Chapter Text
Wednesday sat on the front steps of the Addams manor, her gazed fixed somewhere in the distance, past where Lurch was loading her steamer trunk into the car. It was pouring rain, windy enough that little droplets were wetting Wednesday’s black boots under the porch overhang. Her surroundings were a wash of gray.
Her head was pounding. She’d been running through the packing list in her mind, but it faded in and out, blurry and distorted, until she gave up. Hopefully nothing had been forgotten. Her hands were achy and clenched in a fist on her lap.
She shut her eyes and listened to the dull roar of the rain around her.
She’d never been like this before. Whoever said time heals all wounds had never been literally murdered in a crypt by an undead pilgrim and a human psychopath. They’d never been bludgeoned in the head and stabbed and shot with an arrow all in the same night.
It had been eight weeks already, and while the literal wounds had healed and left twisted scars and some type of residual head injury that Wednesday was only just learning how to manage – or ignore – the figurative wounds seemed to only be worsening.
It was frustrating not knowing her body anymore, her mind, like a stranger had moved in there with her and Wednesday couldn’t evict them no matter how hard she tried.
And she had tried. She’d looked into an exorcism, which had been vetoed by her mother, who’d looked at her with sad eyes and assured, “You are not possessed, my darling girl.”
The next obvious step had been an attempt at some type of self-torture, following the logic that if she could hurt herself, she could scare away whatever was living in this body with her.
She hadn’t even been able to consider touching the flame to her hand before she ended up flat on her back in the Addams’ basement, which had inexplicably transformed into Crackstone’s crypt, struggling to breathe until her father came in with a muffled, “Oh no, my little raven,” and carried her up to her bedroom.
A therapist had come out a few times since then. One who practiced Western medicine, but had purple irises and dressed in a black cloak and recommended potions and herbs for Morticia to try. Wednesday never spoke in those sessions, partly due to her natural obstinance but mostly because the confusion was too overwhelming to share.
Confusion about what was happening to her, and why, and shame that she was powerless to fight it.
Lurch slammed the trunk shut and Wednesday flinched, her eyes snapping open. She stood up slowly and turned around when the front door opened, her parents and Pugsley filing out to say goodbye.
“Be good, my little storm cloud,” her father said loudly, to be heard over the rain, before wrapping her in a hug which Pugsley joined. “Let’s hope for fewer murders this semester.”
Wednesday nodded once, swayed stiffly.
She met her mother’s gaze over her father’s shoulder.
Her mother’s gravelly voice was quieter, almost carried away by the wind. “We’re here if you need us, Wednesday,” she said, smiling wistfully. “Just a crystal ball away.”
Wednesday nodded again, stepped out of the hug.
“If you have any problems at all,” her mother added, pausing until Wednesday met her eyes again, “please tell Principal Weems.”
Wednesday’s heart stalled momentarily. She saw her principal’s corpse on the ground, blue, foaming at the mouth. She jerked her head once to the right, blinked to dissolve the image.
“Goodbye,” she murmured, ignoring the worry on her parents’ faces.
She spun on her heel and walked down the steps, strode through the rain to the car, ignoring Lurch’s offer of an umbrella, Thing now perched on his shoulder. The rain quickly soaked her hair, plastered her bangs to her forehead, and it was cold and refreshing and extinguished the burning behind her eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~
The grand entryway at Nevermore was bustling with cars and students and stray luggage, furs playing games, families hugging goodbye. The sun was out and the sky was clear and the whole image was despicable.
Wednesday’s stomach churned.
She scanned the area from the safety of the car, and her gaze stuck on a single stationary figure perched on the entryway steps, so still that she stood out against the flurry of movement around her.
Enid. Pink sweatshirt, blonde hair in a messy ponytail, scrutinizing all of the arriving cars.
Wednesday’s headache eased somewhat. Her stomach settled.
“Thing, pull yourself together,” she said to the hand pressed longingly against her window. He scuttled into her bag and she got out of the car and nodded for Lurch to take her chest up to Ophelia Hall.
Enid was up and moving towards her with a face-splitting grin, and Wednesday found herself rooted to the spot, waiting for her, knuckles blanching around the strap of her bag.
“Wednesday!” Enid exclaimed when she was close enough. She seemed to use every ounce of willpower to stop a few feet away, buzzing with energy. “I’m so glad you came back.”
“Enid,” Wednesday acknowledged, taking her in. Not a thing had changed, except for the scars at her hairline, fading into the pink and blue streaks.
Wednesday found herself taking half a step forward, her hands uncurling from her bag.
There was a momentary look of surprise, which Enid quickly smothered, and then, “Can I – is it okay if I hug you?”
“Yes,” Wednesday replied without thought. She held up her own arms, stiffly bent ninety degrees at the elbows, and Enid stepped into them eagerly and wrapped her up. Wednesday’s body crumpled a little, less robotic, more rounded and human.
Her head cleared.
“I missed you,” Enid said quietly, almost against her ear.
A warm sensation surged into Wednesday’s chest, and she pressed her lips evenly together and shut her eyes and remained silent until Enid’s hold on her loosened. Enid didn’t let her go entirely though – her hands remained on Wednesday’s upper arms, still smiling, but softer and less frenetic.
It felt nice, Wednesday acknowledged. Like she was anchored to this earth again.
She met Enid’s eyes and stiltedly admitted, “I…missed you too.”
Enid lit up even further.
They both looked down when the leather flap of Wednesday’s bag moved repeatedly, straining against the buckles.
“I told you to contain yourself,” Wednesday said sharply.
Enid gasped, delighted. “Is that Thing? Let him out!”
“He needs to learn –”
Wednesday cut herself off when Thing emerged, birthed from the side of her bag, fluttering his fingers victoriously.
Enid snatched him up before Wednesday could smack him away.
“Oh my God, buddy,” Enid gushed, ignoring Wednesday’s glare. “I’ve got so many new colors for you to try!”
Wednesday chose to walk away. She would punish him later. She was trying to remember whether she’d brought her staple gun or not when she collided with Bianca, exiting the grand wooden entry doors as Wednesday was going in.
Bianca’s hands landed on Wednesday’s shoulders just briefly to steady her.
“Whoa, Addams,” she laughed. “Back for five minutes and you’re already attacking me.”
“If I had attacked you, you would be bleeding,” Wednesday assured.
Bianca hummed. “I don’t think that’s how it went last time.”
“It’s how it will go next time.”
Bianca nodded, eyes narrowed. “Okay, we’ll see.”
She held the door open for Wednesday to walk through. “It’s good to have you back, Addams.”
Wednesday’s chin moved in acknowledgement.
It was strange, foreign, the way she’d been back at school for five minutes and welcomed so easily. Objectively, the idea was repulsive, but in actuality…it was not entirely nauseating.
Wednesday was crossing the courtyard towards the dormitories when Enid caught up to her, Thing settled comfortably on her shoulder.
“So how’ve you been?” Enid asked.
Wednesday pictured herself spread eagle on her basement floor, a Bunsen burner blazing in the corner, fighting off the Hyde in her mind.
“Fine,” she said shortly. “You?”
She pretended she couldn’t feel Enid’s doubtful gaze boring into the side of her face.
“Oh, yeah, same,” Enid smiled wryly. “Fine.”
She must have decided to let it go for now.
After a few minutes of traversing the hallways, Wednesday found the dark wood and the stone blurring together in her mind, and she stopped abruptly at the top of the stairway they’d just climbed, suddenly unsure of where to go next.
She’d come this way hundreds of times before. She attempted to focus.
After a moment, Enid ventured a confused, “Wednesday?”
She leaned in front of Wednesday, trying to catch her eye.
Wednesday was unblinking.
She forgets, Thing tapped out on Enid’s shoulder, and Wednesday wished to fling him back down the stairs but found her hands clenched and unmoving by her sides.
Enid’s expression was unchanged for a moment, and then understanding seemed to rush in with a quiet breath. Her eyes found Wednesday’s again and searched, just for a moment. For what, Wednesday had no idea. She was still focused entirely, overwhelmingly, on remembering how to get to their damn dormitory.
Her headache was back with a vengeance.
“It’s this way,” Enid said quietly, a light hand on Wednesday’s upper arm to guide her in the right direction.
Wednesday knew the rest of the way to Ophelia Hall after that, but Enid remained half a step ahead of her anyway until they were standing in the middle of their room, lit up by sunshine and colorful, rainbow-like shards. Enid’s side of the room was decorated already, with her stuffed animals and twinkling lights and more blankets than Wednesday could fathom anybody ever needing, all different textures.
Wednesday’s side was bare, just how she’d left it. Lurch stood next to her little pile of belongings – her steamer chest and cello case and typewriter – waiting for direction.
“Thank you, Lurch,” she told him.
He nodded at her and lifted a hand at Thing before exiting.
Enid plopped onto her own bed, bouncing slightly, and watched Wednesday. She didn’t bring up Wednesday’s apparent loss of direction, didn’t make an ordeal out of it, and Wednesday appreciated that because it allowed her to seethe silently in her own pathetic display of weakness.
She set about opening her chest and making up her bed with the soft gray sheets her mother had just washed.
“Weems called an assembly for this afternoon,” Enid said.
This time, Wednesday’s chest seized only slightly at the name, just a flash of pale flesh and blue lips before she could beat the image away. Progress.
She let out something between a hum and a grunt in acknowledgement. She knew Enid’s gaze was still affixed to her back and she shoved the pillows into her pillowcases with a little more force than necessary.
Enid wordlessly got up to help her with the fitted sheet.
“She said she has some type of announcement,” Enid continued, her tone suggesting that she was intrigued by the idea.
Wednesday looked at her. “It’s not going to be as exciting as you think.”
“A girl can dream.”
“It’ll probably be a disgusting display of sentimentality and an announcement of some inane new rules to prevent what happened last semester from happening again.”
Enid’s smile faded. “I don’t think there’s any…rules that would have prevented that.”
No fraternizing with Hydes, Wednesday thinks. No hiring cultist psychopaths with the desire to resurrect murderous pilgrims.
She could appreciate the humor in such wildly specific rules, but – right. They wouldn’t have prevented anything. She probably would have taken them as an invitation to purposefully track down a Hyde or initiate a resurrection.
Damn her oppositional personality.
She sat on the side of her bed, her hands suddenly achy again. Enid looked despondent now, standing at the foot of Wednesday’s bed, and Wednesday’s whole chest was filled with the compulsion to fix it.
“Maybe they’re expanding the dinner menu,” she remarked, aware that Enid had spent weeks last semester petitioning the chefs to add more variety, namely Thai nights and Steak Saturdays, the latter likely for her wolf.
Enid let out an exaggerated gasp. “You think?”
No.
“Yes.”
Enid looked at her, smiled at her in a way that said she knew that’s not what this assembly would be about, and she knew that Wednesday knew, but she appreciated the effort. She picked Wednesday’s quilt up out of the chest and held it out, and Wednesday took it from her and tossed it over the bed, tucked it in neatly.
Enid crossed the room and laid on her own bed while Wednesday continued unpacking.
Wednesday’s hands were not having a good time. She flexed them repeatedly, rubbed the long scar on her left palm to ease the burning until it would fade to aching and then come right back again. She blocked out the curious glances Enid threw her from across the room, which turned into worried glances, and then Wednesday dropped her dissection kit with a loud crash, sending sharp instruments skittering across the wood floor.
“Jesus – shit!” Enid exclaimed, shooting up from her bed.
Thing clambered away to avoid being guillotined by scissors.
Wednesday stood unmoving amidst the mess.
“Just – Wednesday, sit. On the bed.” Enid instructed, approaching her with her arms out, like she was corralling a wild animal. “Sit down.”
Wednesday’s mouth dropped open just slightly, affronted at being told to sit, and by a werewolf.
She kept her feet planted and tipped back until she was sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Good,” Enid praised, surveying the damage. She crouched down. “Okay, good. This is fine. We’re fine.”
She looked up, poised to say something else, but seemed to take in Wednesday’s expression and barked a short laugh instead, which was quickly smothered. Her blue eyes shone with amusement. Maybe something else too.
“Now stay,” Enid instructed holding up a hand.
Wednesday’s mouth dropped further before she realized it, and she clamped it shut and schooled her face.
Anybody else would be skewered by now, but Enid was literally kneeling amidst a pile of Wednesday’s sharpest objects, laughing to herself.
Wednesday’s lips quirked.
Enid’s smile persisted while she picked up Wednesday’s tools. She worked quickly, packed away all of the instruments into their individual slots in the metal case, didn’t say anything except, “Wednesday, why do you need a pack of a hundred scalpel blades?”
“They’re not reusable,” Wednesday said in reply, which she thought was obvious.
Enid stood up when she was finished and brushed her hands off on her thighs. She was right in front of Wednesday, head tilted down at her, studying her, and Wednesday felt like a child. She couldn’t get up though, because then she’d be pressed right against Enid, and that would be – no.
“Are you okay?” Enid asked when Wednesday finally looked up at her.
Enid’s gaze dropped pointedly to the fists balled in Wednesday’s lap.
“I’m fine,” Wednesday stated.
Enid nodded, looking entirely unconvinced but also like she expected that answer.
Wednesday went to stand up, but Enid’s hands lightly met her shoulders and pushed her back down.
“Nope. No. You stay there,” Enid said, shaking her head. “Tell me what we’re unpacking next.”
Wednesday hovered somewhere between her habitual defiance and acceptance that her hands were useless at the moment.
She elected defiance.
Enid easily pushed her back down with a frustrated huff. “Wednesday.”
“Enid. I need to unpack.”
Enid stared down at her. “I’ll do it for you.”
“I can do it myself.”
“Why do your hands hurt?” Enid asked.
“They don’t,” Wednesday said automatically.
“Okay.” Enid looked up at the ceiling like she was asking for strength.
Wednesday’s heart clenched. She fixed her eyes on her fists in her lap until Enid crouched in front of her, holding out her own hand, palm up.
“Can I see?” Enid asked more quietly.
Wednesday held her gaze, searching, finding only the familiar, gentle blue eyes she knew. Defiance wasn’t going well, so she went for acceptance this time. She consciously uncurled her left fist and let Enid take her hand.
Enid held it lightly, carefully, like it was precious, and Wednesday closed her eyes against the images of Thornhill slicing it open and burning it in the crypt. It trembled slightly, and Enid held it more firmly, whispered, “It’s okay.”
Wednesday swallowed.
Enid’s fingers rubbed along the scar, and then massaged her palm, repeating the motion until Wednesday felt her hand relax, felt the pain subside. Her fingers were warm against Wednesday’s skin, something Wednesday hadn’t experienced since her parents held her hands when she was a child, or when she’d dangle Pugsley by his wrists in the well at home.
She opened her eyes to find Enid frowning down at her hand in concentration.
Enid glanced up after a minute, did a double-take when she saw that Wednesday was watching her, and asked, “Better?”
Wednesday nodded.
Enid wordlessly settled Wednesday’s left hand back onto her lap and started the same routine on the right. Wednesday sat perfectly still, somewhat dumbstruck at this turn of events, but also conscious that her whole body seemed to be relaxing, relieved.
Enid finished and set Wednesday’s right hand down. “All done,” she said, smiling.
Wednesday flexed her fingers experimentally.
“Thank you,” she managed, and it came out sounding small and confused.
Enid didn’t comment on it. “Anytime.”
Wednesday cleared her throat. “Can I unpack now?”
Enid nodded, stood up and clapped her own hands together once in preparation. She opened her mouth, and Wednesday interjected, “If you tell me to sit or stay one more time, Enid…”
She trailed off, as threatening as she could manage right now.
Enid only grinned, challenging. “Oh? What will you do, Wednesday?”
Honestly, Wednesday had no idea. She had no idea what she was going to do.
About anything.
At all.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was a camping trip. That was the announcement.
Principal Weems stood in the courtyard on a small stage in front of the student body and declared that they would all be embarking on a week-long camping trip the day after tomorrow. All supplies would be provided – students need only pack personal belongings – and they’d be traveling by bus and camping by a river. The purpose of the trip was for healing, as she described, tracing her eyes over the crowd of students. Her gaze seemed to catch on Wednesday and a half-smile formed as she cited something about fresh air and a change of scenery being good for the soul.
The announcement was met with a general air of bewilderment and skepticism, a smattering of laughter, a loud, “Fuck, kill me now,” from Yoko.
Wednesday supposed that with the wide variety of both bizarre and traditional extracurricular activities offered to students at Nevermore, a mandatory camping trip was not so farfetched. She wasn’t against the idea – in fact her primitive survival skills were far above average thanks to summers spent playing Stay Alive at home with Pugsley – but she was doubtful that gallivanting around outdoors with her classmates would lead to whatever sort of healing Principal Weems was hoping.
Beside her, Enid appeared positively thrilled at the prospect of bounding around in the woods with her friends for a week. She talked excitedly with Yoko, a captive audience, while Wednesday stood unmoving at her side.
“Hi Wednesday!”
Eugene emerged from the bodies in front of her, smiling widely.
“Eugene.”
He adjusted his glasses. “How was your break? Are you excited?”
Wednesday wholly disregarded the first question. “I’m intrigued,” she told him honestly.
It would be like a social experiment. Throw a hundred supernatural teenagers, half of them imbeciles, into the woods, and see what happens.
Eugene nodded agreeably. “I’m bringing my camera.”
“Ah, perfect. We’ll be the next Blair Witch,” Xavier remarked, slinging an arm around Eugene’s shoulder. “Just make sure you credit us. If you survive.”
Wednesday’s jaw clenched.
Last year she would’ve appreciated a good dying in the woods joke. The more horrific, the better. Now she was nauseated.
“If we –” Eugene looked at Wednesday with some amount of panic.
“You’ll likely survive,” Wednesday assured him evenly, though he didn’t look too comforted.
“Likely,” Xavier repeated.
Wednesday stared at him.
He lifted his brows, amusement in his eyes. “Good to see you too, Wednesday. How was your break?”
If one more person asked her that damn question.
Wednesday shifted her boot around, feeling for the comforting presence of her knife.
Bianca appeared then, hands on her hips, surveying the little group. “Alright!” She clapped her hands together with faux enthusiasm. “Everybody ready for Naked and Afraid: Nevermore Edition?”
Wednesday recoiled slightly, brow furrowed. “Nobody said there would be nudity.”
“There’s always nudity,” Yoko contributed helpfully.
Xavier nodded. “And fear.”
“And fear,” Yoko confirmed. “Nudity and fear. Naked and afraid.”
A bizarre image of her and Enid naked in their tent together flashed in Wednesday’s mind for the smallest, tiniest fraction of a second, and it was enough to halt all of her processing abilities at once.
“It’s human existence,” Yoko continued, smirking now at the look on Wednesday’s face.
“It’s a TV show,” Enid explained, saving Wednesday from herself. “Nobody’s getting naked on our trip.”
Yoko snorted. “Speak for yourself.”
Enid flushed but managed a pretty forbidding glare.
Wednesday turned on her heel, a little overwhelmed and ready to extract herself from this situation, and ran right into the taller figure of Principal Weems. She stumbled backwards half a step and Enid touched a hand to the small of her back to steady her.
Principal Weems remained steady, a cruise ship versus a tugboat.
“Ms. Addams,” she greeted with a small smile. “I apologize. You move very fast.”
Wednesday looked up at her. Tall, foreboding. A yellow pantsuit. Light blonde hair clipped elegantly on top of her head. Pale skin, red lips. Warm eyes regarding her with some degree of worry.
Alive.
Wednesday’s heartbeat evened out after the initial stutter. She observed Weems intensely, every detail, wishing for her useless brain to replace the last known image of her with this one.
“Sorry, Wednesday’s malfunctioning,” Xavier said from over her shoulder.
“Nudity,” he added for explanation when everybody’s eyes landed on him.
Enid turned deliberately to face him, claws out – when did that happen? – not an ounce of amusement or mirth on her normally cheery face.
“We’ll go,” Yoko suggested. She reached a hand out each to Xavier and Bianca to herd them along too. “See you Scouts tomorrow.”
“Ms. Addams, are you alright?” Principal Weems asked when Wednesday still hadn’t produced any words.
Wednesday swallowed, finally looked away from the very much alive face now comfortably etched into her brain. “Yes. I’m fine.”
Weems hummed in the same disbelieving way that everybody seemed to. Wednesday wondered what gave her away.
“How was your break?”
Wednesday reached automatically for the knife in her boot, but Enid caught her wrist halfway down and not-so-gently yanked it back up. Wednesday glared at the side of her head while Enid addressed Weems, smiling graciously.
“How are you Principal Weems? It looks like you recovered well.”
Weems nodded, gaze flickering between the two of them. “I’m doing very well, thank you Ms. Sinclair. Recovery was long but I feel nearly back to a hundred percent.”
Wednesday eyed her. “Did fresh air help?”
“Wednesday,” Enid whispered harshly.
“It did actually,” Principal Weems confirmed, unbothered. “I think this trip will be good for everybody. Nature is healing, they say.”
“Who’s they?”
“People who’ve spent time in nature.”
Wednesday considered. “It sounds like escapism.”
Weems smiled at her, almost surprised. “I don’t see it that way. It’s giving the mind and body time and space to heal in a different environment.”
“You sound like Kinbott,” Wednesday said, and then immediately regretted it because her mind was abruptly awash with gory pictures of her former therapist being massacred by the Hyde.
She dropped her gaze to the side, blinked until they faded. She felt Enid step closer, a warm presence at her side.
Weems studied her with concern.
“Wednesday, for what it’s worth, I am so glad that you came back to us this semester,” Principal Weems said, stooping a little bit to be sure Wednesday could hear.
Wednesday’s gaze was fixed on the stone wall behind her.
“What you went through last semester – nobody should ever have to go through. And your strength and mental fortitude through it all has been commendable.”
Mental fortitude.
That was laughable. She dragged her gaze back up to Weems.
“I know you hate this,” Weems proceeded cautiously, “but I just want you to know that we’re all here for you, in whatever way you need.”
Wednesday could vomit.
“I do hate that.”
“I thought it was nice,” Enid said quietly.
“Thank you, Enid,” Principal Weems said, dipping her head. “You two have a nice night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” Enid echoed.
Wednesday was silent. She watched Weems get a few steps away, and then something erupted in her and she rushed out, “Principal Weems.”
Weems turned.
Wednesday’s jaw worked for a moment. There was no other way to say it.
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
Weems smiled, mostly with her eyes.
“Likewise, Ms. Addams.”