipment and deposited the blood into different vials and bottles. The entire thing looked extremely unorganized. Wednesday's lab at home at least had standards.

While Laurel was making herself busy, a plan was brewing In Wednesday’s mind. Forty-eight hours until she became a monster. That meant she had forty-seven hours to escape. And if she didn't escape the cabin in that timeframe? She had a failsafe.

One hour of forty-eight, to kill herself, if all else failed.

Chapter Text

Bianca Barclay was pissed. The Nevermore campus was closed overnight as investigations were “ongoing”, which left her at a loss for what to do. She knew Jericho was offering emergency housing until tomorrow, with promises that the campus would be open come tomorrow night, but Bianca had no idea how long it would actually be before the dorms were accessible.

The real issue in that was Wednesday. She was who knew where, and they had no idea how long she had left. Mrs. Thornhill didn't take her for ransom. It was personal. The only reason they knew she was still alive was because of Thing. If the group went with the rest of Nevermore back to Jericho, they’d be screwed. Bianca knew how to drive, but didn't exactly own a car. And the walk from Jericho to the Nevermore campus and its surrounding grounds was too long.

They needed somewhere to sleep, somewhere close by. The solution, surprisingly, came from Enid.

+ + +

Moments before, Enid’s POV:

The night was getting worse and worse. Thing had told her the unimaginable. Wednesday didn't think Enid was looking for her. How could she possibly think that? Enid had fought off Tyler! She had finally wolfed out and did so to protect her friend. She thought Wednesday felt the same but, maybe it was all in her head.

Thing tried to comfort her with a reassuring touch and offered new insight into Wednesday's current state of mind. She looked at him with growing understanding. “She thinks I’m still mad at her, doesn't she?” Thing nodded. “That's stupid. I said stuff I regret when I left our dorm, but I came back! Why would she…” Thing signed again.

“I didn't help her because of some stupid prophecy. I didn't even help her because of the school. I helped her because she's my friend!” Enid couldn't wrap her head around it. According to Thing, Wednesday thought now that the prophecy was fulfilled, and the school remained standing, she was no longer useful and therefore not worth caring about? Stupid.

But stupid in a Wednesday way. She didn't get people and certainly didn't understand friendship. The more Enid thought on it, the more she realized how was not that wild of a conclusion to reach when you've got the mind of Wednesday Addams. Obsessive and overthinking. Choosing logic over feeling. Enid would just have to prove her wrong.

+ + +

Moments Before, Xavier’s POV:

Xavier wanted to throw something. His drawing hand twitched, and he drummed his fingers on the ground, cursing himself. Wednesday was, once again, trying to do everything herself. The worst part was, Xavier might never get to say sorry. Wednesday had a one track mind once she thought she knew what to do and as a result? They had locked him up. Like an animal.

He was right to be upset. She used him as a means to an end. She set him up based on pure speculation and had been wrong! What he shouldn't have done was say what he did. There were ways for him to tell her she fucked up without telling her to leave entirely. That they would've been better off without her.

Then she got shot in the shoulder with an arrow from his bow, in his place. She saved his life, and he listened when she told him to leave and help other students escape. He shouldn't have. If he had been there, maybe he could've-

There was no point in getting lost in what-ifs. What mattered was Wednesday. He would not let their last real conversation be one where he left her feeling like he didn't care. Because that was far from the truth. He had to make this right. To show her he did care, that he would look for her. Find her. Because if they didn't make it, he’d… He didn't want to think about it.

+ + +

Back to the Present, Bianca's POV:

“So, are we camping in the woods tonight or something?” Xavier said. Bianca sighed, looking at the shock blankets the officers had given the three of them.

“Honestly, as much as I could use a hot shower after all of this? Probably. Jericho is way too far from Nevermore, and we need to get on campus as soon as possible to look for clues. It’ll be rough, but maybe we can-”

“Ohhh no. I am NOT sleeping in the woods.” Bianca turned to look at Enid, who had her hands on her hips. For what Bianca said about needing a shower, Enid needed it much more.

“Then what do you suggest we do? Campus is closed. Dorms too. We don't exactly have a way inside without getting spotted.”

“That's where you're wrong!” Enid grinned. Xavier glanced at Bianca, who was just as confused. “I’ll have you know that I’ve done my fair share of sneaking out since becoming friends with Wednesday. And that includes sneaking back in.” She turned to Thing. “I know you have to go with sheriff Galpin in a minute here, but can you get the latch for me?” Thing nodded.

Enid leaned in close. “We have to play it cool, okay? Follow my lead.” She walked towards Eugene, who seemed to be done with his phone call. Bianca followed, Xavier doing the same. They approached and Enid leaned in and after a minute, Eugene nodded. She looked at the three of them, then pointed in a direction to the right of the main gates.

They moved. Slowly they crept along the iron fence of the Nevermore grounds, occasionally hearing the shuffling feet of police from the other side. Eventually, they stopped. Enid was holding Thing up high, where he grabbed onto some overgrowth and disappeared.

“What’s he doing?”

“Shh-” Enid whispered. “Just wait.”

They did. Moments later, Bianca heard a click. The section of the iron fence behind the ivy swung open, revealing a doorway. Thing gripping the latch, and hopping off into Enid’s waiting hands.

“You have to go now, right?” Thing turned back towards the camp where Galpin was waiting. “It's okay. I’ll see you soon though, yeah? I’ll make a bet with you. I bet we save Wednesday first. You in?” Bianca felt a little awkward watching the exchange. Enid gave Thing a fist bump, then he disappeared into the dark. It was just the four of them now.

“You are full of surprises today, Enid.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Bianca.” Enid peeked her head through the open fence and quickly slipped inside, ushering them after her. “Now. Follow me. We’re right near the laundry room.” Enid took off again, quietly moving through the grounds. The dark was a blessing for all of them. Concealed but able to see flashlights made avoiding the police fairly simple.

They reached another door, one that swung open with no resistance. “They keep it unlocked,” Enid said, walking inside. "Wednesday paid them to. For getting back in at night."

“Of course she did.”

“Now everyone, grab a blanket and pillow. It's not much, but it's better than being outside sleeping on pinecones and leaves.” Bianca joined Enid at the stack of folded bedding and grabbed her share. Normally, she preferred at least two pillows, but comfort was a luxury they couldn't afford right now. Eugene and Xavier did the same, and Enid stepped right back outside.

“Enid? Where are you going? We got inside. Let's just head to one of the classrooms.”

“No, they'll be checking them all, I'm sure of it. Especially with Mrs. Thornhill being who she really is.” Enid beckoned them out the door, gently closing it behind her. “We need to go somewhere less obvious.” She turned to Bianca, who eyed her.

“What are you looking at me for?”

“We have to go the Nightshades library.”

Bianca sputtered, glancing to Eugene. “I don't know what you're-”

“Bianca. Who do I share a dorm room with? Who does Eugene share a club with? Wednesday has a whole crime board set up in there. I read it. He knows. I knew. What's the harm of one more person in on your secret?”

“I- Okay, I will not get into the many questions I have about that whole crime board sentence. The library is close, you're right, but it's right next to the quad. Well, under it. The area will be crawling with police; there's no way we can get down undetected.”

Eugene spoke up. “I might have an idea.” He looked at Bianca and winked, whose eyes widened in realization. She smirked.

“You've got brains, Otinger.”

“Anyone going to fill me in?” Xavier raised his hand.

“You’ll see.” Bianca nodded to Eugene, who was nervously awaiting a response from the rest of them. She lightly kicked his ankle, which had his focus snapping her direction. “Lead the way, beekeeper. You got this.” He nodded with added confidence and began leading them towards the quad.

Their pace slowed as feet found stone, making careful steps to minimize the clacking of their soles on the ground. Around them, they could hear the static of walkie talkies and shuffling feet. Eugene rounded a corner, then turned to Xavier. “Xavier, I need you to hold my stuff.”

“What? Why do I have to-”

“Just do it, Xavier,” Bianca hissed. Xavier looked at her incredulously, but did as he was told.

Eugene turned and walked a few paces down the hall before picking up a familiar buzzing box. “I feel a little bad doing this to police officers.”

+ + +

The swarm quickly filled the quad. Thousands of wasps circled the officers, an intimidating force that had the cops sprinting away, doors slamming behind them. Eugene kept the swarm moving as Bianca and Xavier led them to the Poe statue.

She approached, dropping her stolen bedding and snapping twice, eyeing the courtyard while the staircase appeared. Xavier nodded his head to the entrance and Enid took a hesitant step inside, letting out a quiet “Eep” at the cobweb lined stairwell. Bianca claimed it was for ambiance, but in reality, the group had been trying to divide the chore list for months, with no luck.

She approached Eugene, who was focused on controlling his hive. “Eugene. We’re good. You can stop now.”

“Oh, great! That was making me tired.” He said as he lowered his arms. The swarm slowed, the collection of insects trickling towards the box Eugene had placed on one of the covered outdoor benches. He walked over to the staircase, looking down into the depths. “Cool.”

“Yeah, it is pretty cool.” Bianca went to grab her bedding, and Eugene picked up the blanket. “Might as well help you carry your stuff inside in exchange for the hospitality.” Bianca chuckled.

“You'll be changing your tune soon. It's not exactly five stars down there.” They walked down the staircase and Bianca heard the statue move back into place behind them. She could see the glow of candles from below. No doubt Xavier had tried making the space livable.

They reached the bottom, where Enid was looking around at the many bookshelves and portraits now that she finally had the time to. Eugene let out a soft “whoa” and started doing the same. While the two looked around, Bianca approached Xavier.

“You know, it's unofficial, and definitely against the proper Nightshade way… but-”

“I was thinking the same thing.” It looked like the Nightshades were getting two last-minute members.

“Okay guys, enough looking around. Let's get some rest.” Bianca said, setting up her place on the floor near Enid’s. Speaking of the werewolf… “Hey, Enid?”

“Hmm?”

“The fourth book on that shelf behind you, bottom row. Pull it.” Enid did. The book unlatched, revealing the hidden drawer. Inside were sets of pajamas and mixology supplies.

“What is this stuff?” Enid said, sniffing at the drink shaker.

“For slumber parties. We have had them down here before, but usually with better preparation.” Xavier shrugged.

“It's not perfect, but you can change into those for now.” Enid looked at her blood-soaked clothing.

“Yes, please!” She said before grabbing a set of pajamas. Bianca spun around to the two boys. “You two. Eyes closed. Now.” Xavier and Eugene looked at eachother, confused.

“Do it or I’ll make you,” she glared at them. The two boys immediately closed their eyes. She turned to Enid. “I’ll watch them. Get changed.”

Enid smiled gratefully. In a few minutes, she was all ready to go, mostly. Her face still looked like shit, but at least she seemed much more comfortable. Bianca let Xavier and Eugene open their eyes, and she blew out the candles Xavier had lit, leaving them in darkness.

“Get some rest, guys. Tomorrow we’ll get up bright and early to rescue an idiot.” There was quiet, apprehensive laughter as they all settled in to sleep.

Whether their valiant rescue would prove true, was another story entirely.

Chapter Text

Wednesday noticed herself growing tired again. Her moment of rest in the cave had done little to quell the growing exhaustion, and she found that despite the circumstances, it was getting harder to keep her eyes open. She didn't want to fall asleep like this. Not here. Perhaps it was the steadily increasing amount of blood exiting her body.

Laurel was leaving her alone, focused on measuring different amounts of liquids, powders, and plant matter, creating whatever chemical concoctions she had planned. Wednesday sat there, watching her. Every few minutes she would write something down in a small notebook, her face carefully neutral. She had likely noticed Wednesday's curious eyes.

In her defense, what else was there to do? She couldn't escape from the cuffs without the key. That much was obvious. They were similar to the ones in the cave, in that a lock picking attempt would be pointless with what she had on her, and it wasn't like Laurel was striking up friendly conversation. So she just sat there.

The wound on her shoulder throbbed underneath the bandages, an unwelcome ache. She needed absolute clarity. She needed to plan, and was finding it increasingly difficult with all the external and internal stimuli. What was more upsetting was that for the time she had been sitting there after getting her “blood drawn”, Laurel hadn't even bothered to unstrap her from the chair. So not only was she bound by handcuffs but also by leather straps binding her arms to the rests.

Her blazer rested uncomfortably in her lap, and she fidgeted, trying to get her arms adjusted. Trying to get anything adjusted. The overall sensory experience was lackluster. The chair itself was stiff, unforgiving wood, and did not provide natural comfort (though Wednesday doubted that was Laurel’s intention), and the bandage on her shoulder was far too tight.

“I don't mean to interrupt your riveting chemistry work,” Wednesday finally spoke. “But considering that, according to your words, I’m going to be here for a while…Do I get any more alone time? Having to look at you is making me less intelligent by the second.” Laurel stopped what she was working on, turned to her and glared.

Pain radiated through the collar. Wednesday had expected it, but found the pain not as numbing as last time. Had she lowered it? Or was Wednesday just becoming more accustomed to the sensation? “I’ll consider it, but only if you say please. Like a good girl.” Laurel smiled.

Wednesday scoffed. “I find the idea of being pleasant to you much more excruciating than the collar, actually.” An eye twitch. Good. She wanted the woman mad. An idea was forming, and she needed it to work.

“I will not take this kind of attitude, young lady! I expect respect and I WILL get it from you one way or another!” Wednesday was imagining smoke coming out of Laurel's ears, like in the old cartoons Pugsley insisted on watching.

“Is that going to be before or after I become a monster? Can you even call that respect if I’m not in my right mind? There's obviously a power imbalance here, so if respect is what you're after, leveling the playing field would be a great place to start,” Wednesday prodded, waggling her cuffed hands still attached to the chair in a mocking gesture.

Laurel bristled and yanked Wednesday's chin up towards her. “You just don't know when to quit, do you, Addams?”

“I’ve been told that my competitive spirit is one of my only socially acceptable qualities. I’d prefer you find something else about me to critique,” Wednesday replied smoothly, holding eye contact.

Laurel looked into her eyes, and Wednesday tried to maintain a bored expression. “You? Are exhausting,” Laurel sighed, letting Wednesday's head go. Wednesday had a bittersweet taste in her mouth at the words.

“Funny. You're the second member of ex Nevermore faculty to say that to me. Except the other is only considered ex faculty because you murdered her. With poison, remember?” She spat.

Another eye twitch, a push of a button. Pain. “Larissa Weems was an optimistic fool. That just made it easier for me to enter Nevermore and get her out of the way.” Laurel looked away, reminiscing about the events of the last twenty-four hours. “Don’t feel too bad about that, Wednesday. She was always going to die by my hands. You just set the stage a little earlier than we had been expecting. Thanks for that~,”

Wednesday stiffened, momentarily grateful for the uniform covering her shaking hands. It was just because of the electricity. Only the electricity. Being the unintentional conveyor of her principal's death was just another reason it was better for her to work alone. Another reason she hoped Enid wasn't looking for her.

Galpin, at the very least, signed up for his job. Where Thing was likely to make a rescue attempt regardless of her intentions, a fact which Wednesday had accepted as soon as she found him for the first time on campus. The two were required to look for her through different circumstances. It was a little funny.

Part of the reason she had sent Thing away to fetch Galpin in the first place was because of the man's by-the-book way of doing things. She hoped it would slow them down. Wednesday was going to get out of here, and to do so, she needed to join her captor’s state of mind. Nothing left to lose. Even if she was finding the odds stacked against her as the minutes passed.

Despite that, she pressed on. “I can outdo anyone. Every breath I make against your will only fuels me to keep going. If Principal Weems couldn't handle it, even until the moment she died? There’s no way you can.”

Laurel’s hands were fists. Good. It was working. She continued. “Your pathetic ‘flame of revenge’ doesn't hold a candle to her fire. You’ll never succeed with this stupid plan and you know it.”

Laurel stood up, marching over to her once again. Eyes alight with rage. The world slowed as Wednesday braced for her second slap of the night, turning her face to the side as she watched the few threads on Laurel’s self-control snap. She clenched her jaw, a hand flying towards her cheek from her peripheral.

She never felt it make contact. As her head turned with the impending sting, Wednesday was somewhere else entirely. The whiplash, nonexistent. The room, nonexistent. She was standing in the woods again. It was early in the morning, she could tell by the sun rising overhead.

She heard a noise nearby, the crunching of leaves and distant voices. She walked towards the sound. Who was it? The sheriff? Was help on its way? Normally, these signs of the future only ended when she had seen what she needed to, but she couldn't be sure. She had to make the most of this.

Especially because every vision she’d seen since arriving at Nevermore was a bad one. She quickened her pace, the sound of muffled talking getting louder.

Fuzzy figures were walking ahead of her, one in the front leading them onwards, their head facing the earth. Curious. She thought she recognized them, but she couldn't see them clearly. She squinted her eyes and tried to approach, but quickly realized that no matter how far she walked, they stayed the same distance away. All she could do was watch.

The one leading lifted their head up, suddenly alert. Wednesday looked around to see what might have caused the action. She almost missed it, but there was a shadow behind the trees nearby. The leader turned to address the rest of the group, their back to it. Wednesday called out in alarm, trying to alert them. They didn't hear her, of course. Typical.

Within seconds, the person was on the ground, fighting off vicious unwavering attacks from a much clearer figure who had leapt from the shadows brandishing a blade.

They were smaller, clothes tattered, loose black hair slick with sweat and blood. More of it dripped down their arms onto a knife gripped tightly in one hand, knuckles white. They lifted the knife into the air and struck towards the chest of the other.

The figure beneath struggled to hold off the attack, the rest of the group coming to their senses to assist against the onslaught. Wednesday moved, trying to get a better look. She still couldn't see the group in a clear light. Only the killer. A twig snapped under her feet.

The knife wielder turned towards her. Could they hear her? See her? Their eyes met. The light of the still rising sun glinted off of a heavy silver collar strapped to their neck. Wednesday stumbled backwards.

It was her.

…

She woke up.

Chapter Text

Wednesday's eyes shot open. She was still strapped in, head now leaning against the chair back. She eyed the room as she tried to regain her senses, and slowly lifted her head, wincing. She must've slammed it into the wood at some point, not to mention her cheek stung from the slap that initiated the vision. Then she noticed her.

Laurel was sitting in another chair across from her a few paces away, watching her intently. Wednesday didn't say a word. She barely breathed.

“What was that?” Laurel spoke. Wednesday had to come up with a lie, quickly.

“You must have slapped me so hard that I fell unconscious,” a reasonable enough excuse.

“No. I know what you look like unconscious, remember? This was different. Your eyes were open,” Laurel didn't move, watching Wednesday like she would disappear if the woman so much as blinked.

“I don't have the slightest idea what you're-” Pain. That certainly got her awake.

“No more lies, Wednesday.” Laurel twiddled the remote in her hands. “What. Did. You. Do?”

“I’m telling you, it was nothing-” More pain. Laurel remained seated. Patient.

“Bullshit.” She said, and Wednesday felt her skin crawl. Laurel stood, walking over to the table that now contained a lot more vials and test tubes than before. Wednesday had no way of knowing how much time had passed since the vision, so far they varied in length. Laurel silently and methodically put on a pair of gloves. She grabbed a small square package and ripped it open.

Wednesday recognized it. A sterilizing wipe, usually used when preparing a patient for an injection, like a vaccine. Laurel walked back over to the chair Wednesday was in and ripped the bandage covering the scalpel wounds in a smooth motion, once again exposing her upper arm and shoulder to the chill of the basement air.

She wiped the area down, and Wednesday felt her increase the pressure whenever she passed over the wounds. They stung. Laurel, still wordlessly, went back to her table and delicately danced her hands along the rims of the many vials.

“I already know what it was, Wednesday. This was your opportunity to be honest with me.” Laurel’s hand stopped on one tube and she traced the edge, before grabbing a syringe and filling the barrel to the brim with the liquid it contained.

“Principal Weems was always worried about you.” Laurel held the syringe in one hand and sat back down in the opposite chair. “She and I had many talks about you, usually over coffee. She told me about your visions shortly after she realized you were having them.”

Wednesday looked from Laurel to the syringe, then back. “That feels like a violation of privacy.”

“Well, you didn't give her much of a choice! She was at her wit's end dealing with you. She needed someone to confide in.”

“Oh what, and you were the perfect choice?”

“I made myself the ONLY choice.” Laurel smiled. “She came to me about everything when it came to you. Your late night escapades, your inability to follow instructions, how you challenged her every word. I mean, I was practically the only thing keeping you enrolled.” Laurel laughed.

“I mean it! I had to hide my stress every time she mentioned phoning your parents in for disciplinary action. I needed you in Jericho, after all.” Wednesday's mind was racing. She thought she had a leg up, when in reality her investigation could barely be called a scavenger hunt. Laurel was a much smarter woman than Wednesday thought. That scared her slightly.

“Well, we all know how that story ended. She’s gone, you’re here with me, and everything’s coming up Laurel.” She walked over, aiming the needle towards Wednesday's arm, slightly below the healing wounds.

“Wait!” Wednesday jolted, causing Laurel to pull her arm back. “What is that?”

“Oh this? You don’t want it to be a surprise? Pity.” Laurel used her free hand to grip Wednesday's shoulder, holding her in place as she leveled the needle again. “It's another personal project, though this one has a different use. It's a fun little cocktail of all of my favorite poisonous flora. The best side effects and symptoms, rolled up into one beautiful little bottle.”

Wednesday felt the needle meet skin, felt the cool sting of metal before the uncomfortable feeling of a foreign substance entering her bloodstream. Laurel stepped back, the syringe completely empty.

“I already told you, I’ve built up resistances to most poisons.”

“Then I’ll just have to take careful notes and adjust for next time! It should take effect in about ten minutes, but buckle up because the ride lasts for at least three hours on average.”

“What is the point of this? Fun?”

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn't fun, but that's not its main purpose, no. I’ve been wondering… from what Weems told me, you don't seem to have any control over your visions.” She sat back in the chair across from Wednesday and crossed her legs, a pen and notebook in her hands.

“I want to change that. Can you imagine? A beast with pre AND retrocognition? An unfeeling, unstoppable monster! This was always my plan. I had to think of alternative subjects at the start, considering I knew Crackstone would want you dead. I had a few people in mind, like your friend Xavier? His dad's a famous psychic, after all.” Wednesday glared.

“But everything changed when I saw you confront Crackstone in the quad. A dead girl walking. Wounds mysteriously healed. Already unfeeling to an arrow in the shoulder.” Wednesday's arm was getting hot. It throbbed and she could feel the pain traveling towards her hand. “I was a little worried the serums wouldn't work on you, purely because I couldn't tell if you could truly feel pain at all.”

Wednesday's skin burned and itched. She flexed her hands, trying to distract from the growing discomfort, from the overwhelming feeling of dread forcing its way into her brain. How her vision was blurring.

“Obviously, both of us know that's not true. You can feel pain, like every other human being does, and it makes it so much fun to watch you try to keep it inside. I, for one, can’t wait for the moment that ironclad resolve breaks. When you finally become… pliable.”

Wednesday sucked in a ragged breath, her mind screaming that she wasn't getting enough oxygen. That she needed to exhale, but at the same time, that breathing was poison. That she was burning and freezing and nothing and everything.

“This is the first test. I’m wondering if overstimulation can trigger your ability. I kind of hope it doesn't, because that means the rest of my beauties will get to show off!” Laurel carefully approached, cupping Wednesday's cheek and lifting her head up towards her, making a sickeningly soft stare. Like pity.

The touch felt like thorns and Wednesday hissed at the contact. Laurel just smiled sadly at her, tapped her cheek, and let go, watching her head fall. Wednesday no longer had the strength to lift it. She could only stare at Laurel’s hands as her vision faded in and out.

As her world became nothing but herself and a storm of pain. As Laurel Gates brought a familiar remote up to her eyes…

And clicked.

Chapter Text

Donovan Galpin was a mess. He had been checking his phone for the last few hours, hoping for an update on his son. Tyler was troubled. He knew that. He had hoped that the therapy sessions would have worked through some of that trauma. Donovan knew he needed a shrink too, as much as he denied it.

That denial would probably change after tonight. After learning with certainty that his boy was the monster. The one directly responsible for countless deaths, and whose hands were still involved in many other acts of violence. He wanted to be a grieving father. But right now he was a sheriff, and there was a kid missing.

He tapped his pen against the desk in the makeshift base camp right outside Nevermore’s campus, trying to focus on the now. The tent flap opened, and he looked down at Thing, who made his way over to the desk. “You still freak me out a bit, just so you know.”

Thing shrugged in his own way and motioned towards the car. “Wrapped up everything you needed to?” Thing nodded. "Well then, let's get a move on."

Donovan exited the tent and walked towards his car, before turning around and looking at Thing, who was running across the grass to catch up. “Where does Wednesday usually… do you need a lift or somethin?” Thing paused and gestured towards Donovan’s shoulder.

“Sure, why the hell not?” Donovan bent down and Thing climbed up his arm. Weird. They set off towards the car, passing the Nevermore students and offering a nod as he did so. Poor kids. He may not view the school in high regard, but he acknowledged that there were some biases he needed to get over. They were still children.

He also pretended not to notice how he couldn't see the werewolf and her friends. Maybe Wednesday's Scooby Gang was larger than he initially assumed. He couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

They made it to the car, and he opened the passenger door. Thing hopped down to take a seat.

“I should reprimand you for not wearing your seatbelt, sir.” He had hoped it read as a joke, but Thing dutifully clipped the seatbelt into the buckle anyway, not that it did much of anything. “Alrighty then.”

Donovan walked around to the driver's side, sat down, readjusted his mirrors, and started the engine. “I know approximately where we’re headed. The spot you marked on the map is a little off of this road up here,” he gestured to a paper map on the center console. “We’ll get out and make our way there. I've got officers patrolling the woods nearby, but I’ve told em to steer clear of any suspicious activity.”

He put the car in drive and headed down the long road from Nevermore towards the woods. Driving at this time of night (well, early morning it was well past midnight now) normally felt peaceful, but tonight it just unsettled him. He wanted to be at home sleeping. He wanted to talk to Tyler.

Life had other plans. “So, Wednesday must be a difficult one to handle, hm?” He said, eyes ahead. A minute passed before he started chuckling. “I sorta forgot you can't exactly speak. Not the best road trip buddy for the driver, unfortunately. I’ll get ya up to speed on what I know, and you can fill me in on your piece once we get to the site. We can save the small talk for later.”

Donovan was thankful the drive wasn't too bad. Thing was a comfortable, albeit unique presence in his vehicle, but he found that knowing he was there calmed his nerves a little. They approached the spot Thing had indicated on the map and Donovan pulled off the road onto the shoulder, and eventually found a spot to park that wasn't too close to the street.

Technically, there wasn't anywhere to park legally, but people were people and there were spots of flattened earth all along the stretch of woods for would-be off roaders and spontaneous “nature walks”. He stepped out of the car, and went to open the side door for Thing, but found him already out and waiting.

“Pretty dexterous then, I guess? I mean, I suppose you don't have much of a choice in the matter.”

Thing gestured into the woods impatiently.

“Right right. Alright, hop on,” Donovan said, extending his arm. Thing climbed up and made himself comfortable..

“Tap my shoulder once for left, twice for right. Got it? I will not be turning on my flashlight just yet, in case we get them by surprise.” With Thing providing directions, they made quick progress, and within the hour, they were approaching a familiar stretch of the woods.

Donovan recognized the area. It was where Wednesday and Mrs. Thornhill (Laurel) found Eugene, though Donovan had since realized who it was that set the boy up to get mauled in the first place. Mauled by Tyler. The thought made his stomach roll, something that he had hoped he’d gotten over with his years in the force.

Evidently, things were different when he knew it had been his child who’d done it. He didn't know who he needed to apologize to more, the families of the many victims, the victims themselves, or his son for not seeing where things went wrong. He didn't know all the details about how his son became the weapon for the presumed dead daughter of a prominent local figure, or how he’d even unlocked his abilities in the first place, but he guessed they weren't pretty.

Logically, Donovan knew it was not all his son’s fault. Grief made you do things, and his desire to protect his son from the truth had done more damage than he had ever expected. He had partial blame on all of this madness. He released Tyler from Wednesday's grasp not because he believed him to be truly innocent, but because he wanted to see his son as his little boy, not a monster. Not a killer.

And now that choice might get another person killed, one who did more to stop this tragedy than he had. If he didn't find Wednesday Addams alive, her death would weigh on him until the day he joined her. He wondered what his wife would think.

Lost in thought, he nearly passed a dark shape looming over his left side. Thing pressed on his shoulder firmly and he stopped.

“Sorry, got a little… preoccupied.”

Thing hopped down his arm onto the forest floor and immediately went to inspect the entrance to the curved and twisted looking cave, not sparing him a word. Donovan approached, peering inside. No signs of light or movements, but one could never be too sure. It smelled of ash and gasoline. He pulled his fingers back from the rock and brushed black powder onto his jeans.

He hadn't gone to this area himself, too preoccupied with poor Eugene. They had controlled the blaze before any damage happened to the surrounding area, thankfully, but whatever Wednesday claimed to have found inside was burnt. He had seen a few pictures.

“This is where you found her?” He said quietly while leaning into the dark. Thing nodded and ventured off inside. Donovan stood up, taking in the small space, and sighed. “My back is gonna kill me after this.” He crouched into the dirt, preparing to follow Thing inside.

After a rough squeeze inside the rocks, he found himself in a pitch-black tunnel. He could hear Thing moving ahead of him, but the cavern was eerily quiet otherwise. After waiting a moment more, he turned his flashlight on, unclipping the holster at his side though hopefully it wouldn't be necessary.

He quickly found Thing, who was facing the end of the cavern. This he had seen photos of. Charred bone and ash covered the floor and walls, and Donovan immediately noticed fresh footprints in the dirt. Two sets. Entering and exiting. He also noticed the chains nailed onto the rock. Large scratches lined the surrounding walls. The implications now…

He needed to focus. There was a kid out there. He looked downwards at Thing, who was flicking pebbles into the wall, making sharp tapping noises that echoed through the passage. He was covered in the black soot.

Donovan could tell that he was angry. It wasn't like he had a face, but his body (hand) language spoke for itself. “Hey, don't stress. You’ve given us a lead. If she hadn't sent you to us, we would've lost a lot of time checking places we had no reason to.”

Thing seemed to accept that and turned to exit. Donovan almost followed, eager to get out of the space and the unspoken truth of what it meant, before something caught his eye. A flash of red amongst the blackened earth. “No shit…” He focused his light on the floor as he slowly left, watching for any dark spots on the rock. Thing was watching him intently.

There were more. Every few paces in a line heading out of the cave into the forest beyond. He laughed. Somehow, this felt entirely expected from the young sleuth. It was probably as natural as breathing to her. He had to admit; she was resourceful in the face of danger. “Thing, Wednesday Addams is one crazy kid.” Thing looked up at him.

“Something tells me we’re gonna need to grab Elvis.”

Chapter Text

Fire. She was on fire, she-… she couldn't move. Wednesday tried to focus her mind, focus on anything but the fire. She’d been burned before, but never like this. How wasn't she dead? She could feel the fire like it was her blood. Her skin. She could hear it. Her mind was static, her eyes screwed shut. She didn't want to open them.

Was this how the others felt? In the meetinghouse, when Goody escaped but everything else burned. Why was she still breathing? Surely the smoke should've killed her by now?

She gasped, though she couldn’t hear it, trying to take in oxygen. Ragged breaths in and out. She could breathe, but the burning didn't stop. Maybe she was already dead? Maybe Crackstone hadn't been lying? Was she in hell?

In all truthfulness, the afterlife was not a concept Wednesday took time thinking about, aside from the literal sense. The darkness that she hoped awaited after life. Although she found the concept of a hell to be intriguing, she never thought it would actually exist.

Surely if it did, this was it. Eternal fire. She tried to tell herself that she’d get used to it. Every pain, physical or mental, can become a normal part of life. She just had to be strong. She couldn't give in.

She heard distant laughter, like the voice was underwater. The fire roared, the pain flared. She felt something touch her forehead and, against her better judgment; she leaned into it. Whatever was touching her forehead was cool. It was water. It was a relief. It pulled away and she couldn't help the sound of distress that left her lips.

She just wanted it to stop.

The laughter started again. Wednesday tried to take control, tried to move through the fire. Become one with it. If nobody would stop the burning, she just needed to learn the burning. If she could learn it, she could handle it. That was how she handled everything.

Wednesday was not weak. Every challenge was just something new to be mastered, and she needed to become master of these flames. She twitched. She could feel her hands, just barely. She tried to follow the burning sensation to her fingertips. Focus.

It hurt. It burned. Breathe. She gasped. Not like that. Breathe. In and out. Steady and unwavering. Like ice. She needed to be like ice. Who needed water when one had ice? The flames roared, but Wednesday was a glacier. She was an iceberg. She breathed. In and out.

Time passed. She breathed. The laughter becoming nothing more than background noise to join the static already in her head. She pushed the flames to the back of her mind and realized she had to open her eyes. She wasn't dead. So where was she…?

She was…

Her eyes snapped open, her uneven breaths still leagues better than the wild struggle for air she had been battling before. The world around her was blurry. Definitely not dead. She could feel something… someone… watching her. Eyes appeared in front of her and she tried to move her head, finding that she still could not.

Wednesday might've been in control of her mind, but her body was still a fire that burned around her. She breathed. The eyes watched her carefully. She could hear a muffled voice, but couldn't catch the words.

Her breathing continued to steady, time passing as she laid there just… breathing. Breathing and keeping the fire at bay. At her fingertips. Like a candle.

Eventually, her mind cleared. The fire died. Wednesday was alert. Disoriented and unsettled, but alert. She had let her fear control her mind. Let it spiral. She couldn't let it happen again. She needed to be a fortress. She needed to keep her out. Who out?

Her. Laurel. Memories flooded her brain, and she shivered, suddenly cold. The fire had left and Wednesday remained, shaking and willing her body to calm. Laurel would not win. She refused. The woman would eventually become just another nightmare, a creature of her dreams.

“Wow, a whole hour earlier than expected! Looks like you weren't lying when you mentioned those resistances, hm? I’ll just have to adjust accordingly for next time.” Wednesday could hear Laurel from nearby. She needed to regain her strength, so she simply sat there.

She didn't want a next time. She wanted to leave. She wanted her friends. She wanted Thing. She wanted her brother. Her father. Her mother. Solitude was her paradise, but she realized with her growing helplessness that solitude did not an ally make.

She was truly and awfully alone. A sacrifice she originally thought was an easy choice. Regret inched its way into her thoughts.

“Well, any signs of improvement? Any visions in there?” Laurel walked up with her stupid little notebook. Wednesday glared, silent.

“Well, this isn't going to work, is it? I know I asked for silence, but I expect my questions to be answered.” Laurel waited for a reply. Wednesday did not give her one. “If you won't say, I’ll just assume we have to move on! This next one's extra fun. It does the exact opposite, in fact!”

Wednesday tried to sit up and turn away from the woman, but found that her body was still recovering from the first dose. Surely Laurel couldn't be thinking of subjecting her to something of that level again so soon?

“Okay.” Wednesday said quietly. Laurel perked up at the voice.

“Wonderful! Just a few questions for you, then.” Laurel scribbled her brief responses in the journal. The questions seemed normal for the situation. Things like ‘what did you feel’ or 'what was the pain on a scale from one to ten?' She lied when answering that particular question. Laurel would never get the satisfaction of knowing for sure that she caused Wednesday any pain.

She would deny it with her dying breath if she had to. Laurel finished writing down her responses and set the notebook aside. “Alright! Now that those are done with…” and she pulled out another syringe.

“But you said-”

“I said I had questions. I never said the next dose was a punishment for not answering. You're just being helpful, which I appreciate.”

Laurel approached again. Wednesday was frantically trying to think of a way out. A way to stop whatever was coming. The helplessness was all-consuming, and she hated it. She was angry.

“This one isn't quite as startling, I’ve found. Have you ever experienced sensory deprivation? I thought since we started with stimulation to no results, what about the opposite?” Wednesday calmed slightly at that.

She was one to lie in silence, to bathe in it. Surely this would be a secret relief she could cling to. A moment to herself. With nobody around to interrupt.

“Hopefully it’ll be fun!” Laurel smiled, sanitized her arm again, and plunged the needle into her shoulder. The inky blackness was welcoming.

Chapter Text

Enid was the one who woke up first. She usually was, the one exception to that rule being Wednesday. Despite Enid’s canine genes making her sleep cycle irregular, the other girl was always awake first. Enid had never figured out how.

She was well rested, and felt extremely guilty about it. Who knew what Wednesday was going through right now? She picked at her nails with her fingers, a nervous habit she'd developed with the increased pressure from her parents to wolf out.

Apparently it hadn't gone away despite the sudden transformation yesterday. Wednesday saw her like that, and Enid had no idea how to feel about it. She hadn't even had time to reflect on what it meant, and what it was like to bite and claw at someone for real.

Would she have killed him if she had to? She could taste iron in her mouth just thinking about it. Better to not then, at least not until Wednesday was safe. After that, she’d likely be subjected to hundreds of questions from her about the process of transforming for the first time, likely questions she wouldn't even have answers to.

Despite that, Enid looked forward to seeing her safe and sound. She’d much rather be questioned by Wednesday than by her mother. She hadn't even called her. She wondered if the police had. If they had told her mother about her transformation before she had the chance to.

Enid decided she was okay with that. It was something she’d spent years worrying about. Months of self doubt and anxiety, pressure from all sides, the unspoken threat of removal from her family if she failed. She had spent so long learning to accept that possibility that she had no idea how to feel, knowing she was “safe” with them.

That she had ever felt unsafe was a whole different ballpark of nerves and uncomfortable conversations. For now, what she could do was save her best friend.

She sat up, looking at Bianca asleep nearby. Then at the others. They all looked tired. She almost debated on leaving them to sleep while she prepared, but knew they'd get frustrated with her if she didn't rouse them now. She started with Bianca, tapping her gently on the shoulder.

“Hey, good morning, er, I think?” She whispered. Bianca opened her eyes and groaned, sitting up.

“Fuck, it's cold down here.”

“Yeah, how do you guys even have regular sleepovers down here? Definitely rating this a zero out of ten.”

Bianca snorted as she stretched. “We usually used camping lanterns. Unfortunately, the library is old, so... no outlets. Not exactly a five star stay.”

Their hushed conversation had Xavier and Eugene moving, as they too joined in the sleepy eyed stretching. Enid checked her phone for the time, noting its depressing amount of battery. Now she knew why Bianca mentioned the outlets.

“Well, it's morning, technically.” Enid said. “Almost sunrise.”

“Great, so that was what? 5 hours of sleep?” Xavier mumbled.

“Better than zero!” Eugene noted, which got a nod from Bianca.

“Definitely better than zero.”

“Well, everyone get up because we have one more pit stop before we begin operation rescue Wednesday.” Enid stood, offering Bianca a hand to get up as well. She took it and sighed, arching her back.

Xavier and Eugene followed moments later. Eugene sniffed his clothes and wrinkled his nose. “We’re definitely stopping by that laundry room again after all of this.”

“Agreed.” Xavier sighed, re-tying his hair.

Enid led the group back out of the library, stopping to have Bianca help her do the mechanism for the door. They peeked outside quietly, and although it was still dark, they could see the sun rising in the distance.

The quad was thankfully way less crowded, and Enid quickly ushered everyone out, the statue creaking back into place behind them. Enid turned to Bianca. “We have to get to Ophelia hall.”

“What, why?”

“If we’re rescuing Wednesday, I’m sure she won't mind us borrowing some of her stuff.” Enid said plainly. Bianca smirked.

“A chance to see Eeyore’s bedroom? Sure, I’m game.”

“Great!!” Enid took off, the others following behind. She knew all the quickest ways around campus, and that came from her mastery of the social world, not from Wednesday’s evening habits. They made a much better pace with fewer police around, and as soon as they left the main campus where the battle took place, it was almost deserted.

Ophelia Hall, however, was locked.

“Don't worry guys, I’ve got this.” Bianca turned to Enid. “Can I borrow a bobby pin?” Enid blinked.

“Uh… sure. You're lucky I still have some in!” She reached into her hair and pulled two out, handing them to the siren, who turned back towards the door.

Xavier let out a hum of understanding. “So this is how you got into the boys' dorm…”

“You were in the boys' dorm!?” Enid’s eyes darted from Xavier to Bianca.

“Yes, this was how I got in. All the locks to the dorm buildings use the same key. Pick it once you can pick it a thousand times.”

“I’m sorry Bianca, I thought you…”

“I know what you thought, Xavier.”

The boy nodded and shuffled his feet awkwardly. Bianca had the door open a minute later, and they slipped inside. “Okay, this way!” Enid started up the steps, skipping a few in her haste. “It’s my humble opinion that we have the best room on campus. I made sure to reserve it first! Requested it right when open registration began.”

They continued up more flights of stairs, approaching the top floor. “Of course, I had it alone until Wednesday showed up. It surprised me they hadn't given me another roommate before then.”

Enid waltzed over to the door, opened it, and held her hand out. “Welcome to my, well, Wednesday and I’s room!” The others filed in, glancing at the polar opposite spaces.

“She really is allergic to color.” Bianca smiled. “I’m sort of impressed. It’s like her half of the room just never got colored in.”

“I like your side, Enid! Cool collection.” Eugene pointed at the stuffed animals. Enid felt a little embarrassed, but pressed on. Unicorn collection be damned.

“While I appreciate the compliment, the supplies we need will not be coming from my half.” Enid walked over to Wednesday's side of the room, pulling a long flat box from under her bed. “I found her polishing these a few weeks ago.”

She lifted the lid, staring down at the assortment of knives and other weapons. Xavier approached.

“I feel a little bad looking at her stuff while she’s not here. Feels like an invasion of privacy.”

“What, like what she did with your art studio?” Enid quipped. “I know about that, by the way.”

Xavier chuckled, grabbing a decent sized blade. “Fair enough. I’m considering this,” he said, twirling the blade, "payback for that."

Bianca picked out a few throwing knives, before bending down and gently picking up one of two rapiers lying in the box. “These are really well crafted.”

“Wednesday told me they were her mothers.”

“I probably shouldn't take one then.”

“She also told me that her mother ‘forced them upon her as some sort of inconvenient family heirloom as if she’d ever touch something that was held in her mother’s venomous grip’ or something like that.” Enid definitely didn't notice how Wednesday took a little more care when cleaning them. Not at all.

Bianca tested the craftsmanship with a few practice stances. “Then I’m sure she won't mind if I use this.”

Enid didn't grab anything besides a small pocket knife. The camping kind. She was hoping to avoid having to stab anyone, but she also had her claws. Maybe also her transformation? She had no idea how to trigger it, if she even could.

Eugene grabbed a small sheathed hunting knife, tucking it in his pocket. If Enid tidied her face with a makeup wipe from her side of the room while everyone else admired their weapons of choice, nobody had to know. That was her bit of self love in all of this. She deserved to blink blood free, thank you.

After everyone had their chosen contraband, it was finally time to head out. If anyone noticed Enid’s face was slightly less bloody than before, nobody commented on it. Good.

“Bianca, you lead. Where was Laurel taking her when you last saw them?” Bianca nodded, heading towards the dorm room door.

“Towards the back of campus, by the quad. Follow me.”

+ + +

It was weird being in the quad with enough light to see the wreckage. Enid hadn’t actually been there during the showdown with Crackstone, and it felt ominous seeing all the dead grass, broken picnic tables and blood. Bianca, if she was at all disturbed, showed no signs of it as she walked right up to a spot under the arches.

“This was where she was, that bitch.” Bianca glared and looked into the doorway behind where she stood. “They went this way. But after that, I’m not sure. I’m almost positive they left campus, though. It wouldn't make much sense for her to stay here.”

Enid joined Bianca in the doorway. “That’s true. Anyone know any weird normie spots she might've gone to?” She turned to look at Xavier and Eugene.

After a moment, Xavier spoke. “It’s not a normie spot… but I might have an idea.”

“Do tell,” Bianca said.

“This is going to sound a little strange, but when the beast, Tyler, was active… I had dreams about him. Like, constantly.” Enid already knew about that, but didn't speak up. Wednesday was a secretive person, but only when she cared. At the time, Xavier was just another suspect, and Enid was someone she could forcibly bounce theories off of.

“In one of them, I had dreams about this cave, but-” Xavier turned to Eugene.

“I know.” Eugene nodded, standing up straight. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not scared. In fact, I think you're right. Going out this door towards the back of Nevermore would point us right toward it.”

“Am I missing something?” Bianca asked. Enid realized she probably hadn't been given all the details about Eugene’s injuries. Wednesday had been because she found him. Enid had because Wednesday told her. Xavier had because, well… he was accused of doing it.

“It’s the cave I was staking out on the night of the dance. The night when I... y’know. Wednesday was supposed to go with me.” Bianca’s eyes widened in realization.

“You realized it was Mrs. Thornhill. That's why Wednesday went missing after you woke up. She went after her. I guarantee it. Maybe that’s why Laurel has a vendetta against her? She stopped her plan somehow?”

“Exactly. Or that's my running theory.”

“Ahem.” The group turned to see a displeased officer looking their way. Enid’s eyes widened.

“Guys…” They all backed up towards the door slowly. “Run!!”

+ + +

They sprinted through the halls towards the direction Eugene said the cave was in. They could hear footsteps in the distance, the crackling of radios. They didn't stop. They reached a door that led outside and Enid ripped it open, the group not slowing as they barreled out into the early morning light once again.

They continued the mad dash for the woods, Enid seeing an open gate and directing them all towards it. She could hear shoes on grass coming from the left and didn't bother to look back as she ran towards the forest. She’d just have to hope they followed her.

After a minute of running, she finally slowed, turning around. Everyone was accounted for, even Eugene, who was breathing a little heavy.

“My specialties lie in the unathletic spectrum of skills.” He puffed.

“Well, unathletic or not, we’ll need you to take the lead, Eugene. I don't think the rest of us have been there, at least not in person.” Eugene nodded.

“Follow me. I feel way more confident now that the sun is coming out. Plus, I’m not alone this time!”

Enid smiled as Eugene began leading them towards the cave. They walked in relative silence, an occasional hushed conversation, a few jokes to lighten the mood. Enid was comfortable with them.

Bianca didn't intimidate her anymore, the siren’s hard exterior awfully similar to her roomies. Plus, she heard a lot about her from Yoko. Enid admired her independence, and that her snark matched Wednesday's. They were quite the pair in competition.

Xavier became more familiar once Wednesday came around, so she knew more about him despite barely talking to him before this. She knew him well enough from Wednesday's descriptions to know that he wasn't a bad guy. Wednesday was bad at lying about that.

Eugene had weirded her out at first. He was obviously into her when they first met, and although he wasn't forceful like a lot of guys were, he still hadn't left things alone. Another thing that changed with Wednesday. He suddenly stopped the gifts and excuses to talk to her, and seemed to act more like “himself” from her perspective.

All in all, Wednesday changed people. And they changed her in turn. Enid saw all of it.

And as they walked through the woods, Enid wondered to herself what exactly defined a pack. Because she was fairly certain she already had one.

Chapter Text

The silence, as it turned out, was not comfortable. It was deafening. Where normally deprivation provided calming psychological relief, this experience only stimulated Wednesday's brain in a negative way.

In preferred circumstances, she could still hear and feel if she needed to. Currently? She was captive in her own mind. Every sense felt distant and incomplete. It was like her brain was cutting the signals off too soon.

All she could do was think. And where her senses were numbed beyond any use, her mind was moving a mile a minute. Churning useless, uncontrollable, and most importantly, emotional thoughts to the front burner of her mental stovetop.

It had to be from the drug. There was no other explanation for why all she could think about within the darkness was if Enid was okay. Or how she wondered if Weems had any family who were finding out about her passing right now. If Tyler had been questioned and what was going to happen to him?

Whether Xavier hated her, if Eugene resented her, if Bianca even cared about her enough to tell anyone else she had been taken at all. The things Laurel had dangled to elicit an emotional response, one which Wednesday had, she thought, rationalized, evidently affected her more than she thought.

Before, she had seen a logical side to these thoughts. She saw logic in everything. It made sense, what Laurel had said, about them leaving her behind. And she understood why they’d all think that way. But what she didn't understand now was why she couldn't rationalize it on an emotional level.

She understood emotions in a hypothetical sense. She could connect different actions to different feelings based on prior experience. So why were these emotions so hard to categorize? Why was she feeling anything at all about any of them? Any of this?

She wanted to see them all again. Apologize, even. She was starting to fear she may never get to. Even if she had completed her purpose, fulfilled the prophetic drawing that haunted her sleep until now, she wanted more.

Wednesday wasn't cruel, as much as other people liked to claim. She was just honest. And observant. But self analysis on anything other than physical well-being was not her strong suit, and she was left drowning in mental confusion.

The silence brought nothing but doubts and weakness. Fear. Wednesday needed to figure out what this feeling was so she could stop it. It was unpleasant and, apparently, thought consuming. That would not do. Yes, it was definitely the drugs.

After a moment of contemplation, Wednesday realized. All signs, from her imagining worst-case scenarios (not understanding why they were considered bad by her psyche) to hypotheticals where she hadn't existed at all, pointed to one thing.

Anxiety. Was she feeling anxious? She didn't need any of them. She had her family. She had Thing. Her brother. Her uncle. Why was she worrying about what they thought of her? She told Laurel herself, she never did. In fact, she wanted the world to worry about what she thought of it.

So why was it she was so concerned with what these people were doing and feeling? She hated it. This turmoil was arguably worse than the fire. At least the fire was stilled through breathing exercises and mental control.

This she did not know how to treat. Because as much as she tried to convince herself to get over it, to control the gnawing questions and fear of unknowns that normally intrigued her, she found herself unable to stop the tidal wave.

So she sat there. Wondering. Replaying every conversation she could remember having and evaluating every word that left her lips, coming up with better words to say even though she couldn't go back and say them. Finding better ways to react, even though it didn't matter.

She did it anyway. For a really, really, really long time. Somehow, she knew Laurel was still laughing. Even though she couldn't hear it.

+ + +

Her vision came back first, and Wednesday did not like what she saw. She was, to her displeasure, still in the chair. Her arms were going to be sore after this, being pinned for so long. She tried not to think about it.

Laurel was focused on a beaker in front of her, slowly pouring a vial of what Wednesday recognized as blood (likely hers) into the mixture on the table. Her movements were careful, precise. Wednesday realized that this was likely a recent (if not first) attempt at a new experiment, judging by her slow and steady pace compared to the erratic behavior from before.

This time, Laurel was so focused she wasn't even aware Wednesday had regained her senses. She used this to her advantage. She took the opportunity to truly examine the room.

There were a series of medical (and nonmedical) knives set up on a smaller rollable cart next to Laurel’s station, and the backpack she had brought with her was propped against one of the table legs below her feet.

She could see no noticeable exits aside from the one at the top of the stairs in front of her, which meant that for Wednesday there was one way in, and one way out. There could be other secret entrances and exits in the room and the rest of the cabin, but none that Wednesday knew of or had time to look for should she get out of her cuffs.

She turned back to Laurel. The woman had finished adding the blood to the mystery substance and had opened a second vial, also filled with what appeared to be blood. Why on earth would she need that much?

Wednesday came up with an idea. Mostly for self satisfaction, but intermixed with the desire for a small act of revenge. Something to smile about, against the odds. She waited until Laurel had begun the delicate process of adding in the newest vial before suddenly speaking up.

“Quite an interesting potion you’re brewing there. Are you sure I’m the witch in this situation?” The sudden voice, as she had expected, caused Laurel to jolt in surprise, the vial in her hand splashing out onto the table. Wednesday smirked to herself. A small success was still a success.

“Very funny Wednesday.” Laurel frowned and wiped the mess with a cloth. “If you truly want to know, I received some unfortunate news about your genetic makeup that has me trying out a new theory!”

“And what might that be? Enlighten me.”

“Well, unfortunately, despite my rigorous testing, my serums likely cannot awaken any latent Hyde DNA in you. I looked at your blood in more detail, ran a few tests, and there's just not a Hyde far enough up your family tree for it to be viable!”

“Aw, a pity.” Wednesday noted that Laurel specifically mentioned there wasn't a Hyde in her family recently enough, not that there weren't signs of one at all. Curious.

“So I’ve come up with a new concept.” That did not bode well for Wednesday.

“I’m wondering if I can force any Hyde DNA that exists in yours to reveal itself with a little booster of sorts!” She held up the beaker with the blood and other liquids. “This is that question put to the test!”

“So you'll be putting my blood back inside my body? How kind of you to return it.”

“It's better than that Wednesday! When Tyler and I were working together, I needed to do a few tests on him as well! It was my first time taming a Hyde, you see. I will say he became more open to the idea much faster than you have, my dear.”

“Really? I would've never guessed.” Tyler was still a sore spot for her. Wednesday had been truly foolish to trust him so blindly, especially with her quick suspicion of Xavier when the two had behaved, looking back, quite similarly.

Laurel opened a drawer and lifted the contents to show her. “This is a small cooler that contains both Tyler’s blood pre and post Hyde transformation.” Wednesday eyed it.

Laurel opened it, removing a new vial of what Wednesday now knew was not her blood, but Tyler’s. “I’m wondering if I can force a change in you by injecting you with a mix of your blood and his Hyde blood. A medical trigger of sorts! Isn't that fascinating?”

“So, a chemically enhanced blood transfusion?”

“Exactly!”

Wednesday did not like the idea. “What will you do if I reject it? Surely Tyler and I don't share a blood type, and you’ll lose all your progress if it doesn't go well. Intentionally introducing the wrong blood type into mine could be life threatening.”

“Not for me! And it's a risk I’m willing to take, because here's the thing! And I find this extremely fascinating.” Laurel placed the box cooler into the drawer, setting the vial in a holder on the table, and pulled a sheet of paper off of a stack from nearby and walked over to Wednesday.

“When he shifts, Tyler’s blood type no longer becomes fully human. The typing switches completely. It’s like every cell in his body goes through an instantaneous evolution or mutation.” Wednesday said nothing, but would be lying if the information wasn't well received.

She and Laurel were worryingly alike, she realized. The woman had a method. So did she. They both seemed to care more about discovery and understanding rather than the pain the search for answers would bring. They both valued it over life. Over death.

The main difference was that Wednesday seemed to have some unintentional (she insisted) regrets. Laurel didn't seem capable of that. She was purely analytical, with no regard to the wellbeing of anyone around her. They were just tools in her kit. No different than a hammer to a nail.

Wednesday wasn't even sure this was about revenge anymore. The recent re-death of Crackstone didn't seem to be a factor in her plotting, merely the provocation for what followed. Perhaps it had started as justice in Laurel’s mind, a fight for some higher cause. Resentment that had boiled over from the traumatic events of her youth. But now? It had certainly devolved from that.

Devolved into unfiltered, unchecked madness. Wednesday was watching a person become truly unstable. The point of no return, long gone. It was as fascinating as it was unfortunate. She seemed to no longer consider consequence, as a child could not comprehend the unseen. That was why Laurel laughed in the face of her brutality. She found genuine joy in the act itself, in the method.

That was likely why it was easy for her to play teacher. It was a game, and she had won. She played her role perfectly. Set up the dominoes and watched them fall.

Wednesday squinted, trying to get a better view of the paper in Laurel’s hands that she was so proudly presenting, but it was put back on the table before she could read anything of note. “So your plan is to potentially trigger a severe immune response in my body? For the hope that instead of killing me, it causes the injected blood to form a Hyde that isn't there? Am I getting that right?”

“Close enough! You say the Hyde isn't there, however I hypothesize that it's possible to create one. Care to take a bet?” Laurel grinned.

“I think I’d rather you just kill me the normal way. Who knows, maybe you'll invent Zombie Hydes. It seems more plausible than whatever you're hoping comes from this.”

Laurel chuckled, swirling the beaker before setting it back on the table, placing a rubber stopper over the opening. “Maybe we’ll get the best of both worlds, and I’ll have the opportunity to try both!” Truly unstable.

Wednesday said nothing. She only contemplated, thankful for Laurel's mad science, even if it wasn't going to go over well for her. It provided yet another necessary distraction from her current mental quandary.

It seemed twisted that she preferred the anxiety of a potentially life ending unethical medical experiment over that of her peers' views of her, but at least one was easily handled with the acceptance of her death.

Laurel pulled out a book from the backpack on the floor and made herself comfortable in the opposite chair. “Unfortunately, we have to wait a little more. The mixture needs to settle. I’m more than willing to help persuade you to be quiet, but I’d prefer you be less beaten when you go out and cause some chaos on my behalf. That's the only reason your smart mouth hasn't been muzzled yet. Wouldn’t be very fun to send an already almost dead monster out into the world! What challenge would that be?”

Wednesday wasn't sure Laurel hadn't already accidentally achieved that. Her ankles throbbed, her head was killing her, and she felt shaky from the delightful little device around her neck. Not to mention she still had an arrow wound in her shoulder, one that continued to drip blood down her chest.

She wondered how much she’d actually lost since this started. Goody had saved her life back in the crypt. No doubt she wouldn't be here right now without her, but did that healing also refresh her blood supply, or merely close the flesh wounds?

Maybe that had more to do with her shakiness than the collar. She did look noticeably more pale than her usual ivory hue. Whatever the case, she was questioning her ability to get out of this. Laurel hadn't left her alone for even a moment, at least not while she was coherent.

That left Wednesday switching to Plan B:

Sabotage this experiment as much as possible, hoping Thing pulled through and a rescue was imminent, or the slightly less preferred option. Sabotage herself to make her a weaker opponent in the event that Laurel succeeded.

Chapter Text

Having to turn back for Elvis was an unfortunate, but necessary detour. Within minutes of the dog being on site, he had caught the trail and was guiding them into the woods.

Donovan wasn't sure how the dog would take to their temporary investigation partner, but Elvis paid little attention to Thing. They made quick progress, Elvis pulling on the lead, trying to get ahead. Normally, Donovan just let him off leash but with the recent events, he couldn't trust that there wouldn't be something weird.

Weirder than usual.

To pass the time, Donovan decided to make some quiet conversation. He lifted his arm up to his shoulder and gestured, Thing climbing onto his sleeve near his wrist. “Have to keep you in eyesight to have an actual conversation. Hope this isn't uncomfortable.”

Thing signed no, and the two began a hushed talk to pass the time, and maybe lift some spirits. Certainly couldn't hurt to try.

“Were you the one who put the bubblegum on the camera?” Donovan smirked. Thing hesitated, before answering with confirmation. “Makes a lot more sense how that girl has been able to meddle so much. I couldn't pin it on her because despite her tenacity I had no earthly idea how she could've climbed up there unseen.” He chuckled. “Now I have an explanation.”

Thing began signing, and Donovan whistled lowly. “She did that to her own brother? Maybe she could've done it by herself after all.” Thing laughed, or at least gestured to express it, and began telling another story.

They ended up exchanging small tidbits about their respective kids, and Donovan found it helped ease his own stress about Tyler. Remembering the days when he hadn't done what he’d done. What Donovan had let him do.

He talked about Tyler’s first time riding a bike and how their old dog Buddy (after Buddy Holly) had scared the poor kid senseless by running after the bicycle. Course the dog was playing, but poor Tyler didn't know that and took off like a rocket. Ended up scraping up his knees after he crashed into the curb.

Thing told a story of how Wednesday taught her younger brother, Pugsly (the name did not surprise him), to go fishing. Although their definition of fishing differed greatly from his. Apparently, it involved a lot of explosives, and a year's supply of fish the two were forced to eat or find some use for in return for decimating the local population.

Conversation aside, as they got further into the woods, Donovan stopped Elvis with a gentle tug. “We’re getting far enough in that I want to update the other officers in case we end up needin backup. Hopefully it won't come to that, but I can't be sure.” He pulled out his radio and clicked. Static.

“Anybody copy?” More static. He cursed, shaking the radio and slapping it in his palm. “Damn thing is older than I am. Let me try my phone.” He grew more uneasy as the phone screen lit up, revealing no bars. “Radio is our only option out here, apparently. Give me a moment to fidget with it.”

That moment did not yield fruit. No matter the setting, all that remained was static. It wasn't the result of bad luck. Donovan knew the police radios needed replacing, but they weren't this bad. Especially because they weren't all that far out into the woods and those things were meant to last during mountain rescues. Something was going on.

“I’m pretty sure that we’re getting close. Something is jamming the signal.” Thing signed in concern. “I'm not turning back and I doubt you want to, either. It just looks like we’re in this alone for now. My phone should've been giving my location until we lost service, so they'll at least know where we were headed.”

He tucked the radio back into its pocket. “They're smart, if for some reason I don't come back soon, they’ll know something is up. Now come on, let's keep moving.”

They did. The sun was cresting over the trees to the east as Elvis led the small team forwards. A silhouette appeared in the distance, definitely not a tree. “Wait a minute…” Donovan pulled out a pair of binoculars he kept strapped to his belt, Elvis slowing to watch him curiously. Sure enough, as he suspected, dead ahead was a cabin.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I should've known this is where she’d go.” Thing pinched his arm. “Ow! Sorry, you probably have no idea what we’re looking at.”

He pointed towards the cabin and the nearby stretch of woods. “That's one of the family's vacation homes. I had honestly forgotten that it was here. Lake Joseph closed for public access a long time ago, something about some dangerous algae or something. Nobody was allowed up there and the Gates family put up quite a fuss about it.”

He remembered that year. He was still an officer and was rarely in the station for much besides breaks and debriefs, but he remembered how often the Gates patriarch would huff and haw at Noble about the “injustice” and “dismissal of personal freedom” due to the lake's closure.

Noble had a good handle on the situation, but in his reminiscing, Donovan realized it was only a year or two after that when the police chief and Gates suddenly had a deeper relationship. One that resulted in Noble’s landslide election after the incident at Nevermore, no doubt.

He hadn't really noticed the oddities in the case at the time. He got promoted after all, but the recent light shed on the Gates family and their “solutions” to the perceived threat of Nevermore put everything in its place. Gomez was an innocent man, and Donovan had made assumptions rooted in blind faith towards the Gates family.

Noble was a good mayor, and raised a good boy, but Donovan certainly had his disagreements with the way the man handled the case now that he knew what he did. He wished they had been given the time to resolve those issues. Instead, he had to watch his old friend go into the ground.

It all made him realize he had been treating Wednesday like a criminal before she actually did any crimes (not that she wasn't now considered one by all definitions of the word. Although he didn't intend to report or arrest her for any of them), he’d have to talk with her properly once they got her home.

Which they would.

He tossed Elvis a treat who caught it in his mouth, and gave the dog a pat on the head. “Good boy.” He then looked at Thing, who was facing the house in the distance. “Hey partner, I’ve got an idea, but you're gonna have to stay calm and follow protocol. Alright?” Thing turned to him.

“I do not know what is waiting for us up there. That’s where Wednesday's trail led us, and if my hunch is right, that’s where we’ll find her. I could go in blind, but with Laurel being as unsteady as I’ve heard she’s become, it might be better for someone of a… smaller stature… to case the place. Don't you think?”

Thing nodded and hopped down from Donovan’s arm, Elvis sniffing him in mild curiosity. “Listen up. We approach it together. I’m going to be using the nearby trees and foliage to lie low while you find a way inside. I'm giving you a maximum of 15 minutes to see what you can see, then you come out. No heroic attempts that will get you discovered. In and out.”

They slowed their pace as they made a quiet approach up the slight incline towards the lake house. Donovan quickly found where he’d camp out until Thing returned, tightening his hold on Elvis.

Once he was safely behind the tree, he nodded to Thing, who took off towards the decrepit house. He felt useless standing outside, but he knew that his presence on the property before they knew what awaited them would only be an unnecessary risk. The structural integrity of the house was likely unstable at best, which lowered his ability to be stealthy in the slightest.

It was up to Thing now.

+ + +

Thing was a man of purpose. Despite his non-traditional appearance, and tendency to bend to the will of his charges (Wednesday being especially persuasive) he wasn't one to sit idly by and let the action unfold without his involvement.

Getting stabbed and nearly dying was certainly not on his horoscope, but nearly mortal wounds aside, he was more determined than ever to get Wednesday home safe. He had thought of himself as sacrificial in nature, doing whatever the Addams family willed him to, but quickly realized as he followed her around campus, that Wednesday fit that title more than he did. She was willing to gamble her life like it was already over.

That was why she needed him now more than ever. All of them. If she threatened to take off a few nails at the knowledge of his disobedience in informing Enid of the situation, so be it. He liked that girl. She was the necessary sunshine in Wednesday's life that got her to appreciate the rain she loved so much.

An overwhelming amount of either would certainly bore the pleasure of the weather. Change was unfamiliar and unappreciated by Wednesday, frankly only the men of the family found much joy in it at all most of the time. That's why it was necessary.

He was pleased to see how Wednesday had grown to not only defy life in all its crossroads, but to explore paths less trodden, the kind she might’ve avoided in the past. Especially in friendship. That’s why it alarmed him to learn that Wednesday doubted the care of her peers with such certainty.

And why, in response, he had to tell them. Wednesday wasn't emotionally driven. She avoided anything she didn't find some kind of comfort in, and delving into her mental processes certainly wasn't a safe space. When Enid explained to him how she’d called Wednesday out on this behavior the night they had snuck into the mansion (resulting in her temporary "roomie break up") Thing was actually glad for it.

He just hoped the two (and her other friends) would have time for a longer talk once all of this was finished. He’d make sure of it. He’d likely have to hold Gomez back to give Wednesday any privacy at all after this. He wondered if they had been informed yet.

The cabin was disgusting as he got closer, and Thing knew he’d want a soak in sanitizer once he had a moment of relaxation. He climbed the cracked, rotted, overgrown steps towards the front door. Obviously, he could not open it, but noticed a hanging swing under the covered deck area.

It took a little effort, but with a quick climb along a broken fencepost and a leap of faith onto the swing bench, he was climbing up the handrail towards one of the windows. Luckily, it was broken near the bottom, likely from disuse and vandalism.

Slipping inside, he carefully looked around for any sign of recent activity. Noticing footprints on the dusty floor, he hopped onto a coffee table below the windowsill with a soft thump, and quietly moved through the room, following the prints into a hallway.

Laurel had been here. The larger of the prints went into many rooms, pacing perhaps, where the smaller followed a steady path. He passed by a musty bathroom, hall closet, and kitchen as he followed the tracks, before finding himself in front of a door.

He could feel a cool breeze coming from the gap in the doorframe from his position on the floor, and knew it must lead downwards. Unfortunately, there was no way for him to reach the handle without making noise. He couldn't risk it. But he could report back to Galpin, who could.

If this was where Wednesday was being kept, it increased their odds of getting into the house undetected. He almost wanted to tell the sheriff to go back to where there was a signal and call in for backup, but that would lose precious time. Instead he just had to go out and hope the sheriff was light on his feet.

He turned to do so before hearing a crashing sound from below. He froze, scurrying behind the wall next to the door, blood pumping. He was unprepared. Should he run? See if he can make it outside before they see him? He balanced on his fingertips, palm flesh against the wall. He decided to risk it. He heard footsteps, hurried and labored, before the basement door swung open.

Wednesday, bloody and beaten with hazy eyes, flew out of the doorway and past him without sparing a glance. Thing doubted she even noticed he was there. That fact disturbed him more than the blood. She always noticed him, even when he tried to hide. He was so happy to see her that it overtook his concern at her condition. Wednesday however wasted no time in heading for the front door, flinging it open and pulling her way outside.

He, of course, ran after her.

+ + +

It hadn't been that long since Thing went inside the cabin. Donovan had to be patient. The longer he waited behind the tree, however, the more he wanted to say “fuck it” to his own rules and head inside the cabin himself.

He yawned despite the high-risk situation. Elvis curled at his feet. Maybe five minutes had passed. Maybe. He had ten more to go before he could make his move and assume Thing was compromised. He was a little worried about him. Maybe sending him in alone was the wrong move.

He went to check his phone for the time before Elvis suddenly sat up, head snapping towards the cabin. Donovan followed the dog's instincts and watched the house, phone forgotten. He couldn't hear anything, but Elvis didn't alert for no reason.

Within moments, the door to the cabin swung open. A disheveled and disoriented Wednesday Addams emerged, clutching the doorframe.

“Jesus christ, there she is!” He gasped, beginning a hasty approach towards the cabin from his place behind the tree, Thing momentarily forgotten. He couldn't see everything about her from this distance, but what he did made his stomach roll.

The tattered white blouse of the Nevermore uniform was crimson from shoulder to waist. The sleeve of one arm was torn clean off, a bandage covering much of the exposed skin. He watched as she gripped her head with one hand, looking around.

“Addams!” He shouted, increasing his pace. She turned towards him, relief flooding her eyes. Donovan felt guilt rising. She never looked more like a kid than just now. It was disturbing compared to her usual inconsiderate gaze. This one was cloudy and weak. She didn't appear to be fully coherent.

She made a few steps towards him before stopping and pulling desperately on her neck. Donovan cursed as he noticed what she was wrestling with. A large metal collar was locked around her neck. “What the fuck-”

Wednesday fell to her knees, panting. Donovan stopped his approach and pulled out his gun. Marilyn Thornhill…Laurel Gates…appeared behind her, a manic grin on her face. She lifted the younger to a standing position, orienting her to face him, hand clasped around her much smaller arms. Wednesday attempted to yank her hands away, but Donovan watched as Laurel tightened her grip in response.

He held the weapon steady, not making any sudden movements that could risk Wednesday's safety. It was then that Donovan saw Thing run out the front door, pausing at the sight of Laurel before crawling up Wednesday's leg in an attempt to reach where she was being held.

Donovan tried to pretend he didn't see the hand. He kept his eyes on Laurel. He could see relief retake Wednesday's expression as Thing tapped her ankle lightly to let her know he was there. He began to climb. Maybe this would work, they could-

Laurel spotted him.

To Donovan's horror, she kicked Thing off of Wednesday's leg onto the porch before stomping on him like a bug. Wednesday shouted for Thing on the deck and twisted against Laurel’s hold with sudden force. It didn't last long. The woman pressed something that had Wednesday thrashing again.

Donovan quickly realized what it was. It was a remote. Wednesday was wearing a shock collar. Christ.

Laurel ignored Thing, who sat motionless behind them, and turned to face him again. Donovan felt uneasy at the look in her eyes. Neither of them blinked. Donovan could barely breathe.

She didn't say a word, just leaned down to whisper something in Wednesday's ear while staring him dead on. That had the girl’s eyes widening, turning from Thing to him with fear. He shifted his gaze from Laurel to Wednesday's, trying to soften it in reassurance. Wednesday shook her head. She opened her mouth to say something to him before a shot rang out in the morning light.

Donovan saw it before he felt it. Laurel Gates holding a smoking pistol. When had she pulled that out? Must've been in a pocket. Wednesday yanked against Laurel again, though weaker this time.

It was at that moment that pain erupted from his left leg and he stumbled, falling to a knee on the forest floor. Ah. He hated being shot. Especially in the leg. Still, he didn't take his eyes off of the porch. Off of Wednesday.

She called out in alarm, while Laurel merrily kissed the gun before dropping it and reaching into a pocket again. From within, she revealed what Donovan thought to be a needle, full of an ominous black substance. Wednesday twisted and kicked at the woman’s legs in a last ditch attempt for freedom.

He raised his own gun to Laurel from his place on the ground and leveled his aim. She had dropped her gun. Laurel, however, simply pushed Wednesday in front of her. Donovan lowered his weapon. Fuck.

Hostage situations were difficult enough on their own, the added pressure of a now aching gunshot wound just made everything worse. He tried to stand up, wincing at the pressure on the wounded leg and grimacing.

“Think about what you're doing, Laurel! I know you want revenge, but this isn't right. You can stop all of this, just let her go!” He called out. He had to buy them time. For what, he wasn't sure. But that needle did not look like a good thing.

Laurel scowled and yanked Wednesday closer, the syringe inches from the kid’s shoulder. What was in there? What had Wednesday, who was normally cool in the most morbid circumstances, looking so panicked?

“I’m afraid I can't do that, Sheriff Galpin. This isn't about me anymore. I already know I’ve gone off the deep end! Might as well make a splash on my way down, don’t you think?” Wednesday tried to bite the woman's hand. Laurel pressed on Wednesday's foot with her boot in response.

Her struggling only made Donovan more on edge. Wednesday was a fighter, but he wondered how many of the wounds he saw that spirit had caused. How many more he couldn't see.

Laurel raised her hand up into the air, needle glinting in the light, the dark liquid inside seeming to absorb it, remaining pitch black within the barrel.

“Laurel stop! Wait-”

And Donovan watched, helpless, as she plunged the needle into Wednesday's arm.

Chapter Text

Wednesday fought against her clouded mind. It was still somewhat sharp considering the physical and mental traumas it had collected in the past hours, but concentrating while fighting the results of said encounters, proved tedious. She was once again reminded how inelegant Laurel’s methods had become.

She was initially impressed by the seemingly weak willed woman’s change of practice. Where Laurel had previously left all the dirty work to Tyler, the week leading up to her initial kidnapping and ritualistic sacrifice was where Laurel started to escalate, as investigators would call it. Her choices became more erratic as she ran out of time, and places to hide.

It led to the current situation. Two unknown drugs with who knew what lasting side effects or complications were roaming free in her veins, a large and uncomfortable collar was locked to her neck, and various flesh wounds and bruising littered her upper body.

All from one woman who needed someone to take her anger out on. Someone she didn't view as human, therefore making any actions against Wednesday rationalized in her mind. To Laurel, Wednesday was no different than a rat in a lab. Unfortunate though animal testing was, she was still, in the killer’s eyes, a rat.

It was the wrong way to perceive her. That would be Laurel’s downfall. Wednesday allowed her to though, because despite the many injuries, she knew that as an Addams she was well equipped to deal with them. To walk on. It was actually the cause of her current dilemma. To live or to die? To hurt or to heal?

She needed a plan. Fast. Laurel was a few paces away, watching the blood mixture for the newest injection with a keen eye. Wednesday had been told it had to sit, but not knowing how long she had until Laurel approached again had Wednesday taking a more traditional route.

It wasn't a very complicated plan, but it required a mind numbing amount of patience, which Wednesday no longer had to give, so every second she sat there waiting for Laurel to finish felt like hours. Her head throbbed. Headaches were not an enjoyable type of pain. They were searing, uncontrollable, and persistent until they faded away.

The pounding in her head created a dissonant beat as she counted the seconds ten at a time. Ten by ten. Her bloodsoaked bangs a taunting and ever present sensation against her already frustrating forehead. The mixture had to be completed soon.

Thankfully, fate was in her favor, as Laurel finally loaded the dosage of the blood into another new syringe. At this point Wednesday was sure the medical choices made by the woman would kill her before the transfusion (or herself) did considering how unnecessarily complicated she made them. So many needles.

Wednesday could hardly call this a transfusion in the first place. If anything the impending procedure was more akin to an immunization. That didn't change her response, however. She had taken into consideration a lot of factors up until this point. Self preservation was ideal, but not required. Not at all.

That no longer being her focus caused the array of disruptive actions at her disposal to increase tenfold. She opted for maximum interference with minimal effort on her part. This specific decision, relating to Laurel's unfortunate choice to not attach the chair Wednesday was strapped to, to the floor.

Laurel approached, holding a pair of scissors. “It's all ready! I’m thinking we start with the other arm to give your wounds a break!” Laurel eyed the arm, still untouched, sleeve far cleaner than the rest of the shirt, which had since turned a nauseating shade of reddish pink. Nauseating not because of the substance that created the color, but because of the color itself. “However I would have to cut the other sleeve off, and I’m itching to get started. You're strong enough to handle another jab in the same arm, right Wednesday?” Laurel tilted her head. It was a mocking gesture, one Wednesday was hoping for.

Wednesday scoffed, “If I said no, would you listen?”

“If you said no, I’d think you'd be lying!” She would be right about that. Out of all the injuries she had sustained so far, her arm was the least impacted physically. Mentally, she loathed the smile carved into her arm. She would’ve preferred a more somber expression.

“Then I don't think proposing additional unnecessary dialogue between the two of us is in either of our favors, is it. If your decision remains unchanged, then my reply means nothing, aside from a tasteful riposte, of course.”

“You always had such a way with words, Wednesday.” Laurel had the audacity to reminisce. It was offensive to say the least. Treating them like old friends catching up over coffee.

“Are we going to get this over with, or are you going to continue flashing back to the times when I assumed you were an uninteresting, socially inept, airheaded normie teacher with far too much free time?” That earned an eye twitch.

Laurel nodded, getting closer. “I suppose you’re right, though you have to admit, my persona was pretty good. Pushing your buttons in all the right ways while leading you on as your supportive dorm mother. You can’t deny I was pretty clever considering you never truly figured me out, miss detective.” Finally, the woman got within range of Wednesday's plan of action.

As Laurel raised the needle up to prepare the injection, Wednesday twisted suddenly, pushing herself into the chair, tucking her head and kicking off the floor with her feet towards Laurel, launching herself and the chair into the air for a moment.

She didn't get much airtime, but it was enough. She slammed into Laurel’s legs with a crunch, the syringe falling to the ground with a crash. Blood and glass spilled onto the floor near her head which had, thankfully, been tucked to her chest to avoid colliding with the ground directly.

Laurel growled, the first truly animalistic sound since Wednesday’s capture leaving the woman's mouth. Good. This was what Wednesday wanted. For everyone’s sake. Get mad, Wednesday thought. Let your anger take over. Make a mistake. Leave an opening, something! Come on…

She got what she wanted, in a way. In the form of a kick in the stomach that had her gasping on the floor. Unfortunately, Wednesday could not see Laurel’s eyes from her prone position. Eyes that were eerily calm despite the interruption. Despite the animalistic sound Wednesday heard her make. In fact, the woman began to chuckle.

Wednesday was lost. So much laughter today, yet not even I find this darkness to be humorous. Truly an oddity. She evidently needed to create more of a scene. That was fine by her. She had nothing to lose. Nothing. Nothing at all. It would be easy to do whatever it took to stop her. Anything…anything.

Wednesday could feel a hand grab onto the chairback, hoisting it up (her along with it) to rest on the floor again. She was face to face with Laurel, whose right arm was resting on the top rail above her left shoulder. For a minute, it was silent. Then, her entire left side began to burn. Laurel had moved her hand, and was pressing her palm directly against the arrow wound, digging her nails into the shoulder.

She hissed, an involuntary sound at the intense searing pain, and closed her eyes in a grimace. This was what she had wanted. She wanted this. Wednesday needed to buy as much time as she could. This was fine. She was used to pain. She didn’t care. She didn’t.

Laurel, hand still pushing the wounded shoulder into the crossrails, spoke. “Open your eyes, Wednesday.” Wednesday did not. Laurel dug her nails further into the inflamed skin. “Look at me.” Wednesday, despite herself, did so. Why? It was just pain, it was simply a neurological response to stimuli it was as easy to block out as background chatter from classmates she couldn't be bothered to remember the names of…so why? Why did she open her eyes? She was prepared to die here. She wanted to die here. She needed to. So why?

Laurel smiled. “Good,” she said, though her hand remained atop the wound. “I want to let you in on a little secret.” She leaned in, and whispered. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.”

Wednesday shivered. “Know what I’m trying to do? You mean not give in to a delusional maniac? You have me all figured out Sherlock Holmes, and here I thought I was the detective.” Obviously Laurel didn’t know her very well if she thought she knew the lengths Wednesday was willing to go to. Willing.

“You know very well what I mean,” Laurel replied smoothly, pulling back to stare her down once more. “I wasn’t lying when I said you and I are alike.” She stepped back entirely, releasing the grip on Wednesday’s shoulder that left the now reopened wound spilling crimson once again. Their eyes remained locked.

“I laughed to myself, you know. About how I had the honor of being Nevermore’s first normie teacher. It was absurd.” How did this relate to Laurel’s perception of their supposed similarities? To how she supposedly knew what Wednesday was planning. “I mean, it was how I knew my disguise would work perfectly. Sweet Marilyn Thornhill, go easy on her she’s just a normie teacher! She doesn’t know any better.” Laurel laughed openly now, hand covering her mouth.

Wednesday watched her, unsure. More unsure than she had ever been about the woman in front of her. What did she mean? Was she just boasting about her improvisational skills? Her apparently seamless transition into the Nevermore faculty?

“Let me give you a hint, my little Nancy Drew. How do you think I knew you’d be coming to Nevermore in the first place?” Wednesday glanced away, mind suddenly racing. How did she know? This entire plan rested on Wednesday. Laurel had needed her blood. Without her, Crackstone was sealed with no way out. But what did that matter, she was here, that was how Laurel knew to use her to bring him back-

Her eyes widened. The killings. The supposed bear attacks. They had already been happening for weeks upon her arrival. Why would Laurel do that despite not knowing Wednesday would even arrive? How…

“Have you guessed it yet? Maybe you need another clue.” Wednesday was replaying the events of the past weeks in her mind, trying to sort through each conversation, each slip of the tongue every notable action, what was she missing what-

She looked up at Laurel again, whose eyes were alight with delight at the confusion swimming in her own. Realization and clarity finding their place as the pieces fit together.

“There’s that look of realization! Tell me my dear, what have you learned?”

“You’re not a normie at all.” Laurel’s smile widened.

“Aaaandd…?”

“You…you’re like me.” Laurel nodded enthusiastically.

“Brilliant work Wednesday! Yes you and I are practically twins! Sure it was a fatal flaw my father did his best to hide, passing them off as seizures, Epilepsy was what was put on my medical records I believe. Visions always do seem to put us out of commission, don’t they?”

Wednesday didn’t have a response. No witty comeback, no retort. She was simply dumbfounded. “See, I had my first vision of the crypt when I fell into the sea. The drowning wasn’t exactly a lie, save for the fact that I didn’t die. Within the water, it showed me Crackstone. It showed me Nevermore aflame. He was my guide, you know. I’m sure you have one. Someone to help you hone your abilities?” Wednesday grimaced. She had one, but now Goody was gone.

“Well hone them he did. I’m not exactly sure how Crackstone and I are related, but you remember, the Gates lineage runs deep. But thanks to him, I’m now able to control them. I saw you, Wednesday. I knew you needed to come to Nevermore and I knew you’d accuse Xavier and I knew you’d fall for my trap. I knew it was Weems who confronted me, because I saw her change. I’ve known everything. I sent your parents Nevermore newsletters in the months leading up to your expulsion from that public school, I made sure you and Enid became roommates, I knew everything. From the weather we’d have on the day you’d arrive.”

Wednesday’s heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn’t breathe.

“I knew you defeating Crackstone was a possibility, it’s why I prepared for it. I’ve had this room set up for us from the moment you started getting a little too close to the truth.” Laurel sighed, pulling open a drawer. She picked up another needle, the same red mixture sitting inside. “It’s why I knew I needed to make more than one syringe. I’ve had this one prepared for hours, I just wanted to see you squirm.”

Wednesday opened her mouth to speak, but found that her voice would not come. Too many thoughts were racing through her mind, so many questions, so many fears, how much had she missed? How had she not seen this coming? Why? Why did she have visions about everything but this? She thought Laurel was just delusional. A mindless killer no longer seeking revenge, but an experiment. Laurel took a step towards her and she flinched. Why? Why!? Was she that good of an actor? To appear unhinged and unsettled even when her mind was clear?

Another step. There had to be a solution here. Wednesday would get out of this. Visions were not always true, isn’t that what Xavier had said? That too many trust their visions too easily? That their minds play tricks and everything might not be what it seems? Maybe Laurel was still delusional, living in the future she had already seen, blind to the present. Could she use that to her advantage? Try to do something unexpected?

Another step. She had to plan. Could she try and trigger a vision herself? To see into the future, to have an edge the way Laurel had? To have something, anything? She thought she had it figured out, she thought it was as simple as getting Laurel to ruin her own plan, or to leave in a huff to give Wednesday time to pick the locks and escape.

Laurel bent down, a mad grin plastered to her face. When had she gotten so close? “It’s why I know that I’ll succeed. That you’ll kill everyone you care about. I’ve seen it.”

No. Now she had to be lying, she had to be. Wednesday would kill herself before she let that happen. She had resolved herself to that fact the moment they left the grounds. She would. Death wasn’t scary, she walked with it. She traced the banks of the river Styx, dipped her feet into the water. She danced on the cliffs above the depths of Hell. She eagerly awaited the first touch of earth to her casket. It had always been this way, ever since she was a girl. She had nobody who would miss her outside of her family, and nobody she would miss-

Nobody she would miss. Enid flashed into her mind. Nobody. Eugene. Nobody. Thing. Nobody! Xavier, Bianca. Nobody!! She had no attachments to life. She was fine with dying! They all hated her now anyways. So why couldn’t she get them out of her head? Why did they make her want to cling on to life so terribly? To hope someone rescued her before she became a tool? Before she lost herself.

She was willing to die. She was! She…

Laurel was right. She couldn’t do it. Despite knowing it could cause the demise of everyone who had forcefully entered her thoughts, she couldn’t do it. Because she wanted to see them again. She wanted to go home.

“You realize it now, don’t you Wednesday? That you aren’t as deep and dark and dreary as you hoped. I even warned you when Enid left. They all lit a spark in you, and that spark is why I’m going to win.” Wednesday, who had been lost in her thoughts, failed to notice that Laurel had plunged the newly revealed second syringe into her arm, its contents depleted.

“No…” Laurel tossed the empty needle onto the floor near the shattered one, more glass bouncing off the concrete.

“Yes!” Laurel said softly with a pat on Wednesday’s uninjured shoulder. “But I’m not one to deny a good wager. So let’s play a game.” Laurel bent down, resting on the balls of her feet, elbows on her knees, staring up at her. Wednesday watched her as she undid the straps binding her to the chair. “I’ll give you a head start.”

Laurel grabbed a silver key from her pocket, undoing the cuffs around Wednesday’s wrists and neck (though the collar itself remained in place). No sooner had the cuffs come off was Wednesday jolting upright, swaying at the sudden weakness in her legs. How long had it been since she had stood? Her vision was delayed, spots dancing in her vision, head and shoulder throbbing, heart drumming in her chest. Laurel backed away, gesturing towards the door leading upstairs.

Wednesday knew it was a trap. It couldn’t be anything else. She’d be a fool for falling for it.

She ran anyway.

Chapter Text

Eugene led the group towards the cave with purpose. There were no jokes shared amongst them as they went, just whispers of reassurance and plans to counter whatever they could be up against. That or silence as they all processed what was going to happen.

Wednesday could be in the cave, and if she was, it meant that Laurel and whatever else she had been planning with would probably be too. They needed to be ready.

Eugene could hear Enid’s nervous whines as they moved, her eyes flicking quickly from side to side, watching the trees. He realized she probably had some trauma after her encounter with Tyler, if the wounds on her face were anything to go by.

They had patched her up as best they could, but they were no doubt a reminder to the girl of what could be waiting for them, just out of view. Or whatever awaited them at the cave.

Bianca was keeping to herself, occasionally fidgeting with the charm around her neck, or twirling the rapier she had taken from Wednesday's stash. Xavier however, approached to walk beside him. “Hey,” was all he said.

“Hey.”

“Eugene, did Wednesday ever… talk about me? At your club, I mean.” Xavier looked awkward as he rubbed his arm.

“Sometimes, yeah. She never mentioned her suspicions of you though, more like ‘He’s annoyingly persistent, it’s exhausting.’ stuff like that. You know how she is.” Xavier didn't look reassured by the statement.

“Right. Yeah.”

“Don't worry though, that's a good thing. She only talked about people who were actively on her mind. It means she was thinking about you and that it was bothering her that she cared. You know her whole loner persona?” Xavier nodded.

“Cool cool. I guess I just feel guilty. I told her to leave town because she's toxic and hurts everyone around her, and then she still goes and takes an arrow for me.”

“Eh, I’d say her taking the shot for you is proof enough that she forgives you. She doesn't really do many verbal apologies. I’m more worried about what Enid said. That she doesn't even think we’re coming…”

“Yeah, good point. It's sort of funny how I'm here worrying if she’s mad at me, when she thinks I hate her enough to not even rescue her. Fucked up, isn't it?”

“Yeah… definitely. That’s Wednesday for you though,” Xavier nodded. Eugene had little experience in reassurance, considering until a day ago he hadn't had more than one friend on campus, but he could tell that Wednesday's perspective had definitely been eating away at Xavier and Enid. “We’ll just have to prove her wrong!”

Xavier gripped the hilt of the knife he had taken from Wednesday's room, rubbing his thumb along the aluminum with a determined expression. “Yeah, we will.”

The forest was growing thicker as they approached the location of the cave, and although Eugene felt his body tense as they passed the spot where he was attacked, he pressed on. Wednesday wouldn't be deterred by something like that, so neither would he.

He was going to prove to her she had way more friends than she realized. Especially considering what she had done for him already. He owed her at least this much. He was sure that sentiment was shared, even with Bianca.

The two were constantly butting heads. That aside, when mentioning the siren, Wednesday would speak from the perspective of a rival. Bianca was a challenger, which meant Wednesday viewed her as skilled enough to warrant that title, something Eugene guessed did not come easily.

Suddenly, the cave was in view. A sinister outcropping of rocks in the distance. It brought back complicated feelings. Going here with Wednesday the first time was his only real off campus hang out with a friend, and returning there by himself on the night of the dance was his first time off campus alone without permission. She had brought out the troublemaker in him, although he would never compare to her brand of self-driven impulsiveness.

This time, he wasn't alone. It was reassuring, especially because he could tell their impressions of him had changed. He was no longer the weird beekeeper kid in their eyes anymore. He had proven that he was just as smart and skilled as the rest of them.

Despite the company, the cave was as unsettling as he remembered it to be. Unassuming in appearance save for the charred grass and foliage around the entrance, but he knew what had transpired inside. He turned to the three behind him, who all had varying degrees of unease in their faces. Bianca approached it first.

“So, this is the spot?” Eugene nodded. She walked over to the opening, peering inside and turning her ear towards the depths. Enid moved to follow, but Xavier held up a hand and put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. For a moment, nobody moved. Then Bianca spoke. “There's nobody here. Sirens have very good ears. I can normally hear breaths from a distance if I focus enough, and there's nothing.”

Xavier approached and joined Bianca at the cave mouth, turning his phone flashlight on and shining it into the dark. “Still couldn't hurt to go inside and check. If they were ever here at all, there’d be evidence.”

Eugene watches the two nod at each other and head inside, leaving Enid looking at the cave with a frustrated expression. “Enid, are you okay?”

She breathed in, hands balled into fists at her side, and sighed. “I really wanted her to be here, you know?” Eugene nodded. He did too. “It just means that coming here was a waste of time and she could be anywhere by now and-”

“Enid, it’s not your fault.” Eugene interrupted quietly. He was normally a very passive person, letting those who needed to say their piece do so without interference, but he could tell where her head was at.

Enid stopped and bit her lip, and he noted how she was now subconsciously pulling on the sleeves of her coat, picking at the cuffs with her nails. Silence passed as she stared into the distance. “It is, though. You guys don't understand. I was with her in those woods. If I had just defeated Tyler a little faster, I could've caught up with her and we could've confronted Crackstone together! I haven't seen her in hours!”

“Don't be ridiculous Enid, if it's anyone's fault, it's mine.” The two turned to Bianca, who was emerging from the cave, Xavier close behind. “I literally watched her sacrifice herself for me.”

“But! If I had just-”

“Can we stop?” Xavier interrupted. “This conversation isn't productive. Deciding who is the most at fault for any of this won't get Wednesday back. I know how you feel, but if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Laurel’s, okay? Can we just agree to that?” He wasn't mad at anyone. None of them were mad, just stressed.

Eugene nodded. “I agree. If Wednesday was here, she’d berate you both for taking credit for her plans or something. She knew what she was doing, I think.”

Eugene thought back to the times she had roped him into her schemes. How her eyes looked when she first stood in the hospital doorway after he woke up. She probably thought he didn't see, but he noticed. How her face had softened upon seeing him awake, just a bit.

“She would've done it for any of us.” Eugene added. Enid looked at him. “She has a weird way of showing it, but she does really care about you guys. You see it too, Enid, I know you do.”

“Yeah, it's in the eyes.”

“Exactly.” Eugene knew that wouldn't stop the self-appointed blame. He felt a similar guilt gnawing at him, but it helped. He could see it in their eyes, a momentary relief. Xavier and Bianca walked the rest of the way back to where Enid was standing.

“Did you two notice anything in the cave?” Enis asked. Bianca winced at the question, placing her hand on the werewolf's shoulder.

“A little, but Enid, it's really not something you'd want to see. There's blood, and it's fresh. We’re back to square one, but we can-”

Enid’s eyes widened, and Eugene watched her break away from Bianca and quickly approach the cave entrance herself, leaning in and pausing for a moment.

“Enid? I’m telling you it's not worth it-”

“I can smell it.” Enid mumbled.

“You can what?” Xavier said.

“I can smell it!” Enid turned from the cave entrance, a spark in her eye, before facing the ground. “It's weak, like, super weak… but it's there… Wednesday you genius!”

“I wouldn't inflate her ego,” Bianca said from behind. The three approached the spot Enid was staring at on the ground. It was just a normal patch of burnt grass and dirt, but Enid was smiling nervously.

“I have to focus, but she left a trail.” Enid sniffed the air, turning into the woods.

“A trail of her own blood,” Xavier realized. “Damn.”

“She probably left it for the police dogs,” Eugene said. “They have a few. She mentioned them to me when she came to visit, how she had followed them while they were out in the woods looking for clues on who… you know,” he pointed at the cuts on his face.

“Well, I’m no police dog, but I can certainly track a scent. Especially one I recognize.” Enid nodded to herself before pointing in a direction heading further into the forest.

“Are you sure it's that way? There's like nothing out there.” Enid ignored Bianca's remark, taking a step forward.

“Definitely. Trust me on this. She’s this way.”

Eugene moved to follow, glancing at Bianca and Xavier. “You two coming? No offense, but I trust the nose of a werewolf over any theories you might've come up with.”

Enid wasted no time waiting for answers and moved, head tilted downwards towards the ground. “I’ll need you all to make sure I don't run into any trees. I know that sounds weird but-”

“For sure.” Eugene interrupted. “You don't have to explain. We’ve got your back.” Enid nodded, and Bianca and Xavier followed. Eugene could see the two having a brief conversation behind them, though he couldn't quite make out what they were saying from the crunching of the leaves and the distance between them. However, it quickly ended, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as Xavier patted Bianca’s back and she offered him a softer smile in return.

Then they turned back to the task at hand. Enid said nothing, focused on the forest floor, as their second leg of the journey began. They’d find her, and they'd bring her back.

No matter what.

+ + +

Meanwhile, a few hours before, in a dark house in New Jersey, hours from Jericho… someone speaks.

“What is wrong, my love? You've been pacing all night. Come, sit down. I know you loathe the end of starlight when dawn approaches, but either the weather particularly perturbs you, or something else is weighing on your mind.” A gentle coercion towards an armchair, the sound of fabric shifting as someone collapses into it.

Footsteps approaching, a hand on a shoulder, a lean in to touch it. A reassuring kiss on the cheek, gentle fingers brushing loose hair from a forehead. A sigh into the quiet.

“Cara Mia talk to me, I would roll back the sunrise for you eternally if I could, to live in twilight under a starlit sky, the smell of rain in the air. Tell me, what ails you?” The bending of legs. Knees on the floor. A hand clasping another, trusting eyes and interlocking hands.

“I’m not sure. Something is just… wrong. I can't put my finger on it. Something is settling to roost in my mind and I must focus. I can sense that it’s important. I didn't mean to cause you worry, you're too good to me.” An attempt at a smile.

“Nothing is too good for you.”

A comfortable silence, in the hour when the birds are waking and the sun is cresting over hills to the east. A sleeping child is down the hall, from a family for all, for any who wishes to make a home there.

The couple in the office, unsure but unafraid, their assurance in each other the rock between the tide and shore, breaking the waves. A deep breath, a reassuring smile, the closing of eyes.

They open elsewhere.

In another room, another place, another time. It's hard to see, hard to hear. There are trees. Outside then. An arm reaches out for balance, a step is taken into the night. A voice is heard.

A girl is seen, long blonde hair in twin tails, dress silver despite the shadows, body pale and gaunt. A familiar face. “Morticia.” She says, an urgent light in long dead eyes.

Morticia regains her composure. “What a beautiful place…” she murmurs as she watches thick fog roll through the scenery, overtaking dead trees. Eternal winter, eternal night.

The girl speaks with a whisper, an echo. “Morticia Addams, time moves far too fast and our window far too short for admiration.” Morticia looks down at the child.

“How have you appeared before me, Goody Addams? We share no blood.” Goody looks ill, more than a usual spirit would. She looks weak and exhausted. Morticia ignores the shiver traveling up her spine.

“I used my remaining strength to appear before you despite our lack of shared ties. As a seer like Wednesday, I knew you were her only hope.”

Morticia’s eyes lock onto the spirit, sharper than knives and ten times as deadly. The stare of a worried mother. “Then something happened after all, I knew I felt a change in the air.”

“Time is of the essence, your child is in danger from forces I can no longer protect her from. I saved her once, I cannot do it again.”

The knowledge that Wednesday had nearly died, and would have until the last resort of her ancestor, unsettles Morticia’s mind. The fact that it was happening again? Enrages her.

“Even though your spiritual sight differs greatly from Wednesday's in both form and purpose, you are her kin. You can do what I cannot. I do not have much time, but I can teach you.”

Morticia’s decision on the matter was decided the moment her daughter's teacher appeared before her, an action she had previously believed to be impossible. An act she would forever be grateful for, considering the weight of whatever it took for Goody to do so. She nods.

“Tell me what to do.”

Chapter Text

Hello all! I want to preface by saying that the support I have recieved for this fic over the years has been so meaningful.

That being said here are three things I implore you to read.

First, and most importantly: I have begun a continuation and slight rewrite of this fic! It is coming soon. There will be no new version upload it will all continue from here, but old chapters will be recieving technical reuploads. Not for plot (mostly, some minor things may change) but because that since initially uploading this, my writing has significantly improved.

Second: There are some people who acted entitled to the continuation of this work and left meanspirited comments about my disappearance. They have been deleted lol. Ppl even dmed me about it. I had stopped because of mental health issues and real life problems taking over my free time, and by the time those things cleared up I had kind of lost motivation, but didnt cancel because I wanted to find it again. I didnt delete the fic because I knew people liked it. I was already ashamed of myself for not sucking it up and writing anyway, but I wanted to get past the artblock. I wanted to do this fic justice. That doesnt mean yall get to harass me about it like I owe you anything like cmon yall, I did this for fun 😭

Finally third, and most FUN question: Currently this fic is fully platonic, but if I added a HINT (or more than a hint...) of Wenclair, would you be okay with that? I can always write a separate fic for that but would include it if yall were open or, even, hyped, at the idea.

Anyway...I hope yall will continue to stick with me, and Im sorry for the rocky break period. I said Id never leave this fic unfinished and I intend to stand by that. Im just sorry it took me this long to address it.

the shame the shaaaameeee 😔

see you soon.... ;)

Chapter Text

The first thing Wednesday sees when she emerges from the cabin is the pond. It is murky and overgrown, the weeds crawling through the grass and climbing up the stairs onto the porch. Her vision swims, the cocktail of poisons and other substances invading her bloodstream and leaving her fighting her own body, willing it to move forwards.

She didn't know how much time she had, but she knew she needed to move. She still didn't fully understand how visions worked, what Laurel had seen and how frequently she could do so, but it was evident that Wednesday needed to do something unexpected. But first, she just needed to run. Fast. She takes a step, fighting the blurring of the world around her as her head throbs.

Screw a plan, she just needed to go. She needed-

“Addams!” She turns, squinting off into the distance before her eyes settle on Donovan Galpin. Relief crashes into her thoughts. Safety. Rescue. He had seen her clue then, excellent. As much as she wished she had the situation under control, she was in over her head. She at least needed to flush the drugs out of her system before she enacted what would be a vicious and elegant vengeance.

She needed to see her friends again, if they were willing. She wanted to apologize properly.

If she wanted to live, and to her increasing displeasure, she very much did, she needed him. She takes another step, arms out to stabilize herself. He was looking at her funny, and only then did she consider how she must appear to others. Drenched in blood and wearing a ripped school uniform. Didn't make for a very reassuring image, despite her insistence to the world that she was unbreakable.

The desperation gnawing through her from the inside disagreed. The fear at mortality and the humanness of it all was a revelation she didn’t have time for, perhaps not ever. Maybe her obsession with freeing herself was from the drugs, emotional attachments heightened by mental trauma. There was a logical explanation for everything. When she escaped she could spend a good day or two sifting through it all. Finding the nuggets of sense amidst the sands of confusion and feeling.

Before she could move any further she stops, and screams. It is unexpected, and her hands shoot up to her neck, ripping and tearing at the collar with fervor. Why now? Laurel had just allowed her a head start, hadn't she? What had changed, why would she do this?

Why did any of this have to happen at all? Why wasn't she at home?

She collapses onto the deck, out of breath. Her body shaking from the electrical currents, numb hands still prying at the metal around her neck. Her ears ring like a church bell, clear as day. She feels a hand on her bicep, yanking her upright. Dragged up next to Laurel she fights a wave of nausea.

Think.

Laurel looks past her towards Galpin with venomous eyes and a crooked grin. Wednesday attempts to calm herself. Rationalize. You should have expected this. What deranged killer keeps her word? The question is, what now? The porch is nothing but rotted wood. She isn’t strong enough to push past Laurel, and even if she did the collar around her neck would act as a failsafe, as demonstrated by its immediate use that had her standing there now.

Donovan had his gun. Perhaps his animosity towards us both will make him more inclined to take the shot. Then she felt it. A light tapping on her ankle. Thing. Of course, they could-

Laurel rips him off of her leg. Wednesday can only watch in horror as she slams Thing into the porch and steps on him. That ignites something inside of her. Thing was her closest confidant. Loyal to her. To her family. She slams herself into Laurel who curses and tries to regain her hold on Wednesday’s shoulders. There's a scuffle, Wednesday yanking herself towards Thing with whatever strength she could muster. She’s so close, and then her world goes white and she collapses into Laurel’s side, full weight held up by the woman’s shoulder.

The collar. The collar that stopped her in her tracks. The collar made for controlling a beast, with a voltage already too high. The collar locked around her neck and, until she found a way to release it, binding her to that stupid remote. She can see it in Laurel’s hand through the haze. She pants, dry ragged coughing filling the tense silence. Her eyes drift down again, towards Thing. She sees a twitch. Or perhaps she just really wants to.

She feels a cold breath against her ear. “You’ll kill them all,” Laurel teases. Wednesday cringes away, eyes widening ever so slightly at the remark. Do not trust the visions. “And I can’t wait to watch.” Laurel hums quietly, standing Wednesday upright again and looking back out towards the sheriff. “I had to stop you when he showed up sooner than expected… your doing I’m sure, but this might actually work out perfectly. He’s a great warmup before I turn you loose on your outcast friends.” Wednesday catches the glint of metal and quickly turns her eyes to Galpin. No.

They lock eyes. He offers her a reassuring nod. No you moron, run!-

A shot rings out in the quiet of the forest. Galpin cries out and falls to one knee. “Let’s begin,” Laurel mutters, reaching back into her pocket. She pulls out the completed serum, the silver needle of the syringe gleaming. Collar be damned Wednesday kicks and bites and claws against Laurel. It was just a vision, it was just a vision!

From the ground, Galpin is saying something. All she can hear is her breathing. Her erratic heartbeat. She’s dragged upright again, the syringe inches from her shoulder. “I’m afraid I can't do that, Sheriff Galpin.” Laurel is saying something. Wednesday is urging Galpin to run as best he can in her head. Fight the pain and move! “Might as well make a splash on my way down, don’t you think?”

Time slows. Wednesday leans away from Laurel’s hand. Her eyes follow the black liquid as the needle approaches her vein. In that moment, she hopes more than ever that her friends have abandoned her. If they were out there, in the woods? Not even she knew what would be waiting for them when they found her.

The vision flashes in her mind. A figure with a knife chasing a group in the woods. Hunting them. Her face. Her hand, gripping the blade. Dark black eyes.

Or when she found them…

Laurel plunges the syringe deep into her vein, and moments later, Wednesday Addams is lost.