Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Enid doesn’t know how long she’s stood there, fresh soil sinking around her black shoes, fingers numb from the cold and hair soaking. Raindrops cling to her lashes, flinging away only when she blinks. Everybody was long gone now, the only thing she can remember is the hand of Morticia Addams heavy on her shoulder before she too had turned and left with the rest of her family — or, well, what’s left of it.

“Hey,” she whispers, working her jaw just barely.

The name Wednesday Addams stares back.

“It’s been- it’s been three days since, well, since everything I guess,” Enid continues softly, lips blue from icy rain and voice hoarse. “Um, Eugene misses you. I check up on him all the time in the bee shed. I think even Bianca misses whatever rivalry you guys had going on. Xavier has been…uh, more whiney I guess?” She rolls on her toes, nails digging into her palms. “I…I miss you.”

She wipes at her face, smearing tears and makeup and rain and finds she can’t care about it anymore.

“I just.” She cuts herself off and takes a deep breath, rolling her tongue over her teeth. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. If I had—”

(Wednesday? Where’s Wednesday? WEDNESDAY?! WEDNES—)

Enid huffs out a breath, white in the air. “I’m going to do better this time. I won’t- you won’t have to worry about any of this next time. I’m going to make sure of it. I won’t- I won’t let you get killed.”

(Hands shaking, shaking so hard she can barely grab at the uniform. Wednesday! Wednesday, someone help! Tears. There were tears in her eyes as she shook her friend and screamed and screamed and screamed—)

(But nobody had answered her calls.)

“I’m going to make them pay first.” A broken smile spreads across her face. “So you won’t have to pay the price of their revenge.”

Enid sighs shakily and crouches down, hesitantly reaching out and touching the gravestone. Chills race up her arm and she squeezes her eyes closed. Her chest aches and she shudders but she doesn’t cry again.

“Goodbye, Willa.”

She could imagine the frown and eye roll Wednesday would give her if she could hear her say that ridiculous nickname and Enid allows herself a small smile at the thought.

“Are you ready?”

Enid blinks and straightens up, turning from the grave of her best friend and faces Goody Addams. 

“Don’t be sad,” Goody says. “It’s not really goodbye after all.”

Enid doesn’t have the heart to tell her it technically was.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Enid rasps, stepping away from the grave.

“It’s going to hurt you significantly,” Goody warns.

Enid rolls her eyes. Nails bite harsher into her palms. “You already told me that. Trust me, it can’t hurt worse than this.”

Goody hums, silvery eyes tracing over her before she nods. “Very well, Enid Sinclair. Prepare yourself.”

Enid opens her mouth only to snap it shut as Goody passes through her, disappearing into a blue vapor. Ice slides along her skin and into her chest until she’s gasping roughly, hands jerking up and nail sharpening, clawing at her jacket. 

It was so cold it burned.

She screams through her clenched teeth, eyes wild as her chest heaves. She falls to her knees, vagauely aware her claws have ripped her jacket and shirt and into her skin, blood dripping down her nails and onto the soil. 

The cold pierces through her lungs, frostbite spreading up her organs as it slows them down, blood chilling from her usual high body temperature. Enid gasps shakily, throat hurting and tears in her eyes as she looks up from her crouched position towards the grave in front of her.

The name Wednesday Addams blurs her vision.

Right as the first scream rips through her throat, Enid disappears.

__

Enid drags her eyes open. She finds the ceiling of her dorm greeting her. She takes in a deep breath, feels the way air fills her lungs and her fingers twitch. Her breath hitches, caught in her throat. 

She glances over, the black sheets of the bed beside her, unused and untouched. She lets out a slow breath, chest pinching before her eyes sting. 

She blinks away the pain and tells herself this time nothing will happen to Wednesday.

__

Enid is already standing when the door is pushed open. She takes a deep breath and lets the scent of faint vanilla, pinewood, and the strange smell of something like standing in a library with old books too long wash over her. She blinks her eyes open when she realizes she’s closed them and finds herself staring at a ghost.

Wednesday Addams stares right back. Dark, dark eyes glaring and dark hair pulled back into twin braids, bangs swept across her forehead. Enid drinks in the sight of her best friend, at the freckles dotted along pale skin and the small curl of her lips that quirk down into a frown as Wednesday takes in the room — already split in half from when Enid couldn’t sleep and decided to get the room set up as much as she could without Wednesday there.

“—id. Enid.”

Enid blinks and lets her usual smile cross her face as she turns towards Weems, who looks uncomfortable. 

“Sorry,” Enid cheers, grin on her lips. “Must’ve zoned out there.” She turns towards Wednesday, lets her chest hurt at the sight despite the relief that Wednesday was there now, alive and breathing, and tries to remember the script from her last life. “Howdy, roomie. Nice to meet you.”

She gives a small wave, knowing Wednesday wouldn’t let her hug her despite the ache that spreads along in her throat, numbing her fingers. 

Wednesday gives her a sharp calculating look, dark eyes drowning before she glances away and back around at the room.

“You must excuse our Wednesday,” Morticia says and Enid’s eyes snap over towards her quickly, remembering the way the woman had seemed down, hunched over, and deadened at Wednesday’s funeral in a way she only sees in the mirror. “She is allergic to all things colorful.”

Enid smiles. 

I promise I will let nothing happen to your daughter. Not this time. I won’t fail.

“That’s okay,” Enid chuckles, waving it off. She can’t help the way her eyes are drawn back towards Wednesday.

Weems clears her throat and Enid blinks, turning from dark eyes. “This is Enid Sinclair.” She looks down at the blonde. “Enid, please take Wednesday to the office to get her schedule and uniform while I talk to her parents about what’s expected from her here.”

Enid grins and nods. Wednesday gives a sharp, murderous glare towards her parents and sweeps out quickly. Gomez chuckles at his daughter as Enid steps around them politely, giving them a smile as she catches up to Wednesday. 

They walk in silence for a while, Enid careful not to walk too closely, remembering the way Wednesday is prickilish about contact. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be boring me with nauseating speeches about Nevermore’s deluded history and trying to sell me to the ‘appeal’ of this abomination of a school my parents are subjecting me to?” Wednesday suddenly asks, the word ‘appeal’ spitting out like poison.

Enid blinks and glances towards her. “I guess so,” she hums, clasping her hands behind her back as she walks. “But I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t hear a word that would come out of my mouth.”

“And you would stand correct,” Wednesday drawls, eyes dark and deep.

Enid swallows and can’t find it in herself to look away as they both pause on the sidewalk. Her fingers twitch and the urge to sweep the girl into her arms, to cry and sob and plead for forgiveness, for not being fast enough, strong enough to reach her in time, for not knowing Wednesday had been kidnapped burns, twisting like the blade of a knife deep in her stomach like they did to Wednesday—

“Wednesday, I—”

“Enid, there you are!” Ajax crows and Enid lets out a low growl at being interrupted, turning towards him as he ambles over. “You're not gonna believe the dirt I heard about your new roommate. She eats human flesh. Chowed down on that kid she murdered. You better watch your back.”

Enid snorts and sidesteps to show that Wednesday is staring blankly at him. 

“On the contrary, I actually fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets,” Wednesday deadpans.

Ajax pales, the snakes under his hat hissing louder.

Enid grins, all teeth and slightly wild as she stares at Wednesday. “Isn’t she cool?” she asks.

Ajax swallows hard and looks between the two. “Sure…”

Enid reaches out and taps Wednesday’s sleeve covered arm lightly and secretly grinning when she’s not instantly stabbed with a knife by the shorter girl. “As good as it was to see you Ajax, Wednesday and I have to go get her uniform and schedule.”

“Oh,” he nods, eyes casting between the two of them — Enid smiling sunnily and Wednesday glaring up at him darkly. “Right. I’ll, uh…” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, smiling awkwardly. “I’ll see you later, Enid.”

“Uh-huh,” Enid hums noncommittally. “Bye.” She looks over at Wednesday. “You ready?”

“No, this place makes me want to gouge my eyes out and toss them into a lake,” Wednesday sneers. 

“That’s the spirit!” Enid cheers and taps Wednesday’s arm again, carefully and lightly, jerking her head to the side. “Let’s go get your uniform and schedule.”

Enid starts forward and pauses, turning to look over her shoulder when Wednesday isn’t beside her. The shorter girl stares real hard at her arm before looking back up, eyes guarded as she walks with her.

Enid sighs, fingers curling into her palms.

She’s alive, she thinks to fiercely to herself.

And she’ll stay that way if Enid has anything to say about it.

Watch out, Tyler and Thornhill. I coming for you.

A savage grin takes over Enid face at the thought.

Chapter Text

“Okay…a plan,” Enid mumbles, pacing in her side of the room. “I need a plan. I can’t just jump into something and expect the best. Remember: WWWD.” Enid snorts to herself and rolls her eyes. “Wednesday would just make them mysteriously disappear.”

But you could do that, too.

The thought comes unforbidden. Enid pauses, teeth sinking into her lower lip. Her fingers flex, twitching at the thought of blood.

(Wednesday? Oh my god, Wednesday, Wends wake up. Please, please wake up, I can’t—)

“I can’t kill them,” Enid whispers.

But you want to.

She chooses not to think about it.

“I need a plan with solid proof enough that even the sheriff can’t blow me off,” Enid mumbles. “It’s his son for god’s sake. He’s not going to lock up his son without complete proof.”

She runs a hand through her hair and huffs, tossing herself on her bed. “This would be so much easier if Wednesday was here to help me plot,” she grumbles, hiding her face in her fluffy blanket.

“Are you plotting the treacherous demise of a poor soul?” Wednesday’s voice asks blandly. 

Enid squeaks and almost rolls off her bed in her haste to look up. Wednesday cocks an eyebrow at her, curious eyes taking her in as she silently shuts the door behind her.

“W- Wednesday!” Enid sputters, laughing nervously and running her fingers over her blanket, smiling almost awkwardly. “How- uh, how long have you been standing there for?”

Wednesday stares quietly at her for a moment before sweeping towards her side of the room. “I did not overhear much, only that you wished for my miserable company for a plan you will be partaking in,” she answers.

Enid sighs and tries to straighten up from her drooped shoulders when she sees Wednesday is stilll calculating her. She glances away, chest hurting and remembering how dead those eyes had been, how still Wednesday had been when she found her in that chamber, bled out and unmoving. 

She swallows back bile and looks towards her clock. “It’s lunchtime, aren’t you supposed to be eating?”

“I do not usually eat lunch,” Wednesday says. “I find that going about with an empty stomach helps me think.”

Enid wrinkles her nose. “Well, that can’t be healthy.”

Wednesday quirks an eyebrow, something almost amused flashing her dark eyes before it’s gone as quick as it came. “You have not ate anything either.”

Enid flushes. “You don’t know that. I could’ve.”

Wednesday only stares at her blankly.

Enid sighs. “I’m just not hungry right now. I don’t think I can stomach anything.”

Not when I look down at my hands and can still see your blood, she thinks slightly hysterically.

Enid clears her throat and stands up, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, smiling dazzlingly at Wednesday and tries not to let it hurt when she wrinkles her nose in obvious disgust.

“I’m going to go ahead and head towards class. It gets crowded around five minutes before it so I wouldn’t wait much longer,” she says swiftly and practically rushes from the room, unable to shake the way those dark eyes burn holes in the back of her head. 

She practically sprints down the stairs, taking two at a time and barely keeping her balance as she rounds the corner. Enid lets out a breath as someone knocks into her and their papers scatter to the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Enid gushes, kneeling down and helping them gather their papers. “I wasn’t watching where I was—” She glances up and pauses slightly. “—going…”

Rowan stares back at her, fiddling nervously with his glasses before he gives a small smile, hand hesitantly reaching out. “Um, can I…can I have my papers?”

Enid snaps out of it and hands them over. “Shit, sorry, yeah of course.” She stands up quickly and he does the same, trying to organize them back into the folder. She narrows her eyes at him, jaw clenching but, when he looks back up, she’s smiling again. “Sorry, again.”

“That’s okay,” Rowan reassures.

Enid glances down and sees a piece of colorful paper slightly sticking out of the folder, yellow, orange, and red glaring back. She takes in a deep breath as Rowan shuffles in place, pulling the folder more into his side.

“I’ll see you later, Rowan,” Enid says, giving a warm wave as she twirls on her heels and runs away towards her class.

“Oh, uh, bye!” he calls out.

She gives another bright smile and waves again before continuing on. Her smiles drops when she rounds the corner, nails curling into her palms.

Rowan.

She had admittedly forgotten about him. But now that she thought about him, she couldn’t get the situation out of her head. He had been manipulated and told at a young age that he was destined to protect Nevermore from the one who would destroy it. He must’ve been blinded by it and, while Enid felt slightly bad about it, his mother had obviously twisted him into thinking he was some kind of savior. 

But…he had hurt Wednesday.

He had tried to strangle her against a tree with his powers and that was not something that Enid would let happen again. 

Rowan needed to be dealt with. And fast.

Enid sighs, rubbing at her forehead. 

So much to do and so little time, Enid muses as she makes her way towards class.

__

“You’re distracted,” Yoko says bluntly.

Enid barely has enough time to block her attack with her blade, sweat running down her neck in the stuffy fencing gear. She huffs and pushes up, twisting out of the way. 

“No, I’m not,” she denies.

Yoko grunts in displeasure and kicks out, only for Enid to shift backwards out of the way. Their blades clang together again as Yoko leans forward, glasses slipping down enough in the mask that Enid can see the way her eyes flash red. 

“You are,” Yoko growls out and sidesteps.

Enid almost goes stumbling down before she turns, jumping out of the way of the blade.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or am I going to have humiliate you first?” Yoko asks.

Enid purses her lips. “Yoko—”

The name dies on her lips as she turns, the scent of pinewood, books, and vanillla invading her senses. Wednesday strolls through the room, headgear tucked securely under her arm and dark hair dipping into equally dark eyes. Enid pulls her mask off and watches as Rowan falls to the ground, Bianca in front of him.

“Coach, coach, she tripped me!” Rowan sputters out. 

“It was a clean strike, Rowan,” the coach drawls, hands behind his back. 

“Maybe if you whined less and practiced more, then you wouldn’t suck,” Bianca says, taking off her mask. Rowan frowns and stands up, stumbling away from her. “Seriously, coach, when am I gonna get some real competition? Anyone else wanna challenge me?”

“I do,” Wednesday announces.

Bianca turns around and grins. “Oh,” she purrs, “you must be the psychopath they let in.”

Enid narrows her eyes, a growl low in her throat before Yoko grabs her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. The message was clear: shut up.

“And you must be the self appointed Queen Bee,” Wednesday bites back. “Interesting thing about bees. Pull out their stingers and they drop dead.”

Someone snickers.

Bianca frowns and glances around before glaring at Wednesday. “Rowan doesn’t need you to come to his defense. He’s not helpless, he’s lazy.”

“Are we doing this or not?” Wednesday drawls, bored.

Bianca grits her teeth before nodding, both of them swiftly going and standing on each side of the mat, drawing their masks over their faces.

“En garde,” the coach calls out.

Witnessing the fight between Wednesday and Bianca is just as awe inspiring as the last time Enid had watched them. Bianca all heavy attacks and strength but still fast and Wednesday, cunning and every attack measured and calculated and lethal. 

Enid swallows as it comes to a draw: one to one.

And then Wednesday suggests the military challenge. No armor and blades sharp. The first to draw blood.

Enid lets out a harsh breath, tense even if she knows what happens.

Bianca manages a hit to Wednesday’s head. The shorter girl’s head whips around at the force and, when she turns back, a dribble of blood drags down from her forehead and down her brow, onto her lashes.

Enid gasps in roughly, heart pounding as the blood drips from Wednesday’s lashes and onto to the floor. Her knees shake and she almost falls over if it wasn’t for Yoko’s hold on her shoulder. Biles rushes up her throat and she looks down at her gloved hands.

(Wednesday? Hey, Willa? She shakes her but she peels her hands back and their soaked with blood, her blood and she listens and listens but there is no heartbeat and she’s out here all alone with the body of her best friend in her arms, crying and screaming and pleading, knowing nobody is there and Wednesday isn’t coming back—)

“Fuck, Enid, breathe,” Yoko hisses.

Enid takes in a raspy breath and chokes on a cough, tears blurring her eyes before she blinks them away. Her hands tremble but they’re clean when she glances down at them and she shudders, shaking. 

She finds herself leaning against the wall, Yoko peering down at her and she scrambles to piece herself back together. She glances around and sees that Wednesday and Rowan are no longer there in the fencing room. 

“Where’s Wednesday?” she croaks, tongue like led in her mouth.

“You’re worried about Wednesday?” Yoko asks incrediously. “You just had a panic attack and she’s the one you’re concerned about?”

Enid glares at her, still feeling like she might topple over or vomit or maybe a bit of both but she has to find Wednesday before Rowan tries anything. 

“Yoko, where is she?” Enid growls out.

Yoko scowls at her but answers anyways. “She went to the infirmary to get the cut on her face looked at. Rowan followed her like a lost puppy.”

Enid clenches her jaw and pushes herself off from the wall and takes an unsteady step and shakes off Yoko when she reaches out to help her. 

“Tell coach I’m not feeling well,” she says and marches from the room, baring her teeth at Bianca as she passes her.

“What’s her problem?” Enid can hear Bianca ask.

Yoko sighs. “I have no idea,” she replies.

Enid ignores them both and rushes down the hallway and towards the infirmary. She ducks her head in and curses when only empty beds greet her. She spins around on her heel and runs down the hallway towards the courtyard.

Her shoulders droop in relief when she spots Wednesday walking out, umbrella in hand and a white bandage peeking out from behind her bangs. The relief is gone when the sound of crumbling concrete reaches her ears and her eyes go wide as she looks up, the stone gargoyle above Wednesday cracking from the structure.

Enid opens her mouth, tries to scream her name even as Wednesday glances up and sees the gargoyle but does nothing to get out of the way when it crumbles and starts to fall. Enid doesn’t even remember running, only that she’s suddenly at Wednesday’s side, tackling her to the ground and out of the way as the gargoyle splinters to pieces where she had once stood.

Wednesday had gone limp in her hold and Enid sits up, realizing their fingers are touching. She lets out a hoarse sob, heart in throat and blood roaring in her ears at the thought that Wednesday had done nothing but stare as death had plummeted towards her. Her hands shake as she gasps and trembles because- because she had almost lost Wednesday again.

Wednesday finally gives out a sharp gasp, coming back to consciousness but Enid only cries harder.

“Sinclair, what—”

“You asshole!” Enid screams, tears on her cheeks and red in the face and so, so scared but suddenly angry. “You- you can’t do that to me!”

“Sinclair,” Wednesday cuts in sharply, coldly. “You better get off me right now—”

“No, you shut up!” Enid spits out a wildly, and, if she were thinking, she would’ve been scared out of her mind that she was going to get stabbed in her sleep for telling Wednesday Addams to shut her mouth. “You just stood there and did nothing! You could’ve died! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“Death is nothing but the next stage of life,” Wednesday replies blankly.

“Fuck that!” Enid growls out. “You are not going to die on me, Addams.”

Not this time.

She has to swallow back the words.

Enid takes a shaky breath and slumps, anger leaving even as her fingers still tremble, clutching at Wednesday’s uniform.

“Ladies, something wrong?” Xavier asks as he steps towards them.

Enid wipes her face and stands up hurriedly, Wednesday following her lead. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Enid snaps, glaring over at him.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, just asking.”

Enid sighs and glances towards Wednesday. The shorter girl scowls at her, eyes blazing in cold fury that practically rolls off her in waves, yet…there was something odd in her eye, something sharp and calculating like she was trying to dissect Enid and find what makes her tick.

Enid frowns and crosses her arms as Wednesday glares at her, shooting Xavier a disgusted look, and then marches off stiffly.

“Fuck,” Enid heaves out and scrubs at her face pitifully.

Enid growls lowly before walking off, not paying any attention to Xavier.

She hadn’t meant to lose it on Wednesday…she just…the sight of Wednesday about to willingly let that stone gargoyle kill her sent her off the hook. It would’ve been the eerily the same — the blood, the screaming, the terror, the way it felt like her heart was tearing itself in two. 

If Wednesday had died…

Enid doesn’t want to think what she would do.

__

Enid stops, eyes narrowing at their empty room. She carefully shuts the door closed with her foot, taking measured steps forward and letting her bag thump to the ground. She then chuckles as the familiar scent of moisturizing hand lotion makes it way into the air.

She turns, eyes finding who it belonged to.

“Thing,” she hums and approaches him even as he seems to regard her warily. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Who are you? he signs.

“Me?” Enid grins, all teeth. “My name is Enid Sinclair and I think you and I are going to be great friends.”

Chapter Text

“So…how far fetched is the idea of time travel?” Enid prompts and, if Thing had a face, she’s sure he would’ve been staring gobsmacked this-girl-is-insane-look. She huffs out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I would react the same way if someone came up to me and asked me that.”

She pauses and sighs heavily.

“Thing, I need help,” she admits. “I need help because I really don’t know what I’m doing. I’m afraid I’m going to mess something up or the wrong person is going to get hurt.” Enid fidgets with her fingers and straightens up. “Do you know who Goody Addams is?”

Yes, Thing signs.

“Okay, that’s slightly easier,” Enid mutters. “Goody Addams is currently guiding Wednesday through her visions. In my first life, Wednesday tries to solve the local murders and dives into the Gates family. It’s eventually revealed that the Gates family — especially Joseph Crackstone who is the ancestor of Gates — hated people like us—” Enid flexes her fingers and her fingernails sharpen into nails. “—and he tried to rid them entirely. Fortunately, Goody survived and, well, you know what happens — the Addams family is created.”

Enid takes a deep breath. “Years later, Gomez Addams is put on trial for Garrett Gates’ death. But the charges are dropped. It’s on family day that Gomez is arrested again. Wednesday solves the mystery in the end.” She stares real hard at Thing as he twitches nervously. “I know Morticia killed Garrett.” She licked her lips, mouth dry and voice slightly raspy. “But I also know that he was dying already. He had been exposed to Nightshade and…well, everyone knows what that does to people.

“But the Gates family still has a member alive and well. Laurel Gates.” Enid shivers at the name. “She’s currently Wednesday and I’s dorm room ‘mother’ — Ms. Thornhill.”

The still fresh taste of betrayal is bitter.

“Thornhill is currently planning Wednesday’s death.”

What? Thing signs.

“In my first life, Thornhill drags Wednesday out into the forest at night and uses her blood to bring back Crackstone to kill off the outcasts. It doesn’t help that she has her little pet with her to protect her,” Enid spits out.

What happens to Wednesday? Thing asks, fingers shaky.

(Wednesday, please, you have to wake up, I can’t — you need to open your eyes, please, please, please don’t leave me, I need you—)

“She dies,” Enid says bluntly, eyes empty. “She dies alone and I didn’t know until it was too late and I found her body out in the forest by tracking the scent of her blood. By the time I dragged her body to the school, Nevermore was on fire and Crackstone was killing off the students. Bianca killed him off with a sword through his heart.”

She peeks through blonde hair down at him, something cold in her eyes.

“And I killed Thornhill.”

The words hang heavy in the air.

Enid finds she can’t muster up any guilt for it.

“That little pet of hers? Tyler? He got away in the end.” 

Enid takes a deep breath. “A day after Wednesday’s death, Goody appears to me with a proposition to send me back in time and change things. She told me everything I needed to know before — or, at least, what she believed I needed to know. She sent me back after Wednesday’s funeral three days after her death.”

A small silence.

What are you going to do? Thing asks hesitantly.

Enid’s cold, empty eyes stare at him.

“I’m going to keep Wednesday alive no matter what,” she answers.

I will help you, Thing signs. I will help you keep her alive.

She slumps in relief. “Thank you,” Enid whispers.

And, when she sits down on her bed warily, Thing coming to rest beside her, Enid pretends she’s back in her first life, waiting on Wednesday to come back so she can annoy her with K-Pop songs.

Even if that life’s already dead.

__

Wednesday avoids Enid the rest of the day. And the day after that. And the day after that. 

Much to Enid’s building frustration.

She can feel Wednesday’s cold, calculating stare burning the back of her head in every class and walking down the hallway, but everytime she tries to approach the shorter girl, Wednesday had already disappeared.

Which was frustrating considering Enid just wanted to keep her alive but wasn’t even able to talk to her.

The only thing that kept her sane was the daily updates Thing reported back after Wednesday leaves to go exploring.

Before she knows it, the carnival has circled around and Enid feels the jitters and goosebumps prickling her skin, knowing that Rowan was planning to kill Wednesday in the forest that night. 

Enid had originally wanted to threaten Rowan to stay away from Wednesday before Thing pointed out — after Enid explained everything she was told by Goody in detail to him — that, if Wednesday didn’t confront Rowan now, then he might try to kill her another time despite the warning and Enid wouldn’t have the advantage of knowing what he was planning.

Which was annoyingly smart.

She also ignored the whisper in the back of her mind saying she was allowing Rowan to die by Tyler’s hands.

But it’s to save Wednesday, Enid would hiss back. All of this is to save Wednesday.

The whisper would quiet down after that.

“—Enid!”

Enid startles and almost face plants to the ground before a strong hand to her shoulder steadies her. She huffs and blows a strand of her blonde hair from her face and turns to glare at her best friend.

“What was that for?” she grumbles and knocks Yoko’s hand off her shoulder.

“I’ve been calling your name for ages,” Yoko complains, eyes sharp behind her glasses. “What’re you thinking about?”

My declining morality, Enid muses to herself.

“Nothing,” she answers instead. At Yoko’s unwavering frown she sighs and mockingly puts her hands up in surrend. “Okay, you got me, I was just thinking about…”

She trails off as she catches a flash of dark hair and the faint scent of vanilla, pinewood, and books through the obnoxious smell of popcorn and sugary soda of the carnival.

Yoko glances between Enid and the fleeting glance of Wednesday before she lets out a low chuckle, lips curling. “Oh, I know exactly what’s going on here.”

Enid pales and turns towards her quickly. “You do?”

Yoko nods, still grinning smugly. 

“W- What is it that you think you know?” Enid asks, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“I think someone has a little crush on the new Addams kid,” Yoko sings out.

Enid frowns and ignores the way her chest pinches. “Who? Xavier? Is he still trying to make moves on her?”

Yoko rolls her eyes and smacks the back of her head, ignoring Enid’s dramatic ‘ow!’ in response. “No, you idiot, you!”

“Me?” Enid sputters incredulously. “I don’t have a crush on Wednesday!”

“Don’t worry, pup, your secret is safe with me,” Yoko says.

“I’m not- I don’t—” Enid lets out a frustrated groan. “It’s not like that!”

“Of course not.” Yoko’s glasses dip down enough that Enid can catch her wink.

Enid’s face burns. “I don’t have a crush on Wednesday!”

“Uh-huh, sure. Go with denial, Sinclair.” Yoko laughs. “But I have you figured out. You’ve been obsessed with Addams since she stepped foot into Nevermore — you can’t keep your eyes off her!”

“Not for the ways that you think!” Enid’s sure her face is completely red now.

“It’s okay, Enid, you can admit your feelings to me. I won’t tell her.”

Enid huffs loudly and shoves her way past Yoko. “It’s not like that!”

Yoko just laughs.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Enid spits out over her shoulder and knows Yoko can hear her as she makes her way through the carnival and towards the restrooms. She ducks her way to the side of one of the game booths and Thing peeks out from her bag. “Okay, Thing, you know what to do. Come get me when Wednesday goes out towards the forest.”

Thing salutes and hops from the bag and disappears into the crowd.

Enid sighs and runs a hand through her hair before stepping back into the chaos, plastering on a smile and joining back with Yoko and a couple of other friends. She tries to act like the old Enid would, laughing and playing games and taking on dares but all she feels is exhausted by pretending.

It’s almost a relief when Thing tugs on her pantsleg. She grins and says she’s going to go get some more lemonade before disappearing in the crowd.

“Where?” Enid asks.

Thing points in the direction Wednesday took off in and Enid sprints through the crowd, shoving her way through and bolting into the forest. She could now make out the scent of vanilla and twists through the trees, legs carrying her closer and closer.

“—that I would be one to stop you from destroying the school—”

Enid bursts through and finds Wednesday struggling against a tree, gasping and clawing at her throat and Rowan standing below her, arm stretched out and fingers curling. Red flashes her vision and Enid barrels into Rowan with a snarl. 

Wednesday hits the ground hard behind her, gasping in air and Enid snarls, claws slashing across Rowan’s chest, making him stumble backwards.

“You bitch!” Rowan wails, one hand hovering over his wounds. “Get out of my way!”

“Not a chance in hell, buddy,” Enid growls out.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, who you’re protecting!” Rowan shouts. “She’s going to destroy Nevermore and be the end of everyone! She’s going to be our demise!”

“I highly doubt that,” Enid says, claws twitching and blood dripping down from her nails and onto the ground.

Rowan’s face turns red. “You’ll regret this.” 

Suddenly, she’s flying backwards, shoulder cracking the tree and falling next to Wednesday, who glances towards her for a small moment, dark eyes curious and apprehensive. Enid grunts, holding her shoulder as agony races up and down her arm.

“You know, I actually liked you, Enid,” Rowan comments lightly. “But you sided with her.” He jabs a finger towards Wednesday, who scowls at him. “So, in the end, you only have yourself to blame.”

Enid pushes herself up shakily on her feet, ready to defend, before a familiar growl echoes the forest. Rowan screams and Enid stumbles back, his blood painting her face as she trips and falls back next to Wednesday. 

Rowan screams and screams and screams as he’s shredded to pieces and torn into. The Hyde — Tyler, Enid supplies — turns towrds them, mouth smeared with red and claws drenched in blood and, for a moment, Enid feels something in her believe she’s about to die, about to fail her mission as the Hyde glowers at her with bloodshot, bulging eyes.

But, suddenly, he turns and leaps away.

Enid lets out a breath and slumps down to the ground, staring at Rowan’s dead and brutalized body and glances towards Wednesday, already finding her staring back.

The stench of death is strong but the only thing Enid can think is that Wednesday is breathing and the decay smell is not coming from her.

She’s alive.

Even if Rowan wasn’t.

Yet, Enid can’t find it in herself to care that he’s dead.

She wonders when she become immune to others’ deaths.

Perhaps it’s when you took the life of another when you let yourself fall, the whisper comes back.

But Enid ignores it and counts her breaths with every rise and fall of Wednesday’s chest and thinks to herself, they’re alive.

They’re alive and that’s all that matters.

The smell of death lingers.

Chapter Text

Enid scowls at her shoes, not bothering to even glance up as Weems fumes and berates her and Wednesday in her office. Wednesday sits there quietly, eyes cold and the smell of blood a subtle undertone to her normal vanilla, book, and pinewood scent that has Enid forcing back a growl at the thought of Rowan.

She can smell his blood on her face and she feels slightly ill at the thought, fingers curling into the fabric of her pants, red still crusted under her nails. She swallows back the bile and focuses on the anger roaring in her chest as Wednesday and Weems’ voices snap back at each other.

It’s only when she blinks does she realize that Weems is gone and Wednesday is arguing with the sheriff. She feels her lips curl over her teeth in a snarl at the sight of him, rage flashing in her eyes before she hides it when Wednesday says her name.

“Sinclair was there,” Wednesday snaps. “She was a key witness. She has his blood on her face.”

The sheriff turns towards Enid, who frowns at him when he narrows his eyes at her. His eyes drag down towards her nails and she yanks down her sleeves, glowering at him as he scowls at her.

He looks back towards Wednesday. “If anything, it looks like she attacked Rowan — whereever he is.”

Enid’s eye twitches. “It was in defense,” she grits out. “He was attacking Wednesday, so I fought back but he used his powers against me.” She rolls her shoulder and bites back a wince as pain throbs — though much less than it did earlier. 

Perks of being a werewolf, Enid muses. Fast healing.

“Rowan is dead,” Wednesday says coldly. “I watched a monster rip his insides out — it must’ve dragged his body off when we left the scene to contact Weems.”

Enid frowns, tilting her head as Weems’ scent comes towards the door before it’s opened, Rowan standing there awkwardly and in one piece, smiling at them with a clumsy expression. 

Wednesday’s face shudders into mild shock before smoothing out. 

The sheriff cocks a brow and glances at the boy up and down before turning back towards Wednesday, unimpressed. “He looks pretty alive to me,” he says drily.

Enid sighs, already knowing this was going to happen no matter how much Wednesday and her — if she decided to speak up more — declared Rowan was dead, nobody would believe them with Weems covering up the tracks.

Wednesday grits her teeth and glares at everyone in the room before storming out. 

Enid sighs and stretches when she pushes herself up to her feet, frowning at Weems disguised as her dead classmate and makes sure to bump her shoulder against hers, blue eyes clashing into fake ones before she follows Wednesday towards their shared dorm.

Wednesday’s cold fury ices the air when Enid steps into their room, kicking the door closed. She watches silently as the shorter girl hisses low words under her breath, pacing up and down in obvious thought.

Enid frowns at the sight, opting to lean against the door closed, arms crossed, and watching silently. 

“Sinclair,” Wednesday barks out harshly through clenched teeth. “You saw the same as I, correct?”

“Yes,” Enid answers, not missing a beat.

Wednesday pauses and turns towards her, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, lips pursed in displeasure. “So, I am not losing my mind?”

Enid smirks, tilting her head. “Not yet.”

Wednesday’s lips twitch for a moment before she turns away. “That crosses off one option,” she mutters. She stares thoughtfully through the window before whirling on Enid, brows furrowed. “How did you know where to find me?”

“It’s our shared dorm,” Enid says.

“Not that,” Wednesday growls. “How did you find me in the forest with Rowan?”

Enid’s fingers twitch as she swallows and turns away, pushing herself from the wall and crossing towards her side of their room. “I heard you yell and followed your scent.”

Wednesday stays quiet and, when Enid glances over, she sees the shorter staring blankly at her. Enid turns back away and fidgets with her blanket as she plops down on her bed, eyes darting anywhere but to Wednesday.

“I am going out,” Wednesday decides after a moment of silence. Enid snaps her head up to stare at her as she watches the other girl zip up her overly large black jacket. Dark eyes flash over towards her, a warning in them. “I expect you to not follow me this time.”

Wednesday swiftly turns on her heel and marches out. 

But Enid isn’t worried. Nothing else happens that she can think of until later on in the next coming days. She takes the time to shower, scrubbing her hands raw until there’s no more blood under her nails and hurriedly wipes the red from her face. She finishes quickly and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a large colorful sweater. 

Her feet drags as she approaches her side of the room. She sighs and falls completely on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Eventually, sleep comes.

__

“Wednesday?”

It comes out choked, quiet…disbelieving.

It’s what she feels — this disoriented feeling of not completely there.

She steps closer, leaves crunching under her shoes. 

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

She steps closer and falls to her knees. 

“Willa?” she asks and her lips quiver. She reaches out and touches the girl’s shoulder, hesitant. “Hey, Wednesday, can you say something please?”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Please, please, answer me.”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Please- please — I can’t, Wednesday, answer me please—”

Her hands tremble as she shakes the girl. The girl stares straight up, unblinking and still and unmoving and so, so cold.

Her breath hitches.

Her hands come back, smeared in blood. She reaches forward and pulls the girl’s coat away and sees a gaping wound in her side. 

Blood soaks into her knees, grass drenched in red.

“Wednesday, please — oh god, oh my god, please wake up.”

She shakes her harder, presses her hands into the wound of a too cold body. 

“Please, please, wake up, answer me!” she pleads and her vision blurs and wobbles, stinging hot tears rushing down her face and dripping on the girl’s too still face.

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Wake up, Wednesday!”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Please, somebody help!” she screams, the girl’s blood gushing between her fingers. “Somebody help! Help, she’s dying- she’s dying — please help me!”

Nobody answers.

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“—she’s dying!” she shouts, hysterically. “She’s- she’s- she’s—”

The sobs rip from her throat.

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Help,” she croaks and shaking arms gather the girl gently into her arms and she presses her face against the girl, head tucked under the girl’s chin. “Please…anybody…help her…”

Nobody ever does come.

“Please.”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Wednesday…”

Sinclair.

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…please come back.”

Enid.

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Wake up, please…please, just answer me.”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

Enid.

“Please.”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Wake up.”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Please, I’m sorry.”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Please…”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

“Wednesday, I’m sorry…”

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

The girl doesn’t so much as stir.

Enid!

Enid gasps out roughly. Fingers dig into her shoulder and she chokes, sputtering at the tears on her cheeks. Her chest pinches, constricting and she tries to take in a deep breath, only for it to stay stuck in her throat.

“Breathe with me.”

Something warm encases her hand and a steady thump pulses under her fingertips.

“Count my heartbeats. One, two, three…”

The voice is dull but constant — strong and there.

Enid closes her eyes and focuses on the heartbeat under her fingers.

“Exhale — one, two, three, four. Inhale — one, two, three, four.”

She follows the pattern, listening to the voice.

She doesn’t open her eyes until her chest isn’t tight and she can finally breath without it hitching. The ceiling of her dorm room greets her. Enid trembles and her eyes drag over when something squeezes her fingers.

Wednesday stands over her, her wrist wrapped in Enid’s hand, her fingers pressing against the shorter’s pulse and her other hand is squeezing her fingers. Enid takes another deep breath and takes her hand away, curling in on herself. 

“Usually it brings me greet joy when I watch someone wither in fear of their nightmares,” Wednesday drawls, “but you were disturbing my writing time and I could not concentrate.”

Enid winces. “Sorry,” she rasps out. “You can go back to your novel, I won’t bother you.”

Dark eyes stare deep into hers and Enid looks away, something raw in her chest aching. 

“I have read that it helps if one…talks…after a nightmare to ease their minds back into clarity,” Wednesday prompts, the word ‘talks’ coming out wrong as if she had to choke it out.

Enid stays silent, staring down at her hands.

She hears Wednesday huff quietly and begin to cross the room back towards her own side.

“Have you ever lost something so precious to you that it feels like your chest has a gaping hole in it that you believe will never be filled again?” Enid asks quietly.

Wednesday’s footsteps pause.

“Yes,” Wednesday finally answers softly. “It was the week after Halloween. I was six years old. I took my pet scorpion Nero out for an afternoon stroll and we were ambushed.”

Enid carefully listens. She had heard this story before…in her old life, yet, it seems more…personal that last time. Something different. Something…softer.

“They wondered what kind of freak would have a scorpion as a pet,” Wednesday continues. “Two of them held me down and made me watch while the others ran Nero over until…”

Her voice trials off.

“It was snowing when I buried what was left of him,” Wednesday says. “I cried my little black heart out.” Her voice shifts into something more cold. “But tears don’t fix anything.”

Enid frowns. 

Her Wednesday, the one back in her old life…she wasn’t coming back. 

Crying wouldn’t bring her back.

But…

“If you could go back,” Enid finds herself saying, “if you could save him, would you?”

“Yes,” Wednesday replies instantly. “But I would also accept that things would’ve turned out differently.”

Enid swallows hard, chest hurting.

Her Wednesday, her best friend back in her first life…she was dead and she was never coming back. She was never coming back, no matter how much Enid protects this Wednesday.

This Wednesday was different, yet the same person. 

But so was Enid.

She was once all sunshine and bubbly personality and innocence.

But not anymore.

Enid isn’t the same. And neither is Wednesday.

Maybe that’s okay, Enid thinks to herself. 

Maybe it’s okay that the two of them are different.

This is a different life than the last, after all.

Enid takes in a deep breath. “For the record, I don’t think you’re a freak,” she says. “Weird as shit, but not a freak.” 

“The feeling is incredibly mutual,” Wednesday deadpans.

Enid watches as Wednesday walks back over to her seat in front of her typewriter. 

“If I was there, I would’ve clawed their faces off for you,” Enid blurts out. 

Wednesday freezes, fingers hovering over her typewriter. Enid’s stomach lurches as she sees the shorter girl’s ears tinge slightly red.

“Flattery will get you no where, Sinclair,” she hisses out, though her voice has an odd tone to it than normal.

Enid huffs out a startled laugh and turns over on her side, burrowing her face into her pillow. “Whatever you say, Addams,” she tosses back. 

Maybe we’ll be okay, after all, Enid muses.

Chapter Text

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I can feel it, my death is close.”

Enid rolls her eyes as Yoko groans loudly, clutching at her stomach, pale complexion looking slightly green in her sickness. With everything going on, Enid had forgotten all about the Poe Cup and, consequently, the garlic incident that caused Yoko to not be able to be part of their team in the race.

“You’re being dramatic,” Enid huffs out, slightly amused. 

Yoko opens her mouth before snapping her jaw shut. She holds up a finger and Enid startles as she suddenly lurches up from her bed, almost knocking her sunglasses off the nightstand beside her and scrambles for the bathroom. The loud sound of retching fills the air and Enid grimaces, hurriedly running towards Yoko and holding her hair from her face, rubbing comforting circles on her back.

Yoko gags after she’s finished and Enid lets out a sigh of relief as she flushes the vomit down the toilet, the smell leaving her sensitive nose. Yoko slumps on the floor. 

“I told you I’m dying,” Yoko moans pitifully.

Enid sighs.

__

Enid slinks up towards Wednesday, who’s sat at her type writer, fingers moving diligently and ink filling the air as words typed along on the paper. Enid bites her lip and glances around before staring back at her, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Sinclair, do me a favor and speak about what’s on your mind — you’re disturbing my writing time by staring at me,” Wednesday says, not once stopping typing.

“Oh, uh.” Enid pauses and rolls the words around in her head. “So…there’s this Poe Cup race that the school hosts every year and…Yoko is sick so I was thinking- you don’t have to obviously — not that I think I could ever demand something of you! I’m sure you would probably stab me or something — but I need- if you want to, to, uh,—”

Wednesday sighs and stops typing. “Take a breath and collect yourself and then ask me what you want.”

Enid does as she says and steels herself. “Yoko is sick so I’m down one member…I also need help painting the boat because I completely forgot so…I was thinking…can you help me out?”

Wednesday tilts her head and finally turns towards her, dark eyes unreadable. “You want me to participate in this…race?”

Enid winces at her tone. “And help me paint the boat…?”

“No.” Wednesday turns back towards her typewriter. 

Enid pouts and leans closer. “Aw, come on, please?”

“No.”

“But—”

“The answer is no.”

“I’ll let you paint blood on the boat,” Enid offers.

Wednesday pauses, fingers hovering over her typewriter. 

Enid takes this as an opening to keep talking. “I’ll let you paint blood or gore or whatever you want on the boat as long as you help me get it painted.”

“…Whatever I want?”

Enid bobs her head up and down enthusiastically before remembering the girl isn’t even looking at her and lets out a “Uh-huh”.

“Fine,” Wednesday agrees curtly. “I will assist you in painting, but I will not be participating in this dreadful race.”

Enid grins. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us in the race?”

“Take the win, Sinclair,” Wednesday says drily.

Enid laughs and walks back over to her bed, plopping down.

Success.

__

“So…she’s been talking to Tyler?” Enid grits out, eyes casting over towards the sleeping girl on the other side of the room. 

Yep, Thing signs.

A rumbling growl vibrates her chest before she forces it back, eyes flashing molten gold in the darkness of the room. She clenches her jaw and works her teeth together, fingers curling harshly into her palms. 

“I hate him,” she snarls out.

I know, Thing replies.

“He’s the reason why she—” 

She stops herself, biting back the words. Accepting that her old life was dead and gone, along with the people in it, doesn’t mean it’s still not painful. 

I know, Thing signs again.

“They need to be stopped.”

I know.

“We need to stop them.”

We will, Thing comforts.

Enid sighs shakily and tries to shove away the anger that presses in her chest, that tugs in her stomach, barely willing her fingers to not turn into claws. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes as she blinks them closed and tries to soothe the pounding behind them.

“We need an actual plan,” Enid grumbles, hands still against her face. “We don’t have one and it feels like we’re just running around blind despite, you know.” She lets one hand point a finger to her head, knowing Thing understood her reference to the knowledge she held from her first life. “We need someone who can plan well.” She blinks her eyes open and glances down at him.

We can ask Wednesday? Thing signs.

Enid instnatly shakes her head. “Absolutely not,” she hisses out, eyes darting towards said girl, who remains oblivious in her sleep. “I am not telling her.”

Why?

“Because then she’ll get involved since I can’t ever say ‘no’ to her and then she’ll be dragged into all this and probably get hurt or worse—”

She’s already involved, Thing says rapidly. She can help us.

“No,” Enid bites out, turning away from him. “I can’t- I won’t go through what happened last time.” She swallows hard enough that her throat stings. “Not again. Never again.”

The feeling of blood slick on her hands has her glancing down, only to see them clean. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and curls her fingers into her palms. 

Thing taps her knee and she turns back towards him. Are you okay?

“I’m fine,” Enid replies automatically. “But I’ll be even better when we get all of this over with, though.” She stares down at him. “No telling her.”

Thing gestures wildly in protest and Enid only crosses her arms, not backing down. 

“We’re not getting her more involved than she already is,” Enid says stonily. “The whole reason with what happened last time is because of this involvement and bringing her deeper into this will only make it worse. So, no, we’re not going to say anything about this to her, yeah?”

Thing stands still for a moment before slumping. Fine, he reluctantly signs.

Enid nods. “Good. Now, tell me, what has Tyler said to her so far?”

__

“Okay, so.” Enid drops the large buckets of paint onto the ground, eyeing the mess around her. “I brought different colors of red and black — obviously — and some white and pink — don’t give me that look, it’s supposed to be a cat—”

“A dead cat,” Wednesday interrupts, lips twitching as she stares at the red paint buckets with a certain gleam in her eyes.

“A dead cat,” Enid amends, “that still requires a nose and I’ve decided it’s going to be a pink nose.”

“Not all cats have pink noses, Sinclair,” Wednesday says absently, picking up a brush and hauling a can of red paint to her side.

Enid rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but I want it to be pink.”

Wednesday makes a face but doesn’t comment on her poor choice of color. Enid frowns at her, slightly offended but too relieved that Wednesday is even helping her to goad the shorter girl into a spat over the color of the nose.

Enid glances over at the canoe, scowling at how boring it looked without any paint. She dips down and picks up her own paintbrush and a can of black paint and lugs it to the side of the boat and drops it to the ground. She lets her claws sharpen and uses them to pop the lid open, tossing it to the side. She wordlessly steps towards Wednesday’s red paint can and does the same, a certain rush of pride surging at the way the shorter girl stares at her claws in interest.

“Okay, so, the boat’s base needs to be black — add whiskers, obviously, and a pink nose and you can add the blood or whatever you want since you’re wanting it to be a dead cat,” Enid rambles off.

“Sinclair,” Wednesday interrupts and Enid snaps her attention to the other girl curiously. “Enough.”

Enid pouts but stays quiet as they work.

She glances over at Wednesday, the sunlight reflecting off dark eyes and the little furrow of her brows, lips pursed in concentration as she painted her side of the canoe. Lithe fingers grasp the paintbrush firmly, each movement precise and calculated — nothing but perfection, an Addams’ trait apparently, Enid muses.

“Sinclair, you’re staring,” Wednesday drawls.

Enid feels her face heat up and glances away, ignoring the way her stomach lurches.

Maybe she was getting sick.

__

The night before the Poe Cup rolls around and Enid finds herself lounging on her bed, waiting for Wednesday to return just like her first life, hoping that she didn’t change anything too drastically where Wednesday actually does refuse to participate in the race.

She perks up when the door swings open, Wednesday storming in. Enid grins at the look of cold fury painted along the shorter’s face as she marches over towards Enid, who hops up to meet her in the middle of their room, knowing Wednesday refuses to set foot on the ‘nauseating, hive-inducing brightly colored rainbow side’ of the dorm.

“I will join you in the race and make sure you will win,” Wednesday says stonily.

Enid hides a smug grin. “Why? What changed your mind?”

“I want to humiliate Barclay so bad she can’t show her face around me without remembering how I beat her at her own game,” Wednesday seethes.

Enid smirks. “How’re you going to do that?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“How has she been winning the past years?” Wednesday demands.

Enid crosses her arms. “She has one of her siren buddies in the water to overturn our boats. Nobody ever makes it past the lake portion of the race.”

Wednesday tilts her head, contemplating. “I see.” She nods once to herself and turns on her heels. “I will make sure that Barclay feels the humiliating taste of defeat.”

“Wednesday.”

Wednesday pauses and glances over, only to catch a dark grey hoodie. She frowns and glances down at the piece of clothing in her hands. 

“Change your jacket,” Enid growls out, eyes flashing yellow in the darkness of their room. “You smell like Thorpe.”

Wednesday studies her fiercely before turning and leaving without a word, hoodie in hand.

__

Enid watches from her bed as Wednesday finally returns from building the contraptions on their boat. 

She turns on her side and doesn’t bother to hide the large, curling grin on her face at the flash of grey on Wednesday instead of the normal black of her jacket.

__

Enid glances away from the lake, ignoring the cheerful shouts of the other students around her as she turns towards Wednesday. Dark eyes dart over, meeting her own and Enid smirks lightly.

“Now, for your costume,” she announces.

Wednesday’s brows furrow, a twitch downwards of her lips. “Costume?”

Enid grins sunnily. “It’s waiting for you in the dressing room.” She gestures towards the small room only to the side of them. “I’ll wait for you.”

Wednesday looks torn between simply storming away or stabbing her with one of the hidden knives Enid knows the shorter has confined in the right side of her boot. In the end, the aspect of Bianca’s ultimate humiliation causes her to cave and turn on her heel, sweeping into the room.

Enid patiently waits and surveys her surroundings, lips curling over her teeth at the sight of Thornhill beside Weems, smiling at the others around her as if she’s not some traitor waiting for the right moment to strike.

The desire to rip open her claws and take out Thornhill the easy way has Enid’s fingers twitching.

“Sinclair.”

Enid blinks and turns away from Thornhill to find Wednesday staring at her, dark eyes glinting from the sunlight above, equally dark hair dipping down against her long lashes. The costume is skin tight, hugging her body closely and Enid finds herself feeling heat in her face, traveling up her neck.

Wednesday’s eyes flicker across Enid’s form, to her fingers and up her eyes, and then across the field where Thornhill stands.

Enid’s throat closes and her chest yanks in something like panic. “Where’s your whiskers?” she blurts out just to distract Wednesday from looking at Thornhill.

It works as Wednesday’s attention snaps back to her, a warning on her face. “Ask again and you’ll be down to eight lives,” she growls.

Enid lets out a light laugh and gestures for Wednesday to walk beside her as they make their way towards their boat. “Yeah, sure, Addams,” she teases over her shoulder. “We both know you like me too much to kill me.”

When she doesn’t hear the shorter girl beside her anymore, Enid glances back to see Wednesday paused misstep, staring at her with something in her eyes she can’t recognize. 

But it’s gone as quick as it was there.

“Don’t test me, Sinclair,” Wednesday snaps back and surges forward and past her.

Enid snorts and rolls her eyes, easily catching up.

They approach their canoe and something smug rises in her throat at the disturbed looks they’re tossed when others see their boat. Wednesday’s gait perks up a bit, burning satisfaction on her face at the way those around them sidestep from them as if they’ve spooked them.

Which, yeah, Enid can’t really blame them.

Their boat was easily recognizable as a cat. Well, a dead cat. One eye missing and bloody gouges decorated along the sides and red seemingly dripping down its face with whiskers and a pink nose.

Enid smirks because, if Wednesday completely had her way, there would be no sight of such an ‘abominable color’ on their canoe, in the shorter’s words.

Wednesday side eyes her, huffing at the obvious glee in her eyes at the sight of the pink. “You are insufferable, Sinclair.”

Enid simply sticks her tongue out at her and steadily ignores the warning of getting it cut out by the shorter if she so much as dared to do that again at her.

She grabs an oar and settles carefully into their canoe, Wednesday sitting behind her. Enid glances around at their opponents, narrowing her eyes at them.

“Focus,” Wednesday hisses from behind her, near her ear.

Enid shivers, goosebumps erupting on her skin.

She barely collects herself as Weems fires off the gun for the race to start.

And then they were off.

__

The Poe Cup runs exactly as Enid remembers it — from intercepting the siren in the water to Enid slashing the jokers’ canoe to Wednesday’s late arrival to their boat to sinking Bianca’s team. It ends with Enid forcing Wednesday to help her hold up their trophy, a grin on her face. It doesn’t matter if she’s done this before, nothing matters but the feeling of Wednesday’s side pressed against hers as they show off their victory to Nevermore.

Enid glances over at Wednesday and sees her lips twitching slightly upwards, beams of light reflecting off her eyes, and her dark hair messy in their tight braids, bangs windswept. And, when Wednesday glances back over at her, Enid can see the dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose, barely noticeable but still there and long, dark lashes fluttering.

Beautiful. 

The thought comes so sudden that Enid almost drops the trophy and barely keeps herself from falling to the ground. Her eyes widen dramatically at the realization, causing her to freeze in place.

Oh, shit.

Chapter Text

Enid begins to notice things about Wednesday, things she never noticed in her old life.

Like how her eyes gleamed when she writes her novel; or when she’s thinking about something particularly interesting, she subconsciously clenches her jaw slightly; or when she’s bored in class, she’ll stare off a small bit to the side of the teacher’s head; or how, when someone annoys her or stands a little too close to her, her hand twitches to the right side of her uniform jacket. 

Enid notices many new things, things like how soft Wednesday’s hands look despite how strong they are; or how cute she looks when she just wakes up, braids slightly mused from her sleep; or how pretty her eyes are; or how perfect her lips look—

Enid notices many new things. 

But that doesn’t mean she ever acts on any of them.

“You’re staring again, pup.”

“Huh?”

“Enid.”

Enid jolts, blinking back to the present and finds her chin in her palm, elbow propped up against the desk. She drags her eyes from Wednesday who’s sitting in front of her in class and finds Yoko staring back at her, exasperated.

“This is the third time today,” Yoko complains. “If I knew you would just spend all the time we spent together making heart eyes at Addams, I would’ve added another spoon full of garlic to my blood.”

Enid glowers over at her, trying to ignore the creeping heat up her neck. “Shut up,” she mumbles. “We’re in class.”

“Not like you’re learning anything,” Yoko mutters back. “You’re too busy undressing Addams with your eyes.”

“I am not!” Enid exclaims, smacking her hands on her table.

“Miss Sinclair,” their history teacher snaps. “Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

Enid blushes heavily and hunches her shoulders up, trying to hide. “No, sir, sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Their teacher nods his head and turns back after another warning glance and starts droning on about Nevermore’s history — very inaccurate history, Enid muses — again. 

Her eyes dart around and land on Wednesday, only to find her looking back. Enid freezes as Wednesday observes her silently and unblinkingly before dark eyes flicker towards Yoko, narrowing slightly into a cold glare, lips curling downwards. 

Then Wednesday turns back around.

“Dude,” Yoko chokes out. “I- I think Addams just tried to kill me with only her eyes.”

“I know,” Enid sighs out, letting her chin drop back into her palm. “Wasn’t she so pretty?”

Yoko only groans miserably.

__

“—and then Yoko insinuated that I was- that I was undressing Wednesday with my eyes!” Enid rambles wildly, though her hand is steady as she applies the dark blue nail polish Thing requested to his nails. “I mean how dumb is that?! I wasn’t- I wasn’t undressing her—”

The door bangs open and Enid jolts slightly, cursing as she fumbles with the nail polish. She glances up to see Wednesday storming in, dark eyes glittering. She pauses, mid stride as she takes in the scene of Enid and Thing on the floor, Enid on her stomach as she applies color of Thing’s nails. 

“When did you two become acquainted?” Wednesday asks, something like shock in her voice.

Enid shares a glance with Thing before looking back up at Wednesday, who’s now crossing her arms, face blank and waiting. “Um,” Enid starts, “since you got here…?”

Wednesday doesn’t so much as flinch. “And why was I not informed?” At this she shoots Thing a sharp glare with dark eyes.

Thing seems to wilt slightly into the floor. 

“He didn’t want to bother you,” Enid blurts out, trying to keep the words of ‘He’s helping me keep you alive and well so we can avoid a future that should’ve never happened in the first place’ in her throat.“He- he listens to me when I want to talk because I know you don’t want to listen to my useless rambling.”

Enid grimaces just as the sentence leaves her mouth.

Wednesday’s fingers curl a bit more into her uniform sleeve, though her face doesn’t change. “I see,” she says, voice colder than it was. “Carry on then.” 

Dark eyes glower harshly at Thing. This isn’t over, they seem to say.

Thing taps the floor in a nervous habit.

“Is there something that’s bothering you?” Enid asks, desperate to change the subject. “You looked upset when you walked in.”

Wednesday’s glare loosens as she glances back towards her. “Yes, actually.” She steps closer to them and Enid swallows, having to crane her neck more to stare her in the eyes. “Tanaka is bothering you. Why?”

Enid blinks, trying to figure out what Wednesday is talking about. “Huh?”

“In class,” Wednesday grits out through her teeth, eyes going cold. “She said something to you that made you yell at her.”

Enid pales rapidly, heart lurching. “Listen, I can explain—”

“She upset you,” Wednesday adds, brows pinching together in anger. 

Enid swallows. “Oh.” The realization that Wednesday didn’t hear what Yoko said made her shoulders droop in relief. “Oh, no, Yoko didn’t upset me or anything—”

“Then why did you yell at her?”

“It- it’s just embarrassing is all,” Enid mutters and ducks her head down to fidget with the bottle of dark blue nail polish in her hands. “I got embarrassed and yelled on accident.”

 “So, she didn’t upset you?” Wednesday confirms.

Enid mutely shakes her head.

She hears Wednesday let out a quiet huff. “Enid,” she bites out. “Words.”

Enid glances up quickly, eyes wide. “She didn’t upset me,” she repeats. “Promise.”

Wednesday stares down at her, calculating and quiet before nodding once. “I see.” She turns on her heel and marches towards her typewriter. “I guess I do not need to make use of my knife so soon.”

Enid gapes at her.

Did- did Wednesday just admit that she would threaten Yoko for Enid?

Enid blushes, brushing her fingers over her chin.

Oh my god, she just called me Enid instead of Sinclair, Enid thinks hysterically, face beet red.

You’re blushing, Thing signs.

Enid grunts. Shut it, she mouths.

__

“I need to switch tickets with you,” Wednesday says, stopping them in road before they could separate for their jobs.

Enid struggles to keep in a sigh, already knowing it was happening. “I don’t want to work in some creepy library full of dead animals staring back at me.”

Not again, Enid thinks harshly.

Wednesday works her jaw, the muscle twitching under her skin that draws Enid’s attention. “That imbecile gorgon is working there,” she grits out, sounding like she was choking on the words like they were cement on her tongue. “You can accompany him if you switch with me.”

Enid’s brows furrow. “You mean Ajax?”

“Yes, him,” Wednesday growls out. 

“What makes you think I want to work with him?” Enid asks, tilting her head. 

She hadn’t had time to think about anyone else really. Not with planning with Thing to take down Laurel and Tyler, and making sure Wednesday was safe and secure this time around. 

Not to mention the increasing thoughts of how pretty Wednesday is.

But Enid doesn’t want to think about that.

“He stares at you,” Wednesday says coldly, eyes blazing and her fingers curled a little too tight around the ticket. “All the time. During class and during lunch and in the hallways when you pass him. It’s…nauseating. And not the good kind.”

“He does?” Enid asks. That didn’t happen in her first life.

“Yes.” Wednesday swallows hard as if forcing back more words. “I assumed you would want to work beside him considering he seems highly…interested in you.”

Enid frowns. “I’m not interested in Ajax.” Something in Wednesday’s shoulders loosen only slightly and Enid tilts her head, curious. She bites her lip, running the possible scenarios. Whatever Wednesday wants to do in Pilgrim World must’ve been important — perhaps, this is how Wednesday receives information on Crackstone, or leads her in the right direction? Enid grits her teeth before smoothing her expression back out. “Fine, I’ll switch with you.”

Because I’m too scared of the possibilities of what would happen to you if I didn’t, Enid thinks only to herself.

The last thing Enid needed was the timeline veering too much off track that she couldn’t use her first life as a knowledge for what was to come.

And, when they swap tickets and Enid watches Wednesday walk away, she hopes she hasn’t just made a mistake.

__

Enid remembers the shy smile of Ajax and recalls calling it cute. She remembers finding his awkward behavior and the small action of tugging his beanie down his forehead adorable. She remembers finding the flush on his pale cheeks attractive as he stared down at her, clumsy and unsure.

She remembers liking Ajax. She remembers being his girlfriend.

Enid remembers.

But she can’t anymore.

Everything she found attractive about him before is now gone.

No longer does she feel warm when he smiles, nor does she find herself blushing when their fingers brush as they work to stock the shelves.

Ajax is good, Enid knows. 

But…

But she doesn’t feel the same anymore.

And, so, she never does ask for a date and Ajax remains oblivious what what could’ve been, what had been.

It wouldn’t be fair to him because now all Enid can think of is dark eyes and black painted nails.

__

Enid grins, sharp and vicious as the crackling of fire ignites. Crackstone’s statue slowly melts as it’s set aflame, the stench of kerosene burning her nose. Wednesday’s cello drifts through the air as everyone screams and runs around in a panic.

Crackstone’s face begins to melt off as she stands in front of it, staring at it.

“Burn in hell,” she whispers darkly.

Wednesday’s music continues to play.

Chapter Text

Enid blinks awake to find Wednesday already up and about across the room, Thing on the bulletin board. She yawns and shuffles from her bed, sitting up slowly, letting her legs dangle over the edge of her mattress.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Enid rubs at the corner of her eye and peeks up through messy blonde hair to see Wednesday staring at her, arms crossed and already dressed for school. Enid glances behind her and sees the same pictures she remembers seeing in her first life and simply cocks an eyebrow at Wednesday.

“I wasn’t expected Ted Bundy’s pinterest the first thing I woke up,” Enid lies.

Liar, Thing signs behind Wednesday.

Enid shoots him a glare as Wednesday tilts her head at her. “You are not disturbed with this,” she comments. “I thought you would be more disgusted than anything.”

I passed out the first time, Enid almost deadpans.

Instead, she shrugs. “Not the grossest thing I’ve seen. Or done.”

Wednesday’s eyes gain a curious spark in them as she takes a half step towards Enid. “Oh?” she prompts.

Enid shrugs again and ignores the way she knows Wednesday wants her to elaborate. She pretends to not know what Wednesday wants and stands up, grimacing at the cold floor under her bare feet. 

“I need to shower and change,” Enid mutters, grabbing a set of clothes and walking away.

It doesn’t take her long to get ready and she steps out, hair still slightly damp. She shuffles over to her side and slips on her shoes, pausing and turning when she feels eyes on her.

“So,” Enid starts and Wednesday tilts her head, obviously having no shame in being caught staring, “have you figured anything out? About the monster?”

Wednesday hums and turns quickly, grabbing a series of pictures and striding over, placing them in Enid’s hands. “It seems that the monster has some form of human intellect,” she says. “Organs and appendages have been sawed off or carved out as if they are some sort of trophies.”

Enid keeps her face carefully blank. 

No, not trophies, she thinks hotly. Ingredients to raise the dead.

Enid blinks down at the pictures, flipping through them in feigned interest. She glances up and freezes to find Wednesday’s eyes practically gleaming at the prospect of getting closer to the monster’s identity. 

Her face heats up at the sight before clearing her throat and forcing herself to look away and towards the clock. She frowns. “It’s almost time for classes to start.” 

Enid looks back towards the crime board, towards the evidence beginning to pile against Tyler and Thornhill — not that Wednesday knows that — and she grips the pictures a little tighter.

What if Thornhill finds this? What if she finds it and the timeline goes off and she and Tyler snatches up Wednesday before I can protect her? What if Wednesday gets caught and this timeline becomes worse than the original?

Enid takes a deep breath to center herself and hands back the pictures to Wednesday. “Maybe put this somewhere else?” she asks. Wednesday narrows her eyes, as if about to argue before Enid continues, “What if the monster is here? In Nevermore? What if whoever’s behind these killings finds this in our room and decides to strike while we’re least protected?”

Wednesday’s face turns murderous. “I would kill them before they had the chance.”

Enid swallows and thinks back to the time where Thing suffered after their fight, when their room was trashed by Thornhill. “Still, it’s best if you’re cautious.”

Wednesday stares at her blankly before sighing and turning away. “Fine.”

Enid allows a relieved smile. “Thank you.”

She looks over Wednesday shoulder and gives Thing a look. Keep watch over her, her eyes say.

I will, Thing signs. 

Enid nods and walks out of the room and towards her first class.

__

“So, you gonna ask little Miss Addams to the Rave’N?” Yoko asks, downing some blood from her canteen.

Enid blinks, startled as she glances up from her own lunch. “What?”

Yoko rolls her eyes behind her sunglasses. “I said are you gonna ask—”

“No, I heard what you said,” Enid cuts off, fidgeting with her fork. “But why would you ask me that?”

Yoko scoffs as if the answer should be obvious. “Are you kidding me right now? You like her. She likes you—”

“Wednesday does not like me,” Enid interrupts. “At least, not like that.”

“Uh-huh,” Yoko hums. “Yeah, because she totally just wears your hoodie—”

“That was days ago!”

“I saw her wearing it literally yesterday while she went off to do whatever-the-fuck an Addams does with their free time,” Yoko says. “I mean, did you not realize that one of your hoodies was still missing?”

“I thought she would’ve, you know, burned it or something,” Enid admits. 

“Nope,” Yoko waves off. “Also, Addams doesn’t threaten for anybody. Except you. She threatened to kill me.”

“It was just a glare in class,” Enid says.

“Um, no,” Yoko corrects. “She left a dead mouse in front of my dorm room.”

“She what?”

“Yup. Apparently she didn’t appreciate me embarrassing you during class.”

Enid stifles a groan and lets her forehead hit their table with a thud.

“…So, is that a yes to asking her?” Yoko asks, amused.

Enid only lets out a loud groan.

__

Enid takes a deep breath to steady herself, standing outside of her dorm room. “Okay, okay, you’ve got this, Sinclair,” she murmurs. “You’re just asking Wednesday Addams to the school dance. This is nothing.” She groans loudly as her heart hammers frantically in her chest. “You’ve faced Tyler and have killed before,” she hisses under her breath. “Asking a girl to a dance shouldn’t be this hard.”

But it’s not just any girl, a voice whispers. It’s Wednesday motherfucking Addams.

Enid swallows hard before taking another breath and opening the door, wincing as it smacks against the wall and bounces back, almost hitting her in the face. A muttered curse later and Enid finally stumbles fully into the room, door behind her closed.

She glances up, freezing as Wednesday stares right back. Wednesday’s dark eyes flicker from the door to her face, tilting her head ever so slightly. “…Must I remove the door for you to properly enter the room without causing bodily harm to yourself?”

Enid flushes bright red. “No,” she stutters out, waving her hands. “No, I’m fine and the door is—” She glances at the door and then the wall where a small dent not lingers there. “—it’s, it’s there,” she ends lamely, tossing an awkward grin at Wednesday.

Wednesday huffs out a small breath that could be mistake as laughter. “Is there a reason you barged in our room, or is this actually a daily occurrence for you?”

“No, Wednesday, I make it a point in my day to have doors try and smack me in the face,” Enid sasses back.

Wednesday’s eyes narrow slightly and Enid shivers, wondering if this is how she’s going to die. 

Can’t be too bad, Enid thinks. Dying by Wednesday’s hand.

“A- Anyways,” Enid says once she realizes Wednesday isn’t going to respond. “I was, uh, wondering if you would want to, um—”

“Enid,” Wednesday sighs out, “words.”

Enid flushes and ducks her head. “S- Sorry.” She takes another deep breath and curls her fingers in her palms. “I was wondering if you would want to go to the dance with me?” she squeaks out. “Like, like together or- or, you know…” She trails off lamely.

“Yes.”

“It’s okay that you don’t want to, I totally get—” Enid’s jaw snaps shut as she registers what Wednesday said. “Wait, what?”

“Yes,” Wednesday repeats, eyes sharp as she calculates her. “I will accompany you to the dance, Sinclair.”

Enid’s jaw drops. “R- Really?”

“Yes, ‘really’,” Wednesday drawls out and turns back towards her desk. “It is my writing time, Sinclair, I would appreciate silence now.”

“R- Right, of course,” she rambles and stumbles backwards. “I- I’ll leave you to it.”

She turns and rips the door open.

This time, it succeeds in smacking her in the face.

She curses under her breath before finally leaving the room.

Damn door.

__

“Hey, Eugene,” Enid says easily, smiling brightly.

Eugene startles and turns towards her, face instantly reddening. “E- Enid,” he stammers out, a starry look in his eyes as he stares at her. “Wh- what are you doing here?”

Enid hums and shrugs. “So…I heard that you were looking for a date to the Rave’N.” she continues. 

Eugene’s face turns a deeper scarlet. “Er, yes.”

She leans in close as if sharing only a secret between the two of them. “I heard Ashley Williams talking about you in class,” she says, grinning as his sudden wide eyed look. “She thinks you’re cute and funny. She wants you to take her to the Rave’N…you should ask her.”

“Really?” he squeaks out. “She said that about me?”

“Uh-huh,” Enid hums and knows it’s true, she had her ear out for a solution to save Eugene from getting hurt this time around and the opportunity presented itself during lunch where she heard the younger grade Siren talking about Eugene. “She likes you.”

“She’s really pretty,” Eugene murmurs and Enid bites her lip to hold back a squeal at how adorable he was. “But what if you’re wrong? What if she doesn’t like me?”

“She’d be stupid not to,” Enid deadpans. “But trust me, I heard it and these ears never lie.”

Eugene stares at her for awhile before nodding. “Okay,” he huffs out. “Okay, I’m going to ask her out.”

“That’s the spirit!” she cheers and steers him forward with a small shove. “Go get your girl!”

Eugene stumbles up the hill in haste to ask the girl out and Enid leans back, crossing her arms, watching him blankly.

She remembers Eugene, laying on a hospital bed, wires tangled up to machines and an IV sticking in his arm, his bruised and battered face, remembers how young and small he looked.

She remember the rage at the thought of him hurt (just like Willa, please, open your eyes, just open them, let me know you’re alive—) and vows to herself, not again, never again. Her fingers curl sharper into her arm and she sighs, heavy and tired.

I have a dress to get, she thinks and feels herself become ever so slightly lighter at the thought.

Wednesday Addams is going to the dance with me.

Enid allows a small smile.

__

There’s flashing lights and laughter and the stuffy feeling of being surrounded by too many people at once as students mill around and dance. Enid swallows and bites back a wave of panic at feeling so crowded.

Vanilla, pinewood, and the ink of old books drift in the air and Enid perks up, turning towards the entrance. Her breath catches in her throat, eyes impossibly wide as she stares at the scene before her.

She had remembered the old Wednesday in the same dress and hairdo and makeup, remembered the pang of jealous when she went to the Rave’N with Tyler (fucking Tyler, she’ll rip him apart with her teeth—).

Wednesday glides down the stairs, bangs dipping into sharp, dark eyes and strands of hair curling around her face in perfection. The black of her dress glitters with the lights, each movement made making it swish gently and carefully.

Enid takes a half step forward as Wednesday approaches her. She swallows, something thick in her throat as dark eyes drag down her form and then back up, meeting her eyes, something unrecognizable in them.

“You look marvelous,” Wednesday says, voice the softest she’s ever heard.

Enid’s face heats up. “And you look breathtaking,” she whispers back.

Wednesday’s lip quirk slightly and Enid watches, wide eyed at the small half smile directed at her. She feels something in her chest at the sight, thinks I would die for you and then, I would kill for you and knows it’s without a doubt true.

“Shall we?” Wednesday asks, offering a hand.

Enid grins, bright and blinding and matching the smiles she once wore in her first life, grabbing her offered hand. “We shall.”

Dancing with Wednesday Addams is not something she will ever forget, Enid’s sure. They dance and twirl and dip, Wednesday’s hands ever so gentle as if she’s afraid she would break Enid, and Enid with a beaming smile on her face the whole time, allowing herself for just a moment to forget about everything — about her first life and Tyler and Thornhill and the murders — and lets herself breathe and live, orbiting around Wednesday as she pulls her back in again and again and again, swaying with the music.

And Enid is so happy that she should’ve known something would ruin it.

It’s when the first drop of red hits Wednesday’s face that Enid suddenly remembers the paint in the sprinkles just as it rains down on them, soaking everything. Enid’s stomach lurches and rolls as red paint falls on Wednesday’s face and into her dark hair.

And then, it’s not Wednesday with her half smile and in her dark, breathtaking dress, it’s Wednesday with dead eyes staring straight up at the sky, still bleeding out in the middle of the woods, stabbed and gone as Enid screams and cries and shakes her to wake up.

Enid’s whole world falls apart.

Chapter Text

Enid remembers that day in perfect clarity.

She remembers sitting up in her dorm room, hands pressing against Ajax’s face as they kiss over and over and over again, lips slipping against each other, the cramps in her fingers from her claws that had unsheathed five seconds in their make out session, smiling and laughing it off with Ajax, the “Sorry, they just do that sometimes” and knowing that’s not true, that her claws only come out when she feels unease or rage but denies the sense of wrong because—

Because Ajax is cute, adorable, and just so easy to be around and he’s what girls like her — “Be as perfect as you can be, Enid,” her mother’s voice hisses in the back of her mind; the ‘since you can’t shift’ unsaid but not unheard — are supposed to like, what they’re supposed to enjoy and fall for.

Ajax is everything someone like Enid is supposed to love, so, despite the wrongness, despite the sense of disconnect and the small pinch of sickness in the pit of her stomach that she hides behind a bright, beaming smile, she asks for a date, holds his hand, fawns over “Oh, Ajax, he’s so clueless but cute”, and kisses him.

So, Enid remembers. She remembers being alone in her dorm with Ajax, kissing somebody she knows, deep, deep down she really doesn’t want to be kissing despite how amazing he is or how cute he is because the “Try not to be more of a disappointment” is always in the back of her mind, while Wednesday is out somewhere.

But Enid hadn’t cared, hadn’t worried, hadn’t even blinked an eye, too caught up in kissing some boy while her best friend was out in the woods, bleeding out.

Enid remembers the Before; with Ajax and her dorm room and her claws and playing pretend.

But Enid remembers the After even more; the stench of fire burning her nose as she pulls away from Ajax, frozen and mouth parted in shock as screams erupt.

Enid remembers thinking “Wednesday” and bolting from the room, searching for her best friend as a crowd of students rush around in a panic, trying to leave a burning school. She remembers screaming her name over and over again as elbows and knees shove against her own as she makes her way through the crowd.

Enid remembers picking up her scent and bursting into the woods, feet stumbling over each other in her haste to reach for Wednesday, whose scent was drenched in the ugly, sharp smell of fresh blood.

Enid remembers falling to her knees in the middle of the woods, cradling the lifeless body of her best friend to her chest as she screams and cries after all attempts to getting her to Wake up, Please wake up, I can’t do this without you, You just need to open your eyes, Please Willa, I need you—

Enid remembers screaming until her voice simply wouldn’t, until her throat was raw and pulsing with agony.

Enid remembers the blood, slick and wet on her fingers and soaking into her knees from it puddled around in the grass.

Enid remembers lifeless dark eyes staring up at nothing, remembers the ice cold of the body pressed against hers, remembers the gaping wound in her side and the gash along her temple, remembers seeing the cuts littering pale, once strong hands and remembers thinking hysterically “Wednesday crawled here until she couldn’t anymore, oh god, she died alone in these woods without anybody here—”

Enid remembers hearing a low growl, remembers looking up and seeing beady eyes staring right back at her from the darkness, remembers thinking “I’ve seen that color of eyes”, remembers knowing this is what helped kill Wednesday—

Enid remembers the rage.

She remembers the pain as she first transforms, the body of her best friend tucked protectively under her as the blood moon shone down on them.

Enid remembers kicking and clawing and biting and scratching, flesh stick between her teeth and skin until her claws as she tore the beast down until it was just the barely breathing body of Tyler Galpin. 

Enid remembers shifting back, not one cry of agony escaping clenched jaw, remembers turning and grabbing Wednesday’s body, remembers kicking Tyler in the head as she walks by him, not once glancing down at him.

Enid remembers showing back up at Nevermore, bloodied and cradling the body of Wednesday close to her as the school grounds burns around her, remembers coming across the scene of Crackstone rose from the dead fighting against Bianca, remembers Bianca stabbing him through a broken half of the sword, remembers Thornhill suddenly walking through the entrance, eyes crazed and a gun in her hand.

Enid remembers Thornhill laughing, taunting, shaking in hysterics as she laughs and laughs and laughs about Wednesday, Poor little Wednesday Addams, died all alone, abandoned and forgotten—

Enid remembers setting Wednesday’s body down gently on the ground.

Enid remembers lunging forward, remembers the cold tap of a bullet against her shoulder but continues to barrel straight into Thornhill, tackling her to the ground.

Enid remembers reeling her arm back, slamming her knuckles into the woman’s face, a crunch and squish, something cracking under her strength until her face was just a mesh of blood and flesh.

Enid remembers reaching into the woman’s coat and pulling out a dagger, stained in Wednesday’s blood and leaning down, low and hatred in her yellow flashing eyes, golden under the blood moon as she whispers, ever so softly, “Is this the knife you used to kill Willa?” knowing full well it was. 

Enid remembers plunging the same dagger that took Wednesday’s life straight into Thornhill’s stomach, remembers relishing in her pained gasp, remembers twisting the blade this way and that way, remembers yanking it out and then cutting down into Thornhill again and again and again—

Enid remembers killing Thornhill.

Enid remembers that she felt nothing but satisfaction.

Enid remembers the lives that were lost, remembers standing in the aftermath of war, the heavens crying down as she stood at Wednesday Addams’ funeral, letting the rain soak her blonde hair and makeup run down her face.

Enid remembers Goody Addams appearing and offering a choice.

A choice to make things right.

Enid remembers accepting.

Enid remembers it all, like a movie or film played over and over again behind her eyes, always on in the back of her mind, always in the faces of those who were dead in her first life.

Enid remembers.

(She wishes she didn’t.)

__

Enid blinks and looks around, finding herself shaking, leaning against a wall, finds Wednesday staring at her, crouched down in front of her, hands firm against the sides of her face. 

“Are you with me now?” Wednesday asks, voice steady and calm.

Enid tries to swallow, mouth dry as she takes in Wednesday’s appearance, scanning for injuries but only finding red paint on her face and in her hair, her black dress soaked. Enid trembles in place and squeezes her eyes closed, trying to take in a deep breath.

“Enid,” Wednesday says, voice firm as she pinches her chin between two fingers and tilting her head back up, “look at me.” 

Enid reluctantly opens her eyes, tries to take a steadying breath again and reaches up slowly, as if asking “is this allowed?” and, at Wednesday’s small nod, settles her fingers around Wednesday’s wrists holding her face. 

“Wednesday, I…”

Enid shakes and tries to hold herself together, tries not to fall apart in the middle of the hallway, Wednesday keeping her solid and there with slightly cold hands against her flushed skin.

“I need to tell you something,” Enid finally whispers, voice trembling and wavering. She looks up into dark eyes and finds Wednesday staring back, unflinching and unblinking, full attention on her and Enid chokes around the grief and squeezes her grip on Wednesday tighter, keeping herself in this moment right here.

“I need to tell you something,” Enid repeats softer. “I- I know this is going to sound crazy,” Crazy doesn’t even begin it, she thinks, “but I’m telling the truth, I swear.”

Wednesday leans forward ever so slightly. “Yes, mon chiot?”

And Enid, in that moment, staring up at the girl she knows she would kill and die for, the girl who is her best friend, the girl she’s accidentally fallen in love with, knows that she’s going to break her first rule ever since agreeing with Goody Addams to go back and fix the past.

Enid opens her mouth and begins the story of her first life.

Chapter Text

Wednesday Addams prides herself on her intellect, on her ability to read people, on the will to do anything to protect her family — family was and is the only thing that’s ever truly mattered to her.

Wednesday knows people, knows how they work, how their brain operates, how one would react exposed to a certain stimuli compared to another.

Wednesday knows the ends and outs of humans, how they function; prides herself in being able to pick them apart piece by piece until their true motives and soul is bare before her.

Or, at least, she thought she did.

Ever since her transfer to Nevermore, her abilities and talents have been challenged time and time again.

All because of her roommate.

All because of Enid Sinclair.

Wednesday has dug through the school, has observed silently, has questioned other students about Enid Sinclair. But none of what others say match up with the Enid Sinclair that is her roommate behind closed doors.

“Oh, that Sinclair girl, she’s sweet.”

“Enid Sinclair? No, I don’t really know her but she has a cool blog!”

“Oooohhh, interested in Enid, huh? Maybe go check out her tiktok.”

Her peers described Enid Sinclair as an open and bubbly individual; a girl with an upbeat attitude and the ability to just smile and laugh things off; a werewolf who has connections to others through her blog (which Wednesday had stalked on in the library where the computers were lined up for her (unfortunate) use and was mildly surprised that there was not a single thing posted since Wednesday herself had arrived. She had expected Sinclair to post something about her; there was plenty of nasty things one could dig up in the school records and she was preparing herself to see paragraphs of propaganda against her but, instead it was startlingly blank).

But the girl the other students described was not the Enid Sinclair that she shared a room with; a girl who willingly went and ripped apart her own nauseatingly colorful window decor; a girl who didn’t ramble or babble mindlessly about how amazing and spectacular Nevermore was; no rant on how Wednesday should be honored to be accepted into such a prestigious school.

There was nothing but the strange glances she had kept tossing her as they walked in silence through the halls of Nevermore.

And that look at the beginning when Wednesday was shown her dorm…the stare of someone who thought they had come face to face with a ghost of their past.

It was that stare, the wide eyed, calculating look as blue eyes looked her over and over again, tracing over her face and down to her toes, something so sad and relieved and mournful that caught Wednesday’s attention.

It was the stare Enid Sinclair gave her, a stranger, as if meeting with a long time friend one thought was gone that made Wednesday feel…something.

Something in her chest, the intrigue, the suspicion…the taste of a mystery right before her fingertips.

Enid Sinclair had been a mystery Wednesday wanted to sink her claws into, tear her piece by piece until Sinclair spilled all her secrets, all the horrors trapped in her mind.

And that was the plan.

Falling in love wasn’t apart of it.

Until it was.

__

Wednesday remembers it in flashes: a stone statue hurtling down towards her unmoving form; a scream, horror and terror wrenching out from the voice; and a heavy weight slamming into hers. 

When she hits the ground, Wednesday is somewhere else.

She doesn’t know where she’s at, what she’s really looking at, only a sense of sickening dread that usually would delight her. She sees towering trees…hears the sounds of stumbling, frantic feet…and a voice screaming over and over and over again—

“WILLA!”

She blinks and comes to Enid Sinclair staring directly at her, tears dripping from blue eyes with something wild flashing in them, almost more animal than human, a brush of fingers against hers.

And Wednesday remembers the red hot flash of anger at the audacity of Sinclair, dripping her tears on her face and weight on her stomach.

She remembers the fury that overcomes Sinclair, remembers when blue eyes clear up as she’s realized what she’s done, who she’s with, and begins to scream at her.

And Wednesday—

Wednesday doesn’t know how to feel as words of worry and rage stream from the blonde’s trembling lips, something vicious and angry and scared in each syllable, the shake in her fingers and the tremble in her shoulders.

Wednesday doesn’t understand why Enid Sinclair is so concerned with her life; why a stranger with no personal connections to her continues to spit out words of fire and longing and concern at her.

And, when Wednesday storms off, one name flashes in her mind.

“WILLA!”

Who is Willa?

Of course, nobody answers her.

__

Wednesday avoids Sinclair for days, combing over her social media, searching for that name; she goes to the library and reads book after book but finds no “Willa” in anything. There’s nobody with the name of Willa in anything, nor are there any organizations referring to anything of the sort.

Wednesday doesn’t frustrate easily.

But…that name.

“WILLA!”

It rings in her ears, something in her chest pinching, and sets her fingers twitching.

And she doesn’t know why, doesn’t know anything, and that frustrates her, leaving her snappish and avoiding the one who caused it all…Sinclair.

Then, it’s carnival night and Wednesday is supposed to be leaving Nevermore behind, only to venture off to save Rowan’s life. What she gets is betrayed and left defenseless, gasping on air that just won’t come into her lungs, hung up against a tree as if she’s about to be sacrificed.

Rowan screams and rages, spitting out venomous words that say she’s prophesied to bring ruin and destruction to Nevermore, the one who would end them all.

Until Enid Sinclair comes barreling in, saving her life again.

And then the monster shows up.

And Wednesday puts the name of Willa in the back of her mind.

__

Until that night, Sinclair, twitches and thrashes, low whimpers of horror crawling up her throat, blanket twisting around flinching legs, slurring words under her voice

And Wednesday steps closer and closer until she’s close enough that, if she reaches out, she would touch the edge of her bed. She leans in, takes in the tear tracks on Sinclair’s rapidly paling skin.

“Willa,” she murmurs, ever so softly, as if she’s mourning or in shock. 

Wednesday sucks in a deep breath and waits to see if she says more, but her whines only slowly increase in distress. Mildly disappointed, Wednesday calls out her name, but Sinclair remains trapped in an endless cycle of misery, haunted by things Wednesday cannot see.

“Enid!” Wednesday raises her voice to almost a shout.

Sinclair gasps and shoots forward, Wednesday tensing up ever so slightly as the girl gasps and shakes and struggles to breath, eyes wild and unfocused.

Wednesday learns three things that night:

One, Enid Sinclair knows of whoever Willa is personally.

Two, Enid Sinclair has panic attacks and requires assistance in those moments; signs pointing towards PTSD.

Three, something wholly and absolutely terrible has happened to Enid Sinclair and nobody knows about it.

Four, Wednesday had felt comfortable enough to reveal information about herself, about her moment of weakness as a child to Enid Sinclair for some absurd reason she cannot name.

__

It’s when they’re painting the canoe for the Poe Cup Race that Wednesday notes that the odd stares that Enid Sinclair had shot her at the beginning has…differentiated. They linger, something soft in those blue eyes — no sadness or mourning in sight — that has Wednesday feeling…odd.

But Wednesday ignores it for the most part.

She doesn’t completely despise it.

__

They hold the Poe Cup up high and Wednesday turns towards Sinclair.

She wonders if her eyes were always that crystal blue.

__

Wednesday gives Tanaka the coldest glare she can muster when she overhears Sinclair snapping back at Tanaka, the ones that sends grown men scampering away in fear with cold sweat on the back of their necks and watches as the vampire tenses up at the threat.

Later, Wednesday traps and suffocates a rat before tracking down Tanaka’s door, leaving it outside.

She hopes the message is clear: Stand down from Sinclair.

Her parents always said she had a bad problem with sharing.

__

Enid Sinclair asks her to the Rave’N. 

Wednesday accepts.

And she hates the way her stomach crawls pleasantly with spiders at Enid’s smile.

She doesn’t.

She also doesn’t know when Enid Sinclair went from Sinclair to Enid in such a short time.

__

Halfway through their dance, blood red paint falls from the ceiling.

And Enid crumples in her arms

__

Wednesday stays, crouched down and staring, her hands gripping Enid’s firmly as the blonde sits back heavily, eyes glazed over and trembling lips opening and closing with every shaking word.

Enid speaks of a first life, of the one where Enid Sinclair had been the sunshine and bubbly girl the others remember her as; a life where Wednesday and Enid had never went to the dance; a life where Enid had never saved her; a life where they were two opposites slowly pulling together as they grew closer and closer, until they called each other best friends.

Enid speaks of Wednesday’s ambition to hunt down the monster; the thirst to crack the mystery; the unwavering drive to find the murderer, no matter the cost as the death numbers went up and up.

Enid speaks of Thornhill — Laurel Gates — and Tyler Galpin — somebody she had thought innocent — as master and monster; slowly waiting to strike as they slaughter anybody in their way.

Enid speaks of how her father is innocent in the death of Garret Gates.

Enid speaks of Crackstone, raised from the dead in a plan to kill and destroy everyone and everything in Nevermore; she speaks of the lineage of Crackstone that follows into the Gates family’s blood.

Enid speaks…of her death; of a pale face and lifeless eyes staring straight up; she speaks of screaming and crying and calling out for her best friend she had once called “Willa” as a nickname.

Enid speaks of rage.

Enid speaks of revenge.

She speaks of beating down Tyler Galpin in the woods before he had vanished as the night went on; she speaks of tearing Thornhill apart, one bloody fist after another; she speaks of a blade plunging into her chest over and over and over again—

Enid speaks of Goody Addams and a choice.

Enid speaks and Wednesday listens, hands grasping the blonde’s, eyes never once wavering from her paint stained face as she talks. 

It’s then, right there in that hallway, Enid staring up at her with teary blue eyes and a quivering lip, that Wednesday pledges her complete and unwavering loyalty to the werewolf before her.

It’s there that Wednesday falls in love with Enid Sinclair.

Even though that wasn’t the plan.

But Wednesday can’t find it in herself to care.

Her heart belongs to Enid Sinclair.

And nobody in the world could ever change that.

Chapter Text

Enid doesn’t know what the glances Wednesday keeps shooting her means, dark eyes unreadable and body tense, stiff as she walks beside her and up towards their dorm. Enid’s fingers brush against hers ever so slightly with every step and Wednesday doesn’t pull away, so Enid takes it as a win despite the anxious pinch in her stomach.

Wednesday hadn’t said a word about her first life, nothing but “Let’s discuss more in our dorm” and then she was pulling her up gently off the ground and walking off, mind somewhere else.

Enid swallows, heart lurching in her chest as she takes one wobbly step after the other, scared she might just throw up on her shoes, or, even worse, Wednesday’s shoes as they near the door to their room.

She bites her lip as Wednesday opens up the door. “Wednesday—” she starts, voice wavering and hands shaking.

Wednesday instantly looks over, dark eyes scanning her up and down, from her trembling fingers to her no doubt paling face and reaches out, fingertips brushing against her cheek. “Come,” she says, a simple command and steps forward, waiting for Enid to follow.

Enid swallows, takes a deep breath and tries to find a sense of solidarity before she finally takes that one step into their room.

Wednesday closes the door behind her.

The soft sound of it shutting echoes the room.

Enid can’t look up even as the sound of Wednesday shuffling around her hits her ears, knees weakening and wanting to buckle, her breath stuck in her throat as she wavers. A hand settles on her lower back and she flinches slightly, tensing up. The hand is still, unmoving, cold even through the fabric of her dress.

“Enid…” Wednesday trials off and Enid tenses as the hand moves across her back and to her arm, grabbing her hand. “Enid, look at me.”

Enid blinks and looks up, meeting Wednesday’s gaze. 

“Enid,” Wednesday repeats, so softly as she lets go of her hand to cup her cheek, thumb brushing the skin under her eye. “Mon chiot.” Enid shivers, a pain in her chest as she tries to focus on the hand on her face. “Focus on me.”

Enid drags her eyes over Wednesday’s face, sees her alive and breathing and, the next, dead and bleeding out in the back of her mind.

“The guilt…” Wednesday whispers. “There is guilt in your eyes, mon chiot; guilt that should not be there.”

“It’s my fault,” Enid answers back, just as softly, letting her fingers wrap around the wrist of the hand against her cheek. “My fault that you died.”

“That was not me,” Wednesday says. “I am here. Alive. Breathing.” Her thumb traces the dark bags under her eyes covered in make up. “The one you speak of is not me.”

“I know,” Enid’s voice cracks brokenly. “I know that but…it gets hard, seeing you and then, my mind always shows me…”

She trails off, eyes unfocused and glazed. She licks her lips, mouth dry as she speaks, distant and not entirely there. 

“It’s hard to remember what’s this reality and what was the past one. Sometimes…I wake up and expect to be back in that forest, begging for you to wake up but knowing you’re already gone.”

“Enid…”

“And I know, at the end of the day, it was really my fault about what happened…even though she wasn’t really you…I had let that version of you die, alone and abandoned in that forest.”

“That was not your fault, Enid Sinclair,” Wednesday hisses, her other hand reaching up to settle against the other side of her face.

Enid smiles, broken and haunted and grieving as the tears flash in blue eyes. “Then, why can’t I believe you?”

Wednesday stares up at her before tugging her forward gently. She wraps her arms around her, holding her close as she cradles her head against her shoulder.

Wednesday holds her tighter as the first sob wretches from her lips.

__

Enid robotically takes a shower, watching as the red swirls down the drain. She tries not to think of how familiar this feels, how it feels like she’s back in her first life and staring down at Wednesday’s blood washing down from her skin.

She tries not to think about the lifeless body that flashes in the back of her mind as she steps out, pulling on clean clothes, leaving her dress in a heap on the floor. She walks out and falls on her bed.

The feeling of someone tucking her blanket around her is distant as sleep takes over her mind.

__

Enid wakes, warm under the blankets of her bed and tilts her head, finding a head of dark hair beside her. Wednesday lays, curled beside her, her fingers tangled with hers, face calm and smoothed out in her sleep, bangs mused.

Enid’s lips part ever so slightly as she reaches out, letting her fingertips brush against Wednesday’s cheek.

Please, don’t let this be a dream, she begs.

She falls asleep and no nightmares show their faces.

__

By the time Enid fully wakes up, there’s nothing that indicates Wednesday was beside her at all, except the faint smell of pinewood, books, and vanilla all wrapped up in the blankets beside her. 

Enid blinks. Once. Twice.

She steadies her breathing.

Okay.

She gets up.

__

“We need a plan to take down Thornhill and Tyler,” Enid says, sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, fidgeting with a string from her sweat, craning her neck a little to stare up at Wednesday, who tilts her head ever so slightly to the side, observing her quietly from her seat on the chair in front of her.

Wednesday hums, dark eyes flickering slowly across her face and Enid tries not to squirm at the obviously observation. “Yes,” she eventually says, apparently satisfied with whatever she found. “We do.” Dark eyes cast off to the side before dragging back, heavy with determination. “According to your timeline, my father is arrested this week during Parents Day. It would be wise to finish this obstacle before eliminating Laurel and Tyler.”

Enid nods, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Okay…” She licks her lips, considering. “How are we doing that?”

Wednesday’s eyes track her movements, eyes narrowing and certain glint in them before she blinks and it’s gone before Enid could name it. “You said Garrett Gates died of nightshade poisoning, yes?”

“Yeah.”

Wednesday leans forward, dark hair brushing into her eyes as she gets close enough Enid can smell her scent with each breath. “How do you feel about grave digging?”

Enid flushes and blinks, trying to focus. “Can’t say I’ve done it,” she says, suspicious.

The smirk Wednesday gives is chilling, something so dark and dangerous it has Enid’s stomach fluttering at the sight, watching as her lip curls at the end.

“Then I guess I’ll be there to witness your first, mon chiot.”

__

“If we get arrested, I’m blaming it on you,” Enid huffs, shovel resting against her shoulder as she squints at Wednesday who scoffs.

“I am sure I will get blamed either way,” Wednesday drawls out, making her way through the graveyard as if she’s done this hundreds of times before — which, Enid thinks, is very much possible. 

Enid follows after her quietly, tense and eyes darting every which way, searching for any possible attacks. Her muscles coil under her skin, fingers clenching harder around the handle of the shovel, jaw tensing with every step they take further into the graveyard.

Wednesday finally pauses, striking her shovel into the dirt with a flick of her wrist. “Here.” 

Enid looks down and finds Garret Gates staring right back, letters bold in the night, lit up from the moon overhead. She glances over to her left, away from his headstone and stares out into the small clearing. Her breathing hitches, biting her cheek hard enough the iron taste of blood pools in her mouth.

“Enid.” 

Enid blinks and looks back over at Wednesday. Wednesday pauses, eyes lingering on her face before turning, glancing in the same direction Enid was staring. Wednesday’s face is startlingly blank as her eyes flash with a multitude of emotions Enid can’t quite catch before she turns back to her. 

“I am here, Enid,” Wednesday says, such a simple thing.

And yet the rapid heartbeat in her chest slows as Enid takes her in, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” she agrees quietly. “Yeah, you are.”

The phantom sight of Wednesday’s grave haunts the sight to her left.

“Now get digging, puppy,” Wednesday says.

Enid casts her an irritated stare. “You know I’m not actually a dog, right?”

Wednesday tilts her head and hums but doesn’t say anything in return.

Enid rolls her eyes but heaves her shovel off her shoulder and into the ground.

She begins to dig.

__

Enid rests against her shovel, dirt smeared on her face and mud caked under her fingernails as she watches Wednesday dig up her half of the grave. A sharp thunk echoes with Wednesday’s next strike with the shovel and Enid perks up, stepping close to the hole in the ground.

Wednesday reaches down after tossing away her shovel, lithe fingers covered in gloves wrapping around the coffin door and cracking it open. Enid grimaces at the sharp stench of rot and death suddenly in the air but Wednesday doesn’t even blink as she reaches in, breaking off a finger. 

She holds it up, dull moon light shining down on it and Enid catches a faint blue coloring under the rotten skin.

“After effects of nightshade poisoning,” Wednesday murmurs quietly, eyes sharp in the night as she rotates the finger. 

Enid narrows her eyes. “Did you doubt me?”

“No,” Wednesday answers and Enid knows this is the truth. The shorter girl turns and demands, “Bag.”

Enid produces a bag from her pocket, smoothing out the wrinkled ziplock bag as good as she can before she holds it open, Wednesday dropping it in without a second thought. She heaves herself out from the grave as Enid zips up the bag, placing it safely in her jacket. 

“We need to cover the grave back up,” Enid mutters, kicking at the dirt pile to her right.

“Time to dig again, puppy,” Wednesday drawls, eyes amused. 

Enid makes a show of rolling her eyes for the second time that night.

__

“And you got this how?” The sherriff asks and Enid and Wednesday share a meaningful look. Sherriff Galpin sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose with the hand that’s not holding the lone finger in a bag. “Never mind, I don’t think I want to know.”

“Does it matter where we acquired it from?” Wednesday demands, eyes sharp and cold. “That finger is proof that the allegations against my father are inaccurate. It holds the DNA of Garrett Gates, nightshade poisoning obvious through the blue tint under the flesh.”

The sherriff scoffs, setting the bag down with a disgusted look. “Even if the tests do come back true—”

“They will,” Wednesday interrupts.

“—you can face charges for property damage for how you got it,” the sherriff continues, sending a dirty look at Wednesday, who doesn’t even blink at the glare. “Defacing a grave is a serious offense, you can get arrested—”

“Who says we defaced a grave?” Enid cuts in, crossing her arms. “In fact, we never specified how we got the finger. Someone could’ve gave it to us, for all you know. Do you have evidence that we did anything to Garret Gates’ grave?”

Sherriff Galpin frowns. “Well, no—” 

“—Do you have any security cameras with footage of us?” Enid asks, knowing full well there aren’t any cameras around the graveyard. 

“No,” he grounds out.

“Are there any fingerprints on the finger itself?” Enid asks, knowing Wednesday had wore gloves and Enid hadn’t touched the finger.

“No, but—”

“Then you have no proof we didn’t find that bag with a finger in it,” Enid continues. “You have no proof we’ve done anything wrong. In fact, you should be thanking us for solving the supposedly closed case of Garret Gates. You wanted to arrest an innocent man. I’m sure the press would just love that.”

The sherriff scowls at her. 

“Well, go on,” Enid prompts.

He grits his teeth. “‘Go on’ what?”

Enid grins, all sharp teeth. “Thank us.”

Sherriff Galpin clenches his jaw, the muscle working under skin as he scowls heavily her, his breathing labored in rage. Enid waits patiently with that same unsettling smile. 

Then,

“Thank you,” he finally growls out.

“What was that?” Enid asks, leaning forward slightly. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Thank you,” he repeats louder, a vein bulging on his forehead.

Enid smiles prettily. “Of course, Sherriff Galpin, it’s been our pleasure.”

“Get out,” he snarls. “Get out!”

Enid shrugs and stands up, Wednesday following suit. Enid holds open the door for Wednesday, both of them stepping out of the office, closing the door behind them just as the sherriff begins yelling, a crash echoing as he threw something in his rage.

Enid glances over at Wednesday as they exit the police department building and she feels herself stilling at the look on Wednesday’s face. Dark eyes glitter at her, sharp and dangerous and—

Proud, Enid realizes.

Wednesday stares at her, pride written all over her face, her lips tugging up into that half smirk Enid had fallen in love with, a flash of white teeth as she speaks, 

“Well done, mon chiot.”

And Enid falls a little bit more in love.

Chapter Text

“—nid? Are you listening?”

Enid snaps from her daze, blinking rapidly and turning towards Wednesday, whose face was blank despite the annoyance boiling behind her irises. “What?” she asks dumbly and cringes as Wednesday snaps the book that’s in her lap closed with a flick of her fingers.

“What is troubling you,” Wednesday says — it is not a question, but a demand, voice low and commanding as if the thought of Enid not responding was not a possibility.

Enid sighs and tilts back in her chair, letting her head flop against the wooden frame despite the dull ache that pulses with the hit. “Family Day’s coming up,” she admits after a moment, withholding a wince.

“Family Day,” Wednesday repeats, tasting the words. She leans forward ever so slightly, hands clasped over her book delicately. “I do not see the problem with this.” Her lips twitch downwards. “Despite my family’s infuriating habit of nosing into my business that’s no concern to them…I would not react like this.”

Enid actually winces this time, groaning low from her throat, shaking her head. 

They both know what Wednesday is referring to: Enid’s increasingly tense — well, tenser — shoulders hunching more than normal, the way she finds it much harder to pretend to be the old Enid, the lack of concentration…

Enid knows this does not look good in Wednesday’s eyes. All of these symptoms, all of these problems simply because of a “Family Day”?

No, Enid knows Wednesday wants to know more.

And Wednesday tilts her head as if she heard her, dark eyes locking her in place, willing her to speak.

Enid sighs and lets her eyes dart everywhere that Wednesday isn’t, fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Family Day has always been…hard for me,” she whispers softly despite being the only ones in the library, tucked quietly in their corner where nobody has been there for years if the dust on the shelves and books have anything to go by. “My parents aren’t exactly always…happy with me.”

Wednesday’s lips tug downwards more, fully frowning. “Explain.”

Enid slides down in her chair as if trying to hide away. “I am not the only child in my family,” she finds herself saying. “I have three older brothers, all already starting their own packs or having found one, with their mates and one of them has pups on the way.” Enid scrubs at her eyes with the heels of her palms. “I am the youngest, and the only girl…” She pauses for a moment, swallowing back the lump in her throat. “You know I haven’t ever shifted except…back in my first life,” her voice pitches low, “but now? Now that hasn’t happened and I’m still this- this disappointment, this stain on my pack’s name. My mother is the Alpha and she thought—”

Enid goes silent for a moment before a hand reaches out, giving a squeeze to her knee. She blinks and comes back to the present from her mind, finding Wednesday’s eyes watching her carefully.

She takes a deep breath at Wednesday’s silent reassurance.

“My mother thought I would be an Alpha like her,” Enid chokes out. “And- and every full moon, she waited and waited and waited for me to shift and I—” Old hurt and resentment bubbled up her throat like acid, leaving a nasty aftertaste. 

“—I didn’t.”

It’s said dead, flat without any emotion.

Enid’s fingers curl into her palms harshly. “Eventually, she grew tired of waiting and sent me here, hoping this school could fix me,” she spits out. “She hoped that if I was in a new scenery or was with other werewolves my age, I would shift with them. But I haven’t…not this life.”

Wednesday hums. “And your ability to shift didn’t follow you here?”

Enid shakes her head. “Nope.” She leans backwards, crossing her arms over her chest to seem less vulnerable. “Whatever had awakened in me in my first life hasn’t awakened in me in this one, so—” She shrugs her shoulders, a self deprecating smile on her face. “—still a disappointment.”

Wednesday’s eyes go sharp and the hand tightens on her knee, almost to the point of pain. “You are not a disappointment,” she snaps out, a small tick in her jaw as if she was gritting her teeth. When Enid stays quiet, Wednesday scoffs in disbelief. “A disappointment would not have accepted to travel through time to save my life.” Her eyes darken as she leans forward. “A disappointment wouldn’t have survived what you have endured.”

Enid stares at her, silent before she offers what she hopes is a reassuring smile, but — if going off of Wednesday’s unamused expression — she failed miserably. “Thank you,” she says sincerely, squeezing the hand on her knee gently. 

“But you do not believe me,” Wednesday finishes. 

Enid shakes her head quietly. “No, I don’t,” she answers truthfully. She takes a moment, blinking away the familiar sting in her eyes. “Let’s just get past Family Day and we’ll be good to go, yeah?”

Wednesday’s eyes don’t stray from hers for a long moment before she gives a sharp nod and leans back, accepting this.

Her hand never leaves Enid’s knee.

__

Enid never thought she had it in herself to hate something or someone before, well, before everything happened. She used to be preppy, sunshine and happiness, had molded herself into someone who is so unbelievably happy that others would brush her off, unable to look past the facade to see her true self lurking deep within. 

Her true self, full of hurt and pain and disappointment.

And yet, Enid never believed she could hate despite that hurt. 

She could be angry, could rage and scream and throw a fit, could be sad and crying and pleading for a better life (oh, the irony now), and yet…Enid had never hated.

She had never hated her brothers despite, as the years went longer and they grew older, they began to see her as more of a burden than a sister. She had never hated her parents despite her mother’s disgust and her father’s unwilling courage to stand up for her. She had never hated her old family pack despite their rude comments and sneering words behind her back.

Enid had never hated, had never wished something as terrible as death upon them despite all the pain, all the agony she was forced to endure by their words and actions.

And then…her first life ended.

That Enid had died with that life, had died in that woods with the body of her best friend cradled in her arms, had died when she brutalized Tyler, had died when she killed Laurel Gates with her own two hands. 

That Enid had died, had crumpled down, had washed away and became muddled, had let all of that hard worked sunshine, happiness, and joy be stripped away in one night, had let all of the true pain and anger and agony bleed through the cracks and become…her.

And Enid now?

Enid now hated.

Enid hates her parents, hates her pack, hates her brothers, hates Laurel Gates, hates Tyler Galpin, hates all of it. She hates and hates and hates, hasn’t stopped hating, doesn’t think she ever will stop hating.

She thinks something has happened to her when she found Wednesday Addam’s body in that woods, left to rot all alone, already dead and gone. She thinks something so twisted and ugly, something unworldly has clawed into her chest and sunk deep within, had taken root in her, had changed her into something like a monster.

And Enid—

Enid loves the hate.

(Because she has to love the hate or it might just tear her apart.)

__

Enid stands beside Wednesday, staring out blankly at the decorations of Family Day, at the wide assortment of parents and children, younger and older siblings coming to see their loved ones. She swallows back the harsh sting of bile from the back of her throat, fingernails digging into her palms before a cold finger presses against the back of her hand, startling her.

She glances over at Wednesday, who looks more gloomy than normal. She tilts her head at her, a small tick that just barely moves her body. The question is lingering lowly in her dark eyes: Are you alright?

Enid doesn’t answer, simply looking back out towards the crowd. Her eyes land on the grey and red hair of her mother and father respectively and she grits her teeth, jaw flexing in anger, in hatred, in the ugliness in her chest. 

“I could make them disappear,” Wednesday’s voice comes idly from beside her, as if she was simply commenting on the weather. Cold fingers wrap tenderly around Enid’s wrist. “You would not have to gaze upon them ever again.”

Enid hates that she considers the idea, just for a moment, lets the hurt and resentment build inside her before she sighs, willing it to wash away (though it doesn’t, it lingers, stays like a part of her). “No,” she says softly, dipping down ever so slightly. “We have other things to worry about.”

Blue eyes flash over to dark ones.

The message is clear: Let’s worry about Thornhill and Tyler and then we can think of other problems.

Wednesday stares at her for a moment before dipping her head down in a nod. “Fine,” she retorts. She looks over at something over to the left of Enid, something annoyed flaring on her face for a second. “I see my family has arrived.” She adjusts her sleeves, hand falling from Enid’s wrist to do so and Enid knows she’s disgruntled. Wednesday takes a step forward before pausing, tilting to look at Enid once more. “You are welcome to join us at any time today.”

Enid’s mouth goes dry at the words, something warm building. “Thank you,” she chokes out.

Wednesday stays there, lets her stare linger on her face before she harshly turns on her heels and marches over towards her family. Enid watches her go, watches as Gomez greets his daughter jovially, arms tossed out in welcome. Morticia smiles gently down at her daughter, wrapping a hand around her shoulder. And Pugsley grins, wide and happy and lunges for a hug despite Wednesday pushing him off within seconds.

It’s quite the scene, Enid muses, tilting her head. So different than the broken family she saw at Wednesday’s funeral from her first life. So different than the tears and blank eyes and the mourning on their faces.

And then, Morticia happens to glance up from her family, eyes meeting Enid’s. There is something in her eyes, something strange and knowing and thankful. She nods at her, small enough Enid thinks she’s made it up before she turns away from her just as swiftly. 

“Enid, dear!”

Enid takes in a sharp breath and turns, finding her mother and father waiting for her. She puts on a fake smile, lets her old self shudder up on her face, on her mannerisms, covering up her real self.

“Hello, mother.”

__

It shouldn’t hurt when it all runs the same. It shouldn’t hurt when Esther brushes her off or when Murray doesn’t say a word to his Alpha to defend his pup when her mother pushes a little too hard, critics her a little too harshly.

It shouldn’t hurt.

But it does.

Enid grits her teeth. 

Why had she thought she could do this a second time? 

Why had she thought, oh so foolishly, that maybe, just maybe her parents would be proud of her in this life?

Why did she get her hopes up for nothing?

Enid is used to being put down, being belittled and talked like she’s some small child, like she’s a naive little girl looking only at the best of the world. Or, worse, when she’s told she’s never good enough, why can’t you Shift, little wolf?; when she’s looked at like she’s the disappointment.

Enid swallows harshly.

“—a good camp, it’ll help you, you see—”

Why had she thought this time would be different?

Why did she think her parents would ever change, no matter which life she lives?

“I’m not going to a camp,” Enid interrupts, voice blank. 

Esther startles from her speech, blinking with wide eyes as if not being used to being interrupted. “Excuse me?” she says, baffled.

Enid blinks and looks up from her lap, dully noting the sting in her palms from the marks left by her fingernails. “I’m not going to some camp you want to ship me off to,” she repeats, voice going cold. “I’m not leaving Nevermore. I’m staying here.”

Murray pauses, letting his fork hit his plate as the rage on his Alpha’s face begins to build.

“What makes you think you have a choice?” Esther sneers. “We pay for all the finances for you to stay here. If we want to send you somewhere else, you don’t have a say in the matter. I don’t want you staying here if it’s not going to help you Shift—”

Her wall cracks, the hatred and anger and rage and agony seeping through, boiling in her veins. Enid locks eyes with her mother, feels them burning, a golden tinge marring her vision, making her mother pale,

“What makes you think I give a fuck about what you think?”

It’s snarled and warped as it passes through her lips, Enid’s rage twisted in her voice.

Murray flinches in his seat, eyes wide. Esther freezes. 

“I am going to stay here,” Enid demands lowly. “I don’t care if you stop paying the expenses, I’ll pay them myself. If you try and find a way to take me out of Nevermore, I can promise you that I’ll already be ten steps ahead of you.” She stands up, placing her hands on the table, leaning forward. “I will not be sent to some bullshit camp you think will ‘fix’ me. I am staying right here.” Golden eyes lock onto her mother’s. “Do you understand?”

Esther slowly nods, face ashy pale.

Enid straightens up, fixing her sleeves. “I’m glad we came to an agreement,” she states coldly. “You can see yourselves out.”

She turns and stalks through the crowd, leaving her parents behind.

(The hatred in her chest sings.)