Chapter Text
Enid feels relief, at first. She’s won, after all. She’s defeated the Hyde. Wednesday is safe. She even wolfed out. All good things, today.
The pain comes an instant later, surfacing all over her body in hot stabs.
Nobody else is there to watch her fall to the floor.
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“I’m Enid. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Wednesday Addams.”
A hand extended. A gesture of friendship, perhaps.
E nid thinks that she might rather like friendship.
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Enid watches as the world fades from dark greens into hazy grays, splashed starkly with the red of blood. It could be hers. It could be Tyler’s.
Enid’s not sure how much blood she has left, now.
She’s not sure where she’s going when her blood runs out.
She hopes the colours come back there.
I'm sitting in the railway station
got a ticket to my destination
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Wednesday prising the panels off the stained glass window. She leaves half of it intact, so that when the sun shines through, half the room is illuminated rainbow, the other half the usual white.
Enid collecting them up and putting them in a box under her bed. Just in case, she reasons. Maybe they'll put them back on the window, one day.
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The air is sweeter, where she's going. Enid can tell. The grass is softer. It seems like the kind of place laughter might be louder.
Her pain has faded to just a dull ache, now. Enid wonders, with a heavy head, what that means.
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Sitting together on the grass in the summertime. Enid teaching Wednesday how to make daisy chains. Wednesday showing Enid how to look for shapes in the clouds.
a poet
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There’s music playing. She can hear it, the sound of a cello on the breeze. Low, rich music. The kind Wednesday plays.
And there it is. Wednesday. What will Wednesday do?
and a one man band
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Wednesday taking out her cello. “I learned this for you,” she says. She plays Homeward Bound, by Simon and Garfunkel. A song Enid had mentioned liking a few weeks ago.
“I can’t believe you remembered.”
“I remember everything you tell me.”
home where my music’s playin’
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The music cuts, and it fades. Wednesday’s face in Enid’s mind gives her clarity. She blinks, furiously, trying to keep her eyes from closing.
Her head is thick with sleepiness. She could just shut her eyes. It would be so easy.
(Of course she can’t do that, she can’t leave Wednesday alone.)
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“Never leave me,” Wednesday says. “I would not remember who I am without you.”
“You’re Wednesday Addams. You’d be fine.”
“You are the first person to show me true happiness. Without you, I would be nothing."
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“Enid!” she hears. “Enid!” Someone is calling for her.
Wednesday. Wednesday is calling for her.
She tries to shout back, but her voice will not rise above a croak. She coughs, feeling blood in her throat.
home where my love lies
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“I’m in love with you, you idiot!”
Covering her mouth as she registers her words.
“Me?” Wednesday’s usually expressionless face is pulled into an expression of shock.
“Who else?”
The brush Wednesday’s lips on hers feels like waking up for the first time.
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“Enid!” At the very fringe of her vision, she can see Wednesday. Running towards her. Enid knows she must be tired. She wonders how Wednesday is still running after that fight. She wants to tell her to stop, to rest, but it’s too late and she can't speak anyway and Wednesday is by her side before she can figure out what to do.
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“One day, I shall court you the Addams way. I will dance with you, and drink with you, and we will say our vows in a graveyard.”
“You’re very forward, aren’t you?” Enid laughs. “Marriage in a graveyard, and all. Sounds like pretty fifth date material.”
Wednesday grins. “I rather think you’re worth the effort.”
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“Oh, hell no, you do not get to die on me.” The words are nonchalant, but Wednesday’s voice cracks. Enid feels a tear land on her face. It is not hers.
It trickles down her cheek and onto the forest floor.
She tries to respond, but her words evade her again. Wednesday moves her head to her lap and begins stroking her hair.
“People are coming, Enid. I told them where to go. You just have to hold on.”
waitin'
silently for me
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Sobbing after her mother’s visit.
“Why?” Enid asks, “why won’t I ever be enough for her? Why doesn’t she love me?”
“I do,” Wednesday says simply. “You are enough for me.”
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Wednesday is singing now. Homeward Bound. Enid can hear the cello in the background. Is she playing their song?
No, that can’t be right. Her cello is not here.
Is it a memory? Is it the place beyond, calling her again? Enid fights to stay tied to the Earth. She must hold on for Wednesday, if not herself.
“Alright, where are you hurt?” Wednesday says, going into problem solving mode. She’d sound calm if it weren’t for the crack in her voice.
Enid manages to scoff. Everywhere. Look at me.
“Yes, you’re quite correct,” Wednesday says. “Stupid question.” They have always understood one another well.
She exhales shakily. “I’m trying really hard to keep it together here, Sinclair, but the truth is I don’t know what to do.”
tonight i’ll sing my songs again
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Handshakes.
Glass.
Daisy chains.
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“No, Enid,” Wednesday says. “Keep your eyes open. They aren’t far away. Look.” She holds her phone in front of Enid’s face, but she can’t see, her vision is swimming. “Tyler says they’ll be five minutes, at most. Five minutes, you can hold on for five minutes.”
Five minutes. That’s not long. Enid can try to do that.
Barely perceptible. “You said you wouldn’t leave, Enid, and frankly I don’t think I’ll be okay if you do.” Wednesday laughs, softly, and wipes a tear from her cheek. “I’m being selfish. I just don’t think I could live without you, now.”
i need someone to comfort me
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Clouds, cello, leaving.
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Each moment she is awake feels like an effort. It would be so easy to slip away. There’s no pain, now. She has Wednesday. Wednesday will hold her as she goes.
“Stay awake, Enid,” Wednesday keeps telling her. At least, Enid thinks that’s what she’s saying. There’s a roaring in her ears which makes it even harder to think straight. Her mouth is dry.
homeward bound
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love, graveyards, enough.
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Wednesday is still there, but now she hears other voices. Louder ones, deeper ones, not that she can hear anything they’re saying.
The music is playing again. Wednesday is singing softly to her cello.
But that can’t be possible, she’s lying on a stiff board, the softness of Wednesday’s touch eludes her, and there is no cello here.
This must mean Wednesday is gone, Enid thinks, and with that comes a sense of relief. Wednesday does not mind now if she leaves.
The music gets louder. She shuts her eyes.
It’s peaceful, this ending. She tunes out the voices shouting, and focusses only on Wednesday’s singing.
It is a pity, to die today. The forecast said there would be sun tomorrow.
And they never did get around to putting the glass back on the window, or vows in the graveyard.
Maybe Wednesday will make daisy chains.
And then she is jolted awake, back into life by Wednesday speaking.
“She was saying your name,” a woman Enid does not know says.
“Don’t fucking die, Sinclair.” Wednesday is sobbing. Enid tries to reach up to her, but her arms are too heavy.
How strange. Wednesday does care.
But it is too late now. Enid cannot turn back, however hard she may try.
It is better this way. Wednesday will be fine.
(Of course she won't.)
“I love you, Wednesday,” Enid tries to whisper. She does not know if she has managed to speak aloud. She hopes that if she has not, Wednesday will understand, still.
She reaches out to touch Wednesday, but she dissolves at her fingertips in a shower of gold.
“Goodbye.”
The last thing she registers is the scream of a wounded animal and the sound of the cello playing from wherever she's going.
So this is what death feels like, I suppose.
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homeward bound
i wish i was
homeward bound
home where my thought's escapin'
home where my music's playin'
home where my love lies waitin'
silently for me
silently for me