Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first vision came when you were twelve.

Losing yourself in the woods that surrounded Jericho to get the smallest sliver of freedom in while they were at work and school had just ended, you had found yourself staring at the Skull Tree, fascinated by the growth. It added to the atmosphere of the area that surrounded Nevermore academy of a creepily gorgeous strangeness. Mother had always told you not to get too close to Nevermore. When you raised your hand up, letting your palms brush against the bark, you found out why.

The moment your skin made contact with the tree, your head snapped up and a series of visions flashed through your mind. A mechanical heart of brass, ticking away in a pale chest, a gloved hand touching your face, a flash of dark curls, and a soft, calm feeling washing over you. When you came to from the vision on the dark foliage, you desperately fumbled to hold onto the warmth. It took a few seconds of laying there, breathing and staring up at the bright sky cracked with dark branches to find a name for the unfamiliar feeling. Love.

A sudden, unrestrained laugh burst from your chest. But as you tried to hold onto that feeling, it slipped away until you were left with not warmth, but a dull emptiness in your stomach. The harder you struggled to hold onto that feeling, the further it got from your grasp. Giving a frustrated yell, you got up and slammed your hand into the tree, but the only sensation you got was a sharp sting from where jagged edges of wood dug into your skin. “Dammit,” you muttered, then kicked the tree, screaming, “Dammit!”

What the hell had that been?

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“Mum? Dad?” your voice was quiet, yet carried easily over the quiet dinner table. Your parents’ eyes snapped up from their plates in unsettlingly perfect unison. “We discussed this, honey,” your mother’s voice was solid and loud, drastically different from your own shaky whispers, “No talking at the dinner table. Whatever you need to discuss can be said during our nightly family conversation time.”

Had it been any other day, you would’ve immediately shut your mouth and turned your gaze back to your food. But it was not just any other day. “Mum.” You surprised even yourself with the firmness in your voice, one you didn’t even show to the mean kids at school. Your parents gaped at you in identical expressions of shock at the unexpected defiance from their quiet, obedient child. Not like your sister, who was loud and strong and whose sudden lack of presence left a noticeable gap in the fabric of your family. “Am I a psychic?”

As soon as the question left your lips, a loaded silence hung over your family. You were about to repeat the question when your father responded, “I'm a psychic. I’m not surprised that you are too. Did you have a vision?”
“You- you knew? You knew and were keeping this from me? Is that- Is that why you didn’t want me going to Nevermore? Why-”

“Quiet.” You flinched at your mother’s tone, turning your eyes down to the dinner on your plate. Her voice softened, but you still didn’t look up, “Your ability is dangerous, Y/N. You need to stay away from these things, do you understand?”

You didn’t. Among all the so-called normies in Jericho, you were nothing. You were tired of keeping your head down and standing quietly to the side, not being allowed to have friends and being pressured into nothing less than perfection. But you didn’t say that.

“Yes,” you whispered, head down.

-------------------------------------------timeskip of five years--------------------------------------------------------

You stared up at the towering buildings of Nevermore Academy in the crisp dark purple striped uniform. This was the last place you’d ever expected to be, but here you were. “Remember to study every day, alright, dear?” your mother patted your hair affectionately, but the look in her eyes was anything but maternal, “We expect you to keep up your streak of academic excellence here as well.”

“Yes, mum,” you nodded, waving her goodbye as she got back into the car. Glancing at the charred, broken roof of a clock tower, you wondered what had happened there, and if your powers could possibly tell you. Turning to the side, you saw a fancy black limousine pull onto campus, luggage strapped to the top. A frighteningly tall man in a suit stepped out the driver’s side and opened the back door for an elegant woman with long black hair and gothic dress with red inner lining. She was followed by a pigtailed girl in a large coat and monochrome version of the nevermore uniform, a pudgy man with a mustache, and a boy in a striped wool vest, shorts, and purple Nevermore blazer.

From everything that had gone down in Jericho last year, you could guess that pigtails girl was Wednesday Addams. Alarmingly enough, she appeared to recognise you, looking directly at you, “You’re the normie who Lucas and his underlings pummeled and called homophobic slurs.” She said it like a statement, not a question, so you didn’t quite know how to respond. Eventually, you managed to stammer out, “It- wouldn’t have been the first time. Or the last. Also, not a normie. Psychic, actually.” Wednesday paused, then walked away without another word, leaving you a little miffed. “I- I’m not gay, by the way!” you felt compelled to clarify, “I’m bisexual, if that makes things um, any better for you. But if it doesn’t, then you know-”

“I don’t offend easily, but it does irk me that you’d assume I could be so low as to spare an ounce of hatred on those undeserving of it.” Wednesday didn’t even look back.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Hi,” the boy in the shorts popped up behind you, sticking his hand out for a shake, “I’m Pugsley.” Smiling, you took his hand, only for a sharp shock of electricity to travel through your fingers. He laughed, as did the pudgy man who was probably his father. Stiffly, you flashed your best fake friendly grin, “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.” The conversation didn’t lead anywhere else, so you spun on your heel and marched off to where your dormitory was, according to the maps you had looked up. While your parents had been more than reluctant to send you to Nevermore, with you constantly having visions, and talking to your spirit guide out loud, the school had given them really no choice but for them to have you transferred to Nevermore for your senior year. Just as you figured out which direction Usher Hall was in, you felt a tap on your ankle, and looked down to see a… severed hand.

“Oh,” you knelt down, “Hello. Are you Wednesday’s little friend I’ve heard so much about?” The hand twitched its fingers as if nodding. “Um, do you know sign language?” This time, he lifted onto the stump that would connect to a wrist, and made a fist, knocking on the air. Yes. Smiling, you sat in a more comfortable position. Finally, someone was being genuinely friendly to you, although said someone was a single hand. “What’s your name?” A fist with the thumb straight and tucked under the index finger. A finger gun with both index and middle fingers, the thumb angled a little lower. A single pinky raise. A fist with the thumb tucked under the first two fingers. A finger gun like the one before but with just the index. “...Thing. That’s an interesting name. Anagram for night. Very fitting, isn’t it, for an Addams?” 

Thing made a gesture like a finger gun pointing out and down, pointed at you, then raised one thumb. “Yeah. I’m okay, I guess. Just like, nervous, to be starting a new school. Don’t exactly have the best track record with those,” you felt a little silly, sitting on the ground and talking to a severed hand with your suitcase behind you. Reassuringly, Thing reached out to pat your hand, and a vision tore through you. A ring of glinting silver with an inscription, a chess knight. An axe. Flying sparks of electricity. Dark curls, like the ones in many of your visions that you were familiar with. Gasping, you snapped your head back down to Thing, who repeated the question from before, but with more urgency this time. Nodding, you got up, “Thank you for asking after me. It’s the first nice conversation I’ve had in a while.”

What had that been? It was your mystery boy with the clockwork heart, that was certain; But what was Thing’s connection to him? Shivering, you dragged your suitcase to Usher Hall, a little unsettled by that whole encounter.

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The moment your RA, Angel, was finished with the story of the Skull Tree, you practically leapt out of your seat with questions. “This boy. You said that he designed his own heart? Like, a mechanical one?” Your pulse thundered in your ears with excitement. Could the boy from the story be the same boy from your visions? How did one even contact the dead? Seances? Ouija boards? “A clockwork one,” Angel nodded, pleased that someone had been paying attentive attention to them, “He was a DaVinci, like myself.”

“Do you know what he looked like?”

“Unfortunately not. But maybe a teacher who’s been around for a while might know? Why so curious all of a sudden?” The others began to get up and leave for the Founder’s Pyre.

“It’s just an interesting story,” you lied with a big smile, getting up to go to your room. “You’re a great storyteller, Angel. Thanks for getting us all eased into the school.”

You made your way to your room. You’d met your roommate already, a tall kid your age with dyed green hair called Avery. Mystery boy. So he had been a student at Nevermore, but now he was dead, with few ways to communicate with him. Seances, ouija boards, pendulums… Despite being a psychic, your father hadn’t taught you much, and your spirit guide was barely present. “Now, don’t go complaining,” you heard your late grandfather’s voice from behind you, “I did teach you how to trigger your visions.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you grumbled begrudgingly.
“And I’ve also aided your search for your mystery boy.” You perked up at that, turning to face him, “Do you know him, maybe? Dad- dad probably went to school with him, and he sounds pretty memorable.”
“Don’t you think I would have told you if I knew?” scolded your grandfather, ‘ruffling’ your hair but really just putting his hand on it and moving it back and forth, which didn’t actually do anything. “But really, Y/N, this isn’t healthy, if you're letting nearly every waking thought be consumed by this boy.”

“It’s called being a hopeless romantic, grandpa,” you twirled, “Oh, speaking of which! If he went to school here, surely there’ll be tons of triggers for visions of him! Maybe I’ll find out more! Which dorm do you think he lived in? Ooh, maybe the school will have a record of him. Do you think I can get access to old student files? I mean, a DaVinci with a clockwork heart can’t be that hard to find, right? If I just go through all the DaVinci students with the highest grades from that time, then filter using what I already know about hi-”

“Y/N.” Startled, you looked once again to your grandfather, who smiled down at you. “Don’t get too carried away, alright?”

You saluted, “Aye-aye, captain. Don’t worry about me.” Patting you on the shoulder with a phantom touch, he disappeared into thin air. You waited a beat, then grinned.

“Felony grave robbing isn’t a crime if you don’t get caught.”

Chapter Text

Creeping at the edges wasn’t anything new to you.

From standing off in the wings as your older sister shone, to doing your best to not get noticed at school to avoid bullies, to looking at the social going-ons of kids your age while knowing you weren’t permitted to join; you were familiar with the feeling of looking at the world through a third person perspective instead of feeling like you were part of it. As the ceremony came to a climax and Principal Dort was about to set the pyre alight, you snuck away. Slipping away unnoticed was easy when there was nobody that would notice your absence. The gardening club’s shed was unattended, allowing you to snag a shovel on your way to the Skull Tree.

The woods were alive with the sound of rustling leaves and insects. Though the cicada season was long since over, there were plenty of other bugs to feed nature’s orchestra without them. You made your way through the forest with a practiced ease. Ever since your first vision, you had frequented the Skull Tree more and more, even skipping classes, risking your mother’s wrath, to try and find an answer to the mystery of the boy plaguing your mind. Who could possibly have known that the solution had been there the whole time, under your feet as you stared into the hollow eye socket like indentations of the tree trunk as if they held the key to the secrets of the universe?

You stood in your usual spot, running one hand along the bark, lower and lower until you were kneeling at the base of the tree. But before you could lift your shovel, the sound of footsteps startled you onto your feet. Slowly, you raised the spade up above your shoulder threateningly, “Who’s there?” The question that you had meant to sound commanding and authoritative really came out as a whisper that fought against getting lost in the sounds of the forest. “Y/N! It’s me, Pugsley. If you remember me.”

“Oh. Hi.” Though you were still ticked off about that little practical joke with the electricity, you didn’t show it, lowering your shovel. “What’re you doing here?”

“Could ask the same from you. I’m here to dig up the dead kid.” He said it with a grotesque excitement that further irritated you. “Don’t get possessive,” warned your grandfather, materialising behind you. You ignored him, glaring, “Well, too bad, because I’m here to do the same. And I got here first.”

“Shh,” Pugsley had gone up to one of the eyes of the tree, pressing his ear to the bark to listen for the fabled heartbeat. Scoffing, you kicked at the ground in his general direction, “I’ve been coming here for years. It’s not actually-”

“I hear something!”

Confused, you scrambled over. There was in fact some sort of clicking sound, but it didn’t sound like clockwork. A crow burst out from the hollow, startling the both of you. You stumbled back, flinching, but Pugsley took a more drastic fall, yelping and slamming into the ground and setting off his Spark abilities. A coursing stream of electricity went through his hands and into the ground. “You’re gonna burn yourself out,” you hissed. When your grandfather, who was now noticeably gone, had first made his appearance, you had learned from him about all the types of outcasts, extinct ones included, and their abilities. You knew well enough that most outcasts could suffer consequences, sometimes deadly, if they overused their powers.

A gloved hand shot out of the ground, sending both you and Pugsley tumbling further back, alarmed. But a hum of excitement flooded your head, clouding some of the fear. So it was true. Your mystery boy was really buried under the Skull Tree. And Pugsley had actually come in useful. Tentatively, you took a few steps forward as the boy with the clockwork heart lifted himself out of the ground, movements jerky and clumsy. His flesh was mostly rotten, one eye bulging out and the other socket closed shut, with whole chunks of flesh gone to decomposition, but you didn’t care. While Pugsley still sat on the ground staring, you approached, cautiously dusting the dirt from the zombie’s clothing. Gently, you laid one palm on the left side of his chest, satisfied when you felt solid brass and ticking. Giddiness flooded you, and you laughed, much like you did after your first vision. “Hello,” you whispered, quiet enough that Pugsley wouldn’t hear, “This isn’t exactly how I expected our first meeting to go, but I suppose we’ll have to settle for this, hm?”

“What do we do with him now?” Pugsley, who had seemingly finally come to his senses, looked over your shoulder at the disoriented zombie. “Well, he seems to be low on cognitive function right now,” you mused, tilting his head down slightly by the side of the face so you could examine the hole in his cranium. In it was a writhing mass of larvae. “First order of action. We need to get these out. Next…” closing your eyes, you whispered, “Grandfather?” Sure enough, he appeared beside you. “Who’re you talking to?”

“My grandfather. And also my spirit guide. Grandpa, what can you tell me about zombies?”

“Never seen one myself, until now, of course. But I do hear that they crave meat, and eating recovers their cognitive ability. Brains work best, but any meat does work, albeit much, much slower. It restores their brain and their flesh. That’s one of the few things that normie interpretations of outcasts that they got right,” your grandfather circled you, Pugsley, and the zombie, examining the other two carefully. “Usually, bringing zombies back is much more difficult, but thanks to the boy’s powers, and our little undead friend here’s unique anatomy, it might have been much easier in this case.”

“Alright. Thank you for the information,” you nodded, and he disappeared.

“What did your grandpa say?” asked Pugsley eagerly.

“He’ll need food. Brains, to be specific.”

You were already beginning to formulate plans. Grave robbery? No one would notice anything amiss about freshly dug graves if you were subtle. Morgue robbery? That one would be more noticeable, be harder to pull off, but it would provide brains in the best condition. Murder? Well, while it was the most difficult to pull off, but what better show of dedication was there than killing for someone? “Oh, the mystery meat sandwiches in the cafeteria have ground up pig brains in them,” Pugsley grinned, “We can feed him those!”

“How… how do you know this?”

“Recognised the taste. It’s very distinct.” He didn’t elaborate any further, and you weren’t sure you wanted him to. “Well, we can worry about food later. First, we need to find him somewhere to stay. He can’t stay in either of our rooms, obviously, so what’s the next best place?” Both of you were silent for a while, and the zombie groaned and moved about in front of you, still appearing disoriented and confused. It was reminiscent of waking up from a long, deep sleep, which was basically what had happened.

“Your roommate,” you mused, brushing more dirt off the zombie’s coat, which was a little tattered and filthied from being buried for thirty years, “He has a beekeeping shed, doesn’t he?”

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It took a lot of effort to haggle your mystery boy to the shed. You didn’t tell Pugsley about your visions. For one, you didn’t particularly feel like sharing anything with him, and for another, those visions were private, special. Something only for you and, due to lack of any other choice, your grandfather. Pugsley, for whatever reason, had chains and a collar, which made keeping the zombie in one section of the shed simple enough. “I wonder…” you hummed, reaching out and brushing aside a scrap of fabric. The clockwork heart ticked under your gaze, and you stared, openmouthed. It was even more beautiful in person. Gently, you skimmed your fingers across the brass, and a vision tore through you. Losing consciousness, you limply slammed into the side of the shed. A clean, sterile operating room. A sickly young boy with a head of dark curls. And a voice. “Congratulations on the successful operation, Mr. Isaac Night. You’re alive.”

Gasping, you shot up to your feet once the vision was over. Pugsley stood over you, appearing fascinated, “I didn’t know you were a psychic!” You didn’t respond to that. Weren’t even sure how to, really. “Hey,” you suggested quietly, “How about you go get some food for this guy?”

“Oh, yeah! I’ll be right back!” Without even trying to put up a fight, he scampered off, and you turned to the zombie, who now seemed hungry, biting the air in your general direction and struggling against the chains. “Isaac,” you whispered, running one hand across his shoulder, “That’s your name, isn’t it? Isaac Night?” He didn’t give a response, not that you’d been expecting one, but you could have sworn his ragged breathing paused for a second as if in surprise. You smiled, tilting your head, “Isaac Night. I like it. Rolls off the tongue nicely. Simple. Memorable. I’m Y/N L/N. And may not know me, but I know you.”

“Remember not to get too carried away, Y/N,” your grandfather warned, appearing behind you, “Doves, when they get swept up in visions of happiness, can easily fall prey to delusions, and eventually, if left unchecked, madness. You have to be ca-”

“I’ll take very good care of you, Isaac,” you cooed as if your grandfather wasn’t even there, brushing your fingers through what was left of Isaac’s ringlets, “Don’t worry. We’ll get you back to tip-top shape in no time.”

“Y/N, were you listening to a word I said?”

“Nope.”

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You ended up spending the whole night in the shed with Isaac. He kept pulling against the chains and snapping at you, temporarily sedated only when Pugsley came back with a bag full of sandwiches. “It’s not great, but this is all we got,” you held out the sandwich, offering it to Isaac, “We’ll get you something better soon, ‘kay?” Growling, he lurched forward and took the food with his teeth, scarfing it down. Taking a step back, you watched him eat, smiling like an idiot. “This is awesome,” Pugsley set his bag down on the table. For once, you had to agree with him.

Chapter Text

“I swear, if even one of my bees are missing, I’m telling Wedn-”

Both you and Isaac turned to face Eugene and Pugsley, who had just entered. Snarling, Isaac took a step towards Eugene, only to be zapped with electricity, “Down, boy!”

“Pugsley!” you admonished, checking on Isaac to make sure he was okay. He hunched over in his corner of the shed, and you ran one hand up and down his back in an attempted gesture of comfort. “He’s not a pet, so don’t treat him like one!”

“The chains were your idea!” he protested.

“What is that?” Eugene cut into your bickering,  taking a puff from his inhaler.

“The coolest thing ever,” Pugsley grinned, “Now we have a pet and a best friend!”

“He is not a pet!”

Ignoring your frustration, he stepped forward, swiping the cloth covering Isaac’s clockwork heart out of the way, “Watch this; it gets cooler. Remember that story Ajax told us the first night here? It’s all true! I jump started his clockwork heart and brought him back to life.” His fingers sparked with electricity, and Isaac flinched away. “Pugsley, stop it, you’re scaring him!”

“This really is the boy from the skull tree. He’s not an urban legend, he’s one of us!” Eugene finally seemed to be catching on. “Which is why we should keep him locked up in here forever,” Pugsley grinned. “I don’t… think that’s a very safe idea. Or a sanitary one. We need to tell someone before he eats us.”

“Well,” you spoke up meekly, raising your hand then immediately internally scolding yourself for it, “I spent the whole night here with him, and nothing went wrong.”

“Yeah, he won’t. Besides, he’s got no brain. Which means he’s harmless as a slug.” Pugsley was immediately proven wrong by Isaac rattling his chains, “He is hungry, though.”

Eugene rushed for a jar of honey, and you patted Isaac on the shoulder, stepping behind him to check on the chain to make sure it wasn’t going to come loose. In those few seconds where you took your eyes off the two younger boys, they had somehow managed to cause Isaac to vomit all over them. “I think I’m going to call him Slurp.”

“Woah, woah, okay, no. Definitely no,” you stepped around Isaac, taking a protective step in front of him. Seemingly temporarily no longer hungry, the zombie let you. “He has an actual name, you can’t just give him a new one, much less one so demeaning!”

“Yeah, well you got a better one? Or know his real one?” challenged Pugsley. You opened your mouth, then closed it. Though you weren’t quite sure why, you didn’t feel like telling them. Knowing his name while the others didn’t felt somehow special. Like you had more of Isaac than Pugsley did. “See? We’ll call him Slurp,” he sounded annoyingly proud of himself.

“Sorry,” you mumbled to Isaac under your breath.

“Anyway, we should probably go see what everyone else is doing,” Eugene gestured at the door, “And I do not think I can spend another minute here with him.”

“I’ll get more food for Slurp!” Pugsley followed Eugene out the door, practically buzzing with energy, “Hey, Y/N, wanna come with?”

“I’ll pass,” you stepped away from the door and closer to Isaac, going back to just sitting on the floor staring at him. Eugene elbowed the other boy, who looked disappointed at your refusal, in the side, muttering under his breath, “I think they have a crush on the zombie.” Politely, you pretended not to hear. When the other two’s footsteps faded away, you immediately began to chatter away. “Sorry about that, Isaac. I don't know how he can't understand that you're a person and not a pet. But you know the chains are for your own protection, right? If you wander out, who knows what they'll do to you? It also doesn't hurt that this makes sure you stay put.”

“Your heart really is gorgeous, you know,” you continued, reaching up and brushing aside the scrap of fabric that covered it, “It's brilliant. Greater than anything the majority of the population could even realistically hope to achieve in one lifetime. You're incredible.” Isaac calmed down a little at your words, standing relatively still with his head tilted down toward you. Although you couldn't tell because of the state of his eyes, he appeared to be looking at you. “I can't wait to see you fully regenerated. I mean, I’ve seen the briefest glimpses in my visions, but I know it'll be different in real life. I wonder if there's any way I could speed up the process.” Getting to your feet, you ran your fingertips through the remains of Isaac’s hair thoughtfully. He shuffled away from your touch, but you persisted.

“Brains of higher intelligence can be more effective in restoring a zombie,” your grandfather chimed in from next to where the bees were kept, “Weren't you listening on the news just last night that some brilliant author in Jericho died recently and his body was in the morgue for an autopsy?”

“You're right!” you chirped, “I’ll go straight there after classes!”

“Now, I did not mean that, I did not mean that! Y/N M/N  L/N, you are not robbing a morgue on my watch!” he wagged an index finger in your direction with a stern look. You shot him a grin over your shoulder, “Well, then don't watch.”

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“What do you mean he’s missing?” you demanded, practically hysterical, “And why didn't you tell me sooner?” Pugsley, Eugene, and you stood in front of the Hummers’ shed, a jar with a brain inside tucked under your arm. “We don't share any classes, we're in different grades, we live in different halls, and you were gone from the moment class was over until now,” Eugene pointed out, “You're not exactly easy to find. For the record, we did try to look for you during dinner, but you weren’t there.”

“Well that's because I was getting this!” you held up the jar, and Pugsley was momentarily awed by it. “Woah. Cool.”

“Where- where did you get that?” Horrified, Eugene’s jaw dropped, and he began to hyperventilate, reaching for his inhaler, “Scratch that, I don't think I wanna know.”

“Who cares where I got the brain? We have more pressing matters at hand!” Panicked, you flung the door to the shed open, dumped your things inside, and marched straight into the corner where Isaac used to be. Hoping for a vision, you pressed your hand to the splintered bit of wood that usually held the chains, and your powers didn’t disappoint. Rain. Bright car headlights. A road. The crunch of a cranium. You knew the area well enough to recognise the road, the one that spanned between Jericho and Nevermore. Briskly, you wheeled around and marched into the woods.

“Wait, Y/N!” called Eugene, “It looks like it's gonna rain soon, I don't think-” Thunder rumbled overhead, and you were met with an unpleasant downpour of rain as if on cue. “Y/N!” both boys and your grandfather yelled when you continued on, weaving between trees. Your grandfather followed, but the boys stayed behind. “Y/N, my dear, dear grandchild. If there has ever been a time to listen to my advice, it would be now.”

“We don't have time for this! I just got Isaac, and I am not losing him now!” you took off running, and your grandfather had to rematerialise close to you every few seconds to keep up. “Even if you find him now, who’s to say he won't just break out again?”

“We’ll chain him up better next time, then!” you brushed him off.

“That is not the model of a healthy relationship!”

“Well these are unique circumstances!” Squinting to keep the rainwater from your eyes, you cut through the forest to get to the stretch of road you had seen in your vision. “Y/N, Y/N, please wait,” your grandfather stretched through the veil between psychic guides and the living, grabbing onto your shoulder and pulling you back, “Listen, this is dangerous. You could get seriously hurt, or worse, and I promised your father that I would take care of you.”

“Because he won’t do it himself?” you snapped, eyes flashing with an uncharacteristic anger, “Because he’s busy with his brand new young girlfriend in Belgium? He got what he wanted, why can’t I?”

Your grandfather didn’t respond, just silently staring at you in the rain. “See? You don’t have a response to that, because I’m right,” you scoffed, starting to run again. This time, he didn’t reappear at your side. Gradually, you could see more of the road before you, “Isaac! Isaac! It’s me, Y/N! Where are you?” Just as you were about to run into the road, a hand yanked you back. Your grandfather. It was the second time he had physically interacted with you in the span of an hour. You watched a dark burgundy car zoomed by. Had you been left alone, it would definitely have hit you. While you recovered from that near-death experience, you heard a loud thud a little further up on the road. Alarmed, you leaned over and peered into the headlight-illuminated dark, holding your breath. “Y/N,” your grandfather whispered despite there being no need to, “You have to go back to your dorm. This is the second time you’re missing lights out, your roommate will probably be getting suspicious.” He was right. While Avery hadn’t brought up your absence last night to you during any of your classes, they did occasionally shoot you strange looks throughout the day.  There was a limp body laying in front of the vehicle. “I think that’s Isaac,” you breathed, chest constricting. Was he hurt? Could he, as a zombie, die again?

Glancing down, you saw a large rock at your feet. Without thinking, you picked it up, slowly inching toward the car. The figure you presumed to be Isaac got to his feet as the driver of the car got out. “Y/N!” Your grandfather’s warning fell on deaf ears. You quickened your pace until you were jogging toward where Isaac was, blinking rainwater out of your eyes, vision going blurry. Before you could get there, the driver screamed, and you heard the loud crunching of bone. Inhaling sharply, you stopped. “Isaac?” you called tentatively. The driver had fallen to the rain-slick ground, and Isaac was tearing at his head with his teeth. He’s trying to get to the brain, you realised. You could feel your heartbeat in every inch of your body, and your lungs burned from the amount of running you had just done. “Isaac,” you repeated, lowering yourself onto the asphalt beside him and the now very much dead body of the driver. “I’ve been looking for you.” Watching him eat, you smiled, brushing a few curls out of his face, “Don’t try to leave me again, okay? You scared me.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, there is a dead body in front of you.”

“Mhm, I know,” you hummed, putting the rock down by your knees but never looking away from Isaac.

“This makes me wonder which side of the family you get your personality from.”

Chapter Text

“So, Slurp just came back… on his own?”

“Yep,” you nodded, smiling, “Found him wandering back here.” Once Isaac was done eating, you had easily been able to guide him back to the Hummers’ shed without much resistance. Chaining him back up, on the other hand, had proven to be much harder. 

“Find a room, you two,” you shot to Pugsley and Eugene as they discussed corpse moths while Isaac ate the brain you had brought back from your little secret excursion to Jericho’s morgue. Well, rather, Eugene went on a short ramble, which Pugsley finished for him. Your grandfather waved from the door of the shed, gesturing you over. Without an explanation to the boys and a pat on the shoulder for Isaac, you stepped outside into the light. “You have to stop this before it gets too far,” he immediately began, “Just… Go to Camp Jericho, have fun for a while, forget about this stuff, be a normal teenager for just two days, alright?”

“But Isaac’ll be all alone! What if he escapes again? And he can’t just not eat for two days, that could damage his recovery!” you protested. And besides, you couldn’t just not think about him. You’d tried that for maybe the first month or so after the first vision, but the feat had proven impossible. Eventually, every thought always wandered back to your boy with the clockwork heart. “Y/N,” pleaded your grandfather, “Please. I don’t insist you do much, but I’m setting this as a hard rule; go to camp, spend some time away from this. And you need to start studying, too. Remember what your mother said. She expects you to keep doing well here. And you’re finally among kids like you, you should be trying to make friends!”
“I have Isaac!” you pointed out.

“Alive friends.”

“Pugsley. Eugene.”

“You hate them.”

“They annoy me, there’s a difference!”

“Listen, just go to camp. Who knows, you might actually enjoy it!” your grandfather put his hands on your shoulders.

You looked up at him skeptically, and he sighed, “It’s just two days, remember. It’s not the end of the world.”

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You tugged at the zipper of your beige hiking vest and readjusted your light grey bucket hat, scowling, “I am having absolutely zero fun so far.” You sat in the grass outside you and Avery’s tent, watching the argument between Principal Dort and the normie scout leader play out. You actually knew some of the cadets from your old school. One of them had spray-painted a homophobic slur across your locker once, so it escaped you how they made scout material. Before the cadets could kick the Nevermore students out, Wednesday caught everyone’s attention by blowing a black air horn. “If you and your dead-eyed drones want this campground so badly,  then fight us for it,” she sauntered up to the troop leader. He taught PE in Jericho High School, and was, among many other unsavoury things, a misogynist, and he was looking at Wednesday like he couldn’t believe that a girl was talking back to him. “Excuse me?” he scoffed.

“Winner takes all. Loser goes home.” All the outcasts whispered amongst themselves excitedly, and even you got to your feet. Some payback on those boys would be nice. “Psst,” you heard a familiar voice behind you, “Y/N.”

Turning, you were face to face with Eugene and Pugsley. “We have a problem,” whispered Eugene, “Somebody brought Slurp to camp.” Eyes wide, you turned to Pugsley, baffled. 

“You did what?”

“Well, we couldn’t leave him there alone, right?” he retorted more to Eugene than to you. You supposed that was fair. After all, you hadn’t wanted to leave Isaac behind either, and only did after all the persuading from your grandfather. “Where are you keeping him?”

“In our tent. Listen. I’m gonna go join the game, so you guys are gonna have to deal with it on your own, got it?” Eugene huffed, making his way over to where the group that wanted to be on the team were gathering. You immediately turned to Pugsley with a big smile, “Hey. Pugsley. Can I hang out in your tent?”

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“I thought we were going to have an Isaac-free two days. Why didn’t you ask to join the game? Could have been a good opportunity to make some friends,” sighed your grandfather, watching you push a few of your spare jackets into the coffin Pugsley had brought Isaac in to make it less uncomfortable. “Because my powers wouldn’t be very useful.”

“Wednesday’s a psychic too, and she’s playing,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but she also has natural leadership skills and fighting experience that I don’t have,” you leaned back to check on your handiwork. Isaac squirmed and thrashed in his chains, and you patted him on the chest, “Ah-ah. You can’t be pulling that escape artist stuff again.” Pugsley had left to watch what he could of the Colour War with everyone else, leaving you in his and Eugene’s tent with Isaac and your grandfather. Humming, you brushed your fingers through his hair, more of which had grown out along with his brain and flesh. He jerked away from you, slamming his head into the inside of the coffin, but eventually gave up resisting. Your grandfather put a hand on your shoulder, “Y/N, sweetie, have you ever considered therapy?”

“Whoo!” crowed Pugsley, running into the tent, dragging Eugene along by the shoulders, “We won!” Uncomfortable as he looked, even Eugene was grinning widely, letting the other boy keep his arm where it was, “That was pretty awesome.”

“Good for you guys,” you lifted a piece of cloth to examine Isaac’s heart again. The tiny, intricate bits of machinery moved in perfect harmony, creating the ticking noises characteristic of analog clocks. You could see where the bits of tubing on the machine connected to his veins, the seam where biology joined mechanics in a way that ought to be impossible, yet was very much real in front of you. Behind you, you could hear the boys whispering amongst themselves, and out of the blue, both their hands pulled you back and around. “Y/N, this is an intervention,” Eugene said as he and Pugsley practically dragged you out of the tent. Your grandfather nodded in approval, then vanished. “What the heck, guys?” you complained.

“Activities start in ten minutes, we should get going soon,” warned Pugsley.

“Come with us to the activities, okay?” Eugene pushed you in the direction of where everyone else was, “Staying cooped up in a tent with a zombie for a whole day cannot be good for your health, and people will get suspicious if you don’t show up.”

“My roommate didn’t care that I haven’t been at my dorm literally every night since we got here,” you grumbled.

“And that’s another problem!” Eugene strained to push you as you adamantly dug your heels into the ground. Nodding in agreement, Pugsley came in to assist, “Yeah. Even I agree with Euge that you should spend some time away from Slurp.”

“Don’t call me that. But he’s right. Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun!”

“Yeah, Y/N,” you heard your grandfather’s voice in your head, “It’ll be fun.”

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“Huh,” you held the stick of marshmallow over the fire Pugsley had set with his ability, sitting between him and one of the Sirens from the chorus, “This… actually isn’t terrible.”

“Told you so!” Pugsley grinned through a mouthful of marshmallow, and you laughed. A loud burst of fireworks cut through the surprisingly peaceful moment. Distressed, both the boys shot to their feet, “Slurp!” At the mention of Isaac, you got up as well, following them to their tent. The three of you sprinted to the tent, but when you got there, it was empty. The dead, bloody body of the cadets’ leader lay on the ground. Honestly, you didn’t feel bad for him. You were more concerned about where Isaac could be now. Your jackets were still piled up in the notably empty coffin, and the chains looked like they’d been wriggled out of. “Are you kidding me? Who made these chains so loose?” you yelled in frustration.

“I knew we should’ve told someone. Slurp was always more of your guys' friend anyway,” Eugene shined his flashlight onto the very dead body on the ground.

“Harboring a murderous zombie will get all your butts expelled for sure,” a girl with orangy red pigtails appeared before you. A vanisher, probably. Her voice sounded like a mimicry of Wednesday’s. In fact, she reminded you a lot of the black-haired girl in an unnerving way. “What’re you doing here?” Pugsley demanded.

“Proving myself to your sister by handling her low-priority tasks. Like keeping you alive.”

“We have to find him,” you interrupted the two, beginning to panic again. Frantically, you pressed your hands against the chain and the coffin, squeezing your eyes shut. Water. The interior of a rustic structure. An axe. Nothing more. “No way,” Eugene shook his head, “I’m out of this zombie business.”

“Relax, Slurp never tried to eat my brain,” Pugsley attempted to reassure Eugene.

“Because that would be empty calories.” Yeah, Carrot-Top definitely reminded you of Wednesday.

“Look, the last time I was alone with a monster in the woods, I ended up in a coma.” After a beat, you, Pugsley, and Carrot-Top snatched him by the arms and pulled him out of the tent. “Stop Bragging.” The four of you took off running.

“I think he’s headed for the showers,” you ran ahead of the others.

“Be more specific. Which one?” the orange haired girl snapped.

“Whichever one is closer!”

The door to the bathroom building was already open, and you barreled through at the head of the group. “No, Slurp! Not my dad!” Pugsley pushed forward, zapping Isaac with a powerful surge of electricity that sent him violently flying through one of the obscure glass windows. “Pugsley, don’t!” you cried, shoving the younger boy, hard. Some of the electric shock transferred to you, and the world went dark.

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“Welcome back to the land of the living, N/N.”

Pugsley and Eugene stood over you in the medical wing. You shot up, panicked, “What happened to-”

“Slurp’s been sent off to Willow Hill,” Pugsley explained sadly, “And, uh, sorry. For zapping you.” Excitement replaced his look of remorse, “What did it feel like? Was it cool?” You stared, unable to believe the nerve of this guy.

“It was shit,” you got to your feet, taking the vest from where it was neatly folded on your bedside table and pulling it back on. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple hours. They said because your mind was still vulnerable from the vision, and you were under stress, brain activity was spiking and the electricity had a worse effect than it should have. We got permission to stay here overnight. Also, you missed all your morning classes, but they told us your roommate got your homework assessments for you,” Eugene tugged Pugsley along to follow you as you left the nurse’s office, rattling off everything he deemed important for you to hear. “Also,” added Pugsley, “The three of us have afternoon detention today. In Professor Orloff’s classroom.”

“Lovely,” you grumbled, “Too bad I won’t be there. Or for my afternoon classes.” Before Nevermore and Isaac, you would never have skipped class and detention of all things so lightly. Before Nevermore, every class you skipped was a calculated move. You made sure it was a class you didn’t struggle in or was easy to catch up for, one where the teacher didn’t take attendance, and nobody would notice you were gone from. Though the last requirement was easier to tick off than the others.

“Where are you going?” the boys and your grandfather, who appeared in the doorway in front of you, asked in unison. You took your hat from a hook on the wall beside the door, scoffing, “Where do you think? To get Is- Slurp out of there! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Y/N, he killed a man,” Eugene looked at you like you were crazy.

“Because he couldn’t help it!” you argued, annoyed.

“Listen, sweetheart,” your grandfather stopped you from leaving, “You can’t act rashly, okay? I know you’re worried about Isaac, but you’re still recovering from that shock, and if you fall behind in your academics…” He didn’t need to finish that sentence to know what would happen. Your mother. The guilt-tripping, the berating, the yelling, the hitting. Pausing, you wheeled around to face the boys, “Fine. Fine. I won’t go.”

For now.

Chapter Text

You had been zoned out from stuffing invitations as Eugene and Pugsley chatted until Ajax stoned Professor Orloff.

You’d gone to classes, mechanically taken notes, dragged yourself reluctantly through homework, and spent all your free time curled up in Isaac’s corner of the Hummers’ shed. Every so often, Pugsley and Eugene would go in to check on you, only to find you laying there in the exact same position, staring blankly at the door.

“Wait,” you strode forward with the boys, swinging your backpack on “Me too.”

“Stay here. Finish the rest of the invitations,” Bianca tore her amulet off, using her siren song. For once, you were grateful that your mother made you have a corinthian coral lapel pin on you at all times. With a little smile, you lifted your jacket lapel, showing her and Ajax the inside as the boys went back to his invitations, “Nice try.”

“You-” growling, Bianca headed for the door, “I don’t have time for this. Do whatever you want.”

“Appreciate it!” You called after her and Ajax, taking the opposite turn to them in the hallway.

“Y/N, this is not a good idea,” your grandfather followed you down the hall to get off campus. There was a multitool in the front pocket of your bag, which would come in useful. Briskly, you avoided any and all teachers, keeping an eye out for Principal Dort in particular. As soon as you were out of the building, you broke into a run, heading straight for the gates. It felt like you’d been doing a lot of physical running after Isaac lately. But it was better than the psychic running after you’d been doing before.

The run to Willow Hill Psychiatric Hospital was a lot faster than you’d initially anticipated, despite the fact that you had to take a couple breaks of running in between sprints on the way. Every time you slowed your pace, your grandfather materialised beside you, begging for you to see some reason, but you ignored him. By the time you could just barely see the top of the building, you were gasping for breath and worn out, legs burning like a hot iron had been pressed to them. Stumbling forward, you practically choked on air. You were dizzy from the adrenaline of both running and the anxiety. You probably wouldn’t have much time left before Principal Dort realised you were gone. Rain poured down on you, and you felt a strange sense of deja vu. Rubbing the stitch in your side, you walked over to the building to see everything going to hell, and Wednesday Addams getting hurled out of a third storey window. The pain between your ribs forgotten, you ran forward, police sirens and gunshots ringing in your ears. You ran into a frail-looking brown haired lady in a long floral print dress. The woman looked more sickly than like she would cause any harm, so you made a split second decision. She looked terrified, backing away, but you simply patted her back, pointing at the woods, “Go through there, walk for about thirty minutes, turn right, and head straight until you see a long stretch of road, it’s connected to this one, but you’ll get there faster through the woods.” Swinging your bag to the front of your body, you dug around in the front pocket. A multitool, a flashlight, and a switchblade. You took the knife and handed it to the woman. “You’ll probably need this.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking the weapon from you with shaky hands.

“Go.” And she did.

Among the frenzied crowds, slipping into the building didn’t cause you any problems. The next step was easy; just follow the trail of bodies. “Isaac?” you called out, turning into a room with large double doors that looked like an office. A smile stretched across your face as soon as your eyes landed on his bloodstained face, which was obviously more recovered since the last time you saw him. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!” A look of surprise flickered in his eyes, which were now fully regenerated, and he took a step away from you. He glanced down at the corpses in the room like he thought for a second that he had imagined them because of the unfazed look on your face. “You’re… here,” he rasped. Excitement lit up your whole face, and you rushed forward, beaming like a second sun, “You can speak now! This is amazing! Oh, wait, I brought you this-” You pulled out a jar with a brain inside that you had nicked from Professor Orloff’s classroom during detention while no one was looking. Isaac stared down at the doting expression on your face with a look of concern, but he took the jar anyway.

“Oh,” you gasped, “You have bullet- We need to get those out.” Isaac started on the organ you’d brought him, and you glanced out the window. The sheriff’s people were beginning to crawl into the building. “Y/N,” your grandfather spoke urgently, appearing beside you, “Have I mentioned that this is a very, very bad idea?”

“It’ll be fine,” you murmured under your breath, turning around and heading for the door. Smiling, you turned to Isaac, “C’mon, Isaac. We’ve gotta get out of here before the cops get to this floor.” At the doorway, you hesitated. On one hand, since you’d been using your psychic ability a lot lately, there was a very good chance that you could burn yourself out. On the other, though, you did need to find a way out of here. As you were debating the options in your mind, Isaac pointed at the ceiling of the office. Panels. Slamming the door shut, you mapped out a route to climb high enough to dislodge one of them. “Isaac, you’re brilliant! Hurry.” You tugged him along by one gloved hand, heading straight for one of the shelves. Kicking some of the award plaques off, you clambered on top of it, then struck the ceiling panel directly above you with the heel of your palm, and was rewarded with it coming loose. Pulling it aside and dropping it onto the floor, you reached down to pull Isaac up. He hesitated, but raised his arms up anyway. You latched onto his elbows and climbed backward into the space between the drop ceiling and the true ceiling.

It took a lot of effort, but you managed to get him up into the crawlspace. Readjusting the soaked straps of your backpack on your shoulders, you reached back and pulled a tiny pocket flashlight out. “Okay. If we follow a pipe for long enough, there should be a way out of the building through the water system,” you breathed. Shining the flashlight around, you located a large pipe, and walked alongside it, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to make sure that Isaac was following. “Are you… Not afraid of me?” Stopping in your tracks, you turned around and flashed a bright, genuine smile at him. You lowered the flashlight and took a step closer, tilting your head. “Of course not.” Without any further explanation, you forged on. Your grandfather trailed close behind you, repeating over and over how bad of an idea this was, but you ignored him.

Eventually, you came to an opening in the side of the wall that opened up into a tunnel full of water that the pipe emptied out into. Grinning triumphantly, you lowered yourself into the water. It lapped at the hems of your olive green cargo shorts, shifting and splashing as you waded through. “You good?” you asked Isaac, pushing damp locks of hair out of your face with one hand. He nodded, movements jerky and stiff, but definitely less so than when you and Pugsley had first found him. After a few minutes, you came across an area where there was a narrow raised platform on the side of the tunnel that was just above the surface of the water. You climbed on, dumping your backpack on the platform beside you. Isaac approached, but still stayed a couple feet away from you in the water, wary. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Isaac,” you whispered softly, pulling your multitool out, “I’m just gonna get the bullets out, but you need to trust me, okay?” A still, quiet moment passed, but he stepped closer, letting you examine the bullet wounds. Meticulously, you began to pull bullet after bullet out with the forceps in the multitool. You worked in silence aside from the sounds of water echoing throughout the tunnel. Well, and aside from your grandfather. “Y/N. This is not good. This is really, really not good. Please, you have to turn him in and go back to school-”

“No,” you snapped sharply, getting to your feet. Startled, Isaac looked up at you. “Five years of searching, waiting, and hoping. Five years, granddad. I’m not letting this go now.”

“Y/N-”

“I said no.”

With an exasperated sigh, he disappeared. “Who… were you talking to?” asked Isaac, his voice scratchy from what was probably both damage to his voice box and misuse. Sitting back down in front of him, you continued with the bullets, “My spirit guide. And grandfather.”

“You’re a psychic,” he stated, and you nodded.

“I’ve been having visions since I was twelve, you know,” you wriggled a particularly stubborn piece of lead loose, “Of you. Well, not really of you, but of glimpses. Curly hair. A clockwork heart. A white lab coat. And recently, right after your heart surgery.” Pulling the final bullet out, you met his eyes, dipping your multitool in the water to clean it the best you could. “I’m a Dove. I see the positive potential outcomes of the future. Success. Happiness. Love.”

“And you think that I fit the latter category.”

“I don’t think,” your voice sharpened, a dangerous look flashing through your eyes “I know.”

“I don’t need to be a psychic to know that visions are unreliable,” he scoffed derisively, and white-hot anger burned through you, worse than you had ever experienced. Before he could react, you took the handcuffs you’d stolen off Pugsley(You had no clue why he had them, nor were you particularly interested in finding out) and snapped one end to Isaac’s left wrist, and the other to a jutting pipe from the wall. Alarmed, he tugged at the chains, “I applaud the effort, but I’ve escaped from chains more than enough times. Learning from past mistakes doesn’t seem to be in your nature.”

“Oh, well that’s where I outsmart the genius. If you remember correctly, every time, you never broke the chains, you broke what they were attached to. And this?” you wrapped the plaster-covered pipe, “Metal.” Isaac didn’t speak, hesitant, then he jerked forward, teeth snapping. Easily, you took a step back, the handcuffs holding him at a safe distance.

“We’ll work on that,” you smiled cheerily. With a spring in your step, you walked just outside his reach and lay down using your backpack as a pillow. “Good night, Isaac.” He growled in frustration, but you let yourself relax as much as you could into the cold stone.

"I'm never letting you leave me again."

Chapter Text

“Okay, let me get this straight” you looked up at Isaac, still groggy and shaken up from the nightmare about your mother he had just woken you up from, “Brown-hair lady is your sister, and you need to find her?”

“Well, I need to kill Judi Stonehurst for what she did to her first, but yes,” he looked desperate, clutching the photograph in his hand like a lifeline. “Please, Y/N. My sister is the most important person in my life.” Sister. You had one of those. At least, you used to. You’d loved her more than anything too. Still did. Even Isaac came second place to her. Swinging your backpack on, you got to your feet, “Okay. I’ll free you. Better, I’ll help you! But first, you’ll need to recover as much as possible.”

“We don’t have time for that!” growled Isaac, tugging against his handcuffs. You pulled the key out of your pocket, and spun it between your fingers, arching a brow. That quieted him.

“Pilgrim world is holding its Dia De Los Muertos festival tonight,” you explained, making sure your backpack straps were on tight, “There should be a big crowd, and you’ll blend in. But since there might be people looking for me, we’re going to have to take a pit stop at Nevermore. I need to get something to cover my face.” Getting to your feet, you unlocked Isaac’s handcuffs and walked toward where daylight was shining from, assuming that was the way out. You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled reassuringly, “Francoise will be fine. I told you, I ran into her last night. She looked a little sick, but I did give her a knife to defend herself with.” Isaac didn’t respond, simply following you out the tunnel. When you were about halfway to campus, he finally spoke, “Thank you. For helping her.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you shook your head, getting ready to sneak into your room.

“It is to me.”

“Who’s there? Slurp? Is that you?”

Pugsley. Acting fast, you shoved Isaac toward a tree, hissing, “Hide!” Turning around, you saw Pugsley and his father approaching. The boy wore a black outfit with white skeleton decals. You beamed that well-practiced fake smile at the two Addamses, hands folded behind your back, “Hey, Pugsley! Just me.”

“Y/N! Eugene and I were so worried about you! Where have you been? Don't tell me you were at Willow Hill looking for Slurp.”

“Oh, nah. I just… needed to take a walk. To clear my mind. I’m all good now,” you waved dismissively.

“You don't happen to have seen him anywhere, have you?” Pugsley wrung his hands nervously.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “Unfortunately not. Hey, I’m worried about him too, but you should take a break. You look like you've been at it for hours.”

“Are you kidding me? You need rest more than I do,” he gestured toward your disheveled state, “You should try actually sleeping in your bed for once. Have you ever done that even once since you came here?”

“And I am about to go do just that,” you pointed vaguely at where Nevermore was.

“Well, we're going to continue searching for Slurp,” Pugsley walked past you, toward the tree Isaac was ducked behind.

“Hey!” your voice came out at least an octave higher than usual, and you cleared your throat, “Have you, uh, tried searching that way?” You pointed in the direction of the tunnels you had come from. 

“Your friend is right, mijo. We may have a better chance of finding him closer to Willow Hill,” Mr. Addams patted Pugsley’s shoulder, and they headed over there. Breathing a sigh of relief, you waited until they were out of earshot before you went around to the back of the tree. Nobody was there. “Isaac?” you whispered. A trail of broken branches led you to the road that cut through the woods, Isaac watching over a crowd of costumed people from amidst the trees. “Isaac!” you called, “Will you stop running away from me? I told you-”

“I told you we don't have time,” he cut in, “I have to find Francoise as soon as possible. And you should do what that boy said. Go back to school.”

“No freakin’ way. I’m coming with you,” you walked up behind him, crossing your arms.

“Go home, Y/N.”

“You remember my name!” Irritation forgotten, your face lit up.

“You're impossible.”

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You watched Isaac dig his teeth into a man’s skull, grinning in adoration. Everyone that still had the capability to run was gone. “You're really pretty,” you breathed as you watched the flesh on his face slowly grow back.

“You need to be in Willow Hill more than anyone else in there did.”

“Well, it's closed, so too ba-” you were interrupted by the sound of electricity and crashing. Eyes snapping toward the way to the entrance, you slid the multitool out of your pocket, flicking the screwdriver open. It wasn't as good as the knife, but it would have to do. Getting to his feet, Isaac stepped behind one of the animatronics. When Pugsley turned the corner, he approached, only to be met with a burst of lightning. “Pugsley!” you yelled for what felt like the millionth time.

“Pugsley,” Isaac got to his feet, “Stop.”

“You can talk. And you look human! Well, almost,” Pugsley stated the obvious, focused on Isaac and paying you no mind.

“The brains. They brought me back.”

“This is the sheriff’s department department! Whoever’s in there, come out with your hands over your head!” All three of you glanced at the way out.

“We have to go, you tugged on Isaac’s coat frantically, “Like, right now.”

“You’ve given me a second chance at life, I don't want to waste it,” Isaac turned to Pugsley, speaking fast, “You're my only friend, Pugsley. Let me go. Please.” You cleared your throat pointedly, slightly offended. ‘Well, at least I didn't get friendzoned’, you looked on the bright side. Pugsley hesitated, then gestured at the back exit, nodding reluctantly. Isaac grabbed you by the shoulder and pulled you along. “Wait!” Pugsley called, “Y/N! How about you?” You looked up at Isaac, and he looked down at you. He seemed to think for a moment, and you stared pleadingly into his eyes, pouting as convincingly as you could. Eventually, he gave in, “They’ve agreed to help me.”

“I’ll be fine, Pugsley,” you nodded.

Isaac took you by the arm and tugged you out the door, “Come. We need to hurry.” You leaned into his touch, and he let go of you, dusting himself off. Abruptly, he paused, and you faceplanted into his back. “What’s wrong?” Confused, you peered around him to see Mr. Addams, looking dead at the two of you in an expression of utter shock. Swearing, you took a step back, pulling your hat lower over your face like that would do anything. You pulled at Isaac's coat, “Want me to kill him?”

“There won't be any need for that,” Isaac turned around and ducked in between rows of fabric, “Next stop, the home of Judi Stonehurst.” You pulled your phone from your bag and looked her up on social media. A couple of posts of her in front of her house and some cross referencing to places you knew later, you managed to lead Isaac to where she lived. Once the two of you broke in, it was clear that the house belonged to her.

Smiling proudly, you looked up at Isaac, “I don't just need my psychic abilities to find people. I’ve been practicing remote stalking for years looking for you. Who knew you were so close to home?” Intrigued, he scanned the photographs hung up around the room, and strode over to a lighter on the kitchen counter, turning it on and placing the flame to the wick of each red candle on the dining table one by one. “You're surprisingly useful,” he mused. Lighting up with pride, you laughed. The front door opened, and Isaac pulled you behind an open door, pushing you into the corner. “Stay quiet,” whispered Isaac, holding an index finger over your lips. Hot. Nodding, you pressed yourself into the side of the fridge.

A shrill scream echoed through the room, followed by a loud crunch. You peered out to watch Isaac hunched over Judi on the ground, the brown coat stretching across his back. A slow smile spreading across your face, you leaned against the warm surface of the fridge and watched. After a few seconds, you approached and crept over to the cupboard under Judi’s kitchen sink, rooting around for cleaning supplies. Isaac looked up, his now almost fully recovered but still pasty and slightly sagging skin stained with blood. He licked the red off of around his mouth with that unnaturally long black tongue of his, sending a twitch through your entire body. “I told you to stay quiet.”

“Someone has to clean this up,” you pointed out, prying a bottle of cleaning fluid from between a row of many.

“You're strangely calm, considering everything that's happened,” he wiped his mouth with a gloved thumb.

“I do well under pressure,” you shrugged. It was the truth. Living under your mother’s roof, every second was spent incredibly stressed, guilty, or miserable.

Cleaning didn’t take a lot of time, and you dragged the body out into the back yard, submerging Judi fully in one of those fancy fish ponds that she had set up with a bird bath in the middle while Isaac rooted around for anything useful. By the time you were back in the house, he had pocketed Judi’s Willow Hill staff card. “So, where to next, boss?” you followed him out the door.

“The Galpin house. Does Donovan Galpin still live in his childhood home?”

“Donovan Galpin doesn't live anywhere anymore,” you informed, “But yes, he never moved out until he died.”

“Good.” Briskly, Isaac strode down the street. Sneezing, you speedwalked at his tail. Frowning, he paused and turned to face you, and you stopped as well, looking quizzically up at him. “You're sick.”

“Just a little cold. I’m fine,” you shrugged it off.

“Did you have the sense to bring a spare change of socks for your soaked ones?” he continued on purposefully.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Change when we get to the house. You’re not useful to me if you're sick.”

“Got it.”

You sneezed again, and coughed. Sighing, Isaac shrugged his coat off and tossed it at you. “Stop sneezing.”

“Got it. Sorry. Thanks,” you caught it and pulled it on. It hung baggy on your shoulders, and it wasn't very warm, but you were grateful to have something of his.

“And stop talking.”

“Sor-” you cut yourself off, opting for a sweet smile instead.

Chapter Text

“I couldn’t find any crawlspaces that led anywhere,” you stepped into the bathroom doorway, much more comfortable now in dry socks. Isaac examined his reflection in the cracked remains of the mirror, responding without looking back at you, “Then what we’re looking for probably isn’t inside the house.”

“The Galpins had a dog. Elvis. He got put down at the end of the last school year, but the dog house is still out there,” you suggested.

“Then that’s where we’ll check next.”

You peered over Isaac’s shoulder as he crouched in front of the tiny structure, looking around it. Decisively, he lifted a section of lawn tarmac up, exposing electrical wires coated in rubber. They led from, you presumed, the house, to underground. So where were they going? Isaac got to his feet and pushed the surprisingly light dog house back. A staircase. “Follow me. Stay one pace behind,” ordered Isaac, and you nodded. Cautiously, he approached the vault-like steel door, and knocked. When there was no response, he  had it open within seconds, stepping through. As he had instructed, you stayed a step away. Inside, you could hear the voice of a woman, “No, it can’t be, it’s impossible.”

“Francoise. Is that any way to greet your brother?” Isaac walked forward despite the gun being aimed at his chest, you peeking out into the room from behind him.

“You died,” Francoise’s voice sounded shaky, but she didn’t make any move to lower her weapon, “I held you. In my arms.”

“Put the gun down.” Isaac’s soft request was met with the shake of her head.

“Do you remember the Fourth of July? Dad caught you with that Normie kid. Dylan. He slapped you so hard, it was louder than the fireworks. That was the first time you transformed.” You held your breath as Isaac walked closer and closer until the point of the gun was against his chest, still watching nervously from the doorway. A long pause. And Francoise lowered the gun, rushing in to hug her brother, “I spent my life dreaming of this moment. Praying that I would see you again,” she turned to the boy behind her, who you now just recognised, “Tyler? This is your Uncle Isaac.” Tyler just stared, and the Night siblings walked closer.

“Hello.”

“Tyler.” There was the smallest hint of warning in Francoise’s voice.

“Nice to meet you,” the boy managed to force out. Francoise then doubled over coughing. Right away, you rushed over, helping Isaac to lower her into a chair. Tyler sat beside her, placing one hand on her back, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s our condition. Being a Hyde. I’ve lived longer than most,” explained Francoise.

“I can still help you. It was always my dream. To slay the monster inside you- I only need the right equipment, resources.”

“Dr. Stonehurst stole your diaries,” she shook her head, “And he’s built a version of your machine at Willow Hill, but he perverted it to give our abilities to Normies.” The smile slowly disappeared off Isaac’s face, until Francoise continued, “His daughter, Judi, she’s carrying on his research. She’s been hunting me.”

“Well, Judi retired,” he took the staff card out of his pocket, holding it up for his sister to see. “Permanently.”

Francoise laughed in an ‘I can’t believe this’ way. “If that machine exists, I can save you.”

“You can’t be serious. You want to go back to Willow Hill? The place we all just escaped from?” Tyler interrupted.

“Yes. I do. But first, I need to visit an old friend at Nevermore.” Tyler looked between Isaac and his mother, looking flabbergasted to say the least, until his eyes met yours and he practically jumped out of his chair. “What’s Y/N doing here?”

“Wow,” you deadpanned, “Nice to see you again too, Tyler.”

“Oh! It’s one of my angels from Willow Hill!” Francoise got to her feet, cupping your face in her hands with a smile, “Thank you so much for everything. Here-” She stepped back to take your switchblade from her pocket, handing it back to you. “Thank you for this. I felt so much safer with it. I owe you so much.”

“It’s no problem!” you beamed right back, slipping the knife into one of your many pockets.

“Tyler, you know them?“ she asked her son.

“We were… classmates,” he responded vaguely at the same time as you gave your answer.

“He and his friends relentlessly physically, verbally, and psychologically assaulted me from when we were ten all the way until he got shipped off to boot camp. Then his friends beat me half to death last year. I was in the hospital under intensive care for two weeks.”

“Yeah,” nodded Tyler sheepishly, “Yeah, that’s what happened.”

As much as you disliked him, you did really want Francoise to like you since she was important to Isaac, so you flashed your most charming smile, “It’s okay, though! I forgive you! You are the one who called the ambulance when all that stuff happened last year, after all.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Thanks,” he continued nodding. Francoise looked mildly concerned, and Isaac’s expression was unreadable as he stared intently at you. After a long moment, he finally spoke, “You were beaten so badly you were hospitalized?”

“Yeah!” you chirped, then realised that you sounded a little too cheerful, “It wasn’t that bad, though! Like I said, only two weeks. I’ve been through worse.”

“What do you mean you’ve been through worse?” Isaac’s voice sounded genuinely worried now. You went quiet, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t, under most circumstances, immediately kickstart a CPS investigation. “Middle school graduation,” Tyler responded for you, “Y/N tied with some other kid for valedictorian. I heard their mum dragged them home by the hair. Next time anyone saw them, they were in a hospital bed hooked up with machines.”

“I lost two litres of blood!” you gave a double thumbs up and a grin, deciding to go for the ‘tell the truth but so nonchalantly that you can gaslight people into thinking it’s fine’ approach. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, judging from the matching looks of horror on Francoise and Isaac’s faces. “Don’t- Don’t worry, I got a transfusion real quick!” you stammered.

“Clearly, because you would have died if you didn’t. Did nobody do anything about that?” demanded Isaac, turning to his nephew, who shook his head.

“It was a he-said she-said situation with witnesses, and Y/N refused to testify against anyone.”

“Why not?” Isaac snapped his gaze back toward you, and you just shrugged, though you knew the answer. Mother was still mother, and family didn’t double-cross family. Even after your sister had died and the police were asking if you had any idea why your sister might have wanted to kill herself, you didn’t tell them about your mother. You simply stayed quiet, and they excused the grieving eight year old. “Oh, baby,” Francoise swaddled you in a hug.

“It really isn’t a big deal,” your voice came out muffled, “I kinda deserved it. Mum and dad didn’t come to America to get me a good education for nothing.” She only hugged you tighter at that, and you felt like you were being smothered in unfamiliar affection.

“Seriously, I’m okay!” you wheezed. But Francoise still held you against her, Tyler avoided your gaze, and Isaac looked down at you, frowning.

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You and Isaac walked down one of the many secret passages of Nevermore. That was one of the many things you loved about the school, despite having spent only a brief period of time in it. Nevermore Academy was the epitome of dark academia, and every step you took felt like you were breathing in the smoke of mystery and history. You’d returned Isaac his coat, which you were now hanging onto by the sleeve. “You’re like a koala,” he mused, sounding mildly entertained.

“Does that mean you think I’m cute?” you perked up, pulling yourself closer.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a proper answer.”

“You think I’m cute!”

“Creeper?” he looked over his shoulder at you.

“Yes?” you smiled up at him.

“Shut up. Please.”

“Okay!”

The secret passageway turned out into a familiar hallway. “Does Professor Orloff still teach in Lab Seven?” Isaac whispered, and you nodded in response, still obeying the earlier order to stay quiet. Thankfully, there was nobody in the corridor apart from the two of you. Inside his classroom, Professor Orloff was wheeling toward his desk. “I hope I’m not late for the meeting.” The decrepit teacher turned around. “Hello Professor. Don’t you recognise your star student?”

“It can’t be. Isaac Night disappeared! Thirty years ago!” His voice sounded like it was taking literally every scrap of strength left inside him to speak.

“Correction, Professor. I died thirty years ago,” Isaac breezed forward, “Never underestimate the power of science; Isn’t that what you told me?”

“Science has nothing to do with it. You’re a perversion of nature.”

“Says the talking head in a jar.” He took another threatening step forward, and Orloff wheeled back. Glancing back, you checked to make sure the area was still empty. “You’re only alive because of me. My invention has given you thirty years of borrowed time. And now I’ve come to collect.” The wheels on Orloff’s machine began to squeak and creak under pressure as he attempted to spin back, stopped by his own desk. “Isaac!” he wheezed, “Don’t! No! Stop!”

Ignoring the Professor’s desperate pleas, Isaac leaned down and took the power source out of the contraption, and the old man began to choke and gasp. “Don’t worry, Professor. I wouldn’t let such a great mind go to waste.” You watched as Isaac ran his inhuman tongue along the glass, honestly feeling kind of envious of it. Walking up, you passed Isaac a large metal pair of tongs to Isaac which he used to smash the top of the jar open. As he bit down into Professor Orloff’s skull, you felt the presence of someone behind you. Alarmed, you turned around. “Carrot-Top,” you took a step toward her, but the Vanisher screamed, then disappeared, her terrified shriek fading along with her appearance. Isaac looked up from the now bloodied tank of water, red all over his lower face and looking very much like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Wiping his face off, he looked around the classroom, pulling the power source from his pocket. He hooked his free arm into yours, pulling you out of the classroom in a hurry. “Come on, Creeper. We’ve wasted enough time here.”

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Peering over the back of your seat, you saw Tyler holding the trunk open, and Judi’s body, which you had moved into the trunk of Tyler’s car, which Francoise was now driving, was the only thing either of you could see. “Nothing!” you reported back cheerily.

“Okay. Seatbelts!” Francoise put the car into drive. You buckled up right away, but Tyler didn’t, and she looked back at him, “Tyler?” With a grumble, he pulled the strap over his torso. Slowly,  the car shifted down the bumpy pseudo-road cutting through the forest. Frowning, you could have sworn you heard a voice behind you, and peeked over, but it was too dark to make out anything but the vague outline of Judi’s body. “Creeper?” Isaac asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Nope! Just thought I heard something.”

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Isaac had stuck you on lookout duty outside the room with the machine to make sure that all the cells were empty. “Someone else is here,” Tyler said as you stepped out of the final cell.

“Yeah. Me.”

“Not you.” He looked around the otherwise empty room, then grabbed what appeared to be thin air. Instead, Carrot-Top appeared, struggling against his grip. Startled, Isaac looked up from his controls. “This snoop is one of Wednesday’s friends.”

“And she’s the one from Orloff’s classroom,” you added, “And camp. Hi, Carrot-Top. What d’you want us to do with her?”

“Put her in a cell. I’ll need a snack once I’m done,” grinned Isaac. You took the girl’s other arm, and helped drag her to the nearest cell and shackle her to the wall. “Creeper!” he called after you, “Stay in there and make sure she doesn’t attempt a… vanishing act.” You gave a two-fingered salute and a smile.

“Make yourself at home,” Tyler slammed the door shut, leaving you and Carrot-Top in the cell. You turned to her, smiling awkwardly and bouncing on the heels of your feet. “So. Hi.”

“I always knew you were a little too attached to that zombie,” she hissed.

“Says Wednesday Addams’s stalker,” you brushed off your clothes with an air of superiority like Isaac did. As if on cue, Enid walked into the cell, much more solemn than usual.

In a flash, you drew the knife from your pocket, “Back off.”

“I don’t have time for this,” she kicked your feet out from under you. Momentarily, you were stunned. She didn’t sound like Enid. Or act like Enid. By the time you scrambled back onto your feet, she had unlocked Carrot-Top’s chains, but Tyler came in, “Look who showed up.”

“Don’t forget about me,” Wednesday jumped onto his back, wearing a- was that a pink and black coat? What was going on? Wasn’t that Enid’s? Were they finally a couple? Easily, Tyler tossed her aside, and Enid jumped up protectively, “Leave her alone!”

“No full moon to save you-” he was promptly kicked through the door. Alarmed, you ran after Tyler to make sure he wasn’t dead. He recovered fast, running over and slamming the door on an Enid who was wolfing out despite the lack of a full moon. Carrot-Top disappeared, and the levers on the console began to flick back and forth.

Both you and Tyler ran at the control board, fumbling to try and fix it, but Tyler quickly went to handle the girls, looking like he was about to transform. “Tyler, no!” cried Francoise. Hurriedly, you slammed the door to the machine room open, gesturing to the Night siblings, “Come on, come on, come on! We gotta get out!” Isaac unstrapped his sister from the contraption and ushered her out the door, shoving you along and away from the doorway as well. Reaching back, you slammed the door shut in case the thing blew, but it slowed you down. “Creeper! Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he grabbed you by the front of your vest, dragging you away, but a fraction of a second too late. A chunk of metal flew through glass and hit you in the head.

For the second time in the past week, you passed out.

Chapter Text

Gasping, you shot up from the… bed?

Three pairs of eyes snapped towards you. “Y/N!” Francoise hurried over from the table where she appeared to be helping clean Isaac’s mechanical heart, “Thank goodness you’re alright. You were so brave yesterday. We were all so worried about you- weren’t we, boys?” Tyler shrugged, and Isaac didn’t react. She huffed, but patted you on the side of the face gently anyway, “We were, they just won’t admit it. Isaac practically paced a hole into the floorboards.” Seeing your eyes light up like the sky on New Year’s, Francoise laughed and ruffled your hair, returning to where Isaac sat, looking disgruntled, to say the least. The ticking of his heart was audible throughout the entire bunker. “I did not,” he mumbled, shooing away a moth flapping around his head. He turned his attention to Tyler, who was packing his stuff at the foot of the bed you were seated on.

“Leaving?”

“If you won't give me permission to kill Wednesday, we need to get the hell out of Jericho,” Tyler straightened, turning to face his uncle.

“The Addams family’s not your problem anymore, sweetie. We have a bigger plan for them; just leave it to your Uncle Isaac. Y/N, angel, will you pass me another handkerchief?”

“Because he’s been crushing it so far,” snarked Tyler as you bounced over with a fresh square of white cloth, gazing curiously at Isaac’s now fully recovered skin and the clockwork heart embedded in his chest. He really was gorgeous. From your vision of after his operation, the exposed heart was probably a new factor related to his recent zombification. Immediately though, you had to sit down on the table because of the ringing pain in your head. “Every experiment has unforeseen complications, we’ll be prepared next time,” retorted Isaac.

“There is no next time, your machine was destroyed!” That clearly wounded his ego, because he burst out of his seat, startling both you and Francoise, and strided over to Tyler, who continued talking against better sense, “It doesn't take a genius to see that you failed!”

“The only thing that I care about is saving my sister. The only factor I don't need in that equation is you,” Isaac’s voice was low, threatening, and in your perfectly honest judgement, attractive. Francoise passed you the handkerchiefs to put away, but when she turned to the other two, you pocketed them instead. “Stop it. The minute we turn on each other, we're dead.”

“One of us is already dead.”

Francoise began to cough, and you quickly handed her another handkerchief from the table. Who knew how many she had, there seemed to be an infinite source of them in the bunker. Isaac immediately went into business mode as he and Tyler rushed over, snapping out an order to you both, “Her medicine. Find it.” Scrambling for the bottle on the floor, you and Tyler struggled for a few seconds to decide on who would take it, but when Francoise’s coughing intensified, he panicked and you popped it open. “It’s empty.”

“I need some more.” Isaac seemed to contemplate for a moment, glancing from his sister to you to Tyler. After a moment of looking like he was running through a million calculations in his head in the fraction of a second, he growled in frustration, making a brisk beeline for the door, “There's an animal hospital in town. Come with me.” You and Tyler both helped Francoise up and followed Isaac in a hurry.

It was dark enough that there wasn't much creeping around necessary, and the four of you ran as fast as you could with Francoise while you gave them intel on the veterinarian that worked there, “He doesn't do euthanisations, so he wouldn't know Tyler’s dog’s been put down, so we can use that as an excuse to get hi-”

“Dad put Elvis down?” Tyler sounded horrified.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

“Why am I not surprised,” he scowled, then went poking holes in your plan, “Slight problem; I’m wanted. So it's gonna have to be you.”

“Fine, then. I’m an excellent actor.” You slowed down as you got to the building, inhaled, and broke into a full sprint, slamming fists first into the door. Forcing hysteria into your voice, you banged on the window panes, “Please, please, I- I need a vet! It's an- It's an emergency, please. Please!”

“Sorry, I’m closi-”

“Please,” you conjured up every bit of guttural anguish you had ever felt into that one word, which was a concerning amount, “I’m so sorry, but it's an emergency, please. My dog got hit by a car and I can't move him myself, please you need to help me.” The last words tumbled out of your mouth rapidly, choking up with a breathy fake sob at the end. It took everything in you not to smirk. Dang, you were good at this.

Convinced, the doctor stepped out, only to be brutally hit over the head by Isaac. You grinned at him, “Not bad, hm?”

“Yes, yes, add acting to your impressive list of talents, right after stalking,” Isaac ushered Francoise through the door then tugged you through not too harshly by the arm, leaving Tyler to take care of the old man’s crumpled form that lay on the pavement behind you.

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“Daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do…”

“You’ve been singing the same stanza of Daisy Bell non stop for the past twenty minutes. Please stop,” grumbled Isaac.

“Wouldn't it be counterproductive to give Francoise Hyde blood if we’re trying to eradicate the Hyde gene from her?” you spun around in one of the wheeled office chairs, tilting your head all the way back to look at Isaac upside down as he ran an alcohol swab over the needle. There wasn't a single trace of shakiness in his hands, like he had done this a million times. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Pass me a tourniquet,” he said dismissively. You did exactly that, holding it out for him like a dog playing fetch. Isaac took it and strapped it onto Tyler’s upper arm. 

“What’s that for?” the boy asked.

“Don't ask questions,” snapped Isaac.

“Y/N,” your grandfather materialised in front of you, “That's enough. Please, this has gone on for too long, and it's not too late to go back home.” Setting your jaw, you pointedly ignored him, only to be thrust into a vision. You saw yourself on the wooden floorboards of an old looking structure from the birds’ eye view, hunched over… Something. That something, you realised, when your vision was snapped into the first person perspective, Isaac’s lifeless body. “Wh- What?”

“This will only end badly, Y/N,” your grandfather’s voice echoed around you, “And check your phone. You have more missed calls than I can be bothered to list.”

“Creeper? Creeper!”

Inhaling sharply, you returned to the pet hospital, with Tyler passed out in one of those chairs that reminded you of a dentist’s office, and Francoise and Isaac standing over you. “I’m fine!” you yelped on reflex.

“The look of lingering look of horror on your face begs to differ,” Isaac handed you a bottle of water. Shakily, you took it and opened the cap, taking a sip. It took a worrying amount of effort to swallow, and you remembered the last thing your grandfather had told you. As Francoise and Isaac began to discuss what would happen next in hushed tones, you took your phone out of your backpack. Sure enough, there were over nine hundred missed calls, over eight hundred voice mails, and fifty thousand unread texts. You skimmed the texts first; They were mostly from your mum, nothing too surprising since you’d been missing for multiple days. You had a couple dozen from Eugene, mostly along a similar tangent. You left them both on read.

Glancing at Isaac and Francoise, you could see that they seemed to be close to arguing over something. Nervously, you moved onto the voicemails, heart clutching in your chest. The first one played a little too loud for comfort. “Y/N M/N L/N! AFTER ALL THE EFFORT I HAVE PUT INTO YOUR EDUCATION AND LIFE, THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME? BY RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME? HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?” Wincing, you lowered the volume, but you already had the Night siblings’ attention. Mouthing a quick apology, you put the phone to your ear so you could hear a long string of cursing in both English and your native language. In one fluid motion, Isaac plucked your cellphone from your hand, and after a moment of fumbling, managed to switch it off, burying it deep into your pocket, “You have better things to spend room in your mind on than your mother.” Frowning slightly, he pulled out the handkerchiefs from your pocket and raised his eyebrows, sounding part amused, part concerned, and part exasperated, “Really?”

“Really,” you snatched them back, holding the bundle of fabric stained with the metal scent of his clockwork heart to your chest.

“Isaac, are you listening to me? It has to be Tyler. I’m begging you, please, save my son,” Francoise’s words made you practically jump out of your seat.

“Won't you die, then?”

“She would,” affirmed Isaac, “Which is exactly why I’m saying-”

“Tyler has his whole life ahead of him!” pleaded Francoise.

“I- I don't want you to die.” Reaching over, you  tugged at her maroon cardigan.

“And I don't want my son to die.” You made eye contact with Isaac, who looked to be struggling over the decision. Finally, he sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat. He met his sister’s gaze, “Fine. For you.”

“Thank you. This is very important to me, Isaac.”

“I know. I know. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves-” he was interrupted by Tyler, who stood up from his chair.

“Mom?” He headed straight for Francoise.
“Hey, sweetie,” she pulled her son into a warm hug. I want a hug, you thought to yourself.

“You’re alive.”

“I am, thanks to you.”

“You’ve been out for hours, we gotta get moving,”  Isaac patted Tyler twice on the shoulder, brushing past him to a rack of medications.

“What’s the plan?”

“We save your mother,” he spoke as if giving instructions to a small toddler. Then again, he probably saw most everyone around him as having the mental capability of, in comparison to himself, toddlers, "And we make the Addams Family pay for their sins.”

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Fidgeting with the fancy cuffs of your black Ouji coat with brass buttons and a decorative chain hanging from one shoulder to one lapel with one hand, you smoothed out your hair with the other. Under the coat, you wore a bloodred vest with matching buttons, a black button-up with bell sleeves that poked out from beneath your jacket, a red cravat, black trousers with red ribbon lacing on the sides, and mid-calf length boots with buckles on. “You always wear this stuff to formal events,” Tyler watched you smudge eyeliner just right to give the edgy but chic effect you were going for, “Where do you get it?” After finding out that your mum was overseas in Belgium trying to track your dad down, you had broken the four of you into your house(was it really breaking in if it was your place?) for, as you had excitedly cheered earlier, disguises. Well, really, it was just you and Isaac that needed them. Shrugging, you put your eyeliner pencil down, “Thrift stores, online, some of it, I make.” Francoise walked into your room, and gasped when she saw you.

“Would you look at that! Looks like you’re an expert in disguises, too.” After the transfusion, she seemed a lot more stable on her feet, which was good to see.

Shooting a grin over your shoulder, you dug around in your old crafts cupboard for old projects from your  paper-mache venetian mask phase. Sure enough, there were two red and black ones that loosely matched yours and Isaac’s outfits. You held one of them over your face, turning to face Tyler, Francoise, and Isaac, who had now showed up in your doorway. “Isn’t that your end of year art project from the year before last?” Tyler pointed at your mask.

“Correction, it’s my end of year art project that got me an A+ and got used as an example for the next round of sophomores.” You had spent hours painting the intricate layers of black and red designs on both masks. Some parts were more elevated than others, and you had to drop on the precise amount of pain on every single section to make sure it was perfectly symmetrical. Reaching out, you handed one of the two masks to Isaac, and your hand brushed his gloved right one on the way, sending you into a vision. Wednesday Addams. The Skull Tree. A crossbow. Thing. Then the same thing you’d seen when you’d first made contact with the disembodied hand. The pieces clicked in your head even before the vision was over. “Creeper? What did you see?” Isaac was at your side when you jerked back into consciousness, holding you up by the upper arms. The memory of your last vision of him, lying unconscious on the ground with his mechanical heart ticking beside him flashed through your mind, but you pushed it down.

A smug smile uncontrollably spread across your face, “Exactly what I needed to.”

Chapter Text

As chatter and music swirled through the evening air, you practically hung off Isaac’s arm as the two of you stood on the open air hallway that overlooked the Quad, moths in shades of pink and silver flapping overhead. “Maintaining physical contact with me every second every time we make an excursion isn’t necessary, you know,” he grumbled for what was probably the millionth time.

“Not necessary doesn’t mean harmful,” you pressed the side of your face against Isaac’s shoulder as he tilted his head as far away from yours as possible, but didn’t shove you off. Most likely pitied you too much to do so. That should have stung, or offended you, but unloved children tend to grow up into young adults that settle for scraps and grasp for straws. Unloved children never really grew up at all. “You act like a child of divorce.”

“Probably ‘cause I am.” You spat the words more viciously than you had intended. Flinching at your own tone, you stared at the ground, “Sorry.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry,” Isaac avoided your gaze, “That was… Uncalled for.”

Staring in bewilderment, you pulled away to blink up at him. Isaac was… apologising for something? Outright? To your face? For a couple of seconds, you sort of just opened and closed your mouth like a fish. “Don’t look at me like that.” You shut your mouth and looked away, but the surprise was still evident on your face. Letting your eyes trail down to the courtyard below, a certain someone caught your gaze. Urgently, you tapped Isaac on the shoulder you had been practically nuzzling against just moments ago, “It’s Pugsley.”

“Time to set our plan into motion, then. You do remember the plan, right?” That brief moment of softness dissipated before you could get used to it, and you wished that you could bottle the memory to treasure forever. That you could bottle Isaac up to treasure forever. Touching the outside of the pocket where you kept the chloroform soaked rag wrapped in paper towels, you nodded. “Good,” he nodded, pulling you to the way downstairs by the arm, far more gently than either of your parents ever had.

Quietly, the two of you followed the youngest Addams from a distance, away from the crowd and into the Nevermore graveyard. Behind a tombstone, you hung back and watched while Isaac approached first, nervously tugging and chewing at your cravat in an attempt to self-soothe. Though you’d do anything for Isaac, Pugsley had once sort of been your friend, so it was impossible not to feel at least a little guilt for what you were about to do. But it had to be done; there was no alternative. The boy sat on the elevated pedestal of a statue, allowing one of the moths that had been fluttering around Isaac perch on his finger. “Hello, old friend,” greeted Isaac softly, swiping his mask off with one hand, and it took everything in you not to scream into your hands.

“Slurp? Is that you?”

“Pugsley,” Isaac crouched down beside him, “I hate to ask, but I need your help.” That was your cue. Lunging out from your hiding spot, you slapped the rag over Pugsley’s mouth. As the boy struggled, Isaac helped you to hold the piece of cloth to his face with his left hand. After a good four or so minutes, his eyes drooped closed. Smiling at you just a little, Isaac lifted Pugsley’s limp body onto one shoulder with some effort, straightening. “It’s time for phase two of the plan.”

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“Why aren’t they being tied up?” Pugsley spat out the sandwich Isaac had violently stuffed into his mouth, “The chains were Y/N’s idea!”

“Because they would probably end up liking it,” Isaac put one hand on the top of your head, keeping it there for a moment before moving forward to talk to his sister. As you sort of just pitter-pattered around, unsure what to do and kind of wishing that Isaac would order you around more like he did to Tyler, Pugsley glared at you. “What the heck is wrong with you? I thought we were friends!” Before you could answer, Tyler burst in, capturing everyone’s attention.

“I made Hyde tracks about 20 miles North and dropped Pugsley’s costume, then made an anonymous tip like you said.”

“Good, huh?” Isaac breezed over, patting him on the back, and you felt an instant twinge of jealousy. Why was Tyler, who questioned and challenged Isaac at every turn getting things to do and praise while you were kept on the sidelines? Did Isaac think you weren’t capable? Hadn’t you shown him enough times that you were helpful to him? Why was he suddenly so reluctant to put you on the playing field?

“That’ll keep the cops off our trail. Now, it’s time to position your old flame on the board,” Isaac pulled Tyler in by the shoulder with one arm, then you by the side with the other, which helped a little to soothe the pang in your chest. Francoise walked over as well, putting both her hands on Pugsley’s shoulders. “Wednesday will know she’s being played.”

“Yeah, and Addams would never sacrifice one of their own. Not even a pawn.” Smiling in the most condescending but attractive way possible, Isaac lowered to Pugsley’s eye-level.

“And that emotional weakness will be our checkmate.”

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“You’re even worse than Wednesday.”

“If your actions can be justified by your loneliness, Pugsley, then so can mine,” you shot back, digging your nails into your palm. He had been slinging verbal jab after jab at you for ages now, and it was getting infuriating.

“Yeah, well this? This is a little extreme, isn’t it? At least you don’t try to make friends then get brushed off! At least your parents don’t treat you like a jo-”

“At least your parents ACTUALLY GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU!” Furious, you slammed your fists into the table, getting ready to throttle Pugsley, but Isaac’s arms shot around you from behind, pulling you back.

“Creeper! Don’t. We need him, remember,” he hissed into your ear, dragging you away.

“Like you gave one about your sister?” Pugsley snapped, and you froze. You went still in Isaac’s hold, which loosened slightly.

“How do you know about that,” you demanded, the words coming out less of a question and more of a statement.

“Wednesday found out, and told me. It’s your fault, you know. She said that it’s suspected competing with you for your parents’ attention is what drove her to-”

“YOU DON’T GET TO TALK ABOUT HER!” Lunging forward, you hollered. This time, Isaac let you go, but didn’t allow you to do more than punch Pugsley in the nose before restraining you again. Tyler and Francoise just watched, looking concerned about your sudden change from sweet to raging.

Firmly, Isaac pinned your arms to the side from behind you with his own as you struggled, trying to get a few more blows in. “Creeper,” he warned, but you hardly heard him. Angry static buzzed in your ears. Blood trickling from her wrist, onto the floor. A scream, your own. A funeral. Tears, so many tears.

It should have been you instead.

Why hadn’t it been you instead?

You’d tried, after. Maybe if you died too, it would restore balance to the universe after her death.

But it didn’t bring her back, did it?

No matter how many razor blades you took to your skin.

It would never bring her back.

“Y/N! STOP!”

Isaac’s words grabbed your attention in a chokehold, and you craned your neck around to look at him. “Stop,” he whispered, letting you go but still putting one hand firmly on the side of your left arm, “That’s enough.” Though you hadn’t fully registered it earlier in your fit of fury, you missed Isaac’s arms around you the moment they were gone. You had to stop the little noise of protest bubbling up in your throat, settling for taking a step back into his chest and turning around to face him instead. “Sorry.”

Your apology turned into a choke, which turned into a sob, which turned into full-on tears. Looking down with his arms hanging awkwardly in the air above his head, Isaac watched you bawl into the fabric of his shirt, occasionally glancing at Francoise for support. Pugsley mumbled a halfhearted apology of his own, realising how badly he had hurt you without meaning to. Hesitantly, Isaac reached down and patted you on the shoulder, then the back of the head, letting you hold onto the lapels of his coat and sob for as long as you needed.

Chapter Text

None of you mentioned your breakdown on the way to the Skull Tree, though Isaac, Tyler, and even Pugsley did all occasionally glance at you as if you were a ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment again. It was utterly humiliating. This was why you rarely ever opened up to people, besides the fact that you’d never actually had friends to open up to; the burning stigma of being branded as mentally unstable, emotionally weak. All your life you had adopted the attitude that if you played the role of jester or stooge or wallflower well enough, nobody would notice the crumbling person behind the persona. But every now and then, you ended up breaking character, and all the unpleasant things would come spilling out of the cracks of your mask. You had never wanted Isaac to see you so weak. He already seemed to be starting to think you were incapable, you didn’t need to give him another reason to believe so even more.

Anxiously, you glanced in the direction that you knew Wednesday would be coming from, and spotted a miniscule rustle that was different from those being caused by wind. Pretending not to take notice, you inched closer to Isaac and whispered, “She’s here.” Sure enough, Wednesday walked out of the woods and into the clearing.

“Tyler warned me you were formidable. And now I’ve witnessed the havoc you can wreak.”

“Give me my brother, crawl back into your hole, and stay dead this time,” ordered Wednesday, turning to you, “And you. Go back to ruining your sister’s life instead of obsessively pining after zombies.” She directed her stone cold gaze back to Isaac, “I know what you did to my father.”

“Yet I’m the one who died,” Isaac yanked Pugsley closer by the chains, “Thanks to him and your dear mother. Why don’t you let your brother pay for their mistakes, and we’ll call it even.”

“You don’t have a machine. Both Willow Hill and Iago Tower were destroyed. It would take months to rebuild. By the time you did, it would be too late to save your sister.” You knew that Wednesday was stalling, and glanced at where Thing would be positioned without making it too obvious. Sure enough, you saw the glint of metal from an arrow point. The hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and a sharp ringing sound echoed throughout your head. Just as the painful ringing reached its worst peak, you heard the sound of a crossbow firing, and the feeling faded. Something sharp grazed your cheek, then embedded itself in Isaac’s right glove, which he raised above his face where the arrow would have gone otherwise.

“I applaud the effort,” he scoffed, “You keep me talking while your faithful right hand takes his shot.” That was the cue, Tyler snatched Thing from his post on the crossbow and shoved him into the transparent plastic box you had dug up from one of your old arts and crafts cupboards, and Isaac had fitted with a latch. “Except he’s never been yours. He’s mine. Turns out your parents didn’t kill all of me that night.” Isaac slid his glove off, and dirt spilled out, revealing a stump where his hand would have gone. Looking like she was processing, Wednesday glanced at Thing, probably realising the same thing that you had when you’d first met the detached hand. ‘Thing’ was an anagram for ‘Night’. “Cute.”

“Imagine my surprise when I saw my right hand wandering the halls of Willow Hill without me. And a DaVinci is nothing without his right hand,” Isaac knelt down so he was eye- well, fingers? Whatever-level with Thing. “Your mother cut it off, causing my machine to go out of control and explode. The power surge must have somehow animated my hand.”

“Well in your case, the part is definitely greater than the whole.”  Rather than looking even mildly offended, Isaac glanced at you to make sure he wouldn’t have to restrain you from throttling Wednesday, but you knew her fighting ability well enough to do that yourself. She lunged forward as Isaac plucked Thing out of the box, only to be held back by the throat by Tyler, who was now also holding Pugsley’s chain.

Mesmerised, you watched as Isaac used his now recovered telekinesis to stitch a struggling Thing properly onto his arm. The more times the needle went in and out, the less his right hand struggled. “Now I am complete.” Breaking free of Tyler’s hold, Wednesday ran at Isaac, only to be lifted into the air. Holding his hand out and lifting the pigtailed girl toward the grave that had originally been intended for her father, then used for him, he smiled imperceptibly, “The Addams Family ends tonight. Starting with you.” Roots and dirt spilled over and wrapped around Wednesday, effectively burying her alive at the foot of the Skull Tree. Briskly, Isaac walked over to Pugsley and Tyler, with you following closely behind. Aggressively, he snatched Pugsley by the chin, sending a small jolt of jealousy through you, “We have an appointment at Iago Tower. Your pathetic little life will finally have a purpose.” Oh my days he’s so hot he’s so hot he’s so hot he’s so hot he’s so-

“Creeper. You’re bleeding.” He let go of Pugsley and grabbed your chin instead, tilting your head so he could see the cut that the graze of the arrow had left. Pulling one of the two handkerchiefs from your pocket, he dabbed at the wound, leaving red stains on the cream white. The two metallic scents from both your blood and Isaac’s clockwork heart mingled as he held the fabric to the side of your face. “Hold it there until the bleeding stops.” Sharply, Isaac flicked his wrist at Tyler, a silent order for him to follow. The four of you made your way to the Nevermore graveyard where Francoise was waiting. As he always did, Isaac walked like someone who knew his place in the world, and was certain of his purpose. He was so unlike you, and you admired that. You trailed behind him like a shadow, reaching out to hold onto his sleeve with your free hand.

Holding both hands behind his back, Isaac allowed you to hand off his coat, leading your little parade through the gates that led into the cemetery. Francoise stepped out from behind a tombstone, looking at Isaac anticipatorily. Grinning triumphantly, he showed him her now-recovered right hand. Shrieking with delight, Francoise ran up to hug her brother, "Now we can finally fix our family.” The cut on your face had stopped bleeding, so you pocketed the handkerchief once again. “Come on,” Francoise gestured you and Tyler over to where one of the many secret passageways were. You had a hunch that all the tunnels connected, like some sort of intricate maze, but you couldn’t be sure. Isaac navigated the hidden halls with an undeniable familiarity. It was obvious that he had been here many times in his student days at Nevermore. You moved your hand back onto his sleeve, clutching the fabric. While you were confident in his plan, you couldn’t hold back the uneasy feeling that settled into your bones. “That’s intuition,” your grandfather appeared behind you, “Not as well-respected and used as visions, but often more reliable. While everyone has intuition, as a psychic, yours tends to be more accurate and obvious. Like just before that arrow was about to be fired. And currently, it’s telling you that this is a really, really bad idea.”

“It’ll be fine,” you murmured.

“What was that?” Isaac glanced at you over his shoulder.

“Nothing. Just my grandad.”

“Can’t you have like, another vision or something?” Tyler complained, “That would make this a lot easier.”

“Overusing their psychic ability would burn them out, and the consequences could be fatal,” snapped Isaac. You considered telling him about that vision you’d had in the vet’s, but decided against it. Premonitions could change, and you didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily.

“Your premonition hasn’t changed,” your grandfather chimed in unhelpfully. Not yet, you thought, more to convince yourself than to him. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, and your chest constricted. The uneasy feeling intensified, and a persistent buzzing started up in your head. Light headed, you stumbled slightly, your breathing getting shallower. “If your psychic ability is reacting this badly, that means this is really bad, Y/N.” Your grandfather reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, closing his eyes. Some of the panic faded from your body. Thank you. “If you’re really going to insist upon this, I can’t stop you from doing anything,” he let go of you, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Even the dim light of the moon made you blink, eyes stinging slightly, as you stepped out of the tunnel and onto the ground floor of Iago Clock Tower. You’d wondered on your first day what had happened to it, and now you knew. Catwalks connected into each other overhead, and there was a rustic spiral staircase leading up from the floor three above you to the very top. To the side was an old elevator, the open air kind with manually closing gates. Isaac opened it, pushing Tyler through. He stepped aside so Francoise could enter too then tugged you inside, guiding you by the hand that held his coat. The elevator somehow still functioned, and you were up on the top floor before you knew it, moonlight peeking through the broken clockfaces. Though the whole place was a ruined mess, it wasn’t empty. “It’s all still here. Good,” whispered Isaac, stepping into his old laboratory.

“How are we gonna put this junk back together?” scoffed Tyler.

“We’re not,” Isaac turned, “I am.”

Holy shit.

Chapter Text

Your vision began to cement itself into reality when Wednesday Addams showed up.

Dashing to the side, you ducked, narrowly avoiding Tyler’s claws. “Tyler, no!”

“Isaac!” both you and Francoise called when he threw Isaac over the side. Tyler jumped over as well, and by the time you were downstairs with the others, Francoise had transformed as well, and mother and son were facing off. Frantically, you pulled Isaac to his feet, slipping his arm over your shoulders to lift him up. Francoise and Tyler fighting on one of the many balconies held Isaac’s attention for a few seconds, until you tugged him toward the sparking devices, his machine going haywire. Most likely Wednesday’s doing. “Creeper, get out of the tower, go back to the cabin,” ordered Isaac, but you shook your head.

“I’m staying here to help you!”

“Y/N, GO!” he shoved you away from one of the control panels, which let out a shock of electricity which both of you narrowly avoided. The buzzing and ringing started back up in your ears, building up into a migraine as  Isaac slammed at buttons and levers in a desperate attempt to get his machine back under control. Looking frenzied, he flicked his gaze back up at you, “You need to be away from this thing when it blows!”

“I’m not lea-” as a blinding white flash of light went off overhead, Isaac used his telekinesis to practically hurl you into the opposite wall as far from the machine as possible.

Hitting your head against a piece of wood, your vision flashed from both the pain and the shock of the explosion. Before the ringing in your head could even fade away properly, you found yourself being yanked behind Isaac by his powers and unceremoniously deposited into a pile of rubble. He moved his powers onto Wednesday, lifting her into the air by her throat, “Because of you, I lost the only person I ever truly loved.” The pigtailed girl was forced to her knees, and she struggled, clutching at her throat as if that would do anything.

“Isaac! Isaac, it’s over! Let my daughter go!” pleaded Mr. Addams. You tried to get up to do anything you could to help Isaac, but a sharp pain panged in the back of your head. Reaching back, you touched your fingertips to the spot where the bottommost roots of your hair met the skin of your neck, and they came away dripping red. Queasy, you patted whatever wound or cut had opened up there, and felt your fingers slip into an open slit in your skin. Thankfully, it wasn't too deep, but it was certainly painful and slick with blood. “Sorry old friend. Now you two will know what real pain feels like.” 

Mrs. Addams rushed forward, only for Isaac to tighten his telekinetic hold on Wednesday’s throat, “One more step, and I snap her neck!” Despite the dire situation and the fact that you were probably bleeding out, you nearly choked at how attractive he was.

“Thing, we know you’re still in there.”

“Come back to us, Thing. We love you!”

“This was never part of your family,” scoffed Isaac, gesturing at his hand, “It’s a part of me!” Sharply, Mrs. Addams kicked a hatchet to Wednesday, who picked it up and chucked it. It missed by a long shot, hitting the circuit board behind Isaac instead, causing it to spark and sputter. “You missed!” He shot his hand out, but nothing happened. Confused, he looked down, only for his hand to start spasming as if of his own accord. 

The next series of events happened in a rush, and you were still in a daze, possibly concussed. “Y/N,” urged your grandfather, “You have to get out of here. You have to get out of here now.”

“Too late,” you pushed yourself forward, stumbling from the pain in your limbs. Clearly, though Isaac’s quick thinking had saved you from the worst of the explosion, it wasn’t just your neck that was left unscathed. “Isaac!” you ran toward him, as his right hand, now Thing again, yanked him around by the hair, poking him in the eye and scratching at his face.

“Creeper, stay back!” he ordered, and you paused, unsure of what to do. Struggling, Isaac stumbled back, trying to push his own hand away from him in an almost comical way. When you realised what Thing was reaching for, you gasped sharply.

And when he ripped Isaac’s heart violently out of his chest, you screamed.

Falling to your knees, a hand flew up to your mouth, and your grandfather stood between you and the Addamses, though there really was nothing he could do. “Isaac?” you whispered, knowing he wouldn’t respond. Shakily, you moved closer, your hands trembling as you reached out for him. You looked up at the Addams Family, who were looking at you with matching looks of pity, and you could even sense that same patronising sympathy emanating from Thing. Pugsley was the first to step forward. “Hey. you were lonely, and your visions, they… drove you a little stir crazy, I get it,” he hesitantly reached out, then let his hand drop to his side, “So, I mean, if you want to be friends, after all this… you know where to find me. And Eugene. If it’s any reassurance, I forgive you. For, uh, kidnapping me.”

“We’ll tell the sheriff you're a runaway, so they'll stop looking for you until you want to be found,” Mrs. Addams added. And they left you, shaking, behind with the corpse of their former friend and the spirit of your grandfather.

“I warned you.” You reached out for Isaac’s mechanical heart, the ticks slowing. Choking on a sob, your shoulders dropped, and you cried, hand falling onto his chest beside the hole in his chest where his heart should’ve been. “Oh, sweetie,” your grandfather wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Hands feeling numb, you picked up the heart, and a resolve filled you. Carefully, you found Isaac’s aorta and delicately pushed the mechanical contraption into his chest cavity. You paused to force the shaking of your hands to stop, but not for long. If too much time passed, he could suffer some serious brain damage. Terrified that this wouldn’t work, you did your best to put the right things in the right places. Hands covered in both your and Isaac’s blood, you hoisted him up, straining to drag him over to one of the still sparking control panels. You leaned him against the metal, and tore the axe Wednesday had thrown out of the machinery. With some effort, you lifted it above your head and slammed it down. Even more electricity exploded outward, and you jumped back, but some of the sparks did hit your jaw and hands. It stung, but wasn’t as bad as the cut on the back of your neck. “Please, Isaac. Please.” For one terrifying moment, you held your breath, stepping closer and pulling him off the board. Desperately, you clutched the front of his coat to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please.”

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

“I-Isaac?”

Tick tick.

Tick tick.

Tick tick.

A pained ground, and a wheeze.

Tick tick tick.

Tick tick tick.

Tick tick tick.

“...Creeper?”

Chapter Text

Delicately, you wiped the blood off the exterior of Isaac’s heart with the same handkerchief he had used to wipe the cut on your face. “The collar of your shirt is soaked with blood,” he pointed out, “Let me see.” Turning around, you lifted your hair from the back of your neck, and he immediately shot to his feet. He snatched the other handkerchief from your pocket, pressing it to the cut. Sharply, you cried out in pain, and Isaac paused. After the initial pain faded, you mumbled, “Do that a-”
“If the next word that comes out of your mouth is ‘again,’ I will let you bleed out from six feet away.” You shut up, and he slipped his coat off, holding up one sleeve to your face and sitting you down on the chair he had been in just seconds ago. “Bite.” He didn’t need to ask again. You bit down into the fabric, eyes fluttering shut as you breathed in his scent. Grumbling, he strode away, and came back after a moment, setting what sounded like a plastic bottle on the table beside you. “I’m going to regret that, aren’t I?”

Isaac’s voice was hoarse and hollow; it was obvious he was still in a state of shock and grieving. “I’m going to stitch you up. It’ll hurt, but you’ll bleed out otherwise. Alright?” Nodding, you grit your teeth through his coat sleeve, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. After a few seconds of shuffling about, you felt a sharp, stinging pain in the back of your neck, and you dug your fingers into the fabric of your cargo shorts. A hand fell on one of yours, and you peeked out through one eye. Your grandfather had materialised in front of you, holding your hand comfortingly. “Do you need a break?” Isaac paused, pulling the needle. You could feel every centimetre of the string pass through the hole in your skin. Ever so slightly so you wouldn’t accidentally make the pain worse, you shook your head, and he continued. By the time he was tying off the line of stitches, your entire head was burning with white-hot pain, and Isaac’s coat sleeve was soaked with tears and saliva. “Sorry,” you mumbled, opening your mouth, jaw aching from biting down so hard, “Your coat is… kinda gross now.”

“Better than having to stitch up a cut in your tongue as well.” At the thought of Isaac poking around in your mouth, your face heated up, probably turning red, because he scoffed. There was an open bottle of disinfectant on the table, as well as a bloody rag, needle, and spool of string. Much to your disappointment, he buttoned his shirt back up.

Hesitantly, you cleared your throat, “Listen, I’m not going to pretend to understand what you're going through. I know you’re angry, and I know you’re devastated. I’m also going to not pretend that I know better than you all of a sudden, but grief isn’t something you move on from. It’s something you live with for the rest of your life. You’ll never be okay again, but you can’t let that destroy you.”

“How would you know, Creeper?” Isaac turned on you, a dark look passing over his face, “You told me yourself, you don’t understand what I’m going through. My sister is the only person I’ve ever truly cared ab-”

“Because I had one too!” He went silent, and you took that as an invitation to carry on, “A… a sister who was my whole world. Then everything got too much and she...” Shivering, you dug your fingers into your arm, unwanted memories flooding in.

“Gwen?” you called out, wandering down the upstairs corridor, “Gwen! Where are you?” You pushed the door to her room open. Empty. Worried, you made your way downstairs, “Gwen! Mum and dad want you in the kitchen, right now!” Pushing your hair out of your eyes, you ran down to the basement. You really needed to get a haircut soon; your bangs kept falling messily into your face. “Gwen? Gwe- There you are! Come on, Gwen! Dinner’s ready!”

No response.

“Gwen? Why- why are you just lying there?”

No response.

“This- This isn’t- this isn’t funny, Guinevere!”

You saw a pool of blood under her wrist, which lay limp on the floor.

“...Gwen?”

You didn’t realise you were crying until Isaac dropped a tissue into your lap. Your grandfather was behind you, resting both hands on your shoulders in a comforting gesture. Sniffing, you wiped at your eyes with the tissue. Slowly, Isaac knelt down in front of your chair, looking up at you through his eyelashes, “What was her name?”

“What?”

“Your sister.”

“Guinevere.”

After a quiet moment, Isaac spoke again, “Won’t anyone in your family be worried about you?”

“I personally am very worried,” your grandfather muttered to himself.

“I’m sure my mum is having a fine time basking in the showers of sympathy being the mother of a missing child tends to bring you,” you spat bitterly, “And dad’s probably too busy with his girlfriend, aka a girl I used to go to school with, to care about what’s going on with me.”

“Is there anyone else you could stay with?”

“You heard Tyler. I don’t have anyone but you. Not anymore.”

“You can’t stay with me,” Isaac got to his feet, taking the handkerchief from the table and throwing it into the sink.

“Why not?” you challenged.

“I just used you for your powers and devotion, almost got you killed, and made you a convict, but you’re still asking that?”

“Like I told you, I don’t have anyone else. Please, just let me stay with you.”

“You can’t,” he hissed, “You have to leave. I don’t want you here, okay? You’ll just- get yourself killed, or worse. Don’t go back to your mother, but you have to find somewhere else to stay.”

“No. I’m staying with you.” You got to your feet, jabbing him in the chest, careful to avoid the left side.

Slap.

“I… I apologise. I shouldn't have done that. Show me your face, are you alright?” With trembling hands, Isaac reached up and touched the side of your face he had just hit, “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry. That was- I…”

“Do it again,” you stared up at him, dead serious.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said do it again.” For a moment, Isaac looked utterly bewildered, and his hand slowly lowered down to his side.

“I’m not hitting you again. See, this is exactly why you need to go, Y/N.”

“Do you think I can’t handle things? That I’m incapable? You’ve been pushing me out of the way since the clinic, don’t you trust me? What more do you want to prove my devotion to you?” Tears welled up in your eyes.

“I don’t, Creeper, I don’t, alright? Leave.”

“Isaac-”

“I said leave!”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Turning Isaac’s old signet ring over in your hand, you made your way back to Pine Creek. You weren’t sure exactly what had led you back to Nevermore, but you had broken into Wednesday and Enid’s dorm to see if at least Thing was still there, and found the ring among the few things that had been left behind. Without thinking, you’d pocketed it. Now you were walking through the woods, fidgeting with it inside the pocket of your hiking vest. “You’re really going back to him? After all that?” your grandfather asked.

“Didn’t you see that look after he slapped me?” you stepped over a root, “Regret.”

“He’s volatile. Even if he doesn’t want to, he could hurt you again.”

“I’d let him,” you murmured.

“And that’s your problem,” he sighed.

“He won’t hurt me again.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” you clenched your fist around the ring, the cool metal digging into your skin, “In my vision. It ended with love. The happy kind. That’s all I’ve been holding onto for five years, granddad, I can’t-” Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you paused to steady yourself.

“You can’t let go of it now,” Granddad finished for you, and you nodded.

“Every time I’ve wanted to end things, that’s what kept me going. Knowing that eventually, I’ll get a happy ending. And I won’t let myself lose it when I’ve got it in my reach,” you curled your shoulders forward, exhausted from the toil of the past few days.

“This isn’t healthy, Y/N.”

“I know.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you opened the door, Isaac had a knife pointing in your direction. Seeing it was you, he put the knife down, but still looked furious, “Creeper, I thought I told you to-” You dropped his ring into his hand, avoiding eye contact with him. His expression softened, and he examined it, “Where… did you get this?”

“Nicked it from Wednesday’s dorm,” you explained, still refusing to look him in the eye.

“Thank you for this, but you still have to go, Creeper,” Isaac coaxed you in the direction of the door. His hair was tousled, and he looked like he’d been pulling on it. Stubbornly, you refused to budge, and he sighed, sounding more tired than anything. “Creeper. Please.”

“No, you please,” you latched onto the front of his shirt. His coat was still draped over the seat of one of the chairs where you had left it. “I don’t care. I don’t care if you say this could get me killed or hurt or whatever, I don’t care! I want to stay with you.”

“I’m going to hurt you again. I hurt everyone. My sister. My only friend. I say I loved my sister, but really, how much of me helping her was just to feed my own overinflated ego? How could I have been so ready to sacrifice my best friend all those years ago?” Vulnerability wasn’t something you had ever expected from Isaac, but now, after his sister’s death, he looked just about ready to break down sobbing.

“And I hit you. Like my father hit Francoise and I. Just for wanting to please me. I used you, then I slapped you,” he was speaking very quickly now, voice choking up and cracking every so often, “I swore I’d never become like my father but I hit-” You interrupted him by throwing your arms around his waist, squeezing tightly.

“I know you hit me, but you were upset. You just lost your sister. I- after Gwen’s funeral, I went into her room with her hockey stick and smashed these- these pottery pieces she used to make. I was mad at her, at our parents, at everyone, and I did something really awful.” One shuddering breath later, Isaac gently pried you off himself, looking down at you.

“Though I personally may not have a reason to live anymore, someone needs to take care of you. But this does not in any way mean that I'm in love with you. So don't get your hopes up just to get them crushed; are we clear, Y/N?” A bright smile spread across your face. Sure, he was telling you not to get your hopes up, but you were a dove, and by proxy, Mx. Optimism.

“Yes, boss.”