Not Alone

As Wednesday slept, her dreams were filled with extremely vivid memories of that night. They were so vivid that she felt them, like she was experiencing them all over again. The weight of the chains around her wrists, the searing pain in her hand as she was forced to open the blood lock, the knife slicing into her stomach and twisting….

They seemed so real that she questioned if they were real. Maybe they were and everything that happened after was a hallucination, something her mind conjured up to make dying more bearable and she was still lying on the floor of the crypt, bleeding out and alone.

In a weird way, she hoped that was the case. It's not that she wanted to die, quite the contrary. It's just she was having doubts about whether she had made the right decision to allow Goody to heal her. She consented to have a ghost pass through her to heal her without really stopping to think of the potential consequences. Goody said that she could never see her again. But then what would she do about her visions? Goody was the only one who could help her. Without her to guide her and teach her to navigate them, does this mean she would go mad as both Goody and her mother warned? Would she lose her sense of self? Of reality? Would they isolate her from everything and everyone she loves?

Given the choice, death would be preferable to complete madness.

But on the other hand, if she had let herself die, who would've stopped Crackstone and saved the school? It was Addams blood that sealed him in the tomb, and Addams blood that resurrected him. The blood curse meant that only an Addams could kill him. Enid assured her they could defend themselves, and maybe that was true, maybe they could've stood their ground long enough for someone in her family to kill him, but Wednesday didn't want to consider the casualties. She had witnessed a building full of outcasts getting burned alive by Crackstone and his followers, and even though the memory wasn't hers, the vision was forever seared into her brain. The thought of something like that happening to Nevermore, her people, her friends…

Maybe madness was a better alternative to that.

She never thought she would be the self-sacrificing type, but this was important. Even if she never grew to care about a single soul at that school, she could not let such an injustice come to pass. So, maybe she did make the right choice. But it still scared her all the same. She didn't scare easily, but losing herself to madness was high on her very short list of fears. But then so was Joseph Crackstone after she witnessed him commit genocide in the past and again after she saw him rise from the dead and he nearly killed her.

In her dreaming state, she was both back in the crypt, contemplating her death and watching herself, wondering what choice she would've made if she had the time to think about it when Goody offered to heal her, almost believing she still had a chance to alter the outcome if she wanted to. But she was also somehow in Ms. Thornhill's conservatory confronting her with Weems, at the Weathervane with Tyler leaning in to kiss him, confronting Xavier with the police, watching Uncle Fester try to zap Thing back to life, sitting on the floor by the window after Enid left, reaching to check for a pulse after Eugene was attacked…

It quickly became dizzying and overwhelming, seemingly too real and unreal, both experiencing those moments and more, as though they were still happening, yet on the outside as a silent observer forced to watch. Much like her visions, just as vivid and violent, but this was different. This was all her regrets and fears laid bare for her to confront.

Wednesday…

Goody's voice whispered through her mind and the chaos of her dreams stopped, fading to black and silent. She wondered for a moment if she was still back at Crackstone's crypt, dying. She felt like she was dying.

Wednesday…

Maybe if she was still there, maybe this time she could make a more informed choice about whether she should consent to allow Goody to heal her or not. Before she agreed to it without thinking, but now she had some doubts. She wanted to be healed, but she needed to know at what cost. If she couldn't see Goody again, would there be another Addams ancestor to mentor her and teach her about her visions? Or maybe a Frump ancestor? Surely, there had to be another Raven in her bloodline somewhere.

Wednesday…

And if there was a catch, she wanted to know what it was. Was she going to drown in the raging river Goody spoke of and go mad, or could she still learn to navigate it and control it on her own? Did Goody have ulterior motives besides wanting to see Crackstone destroyed? Her mother warned her to be careful around Goody, and even though they had their differences and she wouldn't admit it, she trusted her mother over almost anyone.

"Wednesday, hey…"

Her voice sounded different.

"Hey, wake up…"

She felt something gently shake her right shoulder and she let out a soft moan and opened her eyes, disoriented and groggy. She blinked dizzily, struggling to focus and figure out where she was and if she was still dreaming or dying. She lifted her gaze towards the voice and saw two Enids hovering over her and she squinted until they merged into one.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she exclaimed, a look of relief and concern on her scratched-up face. "I was getting worried. You've been asleep and unresponsive for a really long time and then you started to get restless, and I've never seen you restless while you sleep, and then just now it looked like you were having a seizure again – or was it a vision?"

Still disoriented, Wednesday frowned.

"I didn't know you could get them in your sleep. Can you get them in your sleep? Or maybe you were having a nightmare. Can't say I blame you. I couldn't sleep much because I kept having nightmares about last night…"

"Enid," Wednesday said in order to shush her, her voice a little hoarse from disuse. She squinted at the light in the room, her head was throbbing as much as it was still spinning and she wanted some quiet to orient herself. Even lying down, she felt like she was on a small boat in a raging sea and it was making her nauseous.

"Sorry," Enid said, "how are you feeling?"

Wednesday didn't know how to answer that. The pull of sleep was still calling to her, her body hurt and she felt like if she were to move she would vomit. And there was something else, a tight, unfamiliar feeling she couldn't identify that seemed to grip her chest, making it hard to breathe as the blurred reality of her visions and memories gnawed at her, demanding attention. It felt like what could only be described as anxiety, but she'd never been anxious about anything before, so that couldn't be right and yet... She closed her eyes to try and make the world stop spinning and cleared her throat, "I'm fine."

Enid whimpered with sympathy and skepticism, "You're not." Wednesday felt Enid's hand brush against her forehead and she squirmed away from the touch, opening her eyes to give her a glare of warning. "You were so cold earlier, but now you seem warm. Too warm."

"I'm fine," she reiterated. It was a lie, but she just needed to get more rest as her body worked to replenish the blood she had lost. She wasn't fine, but she would be.

"OK, I know you want to go back to sleep, and you should, but I need you to do something first," Enid said, and she heard her go to her side of the room and back again and to Wednesday's annoyance, she heard her pull up a chair, "Here. Drink this."

She blinked her eyes open again and her frown deepened when she blurrily saw Enid holding out a mug. She tilted her head in confusion.

"It's tea with some of Eugene's honey," Enid said, "it's not hot anymore – it looked like you were going to wake up sooner than you did, but it should still help you feel better. I wouldn't be surprised if you're dehydrated."

Sighing deeply, she wanted to tell her to stop fussing so she could go back to sleep. She needed to rest, she was so unbelievably exhausted, she could drink it later. But Enid was right. She did lose a significant amount of blood and getting some fluids in her system would help. Plus, her mouth was dry and tasted like something crawled in there and died. She tried to push herself up into a sitting position but to her dismay discovered that she lacked the strength. Not only that, but thanks to the wound in her shoulder, she also realized she couldn't fully move her left arm properly.

Enid set the mug down and moved in to help her, but Wednesday glared at her warning her to back off. She shakily got her right hand under her and through willpower and pride alone was able to weakly push herself up into a sitting position. Enid handed her the mug and Wednesday took it with both hands, she smelled the tea and made a face. "What is this?"

"Tea, silly," Enid replied, "you should know. It's yours. Thing said that it was a special blend that would help."

Wednesday took another whiff and though the honey masked the scent she recognized it as a blend Grandmamma made as an all-purpose medicinal tea. The scent was potent and shocked her into alertness. It was known to be brutally bitter, so she tended to avoid having to drink it, and even forgot she had something like it among her things. But maybe with the honey it wouldn't be as bad. She took a tentative sip and grimaced, gagging slightly. Nope. If anything, the honey made it worse somehow.

Enid grimaced in sympathy, "That gross, huh?"

She nodded and tried to hand it back to her but Enid refused, gently pushing her hands away.

"Thing told me you have to drink the whole thing."

Wednesday spotted him at the foot of her bed and she hissed, "Traitor." He casually scooted away and perched on the bedframe. She glanced at Enid who was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to be a big girl and take her medicine. "If I have to drink this, so do you. It can help with your recovery too."

"No thanks," Enid said in disgust, "the nurse already gave me meds."

"Fine. Then out of solidarity."

Enid squirmed, "No way! That stuff stinks! Maybe if I put more honey in it? Or I could heat it up again."

"That won't help," Wednesday pouted, but she took another sip anyway. "Nope. I'm sure the healing effects are a placebo anyway." She tried once again to hand it back to her.

Enid giggled, "Did I just discover Wednesday Addams's greatest weakness?"

"Tell a soul and I will end you." She didn't mean it of course, but she said it as though she did. Hopefully, Enid wouldn't call her bluff.

After a moment she sighed, made a face and downed the whole thing in one go as though it would somehow bypass her taste buds. It didn't, but at least she could say she got it over with. Enid seemed surprised that she did it and once Wednesday stopped gagging from the bitter taste, she shrugged her right shoulder, "What? It's like taking off a bandaid or ripping out a…" she stopped mid-sentence. She was going to say 'knife' but her version of the idiom hit differently now.

"Here," Enid took the mug from her, "I'll wash that for you. Go back to sleep, you need the rest. If I'm not here when you wake up again, it's because I don't have much of a choice. There's a mandatory assembly in an hour to talk about what happened last night and what's going to happen now. I'll tell them you can't make it."

Wednesday quirked a brow, "Why? I'm expelled, remember?"

"Yeah well, you saved the school. It would be crazy not to let you come back now."

"I don't think that's how it works," Wednesday muttered. A dizzying wave hit her and she swayed forward, her face contorting to an uncomfortable grimace.

"Are you OK?"

She nodded.

"You really should lie down," Enid said, "I didn't think it was possible for you to be this level of pale."

Wednesday nodded in response and collapsed back into her pillow. Still so incredibly dizzy she was glad to be lying down again. Her shoulder throbbed, and while the pain was nothing compared to the knife when it was twisted in her gut, it seemed to send fire through her nerves and it was almost unbearable to move her arm. She rested her left hand on her stomach and cradled her arm with her right, crossing her arms across her chest like she normally did when she slept put too much strain on her shoulder. She closed her eyes to try and will the world to stop spinning and let out a soft sigh that came out almost as a whimper.

Enid made a sympathetic noise and said, "Is there anything I can do?"

"You've done more than enough," Wednesday said, trying to come across as grateful but it came out a little sarcastic. To try and make up for it, she said as sincerely as she could despite feeling like she was being jabbed in the shoulder by a hot poker, "Thank you."

"No worries," Enid said, and Wednesday felt her pull her blanket up to her chest, gently tucking it around her.

Wednesday wanted to ask what she thought she was doing, she was too old for needing to be tucked into bed so it was weird. But it also felt kind of nice and Enid seemed to have this strange need to be a mother hen right now– it was obvious that watching her nearly die was affecting her, so perhaps it made some sense. It was just that Wednesday was not used to such a thing. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and took pride in that independence. On the other hand, while she hated to admit it to even herself, she had almost no strength to pull the blanket up herself. Maybe allowing her the small task was acceptable.

"Oh," Enid added, "before I forget. When you feel better enough that you think you'd be up to it, call your mom. She called last night and was worried sick."

Wednesday shot her eyes open and glared inquisitively.

"Don't worry I didn't tell her anything about what happened, she just…knew. She said she knew something awful happened to you, I don't think she knew what exactly, but I told her you were OK. Just resting."

Wednesday relaxed a little at that.

"You are OK, right?" Enid asked. Wednesday nodded. "Truthfully? I mean, you lost a lot of blood, and that's already bad enough, but nothing bad happened…after Goody healed you, right? Besides your hand?"

Wednesday hesitated, she didn't want to lie but she didn't want to add to Enid's concern. It was already overwhelming having her take care of her like this and being unfortunately too exhausted and weak to protest. She didn't need to add to Enid's worry.

"Nothing serious," Wednesday replied. It was truthful enough. The arrow obviously missed her heart, so that was something, and it wasn't so deep that it fully impaled her and she was able to stitch it up before passing out last night so it was fine, all things considered. Hurt like hell, but she didn't mind it as much, at least this wound wasn't fatal. Besides, the hole in her shoulder was very low on the list of things Wednesday was concerned about. A lingering fear still gripped her chest so she focused what little energy she had on suppressing it, ignoring it, and hiding it.

Enid looked skeptical, but she seemed to reluctantly accept her answer.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you OK? Those scratches on your face look painful."

Enid put her hand on her face, her expression shifting as though suddenly self-conscious, "I feel sore, like everywhere but I'm good. The nurse gave me some painkillers and they've helped. My face though, does it look bad? I've been afraid to look."

"Looks bruised and a little angry, but they also tell a story. About how brave and fierce you really are," Wednesday quietly assured her. "If I were you I would be proud."

"Thanks," she seemed taken aback.

Hit with another wave of exhaustion Wednesday closed her eyes again and murmured, "I'm proud of you. You saved my life. For that I am grateful."

"No problem, anytime," Enid said, and she could hear the smile in her voice, "however, I would appreciate it if you didn't get into any more life-threatening situations from here on out, OK?"

"I'll try," Wednesday replied faintly, a hint of a smirk crossing her lips, "no guarantees though. A girl's gotta have her hobbies."

She heard Enid give an exaggerated sigh of exasperation, but it was clearly in jest. "Wednesday!" she groaned fondly.

The brief exchange of levity helped ease her fears enough for Wednesday to feel like she could relax, at least for a little while. She still couldn't figure out why Enid cared about her so much, but she wasn't complaining.

Wednesday wondered if her near-death experience changed her – she certainly didn't feel like herself. She hated feeling so hurt and exhausted and weak and scared. Not a lot scared her, but what happened last night? It filled her with existential dread. That was new to her. Maybe if she wasn't physically so helpless, those fears would subside, but they held on tight and it was overwhelming.

Normally, she preferred to deal with her problems on her own, but there was something oddly soothing about knowing Enid and Thing were looking out for her. It was a strange feeling. One she didn't know how to process.

A part of her resented it and wanted to push them away, tell them to leave her alone, because she should be strong enough to take care of herself and she was always independent and capable on her own and how dare they imply otherwise? But for now, she felt safe knowing that while she was at her most vulnerable and scared, someone had her back. Someone she could now honestly say she trusted with her life.

"Get some rest," Enid said, "and if there's anything you need, Thing and I've got you."

"Mmm," Wednesday murmured in a way of saying 'thank you'. And within a few moments, she was sound asleep.