Chapter Text
Enid’s wardrobe was endlessly colourful.
That was the one thought on Wednesday’s mind while she packed Enid’s things. Well, not the only thing, but it was what she made herself focus on, because if she thought only about her distaste for the girl’s outfit choices then she didn’t have time to think about her alone in the wilderness, vulnerable at any moment to be attacked by other werewolves.
So, she focused on critiquing Enid’s belongings, describing her findings to Thing, who placed her things into cases to be taken to the Addams manor for if- No- when, Enid returned.
The only place not packed neatly into boxes was Enid’s desk, still messy, covered with pens, unfinished homework and even more cuddly toys. Wednesday was tempted to discreetly “misplace” a few in transit, but she felt almost afraid of what Enid might do to her. Not that Wednesday Addams was ever afraid, but Enid’s new alpha powers were still unknown to everyone including her. And they might remain that way if she isn't found soon.
Wednesday shook her head of those thoughts and walked over and opened the drawer, surprised to find a stack of letters held together with a hair tie, with a small note attached. She almost dropped them straight into a box, but hesitated when she found her name at the beginning of the note, and couldn’t help herself from reading.
Hi, to whoever is reading this (probably Wednesday - if so, Howdy, roomie!)
If you’ve found these letters, it probably means that I’ve wolfed out and can't turn back. This note is attached to letters for each of my friends. Please, whoever you are, try to hand these over to everyone, so I can tell them what I wish I could have said in person.
Love,
Enid Sinclair xoxo
P.S. If I am still hanging around, feel free to burn these, please and thank you!
Thumbing through the stack of letters, Wednesday finds one written for each of Enid’s friends, including Thing, and even one addressed to Wednesday’s parents. She finds one addressed to her at the bottom of the pile, and smugly notices that it is much thicker than anyone else’s.
Thing appears next to her, and she hands over his letter.
“It appears Enid anticipated something of this kind may happen, and wrote a letter to those she appreciated. I see that she took the time to write yours in braille.”
Thing starts signing and then waits, as if he is staring, expectantly.
“No, I’m not going to read it. Opening this letter would mean that Enid is gone, and she isn’t. I just haven’t found her yet. When I do find her, I can use this as proof that I kept her promise to go after her. Feel free to open yours, Thing, but I have my own morals.”
Thing starts snapping and signs impatiently.
“I’m tired of your endless droning. If you want to make yourself useful, hand these out to Enid’s friends. If it were me delivering the letters I fear Bruno’s would not arrive, but I understand Enid has her reasons. If they have already returned home, I trust you know where to find their addresses.”
Wednesday hears him shuffle away, and she turns and sits in front of the window, half still colourful. She had left that task until last, wanting to keep as much of Enid’s remaining presence as long as possible. As she curls in on herself, she inspects the letter, her name written in black ink, which is still sparkly - a compromise, Wednesday thinks. She inhales and finds that the envelope still smells of Enid’s perfume, finding comfort in the familiar scent.
Wednesday finds herself in the same position she was in almost a year ago, alone in her room, curled up against the window, with little hope of her roommate returning. Although now she has more serious problems than a red duffle bag and Enid staying at Yoko’s.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While on the trail to find Enid, Wednesday and Fester make use of the many safe houses the Addams family owns.
She has, reluctantly, been communicating with Agnes through Enid’s phone, the younger girl using her many contacts and cunning skills to fetch information about the wolf’s whereabouts. Agnes may be extremely irritating, and uncomfortably clingy, but Wednesday has to admit that she would not have made this much progress without the girl, not that she would ever let her know that.
Although “progress” is a strong word, as they are still no closer to finding Enid, currently standing over a map, planning their next moves.
“I suggest heading North. Even in her wolf form, Enid probably has the sense to get as far away from the packs of this country as possible and head into Canadian territory.” Uncle Fester points to a spot on the map, a spark of lightning burning a small hole, but showing his intended destination. “We can leave tomorrow at dawn. The trip will take several hours so I suggest getting some rest, sunshine.”
Wednesday rolls her eyes. “I am anything but sunshine. But yes, Enid is smart, she’ll know to get to Canada. We should leave now, any and all time not spent searching is wasted and could be the difference between Enid living and dying alone.”
“Easy there, the table hasn't done anything to you!”
Wednesday suddenly realises she’s been gripping tightly onto the table and quickly folds her hands into her jacket, finding the letter tucked safely in her pocket.
“Not that I’m not up for some sleep deprivation - one of my favourite pastimes, there are so few hours in the day - but your pale complexion is even ghostlier than usual. Get some sleep.”
Wednesday only gives him a deadly glare. Fester barks out a laugh.
“Okay, you don’t have to sleep, but we’re not leaving until morning. Since we’re heading into the Canadian Wilderness we could watch this new show I found. It’s got lesbians and cannibalism - your favourites! Or why don’t you read that letter you’re always hanging onto? That might pass the time.”
She looks down at the envelope in her hand, slightly creased from travelling, and she fills with resolve.
“No. Reading this letter would mean accepting that Enid is gone and she isn’t. She isn't. She wrote this in case she couldn't be saved and she will be. I will find her, and I will get her back and take her home. And I won't read this letter when she’s still out there.”
Wednesday doesn't wait for a response, she simply turns and leaves the room.
She pretends not to hear when Fester says, “Ah, the insanity of first love.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday and Fester have split up.
There’s been sightings of a werewolf in a remote village in the Canadian wilderness and while Fester investigates the woods, Wednesday sneaks into the sheriff’s office to see if there are any leads.
The building is more of a hut than a police station, only a few feet in diameter, but it could be the only thing between her and finding Enid, no stone left unturned.
Once inside, she shines her flashlight over the desk, finding reports of werewolf sightings and property damage in the villages nearby.
One picture in particular from a news article catches her attention - it's blurry, and a little hard to see but it's unmistakable. The pink and blue fur could only belong to one person - one wolf. Enid.
She eagerly reads on, now filled with a new feeling. Hope.
But, that soon dwindles as the article continues, detailing how the “threat was dealt with”. The rest of the article is vague, but it features a picture of a man, middle aged, looking proud, holding a shotgun. The photo’s caption reads “Local man rids town of menace”.
Enid is nothing but a menace. She is kind, and reckless, and passionate, and creative. But never a menace. Unluckily for him, the article lists his address, and Wednesday soon finds herself in his house, the man pinned against the wall, a knife to his throat.
“Tell me what you did to her!”
The man can't seem to speak, instead resorting to crying. How weak.
“The wolf you shot on the 23rd. What did you do to her?”
He only seems to cry more. “Who are you?” He asks. “Why - How - are you in my house?”
“Answer the question, you pathetic excuse for a man.” She pushes the dagger harder against his neck.
This seems to snap him out of his panic. “The wolf? I don’t see why you would care? But it was causing chaos, and so I shot it once with my shotgun and it left us alone.”
He seemed smug and that only made Wednesday angrier. “It? What happened to her after you brutally attacked her?”
The man lets out a small laugh. “I attacked her? It - sorry, she, broke down all of our fences and killed several of our livestock. I only gave back to her what she took. But if you're so interested, the shot only seemed to wound, not kill, but we haven't seen any sightings since. But I wouldn't hold out hope for any signs of survival, those woods are lethal.”
“Are you right handed?”
“Yes? Why are you asking me-” Swiftly Wednesday brings down her dagger and with it comes the man’s right hand.
“If you weren’t so smug you might have gone on unharmed. But since you’re so proud, now you can’t use your precious shotgun again.” She spots said gunhung up on the wall and smashes it on the ground, watching, satisfied, as it breaks. The man wails in pain, though she’s not sure if it's from his injuries or the broken shotgun. She doesn’t care.
It isn't until she's outside that she lets herself take in the information. Enid was shot, possibly fatally and hasn't been seen since.
Without thinking, she takes off running into the woods. She finds a familiar set of paw prints, and follows them, letting herself feel a sliver of hope until suddenly the tracks stop. There are no other trails, no sign of struggle or a sudden stop, just a trail that suddenly ends.
Fester bursts from the trees then, a smile on his face. “I found a trail of prints, I was coming to find you but I see you got here first!”
“They stop. They go for so long and just stop. There’s no sign of her. She’s gone.”
His face drops, moving to put an arm around her. Wednesday is so distraught she doesn't even notice. “She’s gone.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday doesn't remember the drive back to the safe house, but now she’s inside and alone, suddenly everything feels so much more real.
Enid was there, but they were only a few days off from finding her, only for her to have been shot and now disappeared. Any remaining sense of hope she had disintegrates.
She finds her hands wandering to the letter on her nightstand. As her first tears fall, she begins to read,
Dear Wednesday, or should I say, Howdy Roomie!
First of all, I’d like to apologise for using your typewriter. I just wanted these letters to be perfect, and this felt the most genuine way to do that. I didn’t think you would appreciate a goodbye text from me.
You’re reading this letter because I couldn’t turn back. I know you’re a curious type, but I trust that you wouldn’t look through my things anymore, so this must be the reason.
I know I made you promise to come find me, and I would love it if you did, but if it gets too hard, or if you don't want to, that's okay.
The time we spent together at Nevermore was the happiest of my life. Even when you were stuck in a mystery, or I was kidnapped by an annoying invisible ten year old, I was always happy to be by your side. And that's the thing isn’t it? As much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, with Ajax and Bruno, and any other boy who so much as looked at me, you are it for me.
I’m in love with you Wednesday. And I’m so sorry I never got to tell you in person. That’s one of my biggest regrets, but I am just so scared. It’s obvious you aren’t interested in romantic ventures, especially with me, but I had to get it off of my chest.
Don’t waste too much time grieving over me or anything, I'll be fine. I’m just glad I got to be one of your very exclusive friends.
Look after Thing for me, and make sure his cuticles don’t get out of control.
I’ve been trying to think of a way to end this letter for the past ten minutes but it feels like saying goodbye. I’ll sign this off by repeating what you said to me last year.
Wednesday, the mark you have left on me is indelible.
Love,
Enid
The letter is damp from Wednesday’s tears, but she can’t bring herself to care. She only cradles Enid’s last words to her chest, and whispers out a word to the universe.
I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you in time, Enid.