Chapter Text
Wednesday could not seem to grasp the chatter that was happening amongst those at the dinner table. It all blended together--the nauseating verbiage exchanged by her parents, Pugsley speaking animatedly to Lurch whose grunt was the only noise louder than anyone else. Her eyes glazed over, staring ahead at the wall. Her hand was on her spoon, but it had not picked up any soup in minutes.
For all of three weeks, she’d been sent back home. Nevermore was closed until further notice. Overwhelmed by the death of Weems, the betrayal of the woman they’d known as Thornhill and the structural damage, students were sent to their homes early, with it not being due to reopen until the following autumn. By than, they hoped to have a new principal and a botanical science teacher.
Wednesday had not returned to New Jersey initially. Her parents wanted to pay their respects to Principal Weems, her mother especially. They stayed at an inn on the edge of town, with its doors creaky and its rooms mostly vacant. At the funeral, she stood with other members of the outcast community, including a number of fellow classmates as they mourned. In a similar fashion to Mayor Walker’s funeral, the rain poured down heavily over them.
Foolishly, she looked around for him under his umbrella. But he wasn’t there.
Enid and Xavier both tried to pull her aside to speak to her, but Wednesday refused. She had not been there to socialize and had not wanted to go at all but Mother insisted that Weems would have wanted her there. She wasn’t convinced; majority of the time, the woman was blatantly exasperated by Wednesday than she wasn’t. Even if such a feeling was induced by her actions, she still never felt there was anything more to their relationship than what was on the surface.
The cell phone given to her by Xavier still laid forgotten at the bottom of her backpack. The text messages from earlier came to mind, but those hardly mattered at this point. After the events that passed, a stalker was nothing to her. In spite of what Xavier had said when he gifted her the device, she knew he would try to get ahold of her before the summer ended. He was annoyingly persistent and unable to take a hint.
Letting go of her spoon, Wednesday leaned back into her chair. The days, the weeks had been all but a blur. Settling back into her routine was unexpectedly jarring. There were no hummer meetings to attend, no incessant chipping from Enid or a strict schedule to follow.
No espresso machines, no bitter tasting quads or him .
Are you okay ? Thing was nearby, perched on his own spot at the table.
She nodded subtly, not wanting to risk either of her parents to notice, asking unnecessary questions. Fortunately, they were not as intrusive as other parents were. They did not pester endlessly for details regarding what happened as they likely knew more than they let on, anyway. Somehow, they always did. A disadvantage of her mother having visions. But in this case, it was almost welcoming. She did not want to talk about it, to relive it or acknowledge it in any way.
In any hope, she wouldn’t even go back to Nevermore when it was to open again. Her parents wouldn’t force her. There had to be somewhere else she could go. Somewhere she could be and put everything that happened in Jericho, at Nevermore in the past where it belonged.
If only it were that simple.
Her thoughts were consumed by him . A wide grin that stretched across his face. Messy golden curls that flung every which way in the wind. A jacket; a brown jacket with a flannel underneath. Him. It was always him. Even if she so desperately wanted to part ways with him, her mind was thoroughly against doing so.
And she hated it.
She hated being so out of control and at the mercy of emotions which she’d tried to bury for so long. It was never a problem before him . But he had changed her without her even realizing it. He’d awakened something within her, brought a part of her she never knew existed to life.
Since she was a child, she had been repulsed by the love and adoration her parents shared with one another. She never wanted any of that, to be like them and have what they had. Unlike others around her, she didn’t want her happiness to depend on the presence of another person. She didn’t need it.
A part of her was ashamed, angry at herself for being so weak as to give into those adolescent desires so easily. She’d engaged in behavior that was so unlike her. The kind that she found to be absurd in anyone else. Most peculiarly, if she was being entirely honest, Wednesday had come to find out that she didn’t loathe his presence like she did with any other person. She’d never been one to socialize or find enjoyment in it. But Tyler was different. Vastly different from everyone else she’d ever known and not just because of his secretive outcast status.
He seemed to understand her in a way others hadn’t. He wasn’t particularly off-putting which intrigued her. Something about him had drawn her in, lured her in much like a kidnapper was able to gain a child’s trust with a charming smile and empty promises.
Thing had needled her endlessly after the Rave’N. He was utterly delighted that his blasted plan had worked, even more so when she never revealed it had been him all along and accompanied him with no protest. Wednesday had nothing to say to that, for she couldn’t explain herself or what had come over her.
It was after it was all said and done, underneath her blankets with the room plunged into darkness did the realization of what occurred dawn on her. She could have sent him away with the truth instead of going along with it. She could chose differently on a few occasions. But she hadn’t.
She could have not joined him for that unofficial date. But she hadn’t.
“Darling, are you alright?” Her mother asked, shattering the thoughts that were going on inside of her mind. “You seem preoccupied with your thoughts this evening.”
“I’m fine, Mother,” she said flatly so as not to arouse anymore suspicion.
“My little storm cloud,” her father said fondly, “you know you can talk to us about anything, yes?”
“I know, Father.”
She had no desire to speak to either of them about this. It concerned no one but herself. Herself and him . But he was no longer in the picture. He was gone. Taken to a psychiatric hospital where he would be for the foreseeable future. The crimes he’d committed were stacked against him; he would likely never see the outside of a cell for the rest of his life.
She could feel herself under Pugsley’s stare. She fought not to wring his neck. “What is it, Pugsley?” Her voice was sharp like a viper ready to strike.
“You’ve been acting strange,” her brother said accusingly. “Ever since you got back.”
Her brother, while not as clever as herself, was more in tune with her than she preferred. He knew when to not push her, when to leave her alone and when it was okay to be around her. He’d become well versed in knowing her normal behavior. It ticked her off, especially because now he’d opened a door she did not want open in front of their parents.
Her cold stare lingered on him. “Pugsley, if you would like to sleep peacefully tonight without worrying if a knife will be plunged in the middle of your forehead, I suggest you focus on your soup.”
Hesitancy clouded his face. The look that conveyed he was teetering between continuing and stopping right there. She would have thought he’d have enough sense to back down. Evidently, she was wrong.
“But-” He tried to get a word in edgewise, a sickening gleam of concern that made her want to inflict the most excruciating pain possible on him.
“Pugsley is right,” Gomez was holding onto Morticia's hand like a lifeline. A reminder of what she never wanted to become. “Is anything troubling you?”
“Might it be a boy ?” Morticia's eyes lit up, awaiting the day Wednesday would give into those irrational urges.
It was all too much. The questions, the assumptions. She couldn't take it anymore.
“ Enough !”
She took in a deep, heaving breath, suddenly aware that the conversation around her had ceased, eyes snapped in her direction. The table trembled when she shoved her chair back, her legs working as fast as they could without running to retreat back to the sanctuary of her bedroom.
There, she slammed the door, sliding back onto the floor, eyes shut. She couldn’t believe she lost control like that. It was unbecoming, pointless to let her emotions fly in such a display. It was better to keep herself calm, better to not let any possible opponents catch it as a possible weakness and use it against her.
Her parents would be insufferable now, worse than they usually were. Pugsley might have had questions too, but that wouldn’t stop them from prodding him to see if he knew anything before coming up to her room to pester her over it. It was enraging. Wednesday preferred a slow, painful death to her mother finding out about Tyler. Anything would do to avoid seeing the I told you so on her mother’s face or to hear her speak on the importance of love for the umpteenth time.
She bit back a hiss at the sound of knocking coming from the other side. “Go away, Mother!”
The knocking became more consistent, letting her know that it wasn’t her mother standing there. It was Thing. “I assume they sent you up here?” She was not fooled. Her mother and father likely wanted Thing to do a little digging for them, figuratively speaking. Thing tried to appear innocent, shaking itself back and forth, but Wednesday folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him fiercely. “ Thing !”
Yes , Thing admitted. They’re wondering why you left so abruptly .
“Of course,” Wednesday sneered. “They cannot possibly fathom that they might not be included in every single detail of my life.”
Some kids would be grateful to have parents like yours that care , Thing had the audacity to tell her.
“They can have them then!” She snapped. “I have no use for them!”
If hands could sigh, Thing surely did. What’s going on? Why did you blow up at Pugsley?
“I thought it was self explanatory; he was poking his nose where it didn’t belong.”
He always does that , Thing said. This was different.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she muttered, not liking where this was heading to.
Is this about Tyler? Thing had neglected to mention him altogether, ever since the truth came out. She sensed he felt guilty for trying to push them together and while Wednesday wanted to be angry with him--she couldn’t. It felt easier, though. Divert the target to someone else to place blame. Then she wouldn’t have to face who she was truly at war with-- herself .
Thing may have landed a hand in the scheme of things--no pun intended. But it was she who willingly went on that date. It was she who patched him up, fingers brushing against the bare skin of his defined chest. It was she who closed the gap, kissing him in the middle of the Weathervane.
She had no one to blame but herself.
It does, doesn’t it ? Thing persisted.
“Why would you assume it has anything to do with him ?” She was growing defensive, ready to put a stop to this nonsense, to put it all behind her.
Because it does . He sounded so sure. If he had a head, an expressive face, it would be tilted upward, just daring Wednesday to challenge him. You’re thinking about him.
“Bold of you to make such an assumption,” Wednesday was uncharacteristically made uncomfortable by his perception. He, just like Uncle Fester, had an uncanny ability to read her. She didn’t like that.
It’s not an assumption , Thing refuted. I know it’s true . You miss him.
Wednesday tensed up. Her thoughts had been wavering in and out of the current reality and back into the memories she’d much rather repress. Letting out a breath, she mustered up a glare but it hardly left an impression on Thing.
You’re not denying it , Thing pointed out.
She wanted nothing more than to throw him out of the window and see where he landed.
“I don’t miss him,” Wednesday finally said, the words tumbling out of her. By all rights, she shouldn’t. “I simply don’t understand how he was able to....fool me.” The words were acidic on her tongue. Bitterness swelled up inside of her at having to acknowledge he’d succeeded in getting one over on her. Wednesday was clever and knew how to use it to her advantage. It frustrated her greatly that he’d done it so easily to her--beat her at her own game.
But beyond that came something far more peculiar. Far more conflicting.
And Wednesday was not willing to explore it.
Thing was hesitating, halting his movement mid sign. Then, just before she could question it, he said, It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone now.
Yes, taken to Willowhill. Wednesday didn’t think highly of the place as it likely didn’t have the capabilities to deal with Tyler and his hyde side. Than again, was there a place on this earth that could? He would be erratic without his master, the hyde longing for someone like Laurel to take control. And that begged another question; how would the facility handle the hyde’s desire to hunt and kill? Perhaps it might be subdued without Laurel’s influence, but that couldn’t be certain.
With Gates dead, there was no chance of getting a confession out of her. Even with her body having been found at Nevermore, even with the abundance of witnesses, it didn’t necessarily prove that she’d controlled Tyler and forced him to maul those people to death. Majority of the blame would be placed on Tyler himself. He would have to face the consequences, whatever those may be.
“He’s gone,” Wednesday repeated. Thing observed her silently. “He’s extraordinarily lucky I didn’t get to spend a few minutes with him. He would have been begging for death to come to him.”
Her words lacked the heat they normally held. She was tired. She wanted to stop thinking about it. About him .
Her ears picked up on familiar footsteps. Pugsley’s footsteps. Her door flung open by her own doing, coming face-to-face with her brother who was openly apologetic. She should have chastised him for showing such weakness, but all she said was, “What, Pugsley?”
“I’m sorry, Wednesday,” Pugsley told her sincerely. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset ,” she bristled.
“I was just worried,” her brother fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot. “Mother says you had a long trip and Father thinks you’ll feel better after a nap but I know something’s wrong.” His eyes silently pleaded with her to tell him something , anything. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
Wednesday straightened herself up. This was another one of Pugsley’s flaws. Falsely believing talking could solve anything. “There is nothing to say. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”
Her brother had the audacity to stick his foot through the opening of the door, preventing her from closing it.
“Pugsley!” She hissed.
Using strength she wasn’t aware he processed, her brother forced his way into her room. Worse yet, in the time she’d been gone, he’d grown a few inches, nearly surpassing her altogether. Now awkward with his slightly longer limbs, Pugsley looked like a cross between an adolescent and a young child, his face having not yet reached its own maturity.
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked Thing,” Wednesday made sure her voice was flat.
“I tried,” her brother was sheepish. “He wouldn’t tell me anything.”
Thing spoke up, it’s not my place to say anything .
At least someone in this house understood the basic concept of privacy. Although, that did confirm Pugsley’s suspicions that there was a problem. Wednesday had been trying to avoid that.
“You should know the consequences of trying to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” she said icily. “If I wished for anyone to know anything, I would have said it at dinner.”
Pugsley went silent. Wednesday was not fooled into believing that was the end. “Can you at least answer one question?” he pleaded.
“What makes you so sure you deserve an answer?”
“ Please ?” Pugsley looked desperate. It was pathetic. He’d always been the weaker one of them.
“Very well,” she ultimately decided. “One question and one question only. And should I not want to answer whatever question you have, it is my right to do so.”
Pugsley nodded. “Okay. I was-”
“One more thing,” Wednesday said, her stare hard. “If this information gets back to Mother and Father, I will put you through torture that is so painful your descendants will be feeling the after effects.”
“I know, Wednesday,” Pugsley said in a dismissive tone.
She pursed her lips. He’d become rather immune to her threats while she was away and that just wouldn’t do. “Get on with it. I don’t have all night.”
“Right, uh-” Oh, how Wednesday despised filler words. “Do you still hate Nevermore?”
The question was unexpected, but she kept up her poker face. Wednesday had assumed it would be much more personal. Regardless, she didn’t have to deal with anything too intrusive. “Why do you ask?”
“Mother and Father are considering enrolling me for next term,” Pugsley mumbled.
“Speak louder, Pugsley. I refuse to listen to your mumbling,” Wednesday said sharply.
“Sorry.” Wednesday’s eye twitched.
“Why would they want to enroll you anyway? Have you, too, gotten expelled?”
“No,” Pugsley shook his head. “But after parent weekend, they said they think it’ll be good for me. But Wednesday, I don’t want to go! I like my school here.”
“Then tell them that,” Wednesday said. Her circumstances were different, Nevermore was truly a last resort as all the other nearby schools had expelled her over the years. If Pugsley was against the idea, their parents wouldn’t force the issue. After all, his behavioral record was not as extensive as hers was.
“I wanted to, but-” Pugsley grimaced. “They were so excited, you should have heard them! Father says he knows I’d do well there. I don’t want to disappoint them.”
“Sooner or later you will,” Wednesday told him. “You might as well start now.”
“I’m not like you, Wednesday,” Pugsley looked distressed. Wednesday took a step back. She was not going to handle his delicate emotions. If he wished to be comforted, Mother and Father were downstairs. “I don’t want to disappoint them. But I really don’t want to go. I’ll miss them too much.”
All this talking was beginning to wear on her. Pugsley was far too attached to their parents, having not yet separated himself from their smothering hold. Back when they went to Camp Chippewa, he was homesick. Only she had been aware and while she never brought it to his attention, lest one of those chipper campers or counselors found out, she was filled with disgust.
“At some point, you will have to cut the umbilical cord,” Wednesday said, without caring how cruel she was being, “and stand up for yourself. Either tell them you refuse to go or deal with it.”
“I guess you’re right.” Pugsley’s eyes didn’t well up with tears nor did he run off, she noted with approval. Perhaps there was hope for him yet. “Oh, did Mother tell you that Uncle Fester is coming?”
“No,” Wednesday looked straight at him. “When?” She hadn’t seen Uncle Fester since he came to the Weathervane with her. When Tyler was there , her subconscious reminded her. Her lips thinned out.
Pugsley remained oblivious to this. “Later. I don’t know when. He has something to talk to Father about but said he could stay for a while to visit. That’s all I know.”
“What about his job in Boston?”
Pugsley shrugged. It was another ridiculous habit he’d acquired.
“I see,” Wednesday looked at him critically. “Thank you for the information. You may go now.” Obediently, her brother went on his way and she shut the door. Thing was staring at her. She ignored him for now.
It would be good to see Uncle Fester again. Usually, she had to wait much longer before he would stop by again due to his various jobs and being a wanted man in most states. Wednesday needed a distraction and this would be just the ticket.
“I believe this evening just became significantly better,” she told Thing.
Thing shrugged.
“This time, do not try to strangle him.”
No promises , Thing said.