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Chapter Text

Xavier ran to his room in Nevermore.  Thanks to Thing, he had been freed from the police car he had been left unsupervised in.  He had been chained and helpless while the hyde-who was apparently Tyler-was rampaging in the same woods.  Not only had that been careless of Tyler's father, the officer, but it had also been dangerous.  Not able to defend himself, Xavier knew that he was a sitting duck and an easy target for the monster to kill.  Especially since he already had bad blood with Tyler and was no longer needed to be framed since the monster's true identity had been revealed.

He slammed his bedroom door shut, fumbling to take his prison clothes off him.  It still reeked of damp and mold as if merely the sight of them were suffocating enough.  Once they were off him, he shoved them under the bed so he wouldn't look at them.  He then ran to his closet where grabbed random clothes to throw on.  It was lucky that he mainly wore shirts that could go with almost anything, otherwise, he probably would have ended up in a ridiculous outfit that didn't match.  Not that he particularly cared to begin with.

Once he shoved his feet into a pair of shoes, his hands no longer had anything to do.  It was then when he realized how badly he was actually shaking.  He ran his hands through his hairs in hope that the action would soothe and calm him down.

He mentally scolded himself.  It was not the time to fall into a panic and it definitely wasn't the time to let his emotions control him.  He had already lost his temper and  shouted at Wednesday.  It didn't matter if she deserved it or not, she genuinely needed his help and had let go enough of her pride to ask him.  He shouldn't have been so caught up in himself and forget that the hyde was not just a threat to him and Wednesday, but all of Nevermore.

Well done Xavier.  You went and messed up again.  No wonder you're alone again…

He shook his head.  No.  Thing had rescued him, so he wasn't alone.  Wednesday apologized too.  He wasn't certain if their friendship could be mended completely, but as much as he tried to tell himself that he hated her, the more he knew that was a lie.  For some reason, he still cared deeply for her and he just could not change that no matter how much he would rather just hate her.  It would be so much easier if he did and he wouldn't be hurt by her again and again.

Xavier looked over, his bow and arrow entering his view.  For a moment, his body stilled and his breathing began to even.  He knew what he needed to do.  He would not hide in his room when his friends and Nevermore were in danger.  He would not make the mistake of losing himself again just to wallow in emotions he just did not want to feel.  He wasn't capable of figuring them out on his own, so he shoved them aside.  It was a great thing to pull out in his next emergency therapy session.

Moving as fast as possible, he grabbed his weapon and swung his door open.  Not even bothering to close it, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him.  He wasn’t sure where his plan was or what he was going to do.  The only thing he could do was react as he went.

It honestly wasn’t hard to find the commotion.  There were shouts and screams and a fire.  If that didn’t scream catastrophe, he didn’t know what did.  So he ran towards it, forgetting any thoughts of self preservation. They needed him.

When he finally reached it, he whipped out his bow and arrow.  He wasn’t about to rush into a battlefield and not know what was going on and where the enemies were.  Peeking out, he soaked in the yard that was bathed in flames.  But all he could see was a pilgrim and Wednesday about to take each other out.  His body moved faster than he could register anything else.

“Stay away from her!” he shouted.

The two whirled around to look at him as the arrow released from his grip.  The arrow was faithful and plunged towards its target only to stop before it hit.  Xavier’s eyes widened as his arms slowly fell, unsure how to react.  All he could do was watch as the arrow slowly began to turn around and point directly at him.  Then the pilgrim released it and zipped straight towards him.

Suddenly, Wednesday jumped in the arrow’s path, taking the hit.  She was thrown off her feet as the weapon embedded into her shoulder.  Her body rolled before falling limp.

“No…”  Xavier felt as if his world stopped.  This was his fault wasn’t it?  He only wanted to help and all he did was somehow manage to get Wednesday shot.  It didn’t matter how much anger he had felt for her, he’d never want to hurt her.  But how could he know that the pilgrim could change the course of his arrow.

The groan that escaped Wednesday’s lips forced him back into reality.  She was alive.  Dazed and bleeding, but alive.  That was all he needed to know.  His eyes shot back up to the pilgrim, giving him a death glare that even Wednesday could be secretly impressed by.

He still didn’t have any plans.  In fact, all he could think to do was charge the enemy that had looked more like a corpse than anything.  Xavier couldn’t shoot him because that had gone terribly wrong when he tried it.  His next move was to raise his bow above his head and aim to slam it against his target.

The Pilgrim merely held his hand out, hitting Xavier with a force he didn’t expect.  He should have, but it didn’t change the fact that he was practically thrown across the field until his back slammed into the fountain.  His breath was sucked out of his chest from the impact, making for him to regain his footing.  He rolled onto his stomach, using his arms to push himself up.

Unfortunately he couldn’t react fast enough and all he could feel was the crushing weight, pushing him down.  It took everything in him not to fall unconscious.  He managed to look up in time for the Pilgrim to stop as he let out a blood chilling scream as he threw Wednesday off his back.  She had snuck up behind their enemy while he had been distracted with Xavier and had stabbed him with a broken shard to her sword.

Xavier heard her yelp as she hit the ground.  He used the opportunity to make the same move on the pilgrim.  While the enemy was composing himself, Xavier picked up one of his arrows and jumped up.  He thrusted it into the pilgrim’s chest, twisting it to make it more effective.  Pilgrim hit him hard on the head, making Xavier fall back.

The screams of pain erupted from the pilgrim’s throat.  He stumbled back as his body began to disintegrate into flames that appeared to come from within.  And just like that, the threat was gone.

Letting out a shaky breath, Xavier rolled over onto his stomach.  Wednesday was in his line of sight.  He used what little strength he had to crawl over to her and collapse next to her.  “Are you ok?” he rasped out, sounding more like a whisper.

Despite the pain she was in, she somehow managed to give him her classic deadpan face.  It was almost as if she was daring him to ask that question again.  After all, she did just have an arrow sticking out of her shoulder moments prior.

“You’re bleeding,” she said at last.

Laughing felt like the wrong reaction, but he couldn’t help but give a small chuckle before he rolled onto his back.  His eyes looked up at the starry night sky that was covered in smoke.  “You should look in the mirror.”

He ran a hand through his hair.  He felt something warm and wet.  So it was his head that was bleeding.  Not usually a good thing, but he honestly didn’t feel like he could worry about it at that moment.  Not after what just happened.

“I thought we were supposed to be battling a monster, not a walking corpse,” he mumbled.

“A lot happened,” she retorted.

“I can tell…” Xavier felt his eyes growing heavy.  He blinked, trying to keep consciousness.

“Xavier.”  Wednesday’s voice came out harsh, making him flinch.  “Don’t close your eyes.”

“I’m just blinking… they feel so heavy.”  He felt guilt in his stomach.  He should be the one worried about her.  She got shot with his arrow and here she was worried about him because he hit his head.  She sure did make it difficult for him to be mad at her, because he couldn’t even bring himself to remember how mad he was earlier.  Or maybe it was the hit on his head that was making him lose his memory.  No, that would be a Soap Opera episode.

“Idiot,” she muttered, getting herself into a sitting position.  She began to pull him so he could sit up.

“I got it,” he cut her off. He pulled himself up with difficulty and leaned his back against the fountain.  The last thing he wanted was for her to assert herself.

She stared at him for a moment.  “You know, most people would settle for a thank you,” she said.

He looked at her.  He snorted as his smirk betrayed him.  The irony was rather funny.  Especially when it came from her.  “My apologies, Miss Addams.  I hope you accept my thanks.”

Wednesday merely cast him an unimpressed glare.  Maybe his comedic timing needed work, but, hey, something he would worry about in therapy, but not now.  He had to focus to stay awake, and if poorly timed jokes were the only thing that kept his eyes open, then he would do just that.

Chapter Text

The amount of time that passed by so quickly still had Xavier shocked.  It was almost as if the world stopped moving but everything was just speeding by.  He could barely remember what was said at his principal's funeral.  Honestly he couldn’t remember much of anything after his fight with the Pilgrim.  Apparently he had fallen unconscious despite his efforts, but he was lucky and the concussion was only mild and no permanent damage had taken place.

He had met with Wednesday afterwards.  Even if he didn’t know how to feel about her, it didn’t change the fact that she was willing to take an arrow in his stead.  She could have easily died pulling that stunt, but it was Wednesday  it would take far more than a stab and an arrow to get her down.  Apparently it only took a concussion to take him out though.

“I heard you're free man now.”

Her voice echoed in his brain as he leaned his head against the car window.

“Yep…” He nodded, pressing his lips tightly together. “All charges dismissed…” He took a deep breath.  “Listen.. When I was in the cell, I said a lot of… things.  Being your friend should come with a warning label, but I don’t know a lot of people who would take an arrow for me. So… welcome to the twenty-first century, Addams.”

He handed her a black box with a ribbon.  She looked at him with her regular deadpanned eyes before opening it and revealing the phone inside.  Her eyes met his again and he passed her a thin smile.

“My number’s in there already.”

“That’s a bold move.” She put the lid on.  “Hope you're not expecting me to call you.”

“No.  Never.” Xavier looked down, shaking his head, repressing his grin. He looked her dead in the eyes.  “I’d settle for a text though… you know what a text is, right?”

“Goodbye, Xavier.”

He wasn’t certain if his teasing made her walk away, or if she was actually touched by the gift.  But she was always a mystery and a puzzle to him.  One he had desperately wished to solve, but now, he just wanted to fix the broken relationship.  Wednesday was a puzzle that could only be put together with the pieces she gave.  No one could find them.  They had to be revealed and she was slowly showing new ones as time went on.

The rain hitting the car windows only made him think about her more.  She appreciated dreary weather far more than the sunny days.  So he glanced at his phone.  He didn’t expect a text, especially one so soon.  Sure enough, she hadn’t sent anything.  Xavier began to debate if he should just send her a random gif to annoy her and see if he could get a reaction.  But then he decided that it would be better if she reached out to him.  The last thing he wanted to do would be to accidentally overstep his boundaries and ruin the new foundation that they were setting.

His eyes drifted towards the driver.  It must have been a new one because he didn’t recognize him.  He could try to make conversation with him, but he honestly didn’t want to bother.  Of course his father had been too busy to come pick him up himself.  Even if Xavier almost died and his father still sent a stranger to get him.  No text.  No call.  Nothing.

Just thinking about his father gave him an overwhelming feeling.  A feeling that made him want to throw things and just scream with utter rage.  Rage that he had to bury deep within himself.  He had enough slip up outbursts that week already anyways.  He didn’t need another one to add to his list to be disappointed in himself about.  Seriously.  How hard was it to keep it together without the expense of people around him?

The ride felt like it lasted far longer than it actually was.  The car pulled up the long driveway, in front of a large house.  Xavier barely waited until the driver stopped before he swung the door and stepped out.  He slammed it shut, giving him an odd sense of relief.  Maybe he should do it a little more.  It always felt like it gave the point his words never seemed to give.

He gripped his backpack on his shoulder and began to walk towards the door.  If he was right, his father wouldn't even be in the house, but he did want to see.  Grabbing the door knocker, he knocked against the black door.  Then he waited for it to be answered.  Sure enough, a servant did, and one he wasn’t able to remember either.  But she seemed to know exactly who he was.

Xavier walked inside.  “Is my father away?”

“He’s out of the country,” she stated.

He clenched his fists.  “Of course.”  Where was he expecting him to be?

“Would you like me to help-”

Xavier didn’t let her finish.  He just walked up the stairs to get to his bedroom.  He slammed the door shut, making a loud bang.  The sound made him wince.  He’d have to make sure he didn’t slam the door that hard.  He didn’t want to burst any eardrums. There was such a thing as too much angst, although he was sure Wednesday might disagree with him.

He leaned his back against the door, letting out an exasperated sigh.  Running his hand through his shoulder length hair, he took a moment to try to think about anything but his father and his near death experiences and his time chained to a wall.  He had way too much to catch his therapist up on… They might even need a raise.

A buzz in his back pocket made his eyes snap open.  Letting his backpack fall off his shoulder, he pulled his phone out.  To his surprise, it was Wednesday.  He hadn’t expected her to text him so quickly, or even at all.

Wednesday: Figured it out.

Xavier couldn’t help but chuckle.

Xavier: Was there any question that you wouldn’t?  But what exactly is it that you've figured out?

He waited, but she didn’t reply.  Shrugging, he set his phone on his bedside table.  It was a start.  That’s all that mattered.  Although it did lift his mood a little.  Enough that he left his bedroom to find the art studio his father had let him have a few years prior as a gift.  A gift that Xavier always appreciated.

Pulling out an easel, he put canvas on it.  He opened up his drawers, pulling out art supplies, not certain which ones he wanted to use yet.  With a pencil, he began to sketch out a raven.  Why?  He didn’t need a reason.  It was just what he felt like making.

Was it a good idea to bring it to life inside his house? Probably not his brightest hour, but he had full control.  There was no need to worry about any messes or destruction.  What mattered was the spark of joy he felt doing it.  Now that the monster situation had been handled, he didn’t have the Hyde clouding his brain and hogging his thoughts.  At least not in the way it had been before.

“Thorpe…”

He snapped his head back as he looked for who had spoken.  To his dismay, there was no one there.  It had just been in his head, which didn’t settle him.  Of course it could have just been his imagination.  Regardless, he shrugged it off, returning to his painting.

The hours passed by slowly.  He nibbled on some dinner before locking himself in his room.  Checking his phone again, there still wasn’t a reply.  He flopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.  He technically wasn’t supposed to look at screens because of his concussion, so it wasn’t like he could watch anything.  Or he could go against the doctor’s orders and read, but that didn’t feel as appealing.  Deciding that he would just sleep off the rest of the crabby day, he rolled over and turned off the light.  Sleep overcame him faster than he expected, but it was welcomed.

“Thorpe…”

Xavier opened his eyes, finding himself in the familiar yard.  There was a fountain to his far right.  Splotches of grass burning in flames, the orange light bouncing off the walls. Debris was scattered across the court.  But what caught his attention was the Pilgrim standing in the center with flames directly behind him.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Xavier was paralyzed.  All he could do was stand there and stare at the live corpse in front of him.  He watched as the Pilgrim slowly lifted his head, looking him directly in the eyes.  A deathly smirk formed across Crackstone’s face, sending chills through Xavier’s spine.

“Thorpe!” Crackstone’s voice almost sounded like a pterodactyl the way he screeched.

Before Xavier could react, the Pilgrim became transparent and rushed at him.  The teenager threw his arms over himself as he was hit with nothing.

His eyes snapped open as he gasped.  Sweat drenched his forehead and rolled down the back of his neck.  But it was cold.  When the ringing in his ears subsided, he realized that his phone was buzzing.  He sat up and looked at the number.  It showed two miss calls and the title said Wednesday.  Why was she calling him at three in the morning?

Chapter Text

Wednesday stared at her phone.  Ever since she got home, she claimed she was tired and went to her room to avoid her family.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see them, it was more like she didn't want them distracting her.  Typically, she could roll with the punches without being dazed.  Being stabbed and shot with an arrow was merely a nuisance, but it would take far more to stop her.  However, finding out her boyfriend, the first guy she kissed, was a psychopathic killer, accusing an innocent classmate of being the Hyde, and a stalker sending her texts on a phone she had merely received hours prior was definitely a lot to handle.  Even for her.

On a better note, technology wasn’t so hard to figure out, so she shot Xavier a test text.  He almost instantly responded, but it had to be a question.  Deciding that he was smart enough to figure out what she meant, she let it be.  She wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole technology thing yet.

On one hand, she vowed to never use it.  On the other hand, she never exactly needed one.  She’d rather stab her eyes with needles than admit that she missed Enid, Eugene, and-surprisingly-Xavier and Bianca.  Letters were sufficient enough to keep in touch, but she was a little on edge.  What if there was an emergency?  Needless to say, she decided to at least know how to use the device properly just in case.

She fell back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.  Due to her injuries, she wasn’t technically supposed to do much in case she accidentally reopened her wounds.  Was she going to listen?  Probably not, but she didn’t feel like doing anything strenuous at the moment.  A stalker was more interesting anyways.

The stabbing animation was very unsettling, but she honestly felt like it was a stupid death threat.  What bothered her was the pictures.  There was one of her and Tyler, which was low in itself.  However, the one with her and Xavier had been taken merely minutes before it had been sent.  She had been in view of someone that didn’t just want her dead, but also knew the people she kept close.  Or the ones that stayed close and she failed to keep her distance.  The stalker had leverage and that was the problem.

A part of her wanted to text the stalker and demand to know who they were, but she refused to give them anything that could lead to their satisfaction.  Plus, if she didn’t answer, the stalker would never know if they actually had the right number.  But they were probably certain already anyway.

Wednesday let out a low groan, expressing her annoyance. On the flip side, at least she still had a mystery to solve over the break.  Now she couldn’t be bored.  The first step was to find out what the first step should be.  How was she supposed to start to track down the stalker?  Was it possible to track down a number?

She sat up as soon as the thought occurred.  Maybe technology could be useful.  Lucky she had a persistent friend who gave her phone number to her despite knowing Wednesday had no intention of getting a phone.

Grabbing the piece of paper, she scanned the number written in pink ink.  Typing in Enid’s number, she sent her text.

Wednesday: Is it possible to track down numbers?

She stared at the screen as she waited for a reply.  There were dots at the bottom for a few minutes before she finally got the reply.

Enid: I’m sorry, who is this?  Did you type the wrong number?

Right.  Enid didn’t know about her phone.  She probably should have clarified her identity from the beginning.

Wednesday: This is Wednesday.

Another moment before Enid returned the text.

Enid: Ha, funny prank.  My girl doesn’t do technology.

Wednesday rolled her eyes.  Must everything be more difficult than it needed to be?

Wednesday: I don’t.  Xavier gave it to me.  Now I need to know if I can track down numbers and if you know how.

The reply didn't take long.

Enid: Of course that’s the first thing you want to know lol.  Ok.  Send me the number and I’ll have it looked at.  You don’t have wifi, do you?

So she did believe her?  Honestly, texts were hard to read and know the tone, but she wasn't going to say that.

Wednesday: No.  I would prefer to check the number myself.

Enid: Well, if you look at websites, there might be some that will give you some results.  It might take a day or so to get an email.  Also be super careful.  You can’t trust all websites.

Wednesday: Warning noted.

So maybe texting was already proving useful.  It sure did get communication done faster and get her fast information.  But if she was ever going to admit that to Xavier, she would already be buried six feet under twice.  Even if she could see his victorious smirk to gloat that he was right.

Her stomach made a weird twisting feeling.  Guilt gnawed at her everytime she thought about him, which was odd.  She had grown up believing that she didn’t have a conscience, but Xavier just had a tendency to prove her wrong.  It was getting very annoying.

She turned her head to the far wall.  The box that held her broken sword shards was shoved up against it.  Standing up, Wednesday walked over to it and peered down in it.  Most people would have it thrown out, but she specifically demanded that no one touched them.  After all, some of them could have the DNA of Crackstone.  She wasn’t certain what that could be used for.

Reaching down, she touched the first one.  Suddenly, her vision changed.  No longer could she see the box of sword shards.  There were flashing lights and everything was hazy.  When she was able to focus, she could make out Xavier’s face.  But it was pale and blank.  His body was laying on gray tile, blood spilling from his side.  His body was still as if he were dead.

Everything went black and Wednesday could feel herself fall backwards.  Her head hit the wood and then she felt nothing.

By the time she opened her eyes, her room was dark.  Thing was standing on her chest, obviously concerned for her well being.  Groaning, she sat up and rubbed her head.  “I’m fine,” she assured Thing.

Standing up, she grabbed her phone.  It was almost three in the morning.  Her family really took her need for rest seriously.  Even her mother didn’t peek in the room to make sure she was doing well.  Perhaps they thought it was best to let her sort out the emotions of the previous week.  Honestly, she was very grateful for the space.

Now the bigger question.  What was her vision about?  A cold shiver ran up her spine.  Was it telling her that Xavier was going to die?  Either way, he needed to know.  Without a second thought, she dialed his number.  It rang.  No answer.  She tried again.  No answer.  Annoying.  Sucking in a breath, she tried for the third time.

“Wednesday?  What’s going on?”

He answered.  “What took you so long?” she retorted.

“I was asleep.  Like normal people,” he grumbled back.  “It’s three AM.”

“I know that.”

“Then why-”

“I had a vision,” she cut in.

Xavier fell silent on the other end for a moment.  “What was it about?”

“You.”

“What was I doing?”

“You were doing nothing,” she said slowly.  Why was it so hard to just tell him exactly what she saw?  Curse the stabbing pain in her chest.

“Ok… so what was going on?” he pressed.  His breathing didn’t sound steady.

“You were laying on some gray tile.  You were more pale than usual,” she managed to say.

“Ok… that’s weird and oddly specific.  Is that it?”

“You were bleeding out,” she blurted out.  “You looked dead.”

Silence.  It didn’t make her feel any easier.

“Oh…” he said at last.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“At my house.  In my room.”

“Are you there alone?”

“There’s a house sitter during the night, but we have servants throughout the day,” Xavier explained.  “My father is out of the country.”

“Do you have any gray tiles in the house?”

“No?”

“Good.  Don’t leave the house.  I’ll be there tomorrow to start investigating.  Send me your address.”

“Wait.  What if I’d rather you not get involved in this?”

“Send the address.  I will murder you myself if you do not.”

Xavier remained silent for a moment before replying.  “Fine.”

She hung up so he could send the address. A moment later the message popped up.  It was a bit of a distance, but that wasn’t going to be a problem.

Chapter Text

Sleep? Sleep was a myth. The fact that Wednesday dragged her parents out of bed to tell them she was leaving to go to Xavier's, proved that sleep could wait. Of course they had questions. Like why so suddenly and so soon. She had only returned home hours prior. At least they hadn't poked or teased her about her wanting to see a boy in the middle of the night. Or jump to any conclusions, out loud at least.

No, she gave them a quick run through of what was going on. Of course her parents weren't going to want her to go alone. So her mother wasted no time packing a suitcase with her daughter and went into the limo to go to Xavier's. All by five in the morning too. Wednesday appreciated her family's urgency to help her friend and her mother's willingness to figure out details on the ride rather than wait.

Wednesday had also been told to try and sleep, but it was impossible to rest. Not while the adrenaline was coursing through her blood. Especially since it wasn't the fun kind and was making her nauseous.

The ride felt longer than it was, but when they finally reached the house, Wednesday allowed herself a silent sigh of relief. Her and her mother grabbed their suitcases and headed towards the front door. Morticia used the door knocker and waited.

The door was opened by a woman. She looked shocked, especially upon seeing the suitcases. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Thorpe is not here."

"We're aware," Wednesday retorted, pushing past the woman to get inside.

"Wait! I'll call the cops!" The woman cried with dismay.

"I invited them."

They looked at the staircase where Xavier was standing. Wednesday immediately noticed the dark circles under his eyes, indicating that he probably hadn't had any sleep after her call with him. He was definitely distressed by the way his shoulders were tight and stiff instead of loose in his typical carefree manner.

"I don't think your father would appreciate-" the maid began.

Xavier shrugged when he reached the bottom stair. "He's not here. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, I don't think he gives a dime," he muttered.

The maid sighed, but she didn't seem keen on arguing any further. She stepped back and let Morticia enter and closed the door behind them. Xavier picked up Morticia's bag. Wednesday noted that he didn't even try to take hers, knowing she wouldn't like the notion, but she appreciated his offer to her mother.

"There's some guest rooms upstairs," he continued as he led them up the stairs. When they reached the first one, he set Morticia's bags in it.

"Thank you," Mrs. Addams said. She looked at Xavier for a moment. "Your father is not home?"

"Out of the country," Xavier muttered.

"He wouldn't want to know we're here?"

"He doesn't even know my birthday." Xavier let out a chuckle, but Morticia had a hard time concealing her shock and distaste of Vincent's parenting style.

Xavier didn't miss a beat. "Wednesday, your room is right across the hall from this one." He pointed at the door. "Mine is at the other end. The doors lock from the inside but can't be unlocked from the outside because there's no keyhole. If you need anything, don't worry, just ask… Have you eaten yet? The cook made donuts if you're into that. We can make something else if you prefer," he rambled.

"Donuts will be fine," Morticia said.

"Sweet… uh… they're downstairs in the kitchen. One of the staff can show you. I need to change my shirt. I just spilt paint all over it before you came in. I'll be right back if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Take your time, Thorpe," Mrs. Addams replied.

"You have clothes that's not your uniform without paint on them?" Wednesday raised a brow.

"Ha ha, Addams," Xavier chuckled after his sarcastic comment. He then speed walked down the hall into his room as they watched after him.

When the door closed behind him, Wednesday could feel her mother's gaze on her without her even moving to look at her mom. "What?"

"He's grown since I last saw him. I like him," Morticia teased.

Oh. There it was. She had forgotten that her mother knew his dead godmother. "I know you do," Wednesday retorted. "Right now he and I are on complicated terms."

"You two seem to be working around it just fine. You'll figure it out. What's most important is figuring out what your vision meant."

"Or how to avoid it," Wednesday added in her monotone voice. "Many say fate is inevitable, but I don't believe that. Not for me at least."

Silence followed as they went down the stairs. With a little help from the staff, they managed to make it to the kitchen. Wednesday wasn't feeling hungry, but her mother would ask questions if she didn't eat at least something. She took a donut and nibbled on it, but she would rather drink a coffee and call it good enough.

Xavier came into the kitchen moments later. He went straight to the coffee pot, pouring it in a mug. "Do you want some? We have tea too," he offered.

"Thank you," Morticia said.

Wednesday took him up on the coffee, pouring herself a cup. She skipped adding sugar and cream and drank it black and scalding hot. Her stomach wasn't very agreeable at the moment anyways. However, it would take far more to make her throw up, even if what she saw in her vision kept replaying in her head. Almost like a real that played on repeat in her mind.

She could sense the tension in the room. After all, the idea that Xavier being murdered was very off putting to say the least. What were conversations supposed to be? No one wanted to discuss the elephant in the room, not that there was anything to really discuss. They had nothing, not a lead, not a hint about what was going on. Wednesday wasn't someone who did much leisure talk, but that didn't feel right either. Having a random and meaningless conversation when death was looming over their heads didn't feel appropriate.

Luckily, Xavier broke the silence. He sat at the table across from Wednesday. His exhaustion was plain on his face, but he made direct eye contact with her.

"I had a dream last night," he said.

"After my call?"

He pressed his lips tightly together. "Before. I got distracted with your vision so I didn't bring it up."

"Is it connected to my vision?" She inquired.

Xavier shrugged. "I don't know. It could have easily been a regular nightmare, but it felt… real."

"Are you going to explain it?" Wednesday persisted, getting impatient, but her tone came out the same as usual.

"It was Crackstone. I've been hearing his voice in my head since yesterday. All he says is my name… it's unsettling to say the least…" Xavier said. "It could just be that my head is still in the fight with him."

Morticia frowned. "Perhaps, but I wouldn't-" She was cut off by Xavier's phone going off.

"Sorry," he said as he pulled it out to look at the caller. "Enid?"

"You have her number?" Wednesday raised her brow, a little surprised. She didn't know they knew each other that well.

"She tossed it around at the funeral," he replied before he answered the phone. "Hello?"

Wednesday could hear her friend's voice from where she sat, but it came out muffled.

"I can't get a hold of Wednesday. She won't answer her phone."

Xavier glanced at her. "I have it on silent. The ring tones are revolting."

He nodded in agreement. "She's in the room with me. Do you want me to put the phone on speaker or let you talk to her?"

"She's with you!" Enid screeched so loud that Xavier pulled the phone away from his ear. If Enid was there, Wednesday would have passed her a glare as sharp as daggers.

"Is something wrong?" Xavier asked at last.

"Oh, yeah. Have you heard the news about Tyler?" Enid asked, her voice growing serious.

Wednesday felt the room grow dark and tension course through her body. The name left a bitter taste in her mouth and the mere thought of him made her lips tingle. A sensation that she hated the moment she felt it and the one time she let it consume her, she saw the monster Tyler truly was.

"What about Tyler?" Xavier's tone was cold and bitter.

"He broke out. Went full Hyde on them in the transportation truck. Their bodies were found this morning, but no Tyler in sight."

Wednesday could hear a ringing in her ears. Tyler was out and free? Of course it wouldn't be so easy. She cursed inwardly for thinking that Tyler would no longer be a part of her life, but no. She was nowhere near being in the clear. Clenching her fists, she could see the color drain from Xavier's face as well.

Chapter Text

Maybe it was the fact that he thought he was in the clear, or maybe he had just reached his limit of chaos, but Xavier didn’t know how to process everything. Between Joseph Crackstone, Wednesday’s visions, the new knowledge that Tyler was now roaming free (no one knowing where), he was worried what was going to happen next. Who wouldn’t be?

Having Wednesday and her mother in his house made him feel somewhat safer. It made the feeling of emptiness leave, but it also felt strange. He couldn’t remember the last time the Thorpe house had guests, and he was having difficulties remembering how his mother hosted. His father was rarely around guests unless they were there for business reasons. Luckily, Wednesday and her mother weren’t shy about making themselves comfortable, which made it easier for him.

Unfortunately, he was too anxious to sit still for more than five minutes. Plus he had been painting since after Wednesday's call, only stopping when he noticed their limo come up the driveway. So after his guests had eaten, they still sat at the table while he tapped his fingers on the table. The question still loomed in the air. Now that they were there, what were they supposed to do?

“So what do you like to do, Thorpe?” Morticia asked at last, breaking the silence.

“I spend most of my free time painting. Turning them to life,” he replied. He glanced at Wednesday, remembering the paintings he left in his studio back at Nevermore. Particularly the one he painted of her playing the cello. He wondered how Morticia would react knowing that he had a crush on her daughter, or still did. He still hadn’t sorted his feelings out yet, but he did know that he was grateful how quickly Wednesday reacted and how she rushed to come to protect him. And how she took the arrow meant for him without hesitation.

"Would you like to show me?" She asked.

If she was trying to distract him from the elephant in the room, he definitely appreciated the gesture. Since it wasn't like they had anything better to do, he nodded in agreement. Taking his coffee with him, he led them to his art room. He opened the door revealing the random art supplies scattered from one end to the other and all the easels with half finished art.

"You've been busy," Wednesday retorted as she walked up to the nearest canvas. It was an almost completed charcoal portrait of Crackstone.

Xavier didn't reply, his eyes drifting towards the canvas he threw a blanket over. Suddenly, he choked on his coffee as Thing randomly popped out of Wednesday's purse as she walked by it. An odd sense of deja vu washed over him as Thing grabbed the tarp and pulled it off.

When the sheet hit the floor, Wednesday whirled around. The canvas merely held a sketch of her. She wasn't playing the cello, but holding a bow and arrow. Xavier wanted to go curl up in his bed or die in a random hole. Embarrassment made the blood rush to his cheeks.

To his relief, she merely picked the sheet back up and covered it before Morticia saw it. The woman was currently invested in the painting of the ravens he started the day prior. Thing waved to Xavier before going back in Wednesday's bag. He couldn't figure out if he appreciated the hand for saving him or if he wished that Thing would just choke him to death because that would be far more merciful.

Once he composed himself, Xavier cleared his throat. "We uh… we have a library if that sounds interesting to you… I don't have any steam powered guillotines, but there is a TV that's free to use. Not sure what streaming services we have, but we have something." He sipped on his coffee.

Before he could receive an answer, someone cleared their throat behind him. Xavier turned his head to look back at them, raising a brow. "What?"

It was a man with a clean shaven face and a gray mustache. His black hair was highlighted with silver strands and flipped back with hairspray. He was wearing a black shirt with a brown corduroy jacket with matching pants. And brown dress shoes to complete the look. It was a huge contrast to the rest of the house and he wasn't in uniform.

The man fixed his glasses on his nose. "Javier, right?" He held his hand out.

"Who are you?" Xavier glanced at Wednesday who already appeared to be grabbing sharp objects from his art supplies and trying to figure out which would be the most effective. But he wasn't concerned about the stranger.

"Jason Cruise. Employed by your father, Vincent Thorpe."

"I assumed that you're standing in my house," Xavier retorted.

"Vincent Thorpe's house."

Xavier took a drink of his coffee and leaned against the doorway to his art room. He merely turned his head back towards his paintings. "Yes. He's never really around to use it."

"Anyways," the man continued as he pulled out an Ipad, "He wanted a report on your therapy sessions. It says here you haven't attended any for over a week."

"I've been busy."

"He said you should slow down and focus on your mental health."

"Well, since my father is so concerned, I'd love to tell him myself," Xavier muttered. "But since he doesn't, you can tell him that I've been focusing on my physical health after almost being killed. Lucky me, I just got a concussion." He shoved his empty coffee cup into the man's hand. "While you're at it, mind reminding him that my name is Xavier?"

Xavier turned to walk away. The Addams would be fine to fend for themselves, but he was not about to go through this again. It was starting to get ridiculous.

"Wait, I still have a few questions he wants answered," Cruise called.

Sighing, Xavier turned back to him. "I've got nothing against you, but tell my father if he wants answers that he can ask me directly. Or call. Text. Email. Heck even by letter. Whatever works. It's not that hard. I'm not picky!"

Ignoring anything else that was said, Xavier kept walking. He went to his room where he slammed his door shut. Why was his father so uncaring? Could he at least put a little more effort into pretending to care? At least not make it so obvious that he was a crappy father?

Sighing, he plopped down on his bed, dropping his pillow on his face. How pathetic he probably looked. He certainly felt it. After all these years, it still got to him. He should be worried about more important things, but he was still stuck on his stupid relationship with his father. Or lack thereof.

A knock sounded on the door, making him groan. "What?"

"My mother finds the house boring," Wednesday said. Her voice sounded muffled through the door, but just as deadpanned as ever. "She has set to redecorating. Said something about the place needing a touch of taste."

"Let her. My father won't notice the difference," Xavier retorted bitterly.

"You're just going to lie in self pity?" She sounded disapproving of his life choices.

He sat up and walked to the door, opening it. It was hard to hide his annoyance, but he crossed his arms as he looked down to meet her gaze.

"If you're going to be miserable, let me enjoy it," she demanded.

He couldn't help but chuckle a little bit. He knew full well that she would never admit that she was worried about him or that she wished to comfort him. But reading her was starting to get easier. It was all in her eyes. They betrayed her, speaking the words that she would never vocalize.

"Instead of moping, we should be planning the funeral." Wednesday held up a knife and a taser.

"Woah-" Xavier took them out of her hands. "Did you get one of our kitchen knives?"

"The gun was in your father's office," she added.

"What?" He looked at the taser again. It was shaped more like a gun. Sure enough it had a barrel and was loaded with bullets. He stared at it, his eyes slowly drifting back to look at her.

She crossed her arms. "I suggest we spend our time searching for answers for bigger problems than an absent father."

He handed her back the gun. "Maybe that might come in handy. I'm more of a bow and arrow type of man."

She silently accepted it, putting it in her bag. The knife was left on Xavier's bed side. He followed her to his father's office. It was evident that she broke in, after all, it had always been locked. The room had been forbidden since his childhood, even when his father had been home. Literally anything could be in there and he wouldn't know. Apparently, his father liked to carry arms, or at least have them.

Chapter Text

Nothing could be found in the office.  Wednesday was rather disappointed, not that she needed any more reasons to start making his coffin.  The distress on Xavier's face was all the convincing she needed.  The only question was how.  Poison felt too boring.  Stabbing him in his sleep was cowardice, it would have to be while he was awake.  Luckily, her options were only limited to her interests.

She set the last files back in the desk drawer.  It was full of old bills that had been paid for years prior.  The man really needed to clean out his drawers.

"Did you find anything else?" Xavier asked.

Wednesday said nothing, to which he understood her answer.  He merely shrugged, shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.  "I don't know what we were expecting," he said at last.  "So he has a gun.  I carry around my knife."

"Who are you trying to convince?  Me or yourself?" Wednesday raised a brow.

"It's just we have enough to think about anyways.  How many mysteries do you want to juggle at once?"

She closed a drawer, her back turned to the window.  "You'd be surprised where random strings are tied."

"Well, we're not exactly in a mystery novel, so I doubt all of these are connected," Xavier retorted as he went through another drawer for a third time.

"Yet," Wednesday retorted.

"Oh?  I'll at least be a lead character, right?" He teased.

Rolling her eyes, she slammed the drawer shut.  "There's nothing here."

"We better make sure we leave everything as we found it," Xavier suggested.  "I don't want to deal with father getting someone another lawsuit over a false theft again."

"I'm hanging on to the gun," she said.  "It might be worth investigating more."

"I'm not sure if that's really a good idea-" Xavier was cut short as the window behind Wednesday shattered.

Glass shot through the room, scattering across the floor.  Both Xavier and Wednesday covered their heads for protection.  Luckily, they were wearing pants, shoes and long sleeves, reducing the cuts from broken glass.

Lifting her eyes, Wednesday saw what had been used to smash the window.  It was a rock, sitting on the ground.  A note was tied to it with a rubber band. Whirling around, she rushed to the window to see who had thrown it.  Of course.  She saw no one.  Wednesday began to climb out the window to hunt them down only for Xavier to yank her back inside.

"What the heck are you doing?" He hissed.

"Get off me," she demanded.

"You're not going to find them out there," Xavier insisted.

"Not when you wasted my time," she snapped.

"We're both not in good shape to fight," he argued.  You were stabbed last week!  And shot with an arrow!"

Grabbing the stone, Xavier pulled Wednesday out of the office, closing and locking the door.  Setting them apart from any potential threat from outside the window.  

There was a buzzing sound.  Wednesday felt in her pocket, pulling out her phone.  Clicking the text message, it took her to her stalker's number.  There was a new photo.  One of her and Xavier standing in the office moments before the rock was thrown.  It was the second picture that gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach.  There was a picture of Xavier working on the Crackstone painting, and it was obviously taken before she had arrived.

"What is it?" Xavier asked.  He didn't wait for a reply, looking at her phone screen over her shoulder.  Her expression must have betrayed the concern she was trying to conceal.

"You're being stalked?"

"We're being stalked," she corrected, showing him the newest one.  "Whoever they are appears to have been inside your house.  A staff member perhaps?"

Xavier didn't answer.  He unwrapped the paper from the stone and opened it up.

The clock is ticking.

Frowning, Wednesday looked at it.  Was it a warning or a threat?  Either way, she didn't think she appreciated the vague note.  "You should have let me hunt them down," she grumbled.

"We're not armed."

She pulled out the pistol.  Xavier pressed his lips tightly together.

"Ok, so we are."

"It might not be too late to track them." She grabbed the doorknob only for Xavier to grab her wrist.  It was firm, but gentle.  She glared at him.  "If you tell me that we should leave it to the police-"

"No.  I agree with you on that.  I don't want the police involved.  I'm hoping to avoid that.  We'll track the stalker down next time.  Right now, we should figure out what we're up against first."

Wednesday opened her mouth to argue before pausing.  Her eyes met with his, which were begging her to let it go.  Normally, she would have ignored it.  But it reminded her of the look in his eyes when she was shot with his arrow.  Perhaps that night had wounded both of them more than she thought.

"Fine," she said at last, pulling her arm away.  "You better get someone to replace the window."

He let out a silent sigh.  "Yeah.  Wonder how we're going to explain the broken window."

"Then don't."

"Yeah, because windows shatter out of thin air for no reason," Xavier retorted sarcastically.

She said nothing.  Making an excuse or a story was irrelevant.  Even if they ended up needing to explain, Xavier would have no problem having an excuse.

But she couldn't help but wonder if Xavier was in this mess because of her.  Was he going to be killed because she was with him?  He was only ever in danger since she showed up at the school.  And if that was the case, did that mean Enid and Eugene could be next?  Or even Ajax or Bianca?

Chapter Text

Sleep? Sleep was a joke by this point. It was far past four in the morning. His anxiety had only gotten worse as time went on, making the thought of sleep impossible. Now it was over twenty four hours since he last slept, which meant he was suffering a migraine.

Forfeiting his bed, he threw on his blue robe over his pajamas and went to the bathroom for a drink of water. Once he restored his hydration, he decided to walk around the house. Something he often did since he was younger when he was too restless to sleep, and he didn't have a curfew to remain in a dorm.

Later, he realized walking around in the house while everyone was asleep when there was a stalker and threats, was perhaps not his brightest idea. To be fair, he wasn't thinking on his part. He just felt tired and the anxiety in the back of his chest was driving him mad. Not that it was much of an excuse.

He came to a hallway only to freeze in his steps. His father's office door was opened. Confusion immediately swept over him. Had he forgotten to close it properly and lock it? He could have sworn he had. Or maybe a staff member left it open. Now that he remembered, he did send a staff member to look at the window in order to get it fixed.

Walking over, he grabbed the door knob to shut the door. His heart dropped to the floor as his eye made contact with a familiar pair of eyes. Long red hair that was pulled back in a ponytail and her signature black glasses.

A smirk played on her face as she played with her pistol. "Xavier. You're up rather late. Or is it early?"

He swallowed as he eyed the gun in her hands. "Thornhill…"

"You know," she began as she stood up. Laurel cocker her gun before pointing it at his head. "I never did take you for the killing type."

Xavier didn't dare to move. "I… I'm not?"

She snorted. "Crackstone. Ring a bell?"

"Oh, you mean the pilgrim that you resurrected from the dead," he said. "I don't think that makes me a killer," Xavier said nervously.

"You killed a man."

"He was already dead," Xavier insisted. "I just made him dead again…" He snapped his mouth shut as she made the gun jerk with a flick of her wrist.

She smirked as if she enjoyed making him flinch. Although, he supposed she did. "Take a seat."

Xavier wanted nothing more than to turn around and run. But with the gun pointed at his head, he could only swallow. "I'm fine where I am."

"Listen kid. I wasn't asking." Her voice grew stern and cold. Enough to make a shiver run up his spine. Maybe being snarky wasn't giving him any favors, but it was all he had the power to do.

He stood there a moment before he clenched his fists and took the seat she had been sitting in only moments prior. He folded his hands, his grip making his fingers turn white. Swallowing, he tried to pretend as if his heart wasn't racing by just staring at the wall in the dark. Despite his stiff body, he managed to slouch a little to add to his act.

"The point is," Laurel continued casually, "Is that you gave him the final blow."

"So this is all because I ripped up your art project?" He raised a brow. Of course he wouldn't have managed it without Wednesday, but he was not about to bring her into the conversation.

"You only transferred his soul to another canvas," she cut in.

"What?" Xavier couldn't hide his startled look. He grabbed the arms of his chair, gripping it tightly.

"Given the soul is to weak to do anything on its own, I need to give it the boost it needs to take over," Laurel explained.

That was it. Xavier needed to get away from her. He wasn't one hundred percent certain he knew what she meant, but he knew he wasn't going to like it. But not knowing what she was going on about was what scared him the most.

His eyes scanned the desk, searching for anything to be used as a weapon. All there was was an electric pencil sharpener that hadn't been used in a long time. If he could just catch her off guard, he could use it as a projectile.

Thornhill reached into her bag, pulling out a syringe. Xavier sat up straight, his body somehow going stiffer. He didn't want to know what was in it and he was not about to become her next experiment. But if she needed to use him, then she wouldn't kill him with her gun, would she?

"Why me?" He asked suddenly.

She looked at him as if he was stupid, which ruffled his pride a little bit. "I just explained to you that you have the soul of Joseph Crackstone trapped inside you and you're asking why and not how?"

"I-" Xavier was at a loss for words. Was that why he'd heard his voice and had him keep appearing in his dream? He hadn't been imagining it because of his stress and trauma?

"Now hold still. This will hurt-"

Xavier did the exact opposite. He chucked the pencil sharpener at her, hitting her on the head. The impact ruined her aim and the tranquilizer hit the wall to the right of him. Proud that he called her bluff, he ran out of the room just in time to be missed by another shot.

Unfortunately, the shots didn't make much noise. His bare feet hitting the wooden floor made a louder sound. So he screamed. If that didn't wake up the Addams and the house sitter, he didn't know what would.

Wednesday had been tossing and turning in her bed all night. The more she learned, the more questions she had. She had been foolish to think she was anywhere out of the clear. Someone didn't just want to kill her, they also had been spying on Xavier. It made her feel uneasy having the thought that they might want to hurt him, or even kill him.

A scream suddenly reached her ears. She bolted upright in her bed, her heart felt as if it completely stopped. The blood drained from her face as she jumped out of her bed. The scream had been Xavier's.

Throwing the door open, she ran. What was she thinking? She came to protect him and she let him out of her sight after what already happened that night? She literally gave her enemies the perfect opportunity to kill him.

The memory of her vision burned in her brain. Him laying on the cold tile, covered in blood. His face was pale and lifeless. A sight that made her feel lifeless, and not in a way that she enjoyed it. It made her chest hurt.

Her feet pounding against the ground, she grabbed the first object she came across. Being in a hurry, she forgot to grab a weapon from her room. She ran by one of the doors that lead outside, which conveniently held umbrellas with sharp tips. Now all she had to do was find what room Xavier was in.

She slid on the floor with her socks, running smack into someone. They both toppled over. Wednesday's first responders were to pull them in a choke hold and suffocate them only to realize that it was Xavier.

"What the heck?" She hissed. "What is wrong with you?"

He immediately covered her mouth, rolling over to get her off him. She was going to murder him, but Xavier was surprisingly stronger than she thought by how he just yanked her into another room. But he wasn't fast enough. She saw her. Thornhill.

The woman had blood trickling down her temple and a gun pointed at them. Wednesday reacted before thinking. Normally, an umbrella wouldn't work in deflecting bullets, yet she opened it in hopes of a shield. Lucky her, it was a dart gun.

Laurel growled angrily when she realized she ran out of darts. The sound from behind her and Xavier and Wednesday looked over the umbrella to see what it was. A smirk fell across Wednesday's face when she saw it was Morticia wielding a sword, aimed to kill.

"Darn you, Addams," Thornhill hissed, clicking a button on her wrist.

Before anyone could react, a window shattered. A familiar figure came through it, grabbing Thornhill. All Wednesday could do was stare, cursing her body for freezing. But when the Hyde turned his face to look her directly in her eyes, it made her stomach twist with guilt. Guilt for kissing him and guilt that she couldn't finish him. What was wrong with her?

Tyler, the Hyde, jumped back out the window with Thornhill as Morticia rushed him with her sword. But he was faster and easily made the escape.

Wednesday slowly refolded the umbrella. "What happened?" She looked at Xavier, but he was no longer standing next to her. He had sunk to the floor, gripping his hair while breathing frantically.

Chapter Text

The sun had risen and the clock on the wall marked nine AM.  The ticking was both annoying (echoing in Xavier's head), and oddly soothing.  It was a sound he could latch his focus into to keep himself grounded.  The last thing he wanted was to have a panic attack.  They never helped in any situation.

Why was it that everytime one thing got answered, a thousand questions would add onto the unanswered ones?  The soul of a dead pilgrim in his body?  And Thornhill wanted to help it take over?  In short, he could be possessed at any given moment or was he safe as long as the mad woman didn't give him the serum?  Explaining the situation was even harder.  It was hard enough to wrap his own mind around it, let alone help someone else understand the new development.

"Interesting…" Wednesday muttered.

"Interesting?" Xavier raised a brow.  "The dude who shot you with an arrow is supposedly in my body and that's what you say?"

"How am I supposed to react?" She shot back.

Xavier clamped his mouth shut.  She was right.  He didn't even know how to react so who was he to judge her response?  Not that he did.  He just hadn't been expecting that one, which he should have.  It was Wednesday after all.

He tapped the heel of his foot in fast motions, anxiety running through his blood.  He wasn't sure if he could handle any more unexpected events.  At least not without a good night's sleep.  But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon; considering every time he tried, it led to an event even worse than the last.  Which then caused his body to fall back into adrenaline and become restless.

Running his right hand through his hair, he lifted the stray strands out of his eyes.  "I'm so tired," he muttered.

"You should sleep.  It's been a long night," Morticia said.

"How?  How am I supposed to sleep after that?  Ever?" Xavier stood up and began to pace the room.

"Well, the first step to fixing things requires a brain that's actually functioning properly," Wednesday retorted.

His head snapped in her direction, but didn't say anything.  He couldn't deny it.  Exhaustion was definitely starting to take a toll on him, but he hadn't expected that it was so bad that Wednesday had to point it out to him.

Cruise entering the living room made them fall silent.  The three of them looked at him.

"What are you doing here?" Xavier raised a brow.  "Usually the check up is monthly." He rubbed his face.  If his father really wanted the stupid answers to the questions, he wasn't getting anything.  Not for a while.

"It is," the man said. "But I didn't come here to give a survey.  I'm here to prepare for the homecoming of Vincent Thorpe."

Xavier's head shot up as he gaped at him.  "My father is coming here? Now?"

"He will be here by tomorrow morning," Cruise confirmed.  He pushed his golden rimmed glasses up his nose.  "His return is temporary because his business meet up has been canceled.  That should give you enough to sort out your…" the man looked over at Wednesday and Morticia.  "Your affairs."

The boy clenched his jaw.  He cast an icy glare at the man.  "They're guests.  If he has a problem with it, he can bring it to me."

Cruise raised a brow, before typing something down on his tablet.  Xavier wanted to demand that he was told what he was doing, but he figured it wouldn't be worth the trouble.  It never was.

When Cruise left, Xavier felt like he had been deflated like a balloon.  Morticia took a sip of coffee.  "Should we go with velvet or satin?"

"For what?" Xavier raised a brow, looking at her.

"For the casket," she replied.

"I wasn't going to bother with that part," Wednesday muttered.

He wasn't sure who exactly they were talking about, but it did make him bite back a snort of laughter.  Their dark humor was very appreciated.  Or maybe they were dead serious, but either way it was still very much appreciated.

What was worse was that he had spent his time returning home and sulking about his father not being there.  Now his father was coming, he wanted him to stay in another country.  To be fair, his father was only returning because someone canceled business.  Not because his father was worried about him and wanted to see him.

Morticia stood up.  "I'm going to finish redecorating.  Would you like to join me?"

"I would rather cut my hand off," Wednesday retorted.

"Well, I guess Thing could have a buddy then," Xavier said.

She looked at him for a second.  "That's not how that works."

"Well, how was I supposed to know?"

"Is that a yes?" Morticia raised a brow at the two.

Xavier shrugged.  Wednesday stood up and followed, so he supposed she chose the more torturous route for her.  But she only sat in the corner and watched like an ominous shadow.

Not that he was being much help either.  He pulled things out of a box, which he didn't know where everything came from. But everything felt oddly familiar.  He would stare at it, give up, and hand it to Morticia and she would do her magic.

He reached in the box, grabbing a figurine that was a little over a foot* long.  His body froze as he stared at it.  It looked like a pilgrim, and he suspected that it was.  Of all the things it could have been, it had to be that.  However the sudden reminder made the face of Crackstone flash across his vision.  The memory of his face as Xavier used his arrow to take the final blow.

"Thorpe…" The whisper in his ear made Xavier panic, throwing the figurine across the floor.  

"Xavier-"

He heard Wednesday's voice, but his eyes still couldn't leave the pilgrim.  His breath quickened and his body began to shake.  He had the soul of a monster inside him, a man who tried to kill off the bloodline of the Addams family.  If he had succeeded either time, Wednesday wouldn't exist.  Of course, Crackstone's goal had been to eliminate all the unnatural.  And that spirit was currently residing in him rent free and Xavier could do nothing about it.

A hand on his shoulder snapped back into reality.  He turned his head to find Morticia had gotten down next to him.  "I did not know that was in there," she apologized.

"No-no… It's fine," he assured her.

Wednesday clenched her fists and glanced at Thing who was on her shoulder.  He tapped in his code.

You good?

She silently huffed.  Of course she was fine.  Xavier was the one who was on the verge of a panic attack, and had the whole crackstone situation.  She wasn't good with helping others go through their emotions.  But she didn't want him out of her sight.  She had come to protect him from death, yet how many times had he narrowly missed it under her protection?

The events of the night before played through her head.  Thornhill.  Laurel Gates was in the house.  She almost succeeded while Wednesday was laying in bed.  And Tyler.  Tyler had been there.

A shiver ran through her spine that she tried to suppress.  No.  She was fine if she didn't think about it.  Besides, the lack of sleep was starting to catch up on her.  She would feel better if she just slept, but how could she possibly do that?  The moment she did could be the time that Xavier was killed.  And she would fail.  How much pain was she going to keep causing him?

The weight of Thing on her shoulder was oddly comforting, but it wasn't enough.  It was hard to distract herself when her brain refused to move on.  Everything would be so easy if she didn't feel.  So why did everything feel so complex and overwhelming?  Why was she feeling when she had tried so hard not to get attached?  Had she not learned with her pet scorpion?  Or when she kissed a murderer?

Chapter Text

At this point, Wednesday questioned why she was even trying to sleep. Her body was sluggish and her eyes were heavy, but her brain was wide awake. At any slightest noise, she'd jerk to grab a random weapon from the stash she was holding by her bed. And then it would turn out to be nothing.

She had only come to Xavier's home to protect him. Maybe it was because she felt guilty for her mistake, framing in as the hyde. Or maybe it was because it was the right thing to do. She didn't know and didn't really care. All she did care about was the fact that she had failed. So far, he almost got killed, Thornhill broke in, and Tyler broke in after. And it All happened while she laid in bed.

Sighing, she got out of bed, brushing her hair out of her face. She grabbed the gun and her sword and left her room. Once was down the hall and reached Xavier's room, she opened it to peek in the room. He was laying in his bed sleeping peacefully. At least, it looked like it. Nothing seemed amiss.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to put her soul at rest. Cursing herself, she slipped through the door. She peeked in the closet and double checked his windows. They were locked and the closet was messy, but nothing out of the ordinary. Getting down on her hands and knees, she checked under the bed. All she found there was a stuffed bear that felt like it had been very well loved.

"What are you doing?"

Wednesday snapped her head up to see Xavier sitting up in his bed. "Checking safety," she retorted.

"Ok, well, did you find anything?"

"Just this." She tossed him his bear. He caught it.

"Uh... huh, don't know how that got there." He shoved it to the other side of the bed.

"Your room seems secure," she began. "I'm keeping watch, just go back to sleep."

He snorted back a laugh.

"What do you find so funny about this?" Wednesday frowned. If anything, he should have probably been concerned why she came into his room in the middle of the night, but he seemed more amused than anything.

"Nothing." He cleared his throat. "Well, there's an extra pillow and blanket in the closet. If you're sticking, make yourself comfortable."

Wednesday decided to take him up on his offer and grabbed a pillow and blanket from his closet. She moved to the corner of the room which allowed her to watch all the possible entrances. Propping the pillow up, she leaned against it and pulled the blanket up to her waist. Then the watch began.

She pretended not to notice that Xavier had fallen asleep, cuddling his stuffed bear. Who was she to judge? She spent many nights sleeping with her knives. Plus the plushies always seemed to make Enid happy and more relaxed when she became anxious. But it apparently embarrassed him, so she felt it would be cruel to point it out in the morning. Or maybe she would. His reactions were rather interesting to her.

Her eyes dropped as the hours passed, she clenched her weapon tighter. As much as she willed herself to remain awake, Wednesday eventually drifted off. Her eyes snapped open. The sun was beaming through the window and Xavier remained passed out in his bed, bear in arm. She would have to point it out.

The sixteen year old looked at the clock. The numbers read eight fifteen. She wondered if she should wake him to give him time to prepare for the return of Vincent Thorpe or if she should let him sleep to get a few more minutes of peace and rest that he desperately needed. She had noticed the dark circles under his eyes getting worse. He probably had as much sleeping as she had.

The decision was made for her as Xavier woke up himself.  He sat up and looked at the clock, frowning. Then he caught sight of Wednesday, flinching.  He set a hand on his forehead.  "I forgot you stayed the night…"

"Technically it was morning," Wednesday retorted.

The stuffed bear dropped to the floor as Xavier stood up.  But considering how distressed he already appeared, Wednesday decided to postpone teasing him when she could actually enjoy it.  Right now, they all had a little too much to think about as it was.

He grabbed his clothes out of the drawer and left the room for the bathroom.  Wednesday cleaned up the pillow and blanket from the corner and put it in a folded pile in the corner.  Then she left the room to return to hers where she got herself ready for the day.  Something told her it was going to be a long one like they seemed to become lately.

When she was done, she went downstairs where she found Xavier sitting at the kitchen table. He was poking at his plate of eggs rather than eating them. She couldn't blame him. She didn't feel much like eating herself and she didn't even have an absent parent showing up so suddenly.

"On a scale of one to then, how much of a douchebag is he?" She asked in a dark tone as she poured a bowl of frosted flakes.

Xavier merely snorted in reply. "He's not that bad."

"Your lack of answer says otherwise," she retorted.

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. He'll only be here a few days anyways. Just until business calls him away again."

"So a nine?" She raised a brow.

"What would make him a ten?"

"I'll rate him when I meet him," she said at last.

"Let me know if he passes the test," Xavier chuckled.

She glanced at him. His shoulders weren't as stiff as before, indicating that he was slightly more relaxed. At least she was able to make some progress before the man actually arrived.

Wednesday would be lying if she said she wasn't curious about meeting Xavier's father. But that was just a part of her. The other part wanted to run a knife through his neck, but she supposed that would be murder. And murder would do nothing but land her prison. Even she was above murder. At least the murder of the innocent. She had a few people on her list that she wouldn't mind going to jail for killing.

She was pulled out of her thoughts upon hearing someone walk in the room. She turned and looked. It was the maid that let her and her mother in.

"Mr. Thorpe has arrived," she said.

Wednesday watched the color drain from Xavier's face. He clearly wasn't prepared. Everytime she heard of that man, she began to dislike him more and more for Xavier's sake.

Chapter Text

The last thing Xavier remembered talking to his father was probably a year ago.  It had been a very awkward conversation over dinner.  Very little had been spoken and they had all been negative towards him and especially Bianca.  So what was his father expecting him to say when he finally walked inside?

Mr. Thorpe was standing in the entry way while Xavier stood awkwardly by the staircase.  He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and tried to act as casual as he possibly could.  But he really wanted to just walk away.  He was bitter towards his father, but he didn't hate him.  So it wasn't like he never wanted to see him.  On the contrary, that was all he wanted as a child.  But the man before him felt more like a stranger as the years passed.  Without Xavier's mother, there had been no link between them anymore.

"Hey..." He spoke at last.  It was far better than the silence.

His father nodded.  He motioned for Xavier to follow and they sat down in the living room.  "What have you been up to lately?" Mr. Thorpe inquired.

Xavier shrugged.  "Painting.  Recovering from the attack at Nevermore."

The man nodded.  "I heard about that.  Not much was mentioned other than the fact you had been uninjured."

"I have a concussion, actually," Xavier corrected.  "Mild, but technically not unscathed." Of course he could mention the ghost that was in the process of trying to posses him, but could he expect his father to take that seriously?

"Oh, right.  I suppose there was a report mentioning that," Mr. Thorpe said.  "Did it mention a prison cell as well?"

"Yes.  A misunderstanding.  I was proven innocent within hours."

"That's all that matters then," his father proclaimed.

For some reason, Xavier felt even more inclined to leave the conversation.  Was that all he was worried about?  Was there no "are you ok?", or "I can't believe they would accuse my son of such crimes?", or something?  Of course not.

"Have you been going to your therapy?  There hasn't been any updates from your therapist lately."

"No.  She died.  I haven't gone to my new one yet.  You know.  Physically recovering..."

He nodded.  "Oh.  What a shame..."

Xavier clenched his fists, but said nothing.  Silence fell over them again.  This time, he preferred it.  The more his father spoke, the more he resent he started feel towards him.  And it he wanted a relationship with his father, he wasn't about to let the man give him anymore reason to dislike him at the second.  Not if he could help it.

He supposed that he should mention that Morticia and Wednesday was currently staying with them, but he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to bring that up.  Not to mention that he wasn't sure what reaction his father would have.  Last time he had a visitor over (which happened to be Bianca), he sent her home because his father assumed they would be up to no good, and was determined that Bianca had ill intentions with her siren song.  Something Xavier regretted letting his father convince him of.

But it was never on her agenda to spell him, and both their intentions had been pure and friendly.  Nothing more.  Him and Bianca had wanted to spend their summer in peace, and since his father was away, he let Bianca stay with him to let her avoid her mother.  The freedom was very short lived.

"You still dating that siren?" He asked suddenly, almost as if he had been reading Xavier's mind.

"No."

"So you finally took my advice?"

"No."

His father didn't exactly seemed pleased with his answer, which he expected.

Xavier supposed that it was a lie.  After all, he did treat her unfairly the whole time because he was scared that his father had been right.  That she was casting her spell on him, but he was starting to see better now.  Although he regretted how he treated Bianca, they had both decided they were better off as friends after everything that had happened.  His father had wanted him to cut her off completely, but he wasn't.  So he supposed he was only lying half way.

From then on, they remained in a surface level conversation with multiple breaks of silence.  Xavier was eventually saved by the maid that interrupted.  "Lunch is ready to be served," she offered.

The conversation was then moved to the dinner table.  But when they came to the dining room, Morticia was already seated at the table.  And Wednesday was as well with a book in her hand.  Xavier noticed it was book on the supernatural.  She was probably doing research on how to fix his evil pilgrim speaking in his head situation.

His father paused upon seeing them.  Morticia passed him an innocent smile.  "Oh, good afternoon, Thorpe."

Mr. Thorpe looked at Xavier a moment, his expression conveying exactly what he wanted to say.  A question of why they were there and why he wasn't informed or even asked permission for their stay.  Xavier didn't answer and silently sat by Wednesday.

"Any luck?" He whispered.

She pressed her lips tightly together.  "No.  You?"

Xavier's father sat down at the head of the table, his expression turned sour.  That seemed to be enough to answer Wednesday's question because she snapped her book shut and set it on the table at a safe distance.

"So," Mr. Thorpe began, "I believe I wasn't expecting company."

"Well-" Morticia wasn't able to say anything before Xavier cut in.

"It's a project.  Wednesday and I are working on it.  It's just easier to work with her in person."

"Couldn't communicate with her online?"

"Yes, my Wednesday isn't much of a tech person," Morticia explained.

Xavier was grateful she had his back.  He supposed that they should have come up with an excuse before hand, but he had been to focused on all the events.  So he supposed that he didn't exactly have a lot of time to prepare for his father's arrival.

"What is this project?"

"Research," Wednesday retorted.

"On?"

Xavier shrugged.  "The supernatural?  It's Nevermore."

His father decided to say nothing of it.  Which meant he would probably demand that Xavier send him home later when they wouldn't be around to hear.  But he doubted he'd be able to convince either of them to leave.  Not that he believed he would be even attempt to.  It wasn't a hang out session.  It was a matter of life and death that wasn't just his own.

Wednesday's life was endangered too, and there was no way he wanted her to deal with that by herself.  Sure, she had her parents, Thing, her brother and friends.  But he just had the uneasy feeling when he wasn't close enough to help her.  Even if she could handle herself far better than he could himself.

Chapter Text

It was all pure relief when Vincent Thorpe announcement that he would be needed to go to his office to work.  And Xavier had expected that meant he would be free and could haul himself in his room or art studio and discuss with Wednesday what their next step should be.  But no sooner had both him and Wednesday began to go upstairs, he was stopped by Cruise.

"Thorpe."

Xavier sighed and turned to him.  "What?"

"Your father has requested to speak with you in his office," Cruise said, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

Groaning, Xavier begrudgingly began to head towards the office.  He stopped when Wednesday grabbed his arm.  "If you wish me to handle this situation, I am not opposed to revealing my renown skills to your father."

A smirk spread across his face.  "I'm begining to think you will regardless of my wishes.  But I can handle this."

She seemed to take his words in agreement.  "Pity.  I was feeling bored.  I suppose it must wait."

He laughed in response.

Wednesday gave him a deadpanned look.  "You laugh as if you believe I am joking."

"Oh, I know you're not," Xavier replied with a smug look.  "I just find it funny how you refuse to admit you care about me, yet insist to murder anyone who so much as look at me the wrong way."

She frowned, releasing his arm.  "You may convince yourself whatever you wish to believe," she bit off.

Her words only proved his point further, but he said nothing more.  After noticing the annoyed expression on Cruise, he finally followed him to his father's office.  That meant he left Wednesday alone once again, but he wasn't really worried at the moment.  It was still daylight and he figured the attacks would die down due to his father's arrival.

When he came to his father's office, he entered the room.  His father was staring out the broken window, a dark look forming on his face.  The man turned to look at him as Xavier shut the door behind him, leaving them both alone in the office.

"Xavier, do you know what happened to my windows?  There are no staff reports on them, or any details."

The shattered windows had completely left Xavier's mind.  They had cleaned up all the evidence of Laurel and Tyler's break in and covered the broken windows with plastic to keep annoying bugs out of the house.  He didn't even think to come up with any excuses or explanations.

"Baseball." The word fell out of his mouth before he could even think it through.

"Baseball?" His father looked unconvinced.  "You don't play baseball."

Xavier shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and tried to keep a blank face.  "Yeah.  New thing..."

"So.  Let me get this straight.  Within the time of you coming back from Nevermore, you started baseball.  And broke two windows on opposite sides of the house?"

"Yeah... Hasn't been going well..."

"Interesting." Mr. Thorpe still didn't appear completely convinced, but didn't press it any further.  "Also, the security cameras had disconnected a few times this past week."

That was news.  Honestly, Xavier suddenly felt stupid for never even checking the security footage.  But now he knew that it had been tampered with, it probably wouldn't do them any good. Although, it was off putting that his enemy knew how to hack his security system, it was definitely vital information.

"That's not great," Xavier said at last, crossing his arms.

"You don't seem alarmed."

He raised a brow.  "Should I be?"

Mr. Thorpe shrugged before looking at his papers. "I already have a technician on the situation."

"Is this all you wanted from me?"

His father set his papers down.  "Considered my meeting was cancelled, the reason I've returned home is because we have relocated the meeting.  I will be hosting it within a few days.  It would be very much appreciated if the Addams returned to their home by then."

Xavier looked out the window, biting down on his tongue.  He was expecting this.  But he couldn't rack his brain for any excuses to argue with his father.  Or come up with anything to convince him to let them stick around.  Although he was certain he could manage things for a few days without them, he had the odd feeling that splitting up was a bad idea.

"Perhaps I'll just go over to the Addams house then.  So I won't disturb you." His tone came out far more bitter than he intended, but it did seem to grab his father's attention.

"Excuse me?"

Xavier supposed that he just opened his own window.  Now he had to decide to shut it or jump out of it.  He chose the latter.  "I don't want to be around for your meeting either.  I usually end up in a corner and looked upon as if I'm nothing more than an exotic vase you bring home on one of your travels."

His father frowned.  "I did not teach you to speak with me this way."

Rolling his eyes, Xavier wanted to point out that his father hadn't really been around to teach him not to either.  But he decided not the dig that grave for himself.  Instead, crossed his arms tighter against his chest and squared his shoulders.  He even lifted his chin a little, proving he wasn't going to back down from his statement.

Once Vincent Thorpe finally understood that, the man leaned back in chair.  He was silent before spoke again.  "I don't want you near the Addams' manor."

"Why not?" Xavier was curious what his father would come up with to try and turn him against Wednesday and her family like he had tried with Bianca.  But he wasn't foolish enough to let him get in his head yet a second time.

"The Addams history isn't very becoming.  I wish that you would have requested their visitation like you're supposed to."

"You always take forever to give permission.  Last time I asked you took two months.  I didn't have two months," Xavier pointed out.

"Background checks take their time," Thorpe insisted.

"How extensive of a background check are you doing?" Xavier creased his brows together.  "And why?"

"Security," was all his father answered with.  "When you're done with your project, I don't want you to speak with the Addams.  If you have any contact with them through your phone, I want you to block and delete them, assuming you didn't follow that rule either.  Need I remind you that you may only give your number to people I approve of?"

It took everything in Xavier to keep his tone level.  His growing wish to give in to Wednesday's offer was only growing by the second.  "I think I'm quite capable at deciding who I can be friends with," he retorted in a low voice.

Vincent Thorpe leaned forward.  "You can think, but you don't get to decide that."

Anger boiled in Xavier's stomach as he cast his father a glare.  "And back when you were my age, you definitely weren't allowed to talk to Morticia or Gomez," he bit off sarcastically.

His father stood up abruptly, making Xavier flinch.  "My father didn't care!" He growled.

"And you do?"

He stepped closer.  "How dare you-"

"If you care so much, why do you have to convince me?" Xavier snapped.

His father stood directly in front of him, towering over him.  Xavier had forgotten how much taller his father was than him.  He swallowed but didn't back up.

"You'll understand when you're older."

"I'm not five.  I don't see why I wouldn't understand now," he said bitterly.

"Xavier, I want them out.  If you don't ask, I will.  We're not discussing this any further."

Xavier always felt like he knew when a fight was lost or there was no point in trying any further.  He knew that continuing the argument would obtain nothing.  But how was he supposed to just let Wednesday leave with the crazy stalker, Tyler on the loose, and Laurel?  But then again maybe she would be safer at her own home with her family.

He didn't say anything.  Turning on his heels, he walked out the door to his father's office.  Anything his father was saying to him as he left was ignored.

Chapter Text

When Xavier came storming into his art studio, Wednesday looked up abruptly from the painting of the pilgrim (whom they wanted to avoid talking about, but unfortunately couldn't ignore him).  She silently stood there while she patiently waited for him to finish muttering under his breath.  She noticed a lot of choice words thrown in.

Wednesday liked to think of herself patient when it was needed, but she eventually cleared her throat.  That caught his attention.  He looked up at her, silence befalling the room once again.

"Taking the tizzy you're in, I'm assuming your forced meeting with your father did not have a positive turn out."

Xavier gave a frustrated groan as he gripped the roots of his hair.  "He wants you and your mother gone ASAP.  And he's hosting a business meeting that I'm going to be stuck attending."

"Is that it?" She crossed her arms.  Leaving was definitely going to be a pain in the neck, but she figured she could find a loophole.  She could easily live in the family car without complaint and plan a stakeout.

"And he wants me to cut off all contact with you and your entire family," he finished.

Honestly, she should have seen all of this coming.  In a way, she supposed she did.  It was just unfortunate that she didn't have enough time to plan her counter to Vincent Thorpe's ploy.  But she had no doubt that she wouldn't be able to figure it out.

She looked back up at him, arms still crossed.  "I'm not leaving without the case of Crackstone cracked."

"Tell that to my father," he muttered.

"You told him?" She was surprised by this.

"No," he said.

"I see." Wednesday stood there, her face emotionless.  Suddenly, she turned on her heels.

"Where are you going?" Xavier inquired.  "Your mother is already packing your things... You don't need to leave yet..."

She caught the desperate look in his eyes.  Why did it feel like someone was stabbing her heart with needles?  She hated the feeling, so she turned away.  "Giving your father a pep talk," she said wryly.

Xavier gave a few protests, but she ignored him.  She walked briskly through the halls until reaching the familiar office door.  Without even knocking, she swung the door open.  "We need to talk," she demanded.

Mr. Thorpe looked up at her.  He shoved his papers in his folder before he leaned back in his chair. "Miss Addams." He did not sound happy by her appearance.  "I apologize you're visit must be cut short."

"You know it's not that," she stated.

He let out a loud sigh.  "Miss Addams, you must understand.  Ever since you started going to Nevermore, it's caused nothing but havoc, and somehow my son is in the middle of all of it."

"So you have looked at the reports," she deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Vincent passed her a dark look, but she wasn't fazed by it.  "I suppose it's nice to know that the Addams' family continues the same legacy."

"You're referring to the Garrett Gates incident." She cast him a dark look.

The man pressed his hands together as he leaned his elbows against his desk.  "Listen, the Thorpe's have trouble following them.  Addams cause trouble.  Our families don't mesh well.  Never have and never will.  I've always had a deep respect for your family's unique... expression." He gestured to her dark clothes.  "However-"

"In short, you find me a danger to Xavier." She had to fight back a snort. He really had no idea what trouble his son was up against.  What trouble he was about to cause with her.  "Perhaps my family may cause trouble in your eyes, but we certainly finish it."

"Perhaps, miss Addams." He stood up and calmly walked around his desk, looking down at her.  The man looked out the window for a moment before continuing.  "You've seen to have made a deep impression on my son."

Wednesday didn't reply.  She suppose she had.  From the start, Xavier had been very open about how he felt about her.  He was open about his admiration for her.  His anger towards her when she made the mistake of blaming him for being the Hyde.  His uncertainty of her when he first forgave her.  And, eventually, his discomfort of going separate ways.  But perhaps Xavier had left an impression on her as well.

Vincent didn't wait for her to reply to him, before he looked her dead in the eyes.  "Xavier is a lot like his mother.  He finds beauty in anything and everything in the world around him.  Many often take advantage of his kind heart."

This time she did snort.  "Your son is far from gullible." Although she wouldn't say it allowed, but he was the one who was wary of Tyler from the start while she fell into the trap and kissed him.

The man gave her a solemn look.  "That may be, but I'm his father.  I'd rather be safe than sorry.  For Xavier's sake, I wouldn't go near him."

Thorpe was only aggravating her more by the second.  If Eugene had his bees nearby, she would have released them on the man in front of her.  Unfortunately, she would have to wait for her revenge.  Perhaps by sending it by package.

She crossed her arms.  "I will not tell your son what he can or can not do."

He laughed before his expression grew dark.  "I find that funny, Addams.  After all, I know everything that happened at Nevermore.  But you don't know the half of it, girl.  You know, it would really be a shame if anyone in your family got hurt, Addams."

Her eyes flickered.  "Are you threatening me?"

Vincent shook his head.  "I'm warning.  Leave.  I already have one of my servants ready to escort you and your mother home."

Before she could even react, one of the servants walked in the office.  He offered his arm, but she refused.  Instead she looked at Mr. Thorpe.  "I would tread carefully, Thorpe."

"I try," he said.

She turned on her heels and stormed out of the room.

Chapter Text

Thorpe.

The whisper in his ears were getting easier to ignore.  Xavier wasn't sure if it was because he was starting to get used to ghost of an evil pilgrim in his head, or he was simply too focused on too many other pressing matters at once. After all, the sinking feeling in stomach since Wednesday and her mother drove off was making him nauseous.  Or maybe it was the anxiety building pressure in his ears.

In his darkest times, paint was the only thing he had.  So he stared at a blank easel with a dry brush in his hand.  There were too many thoughts to focus on painting inspiration.

The sound of his phone buzzing made him put the brush down.  He picked up his cell, looking at the text.  It was Wednesday.  Of course he wasn't going to block or delete her.  His father was delusional if he thought otherwise.  Same with all his other 'unaproved' friends.

Wednesday: When your father's servant isn't chaperoning us home, I'll come back and pick you up.

Xavier let out a tired sigh.  As nice as that sounded, he didn't want the Addams to get charged with child abducted.  His father would definitely press charges.

Xavier: Don't bother.  He'll probably be gone within a week and then we'll meet up.

He set his phone down only for it to buzz again.  Picking it back up, he clicked on her text again.

Wednesday: He's hiding something.

To Xavier's knowledge, he supposed that Wednesday was on to something.  His whole life, he didn't consider that his father was hiding anything because he never knew his father well.  Was that on purpose?  He shook his head.  The last thing he wanted fall into yet another spiral.

Before he had a chance to reply, the door to his art studio swung open.  Xavier looked at the new arrival, immediately shutting his phone off completely.  He didn't want his father to notice Wednesday's texts.

Mr. Thorpe stood beside him.  He held out his hand.  Xavier raised a brow.  "What?"

"Your phone."

"Why?" Arguing wasn't going to go anywhere, but he wasn't going to just let his father have it.

"To make sure you did what you were told."

Xavier begrudgingly set the phone in the man's hand.  "Surprised you didn't send one of your lackey's in your stead," he muttered under his breath.

"Watch your tone," the man hissed.  He turned on the device but they had to wait for it to load.  When it reached the lock screen, he looked at Xavier.  "Your password."

The teen was silent for a moment.  Suddenly, a text popped onto the screen.  Xavier saw the profile, but he didn't get a chance to read it. Unfortunately, his father did.  Without warning, Mr. Thorpe suddenly threw the phone across the room.  It shattered against the wall.

Xavier's jaw dropped, completely speechless.  Did he expect a scolding? Oh yeah.  For his father to take the phone? Yes.  He was hoping to steal it back from his father's office that night, but if appeared that he wasn't even going to get the chance.

"What the heck!" He finally snapped, standing up.  Now the stool he had been sitting on stood between them.

"Your friend is persistent," he retorted.  "I should have had that school keep a better eye on you."

What the heck was going on?  Xavier had to be missing something.  Although his father was always actively absent or overbearing, he was never violent.  At least, Xavier had never seen him throw things out of anger.  Yell?  Absolutely.  But not this.

"Why do you care so much?" Xavier clenched his fists.

"I'm you're father.  I always have," he insisted.

"No, that's not what I..." The teen frustratingly ran his fingers through his hair. He was completely at a loss for words, not sure what he was supposed to say or do.

"Your safety always comes first," his father patted his shoulder before leaving the room.

Xavier was left standing there, completely uncertain what he was supposed to do.  He no longer had a phone or a way to contact Wednesday.  Then he remembered that he still had a laptop.  Although he didn't have Wednesday's email, he did have Ajax.  And Ajax would have Enid's number.  And Enid would have Wednesday's number.  She could help Wednesday set up an email account if she didn't have one yet and he could communicate that way.  Yes, that should work.

A movement in the corner of the room made Xavier jerk his head in the direction.  He paused upon seeing a familiar figure.  A hand with no body was peaking out from behind a canvas.

"Oh, crap," Xavier hissed.  The shattered phone barely missed landing on Thing.  He rushed over, offering his hand.  The hand crawled up on his shoulder.  To say it felt very weird was an understatement, but Xavier didn't mention it.

"Did they forget you?" He asked.

Thing tapped in code on his shoulder.  Unfortunately, Xavier wasn't fluent in Thing like the Addams and Enid.  He could only guess the hand noticed his confusion.  Thing pointed out the door.  The teen followed the direction through different halls until they reached the room Wednesday had been using.

Eventually, he noticed what Thing was trying to show jim.  A note had been left on the bedside table.  Picking it up, it was very short and obviously written in a hurry.

Thing will watch over you until I can get back. -Wednesday

Xavier smiled slightly.  He looked at the hand.  "Why thank you.  Glad to have the company."

Thing tapped something on his shoulder that Xavier could only guess the meaning to.  He supposed that he needed to start figuring out the code pretty quickly.  But before that, he was suddenly begining to realize the advantage of having a detached hand friend.  And if Thing agreed, they could easily break into his father's office and check for anymore clues again.

"I just had a crazy idea," Xavier began.  Thing leaned closer and the teen smirked.

Chapter Text

Getting kicked out of the Thorpe manor was definitely classified as a set back.  The escort felt far less like a polite gesture and more like an installment to force her and her mother to return to their home.  Or even a threat in it's own way.

Either way, Wednesday felt somewhat better knowing she had managed to leave Thing with Xavier without the hand being discovered.  And knowing Thing, he would manage to remain hidden from view until necessary.  She glanced over at Morticia.  It had been her Mother's idea to leave Thing with Xavier.  Het mother also gave an inspirational speech to her, which she couldn't remember the words to.

The next part of her plan was to bring in back up.  As much as she hated dragging her friends into a dangerous situation, she had to admit that she could use Enid's advice.  After all, the girl had a way of creeping her way into other people's hearts.  Even the most stoic and callus (unless it was Enid's mother of course). If anyone could make an overbearing father loosen up a little, it would be her, right?

The last thing she would want to admit was that she was just as loss as ever in what her next step.  Not only was Tyler on the loose, but so was Lauren, who was hunting down Xavier.  Xavier had a voice in his head from a dead man she had hoped she'd never hear the name of again.  And now she was currently unable to aid him.

Of course he could have been busy, but she didn't like that he hadn't answered her text.  It was marked as read, but she had sent him a second text.  That was left unread with a note that her his phone was offline and her messages would go through.  He hadn't blocked her and she had cell service.  So what could be blocking her texts?

The silence was unnerving, letting her mind race.  Wednesday was only feeling more and more restless as time went on.  Honestly, it felt like they should have already been home.  But her mother had given the driver instructions, and it looked like the same route they had originally taken to get to the Thorpe house.

She pulled out her phone and prepared a text for Enid.  Of course there was too much detail for everything and only mentioned being kicked out of the house, Xavier's distress and not getting any answers for her texts.  Enid didn't take long to respond.

Enid: Maybe his dad just turned off his phone.  Ajax says he does it all the time. Or just got him an entirely new number.  That happens a lot too.

Well, that was reassuring, she snorted.  Why did Thorpe need to change his son's number so often as if it were a pair of shoes?  Was this normal?  She shook her head when Enid sent her a second text.

Enid: Are you close to home?

She sent a reply.

Wednesday: Yes. In the woods. Why?

It was silent for a moment before the dots appeared on the screen. After awhile, Enid's text came.

Enid:  You know how Tyler is free and about?  There's actually been reports of a Hyde in your part of the woods since last night.  Ajax, Bianca and I are worried that it might be you know who.  But we haven't been able to prove it.

Wednesday stared at her screen for a moment.  Why was she only learning about all of this now?

Wednesday: And you didn't think to bring this up to me?

Enid: You have the whole Xavier drama!  Plus we didn't want to bring it up until we were certain it was Tyler.

Wednesday: So you, Ajax and Bianca are roaming around the woods alone with a monster and an unhinged woman posibly nearby?

Enid: Maybe...

Wednesday: Impressive.

Annoying or not, she supposed she appreciated the gesture.  They were doing something she totally would have. But even if she was impressed she was far more frustrated than anything else as she let out a loud sigh, turning off her phone.  For the first time in her life, Wednesday had started to feel overwhelmed the past few weeks and things had only been piling up.  Her detective nightmarish books had become her reality.  But perhaps she never wanted it to transition from nightmares into night terrors.

She paused.  Something didn't feel right.  An odd chill coursed through her body.  The hairs on the back of her neck began to rise.  Before she was even given the chance to react, something slammed into the side of the car.  The limo was hit with such force that the chaperone skidded off the road, rolling in a ditch.  The car flipped upside down and Wednesday felt her head slam back against the seat.

Her world flashed and stars spread across her vision.  For just a moment, she could see Xavier walking towards her.  But they were in a large, dark room filled with candles.  Yet, the look in his eyes were dull and the smirk on his face was cold.  Almost as if he was playing an evil villain for a movie and forgot his role wasn't real.  Then he started walking towards her and all she wanted to do was run, because she knew that wasn't Xavier.

Slowly, she blinked, her vision returning her.  They were upside down, only being held up by their seatbelts.  It did not help that her mother was unconscious, so her body swung slightly and her hair blew from the wind rushing through from the broken window.

Wednesday found the button to her seatbelt and clicked it. She flipped out of her seat, landing on the car ceiling. Her body ached from the impact as ash got on her hands and knees. She looked out the window and she felt her whole body grow stiff. A familiar creature was peering in the window with wild eyes.

"Tyler..."

Chapter Text

As Xavier had suspected, getting into his father's office with the help of Thing was a cinch.  It was also nice that his new companion could keep watch while he snooped around in his father's papers... Again.  Except, he had already come across a lot of new papers since his father had returned.

The search had been useless thus far.  There were new papers, but there wasn't anything with a lead or any interesting information.  There were bills, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary.  There were papers on how much money other people and companies owed his father, but that also had nothing that appeared to be suspicious.

Xavier reached in one of the drawers, pausing when he came in contact with something metal.  His fingers grazed across it before he pulled it out.  Upon inspection, he immediately found it to be a mini vault.  A vault that had not been there when he last checked his father's office.

Smirking, he studied the numbers.  He tried a few combos, but none of them worked.  Sighing in frustration, he tried to figure out what combo his father would use.  It was an eight digit code.  Perfect for a date.  But which one.

Taking a wild guess, he turned the knob and put in the date of his mother's birthday.  Nothing. His father's birth.  Nothing.  His birthday.  Nothing.  Tapping his fingers, he felt the frustration growing.  What if...  Hope sparked as he began to put his next guess in.  The date of his mother's death.  There was a click, indicating that he had found the code.

He carefully opened the lid, finding a carefully folded paper.  Xavier unfolded the paper, surprised to find a checking paper.  It had a large sum of money written down on it, but it didn't say where it was going to or if it was money owed to them.

Thing suddenly began to move frantically, alerting Xavier.  The teen cursed as he shoved the vault back into the drawer.  He didn't realize that he forgot to put the paper back until after he was already moving away from the desk.  He quickly shoved it in his back pocket to return later.

Xavier reached for the doorknob, but the door suddenly swung open on its own.  He froze as he stared eye to eye with his father.

Crap.

Mr. Thorpe said nothing, merely walking in the office and shutting the door behind him.  He pointed at the chair that was sitting in front of the desk.  "Sit down."

Deciding that it would be best not to refuse and cause more trouble, Xavier obeyed.  He sat down and clasped his hands together as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.  His hair fell over his face and eyes, but he didn't bother to push it back to avoid looking at his father.

His father stood in front of him and leaned back against the desk.  "What has gotten into you?"

Xavier could hear the thin and tiredness in the man's tone.  He rubbed his face with both his hands, trying to come up with an explanation.  However, he could think of nothing to excuse himself from breaking into his father's office that wouldn't cause a fight.  Eventually he settled with a retort.  "You wouldn't want to know."

Vincent Thorpe pinched the bridge of his nose as he drew in a sharp breath.  "First you quit giving me the updates through your wards, you've overall quit obeying the specific rules I've laid out for you, you have a terrible attitude, you're bringing girls home, and now you're sneaking around!  We haven't had any issues like this before-"

"You haven't been here!" Xavier snapped.  "How would you know?"

"You're acting out for attention?" His father crossed his arms.

"No, no that's not..." Xavier groaned.  "That is not what I meant."

"Then, pray, do tell what you do," Thorpe ordered in a dangerous tone.

Xavier stood up.  "Don't you get it?  I almost died!" He snapped.  "I could have ended up in prison!  What do I get from you?  Nothing! You didn't even call!  You don't know anything! You didn't even try to understand what happened that night or what happened to me!  You don't even care what I've been going through!  Then when you do show up, you shove me aside as if nothing happened! And fine! You want to know why the Addams were here? Because you weren't!"

There was silence for a moment as Xavier breathed heavily.  His father looked at him.  "Is that what you think?  That I don't care?" His voice had grown quiet and there was even a hint of sadness.

Xavier looked away.  "How could I believe anything else when you've given me no reason to believe that you ever cared to begin with," he muttered.

Thorpe grabbed him firmly by his shoulders.  "Xavier.  You are the only thing I care about in this world," he said firmly.

"Then why aren't you ever here?" Xavier seethed as he looked up at him.  He wanted nothing more than to pull away.  He wasn't going to fall for his father's words.  If his father truly cared, he wanted to see it.  To feel it.  Not pretend.

He let out a sigh.  "Son.  There are things bigger than you going on.  You don't understand-"

"Because you won't tell me!" The teen accused.

"The less you know the better!" The man snapped, his grip tightening.

Xavier bit back a gasp as his father's fingers painfully dug into his upper arm. "What is going on? What are you not telling me?"

His father released him and rubbed his temples. "Xavier, why are you in my office? What were you looking for?"

The teen pressed his lips together. What was he going to say? What was he supposed to say? It was clearly obvious what he was looking for and it was clearly obvious his father was hiding something. And his father knew that he knew. So what was there for him to say?

"What do you know?" His father repeated.

Xavier felt chills roll down his spine from his father's cold tone. "That you're hiding something... And that something has to do with me, doesn't it?" After a moment of silence, Xavier felt the anger rise in his chest. "What are you hiding from me?"

"I already told you!" His father shouted, making Xavier flinch. "It's not something you can know! How many times do I need to repeat myself?"

His father stepped forward and he slowly backed up. "How is I not knowing safer?" He argued, his back hitting the wall. "Why can't I just know?"

"Because I said so!" His father screamed. He balled his fist and Xavier covered his face with his arms and awaited the impact. But it never came. Instead, his father slammed his fist into the wall next to him. Slowly he lowered his arms as his father panted heavily.

Vincent Thorpe gave a loud exhale. "Darn it, son..."

Xavier had never seen him look so tired or frustrated. The man suddenly grabbed him by his wrist and started pulling him out of the room. The teen stumbled after him, not able to pull himself from his father's tight grip. He almost had to run in order to keep up with his father's fast pace.

Questions lined his brain, but he refrained from verbalizing them. Although he desperately wanted to know where his father was taking him and what was happening, he dared not make matters worse by opening his mouth. Even if he was too late for that.

They reached a turn in the hall and Xavier realized that they were heading towards his room. Why was his father dragging him to his room? His heart pounded in his chest, not certain what was to become of him. His father had never physically harmed him, but he didn't know his father to trust that it would never happen. There was always a first.

Mr. Thorpe swung the bedroom door open. He paused and looked down at Xavier. "Son. Know that everything that I do is for your own safety." Without another word, he shoved the teen in the room.

Xavier heard the door slam shut as he wobbled to keep himself from faceplanting onto the floor. Then he heard the clicking of the door being locked. His eyes widened as panic engulfed his chest.

"No, wait!" He grabbed the doorknob and tried to open it. It didn't budge. He heard his father's footsteps echo in the hall and grow distant.

Frustrated, he slammed his fist on the door as he whispered curses. For a moment, he could feel the shackles weighing on his wrists and ankles. The collar on his neck. He reached up to touch it, but all he felt was skin. But it still felt like it was there, suffocating him.

He sank to the floor and grabbed his hair. He pulled his knees up to his chest as he leaned his head against the door. Surely he would be let out by morning, right? Yes. He wouldn't be locked up like a criminal or a monster. It was just for the night. It had to be.

Chapter Text

Wednesday didn't move. Her eye remained trained on the hyde's, and his on hers. Their eye contact didn't falter, nor did either of them move. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Even as a thrill seeker, this wasn't exactly the thrill she enjoyed. A lot of the wrong kind of thrills were happening lately.

The pause lasted longer than it should have. He should have been clawing at her face, but he didn't. She should have been trying to get away, but she figured moving would trigger him. As if he was waiting for her to flinch so he could gut her.

The sound of shoes tapping brought her out of her trance. The hyde skittered away and muddy brown shoes and gray pants came into her line of sight. The person dropped to their knees, revealing Laurel's face. She smiled coldly.

"Hello, Wednesday."

"Laurel," she returned in a cool, monotone voice, void of all emotion. She refused to show the sensation tingling in the pit of her stomach was making her nauseous. Or maybe that was the concussion talking.

"You're in a bit of a pickle. Perhaps I can give you a ride? A little favor amongst friends?"

Wednesday thought about offering a retort, refusing to go anywhere with her. Yet the quick glance Laurel gave her mother was enough to make Wednesday reconsider. Her mother's life was currently in the balance, and Laurel fully intended to use it against her.

Not having any other choice, she slowly began to crawl out through the car window. She dusted the broken glass off her black skirt, focusing her vision on her shoes. Her brain was working quickly, considering all her possibilities.

Laurel leaned down and attempted to drag Morticia out of the flipped limo. Wednesday could only stand to the side, not being allowed to help. She glanced at the hyde as it jerked its body around almost as if it was having a seizure. Frankly, for all she knew, he could be and it would be all the better for her.

Morticia's body laid on the cement, surrounded by broken glass. Wednesday stared at her mother's pale (even more so than usual) face. Her stomach twisted in more knots than she could ever remember. She was going to vomit, wasn't she? She swallowed, forcing her eyes to look at anything other than her unconscious mother.

"Oh, yes. The driver," Laurel muttered. She snapped her fingers.

The hyde launched himself at the driver seat, tearing the body to shreds. Wednesday didn't have time to react before it was already too late. The jerking and shivering made sense. He was itching to have the commands to tear into flesh. The blood and chunks of flesh hitting the cement didn't bother her, but it was a cruel death. One undeserved as far as she was concerned.

Frankly, she had seen worse, but she was surprised by how blood so quickly flooded the car and the street. It dripped, creating a pool of blood. The hyde was sitting in it, uncaring. It ran down his face and arms, covering his skin.

Wednesday never thought of herself as lustful for blood. She was set on revenge and justice. She never wanted to kill two people more than she did now. And she fully intended to do so. It was only a matter of time.

"Oh, children are certainly messy, aren't they, Wednesday?" Laurel spoke nonchalantly as she watched with mild disgust mixed with pure amusement.

She didn't reply. She stared at her mother's limp body, calculating different plans of escape. None would work with her mother currently unconscious, but perhaps it was a blessing in disguise if her mother didn't wake up. If Laurel and the hyde intended to kill her, perhaps it would be far less painful. Not that she would let that happen. The only way they could so much as harm another hair on her head would have to be over Wednesday's dead body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler was driving. It had taken him some time to transform back from his hyde to his human form. Laurel had tossed him a wrinkled shirt and sweat pants, but his hair was matted and dried blood stained his face and skin. She hadn't even let him clean himself up.

Wednesday wanted to kill him. There would have been nothing more than she would have enjoyed than pushing a knife through his thick throat and twisting it. Well, perhaps the only thing that would make her happier would be to repeatedly stab Laurel in every vital organ of her body, even after she had quit breathing. Alas, her pleasure would have to wait.

With her mother tied up and locked in the back trunk and Laurel sitting beside her nonchalantly spinning a knife in her fingers, escape wasn't in the near future. Of course it would be easier if her hands weren't tied behind her back. Oh, who was she fooling? She had freed her wrists from the trap ten minutes ago with barely any movement, patiently waiting for the right time to move.

If she could somehow manage to catch Laurel off guard and grab her knife, she would stab Tyler first. Not because she hated him more, but merely because he was driving and had the ability to turn into a murderous monster. Although Laurel was naturally just that, at least she was far more manageable to deal with over a hyde.

After Tyler was bleeding out and the car either crashed or eventually came to a stop, she would fight off Laurel. Then she would leave their lifeless bodies on the road to get run over. Hopefully the car would be salvageable and she would drive her mother to the hospital. Otherwise she would have to find a way to wake her up and they would make the journey on foot. Unless Laurel has a working phone they could take, because hers and her mother's phone had either been destroyed or left at the wreck. Or both.

"So, what's your plan B?" Wednesday inquired, breaking the long silence.

"Plan B?" Tyler repeated, his eyes remaining focused on the road.

"Considering your plan of bringing a long dead pilgrim back to life went so well last time, I was wondering what it was you planned on doing next."

The woman beside her scoffed as Tyler opened his mouth to answer. "Don't answer that question, son. I'm not stupid, Wednesday. Besides, why would an author tell you the ending of the story before the book is done? It's bad marketing."

Wednesday fought the urge to roll her eyes. She glared at the woman. She didn't expect information to come easily, but the woman had to be so smug about it. As if there weren't already enough qualities to hate in her.

Chapter Text

Xavier felt like panic was a fair option, but he did his best to swallow it down. Considering Thing was also locked inside the room with him, the hand couldn't open the door from the other side. He scrambled in the desk drawer, finding his laptop. Giving a quick rundown of his current situation and requesting Wednesday's email, he sent the email to Ajax. Only a few minutes later, the Wi-Fi suddenly shut down.

Xavier almost flipped his desk, knowing his father just cut off his last source of communication. He was surprised his father hadn't done it sooner, unless he knew he sent an email. Which would mean his friend could possibly not even receive it if his house had a blockage.

He shoved his notebooks and cup of pens off his desk. Taking in a frustrated breath, he rubbed his face with his hands. Thing patted his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. It helped a little, knowing he wasn't completely alone. It wasn't helping his predicament however. He needed to get back to Wednesday.

Perhaps he should have told his father what was happening. It probably wouldn't have helped. Frankly, his father would have locked him up in his room if he knew. Can't fulfill a prophecy of being dead on a floor of gray tile if you can't leave a room of wooden floors and carpet, right? At least that much was true. He was safe from his fate for now he supposed. Although it did make it hard for him to figure out what was happening to stop the visions and dreams from happening.

Thorpe.

A cold chill ran down Xavier's spine. He had almost forgotten in all the chaos he had an intolerant, centuries old, murderous pilgrim's voice haunting him. Perfect.

I see you.

Xavier's entire body froze, his breath hitching in his chest. He had gotten used to the voice chanting his name and saying nothing more. It has become easier to ignore.

Can you see me?

Slowly, he turned his head. In the center of the room stood the lifeless body of Joseph Crackstone. He looked the same as the night Xavier killed him (or re-unalived him). He didn't look happy, which fit. Xavier certainly wasn't happy about the whole situation either.

That's better. Done ignoring me?

In response, Xavier turned his head away, staring at the wall in front of him. His shoulders slumped as he tried to think of anything else. Crackstone was the last thing he needed. Would an exorcise get him out of his head? Or would that also release him back into the world? And if he killed him again, would that mean the pilgrim would go back to haunting him? Was it a never ending cycle?

Either way, he refused to humor him by speaking to him. Perhaps he wouldn't even acknowledge him. If it made Crackstone angry, then at least it made Xavier's day better.

You monsters are so pathetic!

Crackstone hissed in disgust. Xavier decided to ignore the insult and take his win. He succeeded in making the voice mad. He made sure to keep his face neutral, not allowing any reactions to show. Besides, he had bigger problems to focus on. Like getting out.

Thing tapped on his shoulder. He turned to the hand. If only Thing had been locked out of the room instead of inside. It would have made everything a lot less complicated.

A pair of old, muddied boots appeared in Xavier's line of sight. Slowly he looked up at the pilgrim. He could move? Xavier had hoped he would be stuck in one place. It would be far easier to ignore him.

"What?" He grumbled under his breath. "I'm not in the mood to talk to you."

Believe me, the last thing I want is my soul to be attached to the likes of you vermin. Which is why you need to find Gates. She has the ability to separate my souls.

Xavier snorted. "I don't know about you, but I kinda can't go looking for anyone at the moment. That is to say if I even wanted to. I'm not gonna go searching for her, even if it means my life depends on it. So just go away."

He rubbed his eyes and face with the palms of his hands. His vision grew blurry. He blinked them back into focus. To his relief, Crackstone was gone. He could feel the pilgrim still lurking in the back of his head, but at least he didn't have to look at his face anymore.

The feeling of Thing tapping on his shoulder again, redirected his attention. "Oh, sorry Thing. I fazed out there."

He wished he could understand the hand. It was making a lot of exaggerated movements. Almost frantic, but not. Xavier tilted his head in confusion.

The sound of a lock clicking, made him freeze. Thing must have heard them coming and had been trying to warn him. Could Thing even hear? He didn't have ears as far as he could tell.

Xavier pushed himself from the door. Maybe he could jump the servant and make a getaway? He didn't want to hurt them, but it wasn't like he had many options. Things were starting to feel a lot more desperate. He needed to get out of his room. It was suffocating him.

He was standing on his feet and Thing hid behind the door before it opened. To his surprise, it wasn't a servant bringing him food. Anger boiled in his stomach. The last person he wanted to see was his father. The universe hated him, didn't it?

"What now?" He snapped.

His father closed the door behind him, but kept his hand on the knob. He lifted a plate into view. It had a ham sandwich. Xavier's stomach churned. There was no way he could possibly feel like eating. Besides, it was probably drugged or something to make him sleep so he couldn't try to escape. He eyed it before glaring back up at his father.

"I'm not hungry. I don't want it."

The man frowned. "You need to eat."

"No, I don't," Xavier huffed. "I need out of here. I need to talk to Wednesday."

"What is your fascination with the Addams girl?" Vincent Thorpe groaned. "Forget about her. I told you, her family is a magnet for trouble, and you're already in enough."

"What? So you plan on keeping me locked in here? What are you going to do when I go back to Nevermore? Have a slew of servants just walking in a circle around me? You can't just stop me from being friends with her."

His father sighed, setting the plate on the desk next to him. "You're not going back. Not after everything that happened."

Xavier felt as if the air had been ripped out of his chest. What? No, no, no, no, no, that couldn't happen! Nevermore was the only place he felt comfortable. The only place he had managed to find some scraps of happiness in his lonely world. His father could not take that from him.

"You're kidding, right?"

The man's face remained stoic. His lack of response was Xavier's answer. He clenched his fists.

"You can't keep me locked up in here forever!"

"I'm keeping you out of trouble," his father responded defensively.

"If I wanted a life locked away, I would have just let them take me to prison!"

"This isn't a prison-"

Xavier only felt the heat rise to his face. Rage boiled in his stomach and icy fear clutched at his lungs. "How? How is it not? It's just a gilded jail cell. Does that make this any better? I haven't done anything! What have I done to deserve this? Are you repulsed by me that much?"

His father's face twisted with horror, as if Xavier had managed to hurt the man's feelings. He was convinced his father lost them when Xavier's mother died. Everything had changed after that day. Although his father had always been relatively absent, it was almost as if his father had all but disappeared from his life.

Now his father was trying to force himself back in, acting as if he cared. For a moment, the child within himself wanted nothing more than to let the guilt consume him, but he would not apologize. Because he knew better. He knew better than to allow himself the hope his father would change and love him. That he could ever be enough for his father.

"Xavier, all I've ever done was try to protect you. This is only for a while. When things settle down, you may go to university, study wherever, whenever you please. Until it is safe, I cannot allow you to leave."

"Why not? Why is it not safe for me? Do you know how crazy you sound right now? If you're worried about the Hyde being free, the dude already knows where I live. Plus, why would he go after me? Just tell me what's happening?"

He sighed. His father began opening the door. Xavier stepped forward, hoping to catch him before he was locked away again. But his father was faster than him, having the door slam in his face. Xavier slammed the palm of his hand as he let out a frustrated yell. He kicked the door, but it didn't budge.

"Dad! Stop this!"

He tried the doorknob again. It came to no avail. Xavier looked down and he could still see the shadow of his father from beneath the crack of the door. He was still there. He could still hear him.

A cold feeling washed over him, his body beginning to shake. He wasn't certain if it was from the anger, the fear, or something else. The words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he could process. Not that he would. It was true.

"Mom would never lock me away! She would have texted me! She would never have sent a third person to see if I was still breathing! You never wanted to be my father! You leave me here, then don't come back! I don't want to see you! I don't want to hear from you! You leave me in this room and you're dead to me!"

His breaths came out rapidly, as he gripped the doorknob tighter. He waited a moment. It felt like an eternity as he stood in agony, hoping his father would finally open the door. Instead he heard a footstep. Then another. Then another. All in the opposite direction, the sound fading down the hall.

"Dad!" He screamed again, calling his father's name until he realized his efforts were all in vain. He was stuck and he would not be able to convince his father to free him.

Xavier didn't even notice the steady stream of tears rolling down his cheeks until he gave up on assaulting his bedroom door. He sank to the floor again, willing himself to breathe. If his father wasn't going to be reasonable, he needed to free himself. He needed a plan.

Thing came scrambling over, setting a comforting thumb on Xavier's knee. It wasn't much, but it meant a lot to him. It was funny how a hand offered him more comfort than anyone else in the past decade. Yet it certainly was welcomed.