Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wednesday was an impulsive creature by nature. It was one of the things she loved best about herself, that she never hedged her bets or felt doubt regarding her own actions. The second she was back home, she ignored her parents welcome, weaving out of their embrace to make her way to the kitchen. Abuela Addams had left a mess preparing her favorite meal, but thankfully the large stock pot was still hanging over the thick heirloom walnut cutting board.

She filled it in the sink and set it over the stove to boil, dangling Xavier’s unwanted gift over it like the proverbial spider over the flames of hell. A little vindictive smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Her fingers caught the edge of the phone’s slippery glass surface at the last second. Even if her stalker turned out to be a pathetic, gutless loser, this was her only clue. And ridding herself of the device – much as its existence plagued her – might imply that the offender had some power over her. That she was afraid. Wednesday generally lived by the maxim ‘let them be wrong about me’ – they usually were – but the thought that an enemy would interpret her silence as fear itched at her. She would be returning to Nevermore in the spring, and she would need to assert herself.

She went up to her room and put the phone in a drawer, determined to let it die out of spite before she made a move.

you don’t have a move, Thing tapped out gleefully, flicking his middle finger at her.

She scowled at him. “We’re home now. You’re relieved of your babysitting duty. Stay out of my hair, Thing.”

He scampered off, cracking a knuckle to punctuate a threat that she didn’t even flinch at.

Chapter Text

It took a few days for the phone’s battery to completely die. Wednesday checked it almost obsessively in between busying herself with Goody’s Book of Shadows, weighing the potential harm to her own psyche. Though she had witch blood on both sides of her lineage, it wasn’t her burden. Magic was a science to her; a science that could unleash curses if she mishandled the variables.

🖤

There were no new messages when the screen came back to life, sudden and too bright. The crude animation of her caricature being stabbed looped over and over.

Wednesday paced her room while it slowly regenerated. She had a basic, rudimentary knowledge of how technology worked. Most two-year-olds could operate an iPhone. It couldn’t be that hard.

Unknown read the contact title at the top of the text thread, under a nondescript grey icon. Sending a message in return was not an option, but the screen provided little else. Frowning, she went back to the main screen. There were only a few applications; Xavier would have tailored it to what he thought she would actually use. The background image had been set to a moody image of one of his murals, the one overlooking the courtyard where she’d thrown herself in the path of death to save him. Feeling suddenly exposed, she looked around to make sure Thing nor her brother were lurking.

The thin scar on her chest itched.

Holding in her breath tightly, she selected Contacts, jabbing at the screen with a bitten, chipped black nail. Only one name was listed. She snorted in disbelief. Cocky.

🤍

Xavier’s phone pinged.

He thought about ignoring it. The Nightshades group chat had been going off all morning with speculations.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw the newest notification. Wednesday.

Who else has this number?

Chapter Text

I can’t give you a straight answer

He’d considered telling Enid about the phone, but decided to let Wednesday choose if she even wanted to use it.

A grey conversation bubble popped up, the bubbles within it fading in and out, as elusive as the person behind them. His screen lit up. Letting his thumb hover over it for a moment, he answered.

“Explain.”

“Hello, Wednesday.”

“Thorpe.” A tense beat. “Hello.”

He smirked. “I gave you my old phone. Anyone who didn’t save my new contact information when I switched would have the number. You can just block any unwanted calls or texts.”

“This is your old phone.” Her deadpan was even as ever; any other girl would have been insulted.

“I wanted to upgrade my phone a few months ago but that one wasn’t paid off yet, so…”

“I see.” Another beat. “I’ll require a list of everyone who had your old number.” The line went dead. Predictably, pathetically, Xavier swooned a little at the sound.

🖤

That the phone was refurbished didn't bother Wednesday. She'd not grown up spoilt despite the wealth. Whatever his intentions were, Xavier had known better than to spend what was most likely his father’s money, though she wasn’t naïve enough to forget that the phone plan itself was an expense.

The list was surprisingly short, around a dozen names.

This can’t be all.

wow. two texts in one day?

Don’t gloat.

I promise that’s all. my social circle isn’t that big

Having little experience to the contrary, she couldn’t question it. Considering who his father was, she’d assumed… and being attractive couldn’t hurt, she reasoned tightly, conjuring the memory of his visage. It wasn’t the first time the thought came to her, stinging mildly. Mentally, she swatted it away, turning back to her problem.

Chapter Text

yuo should know that I might not be coming back next year

Wednesday read the message over a few times, feeling her eye twitch at the typo. If Xavier expected her to keep up correspondence, he would need to proofread his texts.

I would be put on academic probation should I decide to return. What is the nature of your possible egress?

my dad wasn’t too psyched about my wrongful arrest

Her stomach turned.

It was the same feeling that had plagued her the night she’d seen him behind bars. She powered the phone off and put it back in the drawer under her typewriter.

Out of all emotions that she worked at repressing, guilt was the one she was least familiar with. Usually, Wednesday did whatever she wanted, damn who or whatever she left behind as collateral damage. She hadn’t enjoyed planting evidence. It had felt almost worse than this, a shameful thing that she wanted nothing more than to forget. Xavier, to her knowledge, had been gallant enough to keep it to himself. He'd forgiven her too easily. Even his text had no bitterness in it, though he was entitled to it.

🖤

At dinner that evening, her parents again broached the topic of returning to school.

After the incident at Nancy Regan, she’d been banned from all public schools in the state. Private schools were her only option. Home schooling was also an option. Morticia herself had been educated by private tutors prior to enrolling at Nevermore. The probationary proposal hinged on good academic standing for the rest of the academic year, a clean behavior report, and a continuation of her court-ordered therapy. Normally, Wednesday would have scoffed and turned the offer down cold. But she wasn’t willing to let the stalker have the upper hand.

“Do you know who will take Principal Weems’ place?” she asked to stall the conversation. Neither parent was on the board, but they were very involved in the alumni chapter and had certain connections.

“Vincent Thorpe lobbied for the position,” Gomez said. “But the board prefers him as a donor and thinks giving him the job would be a conflict of interest.”

“He’s threatening to pull his funding and his son,” Morticia added. “I heard that he was considering Reichenbach.”

“I went there,” her father interjected excitedly. “It was very illuminating, though I missed your mother dreadfully.” He reached over and took his wife’s hand, kissing it tenderly. “I nearly went mad from longing for her.”

Wednesday poked at her food, conflicted. Vincent Thorpe was a grandstanding, arrogant ass. Pugsley had been obsessed with him for well over a year and from what she could glean, he was all flash. He probably wouldn’t be too difficult to manipulate. An idea sparked, flailing briefly in her brain until the nodes connected like two live wires snapping together. The electric burn of it cleaned away the guilt she’d been feeling all day.

“If Xavier Thorpe doesn’t return to Nevermore, neither will I,” she declared.

Chapter Text

Waiting for her parents to tell her that the alumni association had put enough pressure on the school board to appoint Vincent Thorpe as interim principal was the longest Wednesday had ever waited for her parents to fulfill her demands. Even as a young child she’d never asked for things. Gomez and Morticia had always been attentive parents, giving her and her brother everything they could ever want or need. Wednesday had taken it for granted that she was spoilt.

Late in the evening after their family Yule festivities, she sat by the fire, picking out the poisoned barbs Pugsley had snuck into her shoes, planning how to torture him in return. He was getting sneakier and she both loved and loathed him for it. The toxin was one she was working up an immunity to; it was only making her slightly woozy and irritable – though she was certain she’d have to vomit at least once before sunrise.

“Your father is sending your tuition payment for spring semester on Monday morning,” Morticia announced silkily from the sofa, picking up her embroidery to work on. Gomez had left the room moments before with her brother to play with his new train set.

“Really.” Wednesday kept her tone even.

“Most of the alumni were against us, but your father convinced them that Vincent would draw some interest from the outcast community and increase enrollment numbers.”

Most people just say thank you.

She ignored the way her heart skipped and pursed her lips. The last barb she pulled out was particularly painful. Bliss. “Thank you,” she said tightly.

“We requested a schedule change since your psychic gifts have recently awakened. For the time being, there is no suitable therapist in Jericho. You’ll check in with Principal Thorpe to make sure the other conditions of your probation are being met.” The deft sound of the embroidery needle stabbing to the taut, gauzy fabric made Wednesday’s eye twitch. “I’m very glad you’ve decided to befriend his son,” her mother continued. “When you were a child, I attempted to encourage a friendship after you met, but you dismissed him as pathetic and uninspiring. Something about your brother being enough of a body to torture for playtimes.”

🖤

The new schedule of classes arrived a few days before the new term. Wednesday snapped a picture of it and sent it, unsure of what possessed her to do so.

Chapter Text

Wednesday knew that she was selfish. It wasn’t something she as working on; therapy had done very little work against the fortified wall of her psyche. Even becoming an older sister had not dampened the flaw. Though she often displayed fierce love and loyalty toward others, she hadn’t lied when she told Tyler that she would put her own needs and interests first.

It didn’t rankle her to think back on Tyler; having had several nemeses over the years he was hardly special. She imagined tossing him onto the pile of others. The boys who killed Nero squashed under the weight, that editor from the publishing house slipping over an almost forgotten great-uncle.

I thought we liked each other.

She deliberately looked away from The Weathervane as Lurch drove her through Jericho en route back to Nevermore.

The concerning thing was that she had thought it, too. She’d been relieved. Watching her parents, she’d always been afraid – her only fear – that she would become a deranged, obsessive loon inattentive to anything but her partner should she ever establish such a connection. She had felt next to nothing for Tyler, the same as she felt for anyone else. Naturally she had stronger emotions now, but they were all centered around loathing and the same feeling her brother’s poisonous barbs had left behind for three days, a dull and irritating phantom prick. There had never been potential for romance between them. They were bound, but only as long as her resentment would last and until the thirst of her vengeance was sated.

Her phone vibrated silently.

Her immediate thought was that it might be Xavier.

Thing fluttered his fingertips at her and she snatched him up, dangling him out the window until he clung tight, begging for mercy.

Welcome Back

The message was accompanied by a parade of emoji fanfare, then a picture. She opened it, jabbing at the screen inelegantly. The picture was dark. Wednesday scowled at it, ready to hiss something about how technology had its limitations.

It was her bed.

Her bed in Ophelia Hall.

She recognized the faint pattern of the quilt at the edge of the picture. The darkest part of the image was a box complete with a tight, matte black bow.

🖤

She had Thing inspect the gift. Fortunately, Enid hadn’t arrived yet.

safe, he tapped out, hedging it.

Still, she handled it as gingerly as possible, tipping it over upside down. It felt… thick. Not heavy. When she lifted the box, there was a bundle of black fabric there. Wednesday poked at it until it unraveled enough to lose its deception.

I SAVED THE SCHOOL AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID T SHIRT

🖤

Later, she was accosted in the quad by a gaggle of freshman girls who insisted on calling her their hero, asking for her autograph and attempting to nudge her into posing for pictures with them, all while sporting her signature braids. It was unnerving enough that after she managed to shake them, she’d forgotten why she’d ventured out in the first place. Enid had shown up a little after she’d bagged the gift box and shirt separately as evidence, bringing with her an explosion of color and noise. Some of these girls – other residents of Ophelia Hall – referred to her as a hero, putting her on edge. The pool of suspects was widening when it should be narrowing.

Eventually, her feet started carrying her to the south end of campus, out to the woods.

Xavier’s shed stood empty and dark. An errant piece of police tape hung off a splintered frame.

She tensed and shifted.

“Here,” Xavier held something out to her, a piece of paper once bright Nevermore indigo, now faded. She took it.

“What is this?”

“Over the summer I was made captain of the archery club. I passed these out at the beginning of the school year to recruit people.” He pointed to the bottom of the page. CALL XAVIER FOR CLUB TIMES OR QUESTIONS.

The number listed there was hers.

“I can have the phone company change it,” he offered. “Or I can just deactivate the phone, if you’d rather.”

“I have a stalker.”

She looked up at him to see his reaction. It was her first real glance at him in over a month. He hadn’t changed much. His hair was longer. His eyebrows shot up, place disbelieving face, sharp.

“Of course you do,” he said, exasperated.

“They started texting me over the break.”

He nodded, walking over to the shed and starting to undo the chains. “That tracks.” He glanced over his shoulder. “That’s why you’re back. You think whoever’s stalking you is a student here.”

Wednesday blinked. She should say yes. It was logical. That was the only reason she’d returned. He made a sort of half scoff, half sigh and unhooked the padlock, letting the chains fall to the ground. She followed him inside, not waiting to be invited. In the chaos of leaving school early back in November, she knew that he hadn’t had time to come back here. Everything was as she left it the night that she and the Nightshades strapped Tyler down to torture the Hyde out of him.

It was oddly satisfying to see how he took it in.

🖤

Wednesday knew that she was selfish. She actively chose to be. Xavier would have been better off at Reichenbach.

Chapter Text

Weems’ office looked exactly the same. The secretary that let Wednesday in was a harpy hybrid who barely acknowledged her, droning on about a schedule she had to keep. “The principal will be with you in a moment,” she added, shutting the heavy door in her face. Wednesday was not offended; she was more intrigued by the possibility of being left alone. Not one to waste an opportunity, she darted forward as stealthily as possible, signaling Thing.

The chair swiveled around.

“Up to mischief, Miss Addams?” Weems simpered, fluttering her red nails.

Wednesday froze.

“Principal Weems.” Having seen a few ghouls around campus and already being experienced with the undead – some of her fondest childhood memories were of grave digging with her cousins to dance with and be chased by their long dead and crumbling ancestors. Weems looked immaculate; a detail Wednesday chose to keep to herself. Inflating the ego of a dead person wasn’t wise.

“Have a seat, Miss Addams. We need to go over your probation agreement.” Wednesday sank warily into the seat. From the floor, Thing was signaling frantically at her. She sneered in his direction and kicked him away. “First, you are to abide by a strict curfew. You are to be in your room by 8 pm sharp on weeknights and Sundays, 9 on Saturdays. You are never to be off campus alone. You must always be with a peer or under the supervision of your dorm mother. As soon as one becomes available, you will attend regular therapy sessions…”

Wednesday restrained herself from rolling her eyes; she reserved that for when she was experiencing true, blood-curling delight.

In the middle of detailing the terms of her academic probation, Weems’ eye glazed over and her jaw went slightly slack. Wednesday blinked. Startling a ghoul, pointing out any flaw in their physiology, was also unwise. She’d never seen it happen, but her grandmama had lectured her about remaining calm until the spirit projection cancelled itself out. Weems’ voice started to garble and with a jolt, she collapsed on the desk, leaking nightshade poison.

Wednesday looked down at the arm of her chair. Her knuckles had gone white gripping it. She blinked, confused. The sturdy carved wooden arm, covered in plush velvet, was now a sleek, modern leather framed in steel. She glanced back up and immediately pushed the chair back, drawing her body into a taught defensive stance.

“I would appreciate it if you would sit still, Miss Addams. This is my first official conference with a student as principal.” Vincent Thorpe sat back calmly, picking up her disciplinary file. His dark blonde hair was streaked with grey. The shape of his jaw was just like his son’s, and a few knuckle tattoos adorned his hands. Wednesday breathed out a hard exhale through her nose, sinking back into the seat. Thing scuttled back over to her but she ignored him. There would be time later to address how easily he had pulled her into the illusion. For now, it was imperative for her to save face.

“Why Weems?”

“I read the report,” he answered. “According to your statement to Jericho police, you were there when she was murdered. I was curious how you would react, if you would display any guilt for your part in it.”

“I had no part in it. Weems knew the risks of changing her form to catch Laurel Gates in her deception. And I don’t feel guilt.”

Vincent smirked. It was an odd mirror of Xavier’s smug look, colder. He didn’t believe her. He could see that she didn’t believe herself.

Chapter Text

The student body clapped politely after the new Principal’s welcome speech. Wednesday looked around, making note of students’ faces that mirrored her own. Stoically, she followed Enid out to lunch, noting the way Ajax’s fingers interlocked with hers. The gorgon himself looked bewildered, letting himself be dragged along. Wednesday made a mental note to track down a shovel for the inevitable confrontation on behalf of her best friend.

Xavier slid in alongside her at the lunch table, inadvertently calming the awkward third-wheel energy. A few other Nightshades joined them, easing Wednesday into a familiar sense of invisibility. She only tuned into the conversation when Yoko mentioned that her coven had been disappointed by the new principal. “We were pushing for one of our own, but it seems the board was influenced.” Even behind her dark glasses, Wednesday could feel that the vampire’s stare was directed at her.

As they filed out of the canteen to their common rooms for a debrief with their dorm parents, Xavier increased his pace to keep up with her.

“My dad said your dad was one of the alumni who supported him.”

Wednesday felt her next step falter and corrected it. “What of it? My brother must have put him up to it. Pugsley is a fan of his. He’ll be attending next year.”

“Really?” Xavier grinned. “Are all Addamses late bloomers?”

“An unfortunate side effect. With my academic probation in place and the board already wary of letting me start mid semester last fall, Pugsley has to wait until the beginning of the academic year.”

Xavier had no response to the logical lie, smooth as it was, and they parted. Enid’s nails dug into her arm as they followed the other Ophelia Hall girls to the large common room. “We’re so lucky Capri stepped up and took the dorm mother position. I heard they were going to stick us with that hag librarian,” her roommate groused, her nails spiring sharply. “My mom was over the moon about it, too. Over the break she got even more controlling. I need a strong, independent female werewolf to mentor me.”

Wednesday was rarely impressed, but she had to concede that her friend’s hopes were not unfounded. The music teacher was a quietly fierce, sophisticated person. Wednesday had only had the displeasure of meeting her once during Outreach Day.

When the girls had seated themselves on the couches, ottomans, chairs and on the plush rug, Ms. Capri stood in front of the fireplace. She calmly reminded them what the house rules were. “I have a very good nose. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’ll get anything past me,” she assured them. “Any weres should stay behind. We have pack things to discuss.”

A murmur of interest radiated through the room. Unlike the others, Wednesday chose not to dissect if she should feel put out by the exclusion. She needed to be alone.

It took her almost the entire half hour Enid was downstairs to compose the text.

Chapter Text

Let’s go for a walk after dinner.

Xavier read the message over a few times, swiped his thumb up to reveal more of the conversation, willing himself to believe that Wednesday had sent it.

The rest of the day crawled by. His dad called him to his office to go over his schedule. He checked back in with the archery club mentor to do an inventory of the equipment they had after Crackstone. At dinner, he sat with his dorm, glancing over at the Ophelia Hall table. Wednesday flipped her steak knife, pointedly ignoring Enid’s attempts to include her in conversation. When she got up to clear her tray, she shot a glance in his direction. Xavier took the hint and followed, falling into step with her outside.

“How was your break?” she asked before he could formulate a question, mentally wrestling with something that wasn’t accusatory. The flier he’d shown her earlier had been enough to exonerate him as a suspect.

“It was… fine,” he hedged.

“Did you do anything fun?” she prodded. She said it as though she’d practiced, like lines recited badly.

“Did you?” he echoed back sarcastically. He didn’t have the luxury of enjoying her possible embarrassment or wondering if she was actually trying to be friendly. He thought of the crime scene he’d found in his shed earlier. It was too much of a stretch to imagine that torturing Tyler there had been her way of trying to make things up to him, ask forgiveness.

“I found out that my brother’s bones don’t regenerate.” She looked up at him. “I’ve been trying to get Pugsley’s outcast gift to reveal itself. We have a few family members gifted with the ability. One of my cousin Lumpy’s party tricks is cutting off his finger and letting us watch it grow back.” They continued their walk, eventually finding their way back to Ophelia Hall. “It would be better if we parted here. I wouldn’t want Ms. Capri to get the wrong idea and call my parents.”

“Sure,” he muttered, still unsure of what he should make of the last half hour.

🤍

Doubtless you found my behavior strange. You are right to be suspicious. I had ulterior motives. I wanted to see if my stalker would take the bait and follow us.

Xavier inhaled sharply. During their walk, she had deliberately steered him through corridors that were empty. He was starting to develop a theory, but needed to know if she’d received any other text messages. Did it work?

Yes. He bit his lip, watching his reflection in the bathroom mirror. I need your help with something. As of now, I believe the stalker to be a student, most likely someone who had access and knowledge of your phone number – now mine – and the ability to overhear private conversations.

that tracks. texting is safe?

Yes.

I’ll bite, he typed out, resisting the urge to tease her about how useful the phone turned out to be. What do you need?