Chapter Text
She follows the man in Willow hill's medical uniform like Alice follows the White Rabbit. He leads Wednesday in silence through a corridor of non-hazardous patient wards, then out onto a landing and down into the rooms of the basement.
A voice in her head, a voice like her mother's and Enid's at the same time, a voice that always warns and cautions, whispers to her that she is committing a suicidal folly.
Wednesday lets out a short breath, as if that would banish the nagging inner critic, shrugs under her pelerine, and with a gait that once terrified the students of Nancy Reagan High School, walks steadily toward the right door, where a man in a nurse's uniform is waiting for her.
He turns the knob a few times, and the door opens with a soft click. Wednesday has studied the hospital schedule well and knows that Tyler is always chained to the wall during the hour allotted for evening cleaning. She has nothing to fear even if the negotiations do not go as planned.
She nods to her guide and steps into the cold, fluorescent-lit cell.
The air is stale and musty.
Half-naked, breathing heavily, Tyler is indeed standing against the far wall, his head bowed. There are handcuffs on his wrists, chains leading to holes in the wall. A leather collar reminiscent of a choker is around his neck. She notices Enid's claw marks on his chest.
Wednesday pauses, waiting for the prisoner to realize he is no longer alone. Tyler slowly lifts his head and looks at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open. He blinks a few times before saying in a colorless voice:
"You again. Why always you? I would rather have my mother or father come to me, even Laurel would do in a pinch."
The mention of Gates causes an unexpected flash of anger in her soul, which Wednesday immediately extinguishes.
"I have to disappoint you, Tyler," she says coldly. "This is not a hallucination caused by psychopharmacological delirium.
He jerks at the sound of her voice and the chains jingle softly behind him. His eyes focus on her face. Wednesday answers him with a blank, unblinking stare, winning this round - Tyler looks away. He clears his throat and asks
"And why are you here?"
Wednesday takes a copper locket with a miniature print of Botticelli's "The Abyss of Hell" from her coat pocket. She watches Tyler's reaction as she approaches him, holding the medallion in her open palm. He clearly recognizes the jewelry and has no time to hide it. A look of annoyance flashes across his face, which he quickly replaces with a mask of indifference.
“This is a locket from Gates' things. I know that this is not just a piece of jewelry, but a symbol of membership in a secret society. The same one that was behind Laurel Gates and her plans to destroy Nevermore.”
"And?" Tyler tries to shrug, which is awkward in his position. Wednesday is standing so close to him now that she can smell his sweat and bad breath.
"Tell me about him," she commands shortly.
Tyler sighs artificially.
"I already told your boyfriend I don't know anything about it. Do you think your stupid doll eyes and your funny, bossy tone are going to make me say anything different?" He looks unbearably bored, as if a stain on the ceiling would be better company than her.
Meanwhile, Wednesday feels a sharp pang of fear under her ribs and unconsciously takes another tiny step toward her enemy.
"Who do you mean? Who else came here and asked for this?"
"Xavier, of course," Tyler answers, oblivious to her condition. "He came waving his drawings. Not an asylum, but a thoroughfare," he finishes irritably. "I wish I lived in your world, where money solves everything."
"When was that?" Wednesday asks sharply. She will not leave here empty-handed now. She will shake Tyler Galpin's soul if she has to, but she will get answers to her questions.
"How should I know? In case you haven't noticed, there's no clock or calendar here," he retorts sarcastically, before asking, "Didn't he tell you...?"
She hadn't intended to bribe him, but now she seized on his words and said,
"Listen to me carefully. I'll give you anything you want: another name, money, freedom. But you have to tell me why Xavier came to you and what is behind the name 'The Ninth Circle'.
Tyler gives her a quick, intense look.
"I read your medical records. I know that Dr. Nyquist is using hypnosis on you to block Hyde. I know that even in trance you refuse to talk about it." She almost shoves the locket in his face. "But I'm going to find out what you're hiding. For better or for worse."
"I don't know anything about that or what I say under hypnosis." There is a growing anger in his voice. "Get out of here. Get the hell out of my life.
"Xavier is dead. And the Ninth Circle, whoever they are, is threatening my family. Come on, Tyler. You know I'm not backing down."
Tyler closes his eyes, as if that action alone would make Wednesday disappear from the cell.
"You're an idiot. An overconfident idiot. You got out of that Blood Moon thing alive thanks to luck and my father deciding to shoot his only son at the crucial moment. Keep away from it."
"You care about me?" she asks sarcastically.
"About me. I care about me and my life."Tyler opens his eyes and she catches the doubt in them. "What happened to Xavier?"
"The official version of the investigation: suicide. I don't believe it. After the news of his death, I turned on the phone he gave me. He wrote to me the whole vacation. He sent photos of his drawings, and all of them in one way or another repeated the painting of Botticelli, - Wednesday raises the palm with the medallion again. "Wrote that nothing is over for Nevermore. On one of the drawings was the signature "The Ninth Circle". In the last message he wrote that we need to talk," she falls silent. A black cloud of guilt fills her chest and Wednesday throws lightning at Tyler: "If you told him what you know, he might still be alive.
"No," Tyler smiles from the corner of his mouth. "If I said a word to him, I would be dead already. And that is exactly why I will tell you nothing."
"You will tell me," she says, taking a syringe from the pocket of her coat, ripping off the protective cap and jabbing the needle into Tyler's thigh. He cries out in surprise.
"What is this... Damn it," the medicine begins to spread through his body. "Is this some kind of outcast analog of truth serum..."
"It's a sedative. I'm kidnapping you," Wednesday answers calmly. Without wasting any time, she unfolds the Swiss knife and, with a screwdriver, unscrews the handcuffs from the chains behind the wall.
"I'm not...going anywhere with you..." Tyler's tongue is slurred, and as Wednesday unlocks the second restraint, he falls to his knees, unable to hold himself up without support.
"You don't have to go," she crosses the cell and signals with a knock on the door. As the bolts creak, Wednesday turns to see if the drug has worked.
Her heart stops for a second as she stumbles into Tyler, who is unsteady on his feet. His long fingers wrap around her throat as he leans down to whisper to Wednesday,
"I will... tear... you... apart..."
It sounds too heartfelt, almost tender, if it is a threat. Just then, the sedative finally hits Tyler and he collapses to the floor.
"Pick him up and let's go," Wednesday nods to Lurch, dressed in a Willowhill uniform. The Addams butler lifts him onto his shoulder as if Tyler weighed nothing, and follows his young mistress.