Chapter Text
Wednesday was never one for sentiments, but there is just something poetic about returning to the place she had taken down a homicidal maniac after a summer spent scalping her favorite serial killer.
“Wait, this is the first time you’ve ever willingly returned to a school. How does it feel?” Morticia inquires of her daughter.
“Like returning to the scene of the crime. I already know where the bodies are buried. No more uncontrolled chaos. I will bend this place to my will.” Wednesday replied in her usual stoic manner.
“Be careful, dear. Control is often an illusion,” the matriarch Addam warns. “Like I let your father believe he’s in charge of this family.” The warning goes in one ear and right out the other as Wednesday shifts her focus to the conversation her brother and father are having, likely also sharing first day wisdom. Her mother must have also been listening to the seeds of misplaced optimism her father was planting in her embarrassment of a brother, for she continues “Poor Pugsley. Your father and I will get him settled in. Promise me… you will take care of your brother.”
Sparing a glance at her mother, Wednesday promises with a “I always do,” before walking away with her brother’s neck gripped tightly in her hand.
“Here are the ground rules,” she starts when out of earshot of their parents. “No eye contact without permission, bullying assistance requests must be submitted through writing, and Thing reports to me. Understand?” After a dopey nod of agreement, she releases him and makes her way across the quad. With every step she takes, she can’t help but notice the unusual and unwelcome amount of eyes on her, some even daring to sneak pictures. It wasn't long until a group of underclassmen girls stopped her when she realized the horror she had come back to.
“Can I get your autograph?” dared to ask the ginger haired one, hair braided in an obvious attempt to mimic Wednesday, eyes wide enough that she wouldn’t be surprised if they fell out.
“I only sign my name in blood,” Wednesday replied, disgusted at the request.
Only to add more than her disgust the girl was quick to reply in an enthusiastic manner, “I would expect nothing less.”
“I never said it was my own blood.” Wednesday hoped the words were enough to shatter whatever diluted fantasy filled the mind of the girl. It wasn’t. Thankfully, assistance came soon to help get rid of the mob.
“You are done here. Shoo.” The siren song proved fruitful in getting rid of the girls.
“That was disturbing.” It was the closest thing Wednesday would give to a thank you.
“You better get used to it. You’re a big deal after the whole saving the school from the demon pilgrim thing,” Bianca explained. Horror washed over Wednesday’s face.
“Why does anyone still care?”
“You’re not much of a clout chaser, are you?” That earned an eyeroll from Wednesday. “Popularity doesn’t play by the laws of physics. The harder you repel it, the harder it comes for you.” And with that the siren was gone as quickly as she had arrived. Wednesday turned to continue on her journey to the safety of her dorm room.
“Wednesday Addams!” an overly enthusiastic voice greeted her from the staircase, stopping her once again. “Oh, oh, oh, oh! It is an honor to meet the savior of Nevermore. Allow me to introduce myself. Barry Dort, your new principal. Um…would you like a sticker?”
With disgust and disinterest fighting for the fraction of emotion that was ever barely allowed to show on her face, Wednesday dryly replied “Only if you have one that says ‘do not resuscitate.’” Unfortunately the man took it as a joke.
“There’s that wicked tongue I’ve heard about. I love it. I am reinstating the Founder’s Pyre ceremony. It’s an old Outcast tradition. Big bonfire. Tomorrow night. And the best part is, I want you to be our student of honor,” he continued, acting oblivious to the obvious disinterest Wednesday had for this conversation.
“I’d rather be burned at the stake.” Although, if she was truthful, being burned on the stake had been on her bucket list since she was 7, so perhaps it wasn’t the best example. Dort, however, didn't know that. It’ll have to do.
“Aw! Please consider it. I want us to be allies in this struggle.”
“What struggle?” she asked, her interest ever so slightly piqued.
“Returning Nevermore to its glory days.” What a disappointment. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but in this case, Weems really fudged up.” That irritated her.
“I don’t like to speak ill of the dead either. It’s much more fun to demonize the living.” And with that, she turned and walked away. She had finally made her way to her dorm without any other interruptions only to come face to face with the horror of poorly made drawings of her plastered all over her door in a misguided way of affection. “We need to set bear traps out here,” she promptly informed Thing. As if the day couldn’t get any worse, entering her room she was “greeted” by more of her idiotic classmates; some swinging from her ceiling, others fighting, and some engaging in their carnal urges. One couple engaging in the latter on her bed. If it weren’t for the initial shock, she would have taught them a lesson they would never forget. To their luck,
Enid made her way to Wednesday before she did anything.
“Howdy, roomie!”
“Enid,” was all she said, disgust plainly written all over her face.
“All right! Everyone out. Thanks for the help.” Enid called out to the rowdy group of teen werewolves. The music immediately turned off as the crowd made their way out, with only one lingering behind.
“Don’t put too much pressure on it,” he said, tapping a newly put together furniture on Enid’s side of the room before walking towards them.
“No pressure. Right. Got it.” Enid responded dazed.
“Catch up with you later at the lupin cages?” he asked. “With the others.”
“Absolutely, Bruno.” So that was his name. “Can’t wait.” And with that Enid finally closed the door. Wednesday finally moved, making her way to her chest that was brought up to her room earlier by Lurch no doubt, and opened it.
“How was your vacay? Because I had the best summer ever, and I’ve been dying to tell you all about it,” Enid started.
“I’m sure I’ll want to kill you after you tell me, so…we both win.” Wednesday replied as she continued to unpack.
“Well, I’ll spare you the details, but…I did get you a gift at Lupinpalooza in Golden Gate Park.” At Wednesday’s cautious approach toward the bag Enid added “Don’t worry. It’s not a snood.” That was true. However the idiotic shirt Wednesday was now holding up was doing a wonderful job as a foil for the snood. “Get it? Like Beowulf? I thought you’d love the literary reference.”
“Nothing like a bad pun to throw dirt on the coffin of epic poetry. I got you a gift as well. From my summer travels.” Turning to grab the doll Wednesday had specifically selected it from the Kansas City Scalper’s basement due to its resemblance to Enid, and handed it to her roommate proudly.
“Uh… Oh. Thank you. I mean, it is a little creepy, but, um, the curls are super soft.”
“It’s made from real human hair,” Wednesday said, as her eyes lit up from the joyous memories.
After placing her new doll in one of her moving boxes, Enid made her way back to take her place in front of Wednesday and continued, “I just have so many goals this year. I wanna secure my place in the pack, become dance troupe captain, and finally join the Nightshades. What about you?”
“Avoid people and work on my new Viper de la Muerte novel,” Wednesday listed flatly.
“Doesn’t sound like much of a personal evolution.”
“I don’t evolve. I cocoon.”
Knowing that she wasn’t going to get far trying to make Wednesday change her ways Enid decided to slightly shift the conversation. “Speaking of your novel, was that publisher interested?”
Holding up the manuscript, littered by red post-its Wednesday explained in a few terms, “I call it death by a thousand notes.”
“Oh…” Enid flipped to the first post-it. “This one here just looks like a typo.”
“It’s not. That’s the Old English spelling for dismemberment. This novel was two years of my life. They’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands before I change a single word.” A knock on the door interrupted the two girls’ conversation. “That better not be any more brattish autograph hounds.” Wednesday said as made her way to the door, allowing the dagger she always had concealed in her sleeve most recent days slide down to the palm of her hand.
“Tell me about it. We seriously need to set some boundaries. Let’s post hours to sign stuff in the student lounge.” Wednesday gave Enid a disgusting glare before turning the door handle and opening it to reveal the person on the other side.
“Hey Wednesday. I tried texting you this summer, but I guess you lost the phone I gave you,” Xavier Thorpe greeted.
“You have a phone!?” Enid’s surprised voice interrupted as Xavier walked into the room, allowing Wednesday to close it behind them.
“I dropped it in the bath,” she said in reply to both of them as she turned around.
“Of course you did.” His tone only carried the slightest hint of hurt—if last semester had taught him anything it was that he could force himself past the high walls of Wednesday Addams' heart. If she was going to explain to him that it had nothing to do with her feeling of indifference towards him, she didn’t get the chance to before he started speaking again. “I need to show you something.” Wednesday just stared at him to explain further. “I kept having this recurring vision over the break, don’t ask me how, but I think it has something to do with you.”
“What an unpleasant surprise, I would have thought that I’d have to go looking in your art shed again to find any clues if a new mystery were to come up,” Wednesday teased in her Wednesday manner, dry and very serious.
“I guess I learned my lesson last year,” he said in a way that didn’t quite feel like a joke. Before anyone could say anything else, yet another knock interrupted.
“Has this town become so dull that we seem to be the newest hot spot to engage in conversion,” Wednesday droned as she moved to open the door. Yet another familiar face greeted the two, as Enid quickly moved to hide behind the door.
“Hi, Wednesday. How was your summer?” the gorgon greeted before his eyes shifted to his friend standing next to the girl.
“I scalped a serial killer,” she deadpanned.
“Huh, I uh, hope I wasn’t interrupting any-”
“No.” Wednesday interrupted before he even got to finish. Ajax, unfazed, just looked between the two of them before continuing.
“Is, uh… Is Enid around?” he asked hopeful. Wednesday shot a quick glance as her roommate frantically shook her head no.
“She left earlier with the pack. I threatened to neuter them if they didn’t get out,” she lied straight through her teeth.
“Oh, oh, right right. Well then, I’ll just leave you guys to continue…doing nothing. Oh right! I almost forgot. Would you mind giving this to Enid?” he asked, holding out a pink unicorn stuffed animal. Wednesday only stared at the thing, like its mere existence offended her, when Xavier made a move to grab it from Ajax.
“Will do bro. I’ll catch up with you later,” he said, now holding the unicorn in his hands. Wednesday slammed the door before Ajax had a chance to reply and turned to face Enid.
“Thanks for covering guys, especially you Xavier,” Enid said, catching the unicorn Xavier tossed her way.
“Ajax told me things have been off between the two of you over the summer. Look I don’t know the exact details, but I don’t want to see him get hurt. What’s going on?” Xavier pried.
“Uh-”
“Can we save this insipid conversation for a later time, I thought you had something you wanted to show me.” Enid shot Wednesday a grateful glance before making her way back to her side of the room.
“Right. Uh, it’s a painting I made of my vision. It’s in my room though,” he said with a bashful smile. Wednesday didn’t see what he had to be bashful about. It wasn’t the first time she had been to his room, even if he didn’t know she was in there the first time. She once again made her way to the door but before she could open it Enid called out to her.
“Wait! There’s still so much I want to talk to you about,” Enid said with the slightest pout before shooting a glance in Xavier’s direction.
“We will continue when I come back.”
“Promise?” Enid asked. Wednesday only nodded in a silent promise before opening the door and walking out. Xavier was quick to match her strides, at some points even walking ahead of her as they made their way across the campus. Crossing the battlefield of the quad didn’t come without interruptions as the two of them watched as Principal Dort chatted with both of Wednesday’s parents and Xavier’s dad.
“Ah children! Come come,” Gomez called out to the two. The two shared a glance before making their way to the group. “Principal Dort, have you met our little angel of death?”
“And my son, Xavier,” Mr. Thorpe added.
“Yep. I’m sure both of you would enjoy having your parents around more this year,” Dort answered. Wednesday was quick to respond first.
“What do you mean, around more?” she asked.
“Principal Dort just asked me to co-chair the Gala Fundraising Committee with Vincent.” Morticia eloquently explained.
“After last year, when your daughter wrongfully accused my son of murder I wasn’t sure if I wanted to send him back here. In fact I was even considering sending him to Reichenbach Academy in Switzerland,” Vincent Thorpe started to explain.
“I spent the summer there as an exchange student,” Gomez interrupted.
“I remember, darling. It was the longest summer of my life,” Morticia recalled as she stared glossy eyed down at her husband, becoming dangerously close for Wednesday’s liking. Averting her eyes, Wednesday looked at Xavier, whose face was becoming slightly pink.
“Um, yes well, as I was saying, sending Xavier back here wasn’t an easy decision but having the backing of such a prominent family, who so happens to be the same family that put us in such a predicament,” Xavier’s dad continued before Morticia and Gomez forgot about their audience.
“Dad!” Xavier interrupted, embarrassed at his father’s words.
“All I'm saying is that the opportunity to work together would do wonders to silence the lingering whispers of last year's incident.”
“I realize we’ve ambushed you,” Dort rushed to say.
“No, I usually enjoy a good ambush,” Morticia calmly noted.
“Especially when it involves daggers,” Gomez practically purred at his wife. Morticia cooed in return.
“Why don’t you think about it overnight?” Dort rushed to interrupt the heated interaction.
“Tish and I will discuss it on the ride home,” Gomez said without taking his eyes off his wife.
“Yes, please do,” Wednesday said, disgusted at the public display of affection offending her eyes. Before she could continue on her way to Xavier’s dorm, Dort said something that made her stop in her tracks entirely.
“Actually, I… I was hoping to keep you a little closer.” Before she knew it, Wednesday had excused herself from Xavier and his father and followed Dort to the gardener’s cottage, also known as Rotwood cottage. The ex-home of Marilyn Thornhill, also known as Laurel Gates.
“I thought the gardener’s cottage was reserved for faculty.” Morticia quizzed as the family of Addams stood inside the cottage along with Dort.
“Marilyn Thornhill lived here last year, but thanks to Wednesday, she is now enjoying much tighter quarters, in prison.” Dort enthusiastically explained as he turned on the light to expose the full horror of the pink hell they stood in.
“Not pine box tight, but a girl can dream, ” Wednesday added.
“It’s yours for the night,” Dort said, handing a cartoonishly large key to Morticia. “And if you decide to become our gala chair, consider this your home away from home. I’ll wait outside.”
Once he was gone Morticia allowed a gasp to escape her lips. “Who decorated this place?” she asked horrified as Thing scurried around, removing the plastic covering off the equally obnoxious furniture.
“A homicidal maniac,” Wednesday said plainly.
“Now, you shouldn’t cast aspersions, dear. Not all homicidal maniacs have such ghastly taste,” Mortical corrected her daughter.
“Nothing your putrefying touch couldn’t fix, Cara Bella.” Gomez assured with loving kiss to the knuckles of his goddess.
“Hey, Dad, I found some old mousetraps under the sink. You want a snack?” Pugsley thankfully interrupted in time.
“Yeah!” Gomez replied before making his way towards his son.
“Why would you want to be in charge of a gala?” Wednesday interrogated her mother.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting things to change so quickly,” she started to explain. “Pugsley shot up like poison oak this summer, and now that you’re both at Nevermore, I have been wondering what my next chapter might be.”
“The thought of you and Father in the house alone unsupervised fills me with a sense of dread I usually reserve for costumed mascots,” said in an uncomfortable understanding.
“But I won’t consider this if it makes you uncomfortable,” Morticia quickly added.
“I was born uncomfortable, Mother.” As she turned away from her mother, she was met with the eyes of the very woman who managed to flip Wednesday’s life around on its axle last semester, and slammed the framed portrait down against the table.
“I know it’s been hard… with Goody gone, and no one from our bloodline reaching out to be your new spirit guide. But if I was here, I could be of assistance. Temporarily, of course, until a new guide presents themselves,” Morticia tried to reason with her daughter.
“You’re a Dove, I’m a Raven,” Wednesday quickly shut down. “We’re on different paths. You said so yourself.” She started making her way towards the exit.
“I’ve had experience with Ravens.” That caused her to stop.
“Are you talking about your sister? You’ve never been very forthcoming about Aunt Ophelia,” she asked, turning around.
“You remind me a lot of her. Especially as you’ve gotten older.”
“You don’t need to worry about me, Mother. You should be focused on Pugsley. We both know being tall and male will only get him so far. Besides, he’s got the brains of a dung beetle and the ambition of a French bureaucrat.” With one last glance at the cottage, Wednesday finally made her way out. Her walk back to school through the woods with Thing and his meddler tendencies, as she shooed him away the sound of sirens caught her attention. Through the trees she could see a variety of vehicles ranging from police cars, to news vans, and her personal favorite coroner's van. Making her way to the crime scene, she was too far from the voice calling her name to notice. Once on the now closed street Wednesday was only able to catch a glance of the body laid on the stretcher before a person she recognized as deputy Santiago turned to face her.
“Wednesday, can I help you?”
“Just admiring the view.” she responded, her eyes still fixated on the now covered body. Shifting her gaze to the authority figure talking to her, Wednesday noticed the change in badge. “Sheriff Santiago.”
“I promise to be better than my predecessor,” the sheriff tried to tease.
“That’s an exceptionally low bar.” The sheriff only scoffed and walked away. It was then that Wednesday noticed a suspicious person was standing with a small group of campers, except this person was hidden under their hood. As they turned to walk away, Wednesday promptly followed after them. Whoever it was tried to outrun her by running in a zig-zag manner, yet unintentionally letting Wednesday get ahead of them. With a swift kick to their face Wednesday walked up to the familiar figure now laying on the ground. “Galpin? What are you doing here?”
“The victim was a friend of mine. Carl Bradbury. We were working a case together, and that’s what got him killed,” the former Sheriff explained as he slowly made his way back up on his feet.
“I play cello, not violin.” Just then, the two were interrupted by Wednesday's name being called. Running up to her was Xavier who looked a bit out of breath, no doubt struggling to keep up with the chase. “What are you doing here?”
“My dad told me Dort was taking you and your family to the Rotwood Cottage, and I was making my way over there when I saw you walking back.” It wasn’t till then he actually noticed the older man standing in front of them. “What’s going on?”
“The sher- Galpin was just sharing a sob story with me,” Wednesday explained. Donovan shot a weary glance at the male teen before looking back at the young Addams, incorrectly filling in the blanks in his mind. Still, he continued from where he was interrupted.
“Bradbury stumbled onto something. Said it could affect Outcasts. We’re starting to scratch the surface.”
“You care about Outcasts now?” Wednesday asked, her hard demeanor cracking ever so slightly.
“My son is an Outcast.” That earned a scoff from Xavier as Wednesday stiffened at the reference of he who shall not be named. “Yeah, I know what he’s done, but…Ms. Thornhill, she turned him into a monster.”
“Tyler was always a monster.” She wouldn’t let him diminish Tyler, even if she still hated him. “She just unlocked that in him. People don’t change. Look at you. You’re still a broken, deluded man who can’t hide behind his tin badge anymore.”
“Badge never stopped you, did it?” He was quick to respond. “I could use your help getting to the bottom of this. You didn’t just wind up at that crime scene by accident, Addams. You were drawn to it like a moth to a flame.”
“And why should she help you,” Xavier finally spoke, reminding the other two of his presence. Donovan shot him an annoyed look, before looking back at Wednesday with a determined look.
“Look I know things didn’t end well between my son and you, but you were friends at a point, heck probably even more, but that just means you understand better than anyone else that last year’s actions weren't my boy. I just want to make sure nothing bad happens to him. And maybe deep down, you know you feel the same way too.” Feeling cornered under the gazes from both males Wednesday did what she always did best, she shut down.
“It’s a shame your psychological insight couldn’t help you save your own son.” With that she turned around to leave. Xavier took that as his queue to follow and jogged up to her.
“If you change your mind, you come find me!” Donovan called out. “Just remember… the birds are always watching!” That caused Xavier to stop.