Chapter Text
Enid was finally human again. Safe and sound and most importantly on her way home.
The process, however, had been… vexing to say the least.
Four months combing through forests, abandoned campgrounds, and several deeply unpleasant stretches of wilderness alongside Uncle Fester, who treated the entire ordeal like an extended vacation with occasional mauling. Two additional weeks waiting for the correct lunar conditions to attempt a spirit walk, a method that, statistically speaking, had very little chance of success and required Wednesday to display an alarming amount of emotional transparency.
It had been distasteful but it had also worked; Enid Sinclair was human again.
Which meant Wednesday could now redirect her attention to the second catastrophe that had been left unresolved.
Now she stood in the middle of nowhere inside a motel that should have been condemned sometime during the previous century. The carpet was basically one large stain of far too many questionable substances and fluids. The air conditioner rattled and emitted the scent of mold and wet dog.
It was adequate. More importantly, it was close.
Tracking Tyler down had been disturbingly simple once she knew where to begin looking. He had left Jericho months ago with Capri and eventually settled in what appeared to be a loosely organized Hyde settlement buried somewhere in the backwater corners of the country.
A colony. The possibilities had been numerous.
Had he found a new master?
Was he deteriorating?
Had the isolation driven him unstable?
Or worse.
A female Hyde.
No. Absolutely not!
Wednesday dismissed the idea with a steadfast finality. That would be unacceptable. More importantly, it was irrelevant to the mission at hand. The plan itself was straightforward, as those types of plans were statistically more successful.
Step one: infiltration.
Tyler was working a double shift tonight. Wednesday had spent the last two weeks confirming patterns through careful observation from a distance, cross-referenced with Agnes’s technological talents. By this point, she knew his schedule by heart. Tonight was optimal.
Step two: scent camouflage.
Hyde olfactory sensitivity bordered on the absurd, but she had prepared accordingly. Borrowing Tyler’s scent from articles of clothing and body wash stolen from his house and the bunker had proven remarkably effective. She'd taken to wearing them for the past three days for full scent immersion. The result was suitable enough to pass unnoticed until it was too late.
Step three: ambush.
His car was optimal, an enclosed space. A good control factor that works exceptionally with timing and long shifts made people careless. Fatigue dulled reflexes. By the time he left work, he would be exhausted and far easier to subdue.
Step four: sedation.
She had come prepared, going as far as to brew a large batch, filling about twelve syringes
Step five: extraction.
Once removed from the colony's immediate vicinity, she could properly assess the situation. If he had somehow acquired another master, the solution would be… straightforward and gratuitously violent. Wednesday had already accepted that possibility. She would not allow him to suffer there.
Tyler was hers.
Not in the sentimental sense Enid preferred to attribute to things, but in a far more binding way. A shared disaster, a mutually assured ruin neither of them had the decency to escape as if she would let him. Which meant she would liberate him. Whether he appreciated it immediately was irrelevant.
Tonight, however, also required a certain level of presentation.
She finished adjusting one of her braids, studying the mirror with quiet scrutiny. They were arranged more loosely than usual, tied neatly at the ends with small nooses, an older style she had worn years ago. She found it aesthetically pleasing. Romantic, even.
Her dress had been chosen with equal care. After consulting Enid, an experience she still regretted on principle, and several additional sources, she had managed to assemble something that balanced practicality with… visual effectiveness.
The neckline sat slightly lower than her usual preference, leaving the pale column of her throat and collar bones exposed. The hemline was a fraction higher as well, enough to allow easier movement if the situation devolved into violence. Which it very well might. Also, to entice her monster with tantalizing views of her upper thighs. Wednesday, after all, considered herself very practical. Still, it was important that she looked appealing when he saw her again.
The thought reminded her of an earlier incident at the Weathervane over a year ago, before everything had unraveled so spectacularly.
Her skirt had caught on the edge of the booth when she stood, the fabric riding up just enough to expose the dark line of her garter.
She hadn’t noticed her wardrobe malfunction immediately.
But she had noticed Tyler’s reaction. His pupils had blown wide, swallowing the color of his normally prismatic eyes. For a moment, he had simply stood there, frozen, before choking on absolutely nothing and turning an impressive shade of red.
“Your… uh—”
He had gestured vaguely toward her leg before looking away entirely.
“Your skirt.”
She had corrected the issue with expediency. At the time, his reaction had been… irritating. It had also replayed in her mind for several days afterward with inexplicable persistence.
Wednesday adjusted the cuff of her sleeve. If tonight went according to plan, Tyler Galpin would experience several far more distracting wardrobe complications before the evening concluded. Preferably, after he regained consciousness.
With her makeup finished and her boots properly laced, Wednesday reached for the final component of her outfit.
Tyler’s flannel.
The fabric was darker than most of the ones he used to wear in Jericho, charcoal threaded with dull red. It still carried enough of his scent to be useful. She slid it over her shoulders and rolled the sleeves once, the cuffs falling just past her wrists.
The borrowed scent would soften her own presence enough to avoid triggering Hyde's instincts too early. Timing would be important. She slipped the syringe into the pocket of her dress. The sedative was strong enough to drop him quickly but diluted to avoid unnecessary harm. Unfortunately, the recipe was one of Gates'. Tyler’s physiology had proven… unpredictable in the past. She preferred caution. Satisfied, Wednesday turned off the light and stepped out into the night.
The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint smell of asphalt and pine from the surrounding treeline. Somewhere in the distance, a truck roared down the highway. His workplace was a thirty-minute walk from the motel.
She checked her watch as she began walking. Seventy-five minutes before his shift ended. More than sufficient time.
The town itself was little more than a highway scar: a gas station with a convenience store, a café, an ATM, and a liquor store. The Hyde settlement lay somewhere beyond it, hidden deeper in the surrounding woods.
Wednesday had no intention of exploring it. Extracting Tyler was her first and only priority.
She reached the small parking lot behind the café with forty-one minutes remaining. Tyler’s car sat near the back under a flickering streetlamp.
It was an older model, practical, and maintained. Breaking in was laughably easy. The lock yielded within seconds. Wednesday slipped inside and closed the door with minimal sound, allowing the darkness to settle again before moving further. The interior smelled faintly of coffee, motor oil, and something distinctly Tyler.
Good. She climbed into the back seat and pulled the door shut behind her. Then she waited. The shadows inside the car were deep enough that she could vanish into them completely. Wednesday folded herself neatly behind the seat, boots braced lightly against the floor so she could move quickly if necessary.
Her hand drifted to the syringe in her pocket.
Step three: ambush.
Step four: sedation.
There was a possibility he might react violently. Hyde instincts could trigger under stress, and Tyler had never been particularly fond of surprises of a more violent nature. Still, the confined space of the car worked in her favor.
Minutes passed. Through the windshield, she could see the soft glow of the café windows and the occasional movement of staff inside. A few customers filtered in and out, their conversations carrying faintly across the lot before dissolving into the night.
Wednesday remained perfectly still, waiting had never bothered her.
Twenty-three minutes.
Then twelve.
Finally, the back door of the café opened. Her gaze zeroed in on her target. Tyler stepped outside, tying the apron strings loose at his waist as he walked toward the parking lot. Even from a distance, she could see the fatigue in the slope of his shoulders. The double shift had clearly taken its toll.
Good.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he crossed the parking lot, keys already in hand.
Wednesday sank lower into the shadows of the back seat. She slowed her pulse to a near corpse-like state and lightened her breathing for good measure.
The driver’s door opened. Tyler dropped into the seat with a quiet exhale, tossing his apron onto the passenger side before running a tired hand through his hair. For a moment, he simply sat there in the dark.
She waited until he had settled fully into the seat.
Tyler exhaled heavily, one hand dragging down his face as if trying to scrub the exhaustion from it. His keys hung loosely from the ignition. The engine hummed softly.
Only then did Wednesday move.
She rose from the shadows of the back seat with quiet efficiency and drove the syringe into the muscle of his bicep.
Tyler jerked violently, “Wednesday—what the f—” The words collapsed halfway out of his mouth.
His body went slack almost immediately, slumping sideways against the door as the sedative took hold. Wednesday withdrew the syringe with clinical satisfaction.
“Most excellent.”
She slipped out of the back seat and circled the car, opening the driver’s door before hauling his unconscious weight across the console. Tyler was taller than her and significantly heavier, but dead weight had never particularly discouraged her.
After a moment of strategic maneuvering, she managed to deposit him into the passenger seat. She adjusted his position with surprising care, tilting his head slightly so his neck wouldn’t cramp and easing his arm across his lap. Unnecessary discomfort would only complicate the evening.
Once he was secured, Wednesday slid behind the wheel and pulled the car smoothly out of the parking lot. The motel appeared again twelve minutes later. Tyler remained completely unconscious as she retrieved her bag.
It occurred to her, briefly, that it had been a very long time since she had seen him this… peaceful. The perpetual tension in his face had faded under sedation. Even the faint crease between his brows, what Tyler once referred to as his what the actual fuck lines, had smoothed out. Without it, he looked younger.
Wednesday glanced at him again as she steered onto the highway. His hair was shorter now. Not quite as short as when they had first met in Jericho, but tidier than the unruly mess of curls he’d been wearing the last time she had seen him.
It reminded her faintly of his mugshot. Only far more clean and significantly less homicidal. Not that she objected to homicidal tendencies on principle. Still, refinement had its merits.
She studied the faint lines along his face and throat where scars had healed into pale, silvery marks. They had settled into his skin with a certain dignity she found… aesthetically pleasing. More handsome, even. There were new ones as well. She catalogued them silently.
They had been on the road for nearly forty minutes when she noticed the gas gauge hovering dangerously close to empty. Inconvenient but easily remedied.
She pulled into the nearest gas station, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like agitated insects. Before exiting the vehicle, she administered another small dose of sedative, pressing the needle neatly into Tyler’s arm. His breathing barely shifted. She draped her oversized black hoodie over him afterward, obscuring most of his face and torso in shadow before stepping out to refuel the car.
The process was quick.
While the tank filled, she retrieved the small bag of provisions she had purchased earlier: drinks, several snack items, and two sandwiches that appeared edible enough. Tyler might awaken before they reached their destination. Providing sustenance would reduce unnecessary complaints.
Once finished, Wednesday returned to the car and resumed driving. They needed distance. If Tyler had acquired a new master within that colony, discovery would eventually become inevitable. The further they were by then, the more manageable the consequences. She had just merged back onto the highway when a thought occurred to her.
His phone.
Wednesday narrowed her eyes slightly and glanced toward his pockets. A tracking device would be… problematic.
She leaned across the console and reached carefully into the pocket of his jeans. Her fingers brushed a wallet first. Then a crumpled candy wrapper. Something firm yet soft shifted under the fabric that she chose very deliberately not to examine further until later.
Ah.
Switching to the other pocket, ahh there it was, his phone. She pulled it free, powered it off immediately, and tossed it into the center console along with his wallet before guiding the car back onto the highway.
The road stretched dark and empty ahead of them. Sometime past the exit for I-89 North, Tyler began to stir. The sedative allowed limited movement, just as intended. His fingers twitched first, then his shoulders shifted faintly against the seat. Earlier than predicted. But still within manageable parameters.
Wednesday adjusted slightly in her seat. With calm deliberation, she lifted the edge of her skirt just enough to reveal the clean line of her stockings meeting bare skin before smoothing the fabric into place. Her expression settled into something neutral. Almost passive.
Tyler’s eyelids fluttered. “…Wednesday?”
“Hello, Tyler.”
His voice came out rough. “What… what did you do to me?”
“I sedated you.” The word landed in the car with remarkable calm. “Please keep in mind that this measure was necessary due to your historically unpredictable behavior.”
Tyler blinked slowly, struggling to focus. “Where… are we?”
“Currently traversing Massachusetts.”
He squinted toward the dashboard clock, clearly attempting some mental calculations. “I got off work like… an hour ago…” His brow furrowed. Then his eyes snapped toward her. “Jesus—Wens! Who the fuck taught you how to drive!?!” Tyler’s voice cracked somewhere between panic and disbelief.
The speedometer needle was creeping steadily past ninety-eight. Wednesday showed no signs of slowing. Her hands rested calmly at ten and two while the dark asphalt of the highway stretched ahead of them at an alarming rate. Other drivers appeared only briefly, headlights flashing past before vanishing into the distance behind them.
“Uncle Fester, when I was eight,” she replied calmly. “I served as his getaway driver during several of his errands.”
Tyler’s head rolled weakly against the seat as he tried to turn toward her.
“…errands, please define errands.”
“Primarily banks,” she said. “Though there was that unfortunate misunderstanding with the post office.”
He stared at her. Tyler attempted to grab the door handle with sluggish fingers. His hand missed by several inches.
“Oh my god.”
“You are sedated,” Wednesday reminded him calmly. “Please remain in the car and refrain from any asinine or aggressive actions, as I will be forced to drug you once more.” She carried on as if nothing was amiss; she did calculate that he might have some panic over being drugged. “Now, if you are done, there’s a bag of food and drinks in your lap if you can move your arms. You hadn’t had much time to eat today, from what I observed and I highly doubt you did after I went back to the motel.”
Tyler’s eyes drifted downward to the hoodie draped over him, then the snacks and the bottle of cold water in the cup holder. Most importantly, he noticed her, his eyes roaming over her body. Wednesday could feel it. The slight shift in his breathing, the dilation of his pupils. Internally, she allowed herself a moment of quiet satisfaction.
“…what,” Tyler muttered faintly.
His eyes flicked down again. Then back up.
“…wait.” His brow furrowed deeper. “Is that my flannel?”
“Olfactory camouflage,” Wednesday replied evenly. “It prevented you from detecting my presence before the sedative was administered.”
He stared at her for another long second, then leaned his head back against the seat with a slow exhale. “You made yourself smell like me, all so you could hide in my car.”
“Precisely.”
“So in short, you broke into my car, kidnapped and drugged me.” Tyler closed his eyes briefly. “…and all while wearing my flannel.”
Wednesday tilted her head slightly. “I liberated you.”
“That’s not—” he exhaled slowly through his nose, clearly recalibrating. “That’s not how those words work.”
“You were residing in an unstable environment surrounded by Hydes with unclear loyalties,” she replied evenly. “Statistically speaking, removing you was the most logical course of action.”
His gaze slid sideways toward her again. “…how long have you been planning this?”
“Approximately two weeks.”
“You stalked me.”
“Obviously.”
Silence settled briefly in the car again. Tyler shifted slightly, testing his arms. The sedative clearly still had him. His muscles responded sluggishly.
Wednesday’s hands rested calmly on the steering wheel. “We still have approximately two hours before we reach our destination,” she said. “I suggest you make yourself comfortable.”
He continued to study her profile carefully once more. She kept her expression composed, almost serene. His eyes kept tracing her neckline, then roaming … lower. Tyler blinked. Then blinked again.
“You don’t tend to dress like that for kidnappings,” he said finally, voice still rough from sedation. “So talk.”
Wednesday did not look at him. “I am appropriately dressed.”
“For what?”
“A date.”
Tyler stared. “You kidnapped me,” he said slowly, “for a date.”
“Yes, also to liberate you from a potential master but primarily for a date.”
He leaned his head back again, staring at the ceiling of the car. “That’s—” he paused, briefly rubbing his face as if hoping the movement would reassemble his thoughts. “Okay. I’m going to need you to rewind several steps.”
“We have been together for over a year,” Wednesday continued evenly, “and due to unforeseen circumstances and several pressing commitments, we were unable to properly celebrate our anniversary.”
Tyler’s brain appeared to shut down entirely for a moment. “…exc—” He stopped, tried again. “I mean—what—” Another pause. “Please explain.”
Wednesday glanced at him briefly. “We never broke up.”
Tyler stared at her. The silence that followed was long enough to be considered geological. “…Wednesday,” he said slowly.
“Yes?”
“I attempted to murder you.”
“Multiple times.”
“Thank you for clarifying,” he muttered. “Yes. Multiple times.”
Wednesday nodded once. “And I cherished each of your numerous efforts.”
Tyler blinked again. “…you what?”
“I admired your persistence,” she corrected. “Therefore, I concluded you might appreciate reciprocation.”
His brow furrowed. “Reciprocation. You mean stalking and abduction.”
“Exactly. I feel that it was rather appropriate if not a little traditional, after all, it is an Addams courtship staple and I wish to do this properly, you understand.”
Tyler leaned his head back against the seat and stared at the road again. “…this conversation is happening, it’s actually happening.”
Wednesday did not respond. Instead, choosing to drift the car smoothly across two lanes without signaling. Tyler made a strangled noise.
“Wednesday! Lanes are not suggestions!”
“They are when the other drivers lack conviction.”
“YOU’RE GOING ONE HUNDRED AND THREE!”
“We have places to be. I will not be held back due to another's incompetence behind the wheel.” Wednesday adjusted the mirror. A truck horn blared somewhere behind them as she deftly slipped between two vehicles.
After a moment, he lowered his gaze back to her. “You’re serious. You realize that most relationships end once you torture your partner or you use them in a blood sacrifice…”
“And I don’t do that for just anyone, torture is quite intimate and I can admit I was being slightly exhibitionist doing that in front of the Nightshades. I will apologize for that. Now, granted I was absolutely livid about your betrayal but I do believe we’ve moved on from that.
“…that’s not the point!” He tried to move his hand but his arm just flopped like a noodle.
Wednesday continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “ I was already over your betrayal by the time I came to visit in Willow Hill but since you greeted me in such a menacing way, I surmised that you wished to continue engaging in long-term role-play.”
Tyler’s brain stalled again,“…role-play?”
She made a small noise of affirmation. Another car swerved slightly as Wednesday threaded between two lanes without warning. "You were the one who started in the Police Station."
Tyler flinched. “LANES, WEDNESDAY!” He turned his head slowly to stare at her. “You thought everything last year was… role-play? That I committed to the bit? For months?”
“Yes, an enemies-to-lovers scenario. I'll admit I was pleasantly surprised when you initiated. It truly was exciting and I fully understand the appeal now. My parents once kept up the ruse for eight months, I believe. If you wish to continue, I would not be opposed, though preferably after our date.”
The car shot past another vehicle. Tyler’s voice cracked again. “WEDNESDAY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! EYES ON THE ROAD PLEASE!”
“Hmm?” Not bothering to look up at the road as she adjusted the AC, the car was far too warm for her tastes.
“WHY ARE WE PASSING A POLICE CAR?!?”
Wednesday glanced briefly at the rearview mirror, lights flashing in the distance. “Because he appears to be traveling slower than us.” She pressed the accelerator slightly, tilting her head slightly, “You do, however, make a compelling argument, though, so we shall establish a safe word,” tapping the steering wheel in thought, “Alea iacta est will suffice.”
Tyler made a small sound that might have been a prayer as they continued down the highway at breakneck speed. “This is it…I’m going to die,” he muttered under his breath.