Not Alone

Pugsley was trying his best to calm her, but it wasn’t working and she didn’t know why.  She didn’t understand why she was having a hard time breathing, or why everything hurt or why she was so unbelievably weak and why she was desperate for Enid to return.

She couldn’t think.  Everything hurt which was a distraction.  She felt dizzy and nauseous and it was like there was a fire raging in her body and things that made sense a moment ago were slipping away from her.

She barely understood what happened and she was still in such a fog she wasn’t sure she understood everything Enid had said or why Pugsley was there.  Or why there was a cloud of black smoke encroaching into the room and why it terrified her in a way she couldn’t begin to comprehend and why neither Pugsley nor Enid before she left seemed to notice or acknowledge it.  Was there a perfectly normal explanation for it that her foggy mind just couldn’t figure out? Was she the only one who could see it? 

Was it even real?

No, it had to be real.  Was this a vision? 

Maybe none of this was real.  Maybe she was still in her room, dreaming.  Maybe this was all some bizarre fever dream and everything was fine.

Or maybe she was still in the crypt, dying. 

Her head throbbed in a way she never felt before, and it was affecting her ability to think.  That had to be it.  But everything was so puzzling, and there were so many pieces to that puzzle that were missing and the ones she had were quickly fading away. And the familiar boy next to her – no, not boy, it was her brother, Pugsley, how could she have forgotten that just now? – he was holding her hand, telling her how worried he had been. 

She wanted to tell him to stop talking but couldn’t find her voice.  Every word seemed to reverberate through her aching skull and the sound seemed accompanied by something else.  Like something clawing and pounding at the back of her head.  It seemed to become louder and more persistent since…. since…her…friend?…what was her name? she knew her name – since she left. 

“Enid,” she whispered as it came to her, barely recognizing the hoarse sound escaping her aching throat. 

“She’s coming back,” said the boy – her brother, Pu—it started with a P, that much she knew… he was her brother, how could she have forgotten his name? “She just went to get the nurse, remember?”

She shook her head slightly.  She didn’t remember.  Nurse? Where…where even were they?  All she could see was a cold bright fluorescent light and the black smoke creeping closer to them.  She glanced around and noticed tubes poking from under her white cotton gown and under tape on her skin and she guessed that she must be in a hospital – but she was confused by the fact that her arm was in a sling. She was stabbed in the gut not…wait…arrow in the shoulder.  Right. Goody had healed her stab wound...

Goody.

She sucked in a breath, overtaken with sudden deep, existential dread.  Something wasn’t right.  Something was terribly wrong.  It wasn’t just the pain and the weakness and confusion.  It was the clawing and scratching in the back of her head and under her skin, the smoke drawing near, the fact that living came at a terrible cost, that there was something she couldn’t remember, something important, something dark and visceral that sent waves of phantom pain through her body and a strange but absolute sense of dread and loneliness.

“Wednesday, you need to calm down,” urged the boy – her brother? – name started with a…a… P?  How could she forget her own brother’s name? 

She looked around and realized that he was referring to her. Did she forget her own name?  What did he call her? Why was everything she knew slipping away from her until it was just beyond her reach?  What was that clawing and pounding and scratching that seemed to send ripples of sharp pain in her skull?  Why was the boy not concerned about the smoke?  Why did the thought of it reaching her terrify her to her very core?

It was getting closer.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Wednesday!” the boy exclaimed.

There was a beeping noise that seemed to steadily be getting faster, echoing in time with her heartbeat.  She felt like something was pressing on her chest and some invisible force was digging its claws into her, trying to pull her down into Hell.

Was this dying?

But then she appeared.  The smoke seemed to retreat in her presence and while the pain and the dread did not leave, the clawing and the scratching in her skull was mercifully not as loud as it had been and the fog in her head seemed to dissipate just enough that she was able to find some of the missing puzzle pieces but she wasn’t sure how to put the few she had back together.  But at least it was something.

There was another woman with her… a nurse?  She was trying to get between them but she reached for the girl, wanting to say something but unable to speak.  Her throat felt like it was on fire like the rest of her body, but this was like she had swallowed tiny knives.  The girl took her hand and she curled her fingers around hers. 

Nothing made sense, everything hurt, breathing hurt but her eyes locked with the girl’s…Enid, that was her name, right?...and despite the terror, the pain and the chaos within her, she felt safe, she felt protected. 

Though the other woman was trying to coach her on how to breathe while poking her and prodding her, it was the girl – Enid – who helped her find her rhythm, and she found her calm and even a little bit of clarity. 

She knew where she was.  Hospital.

She knew why she was there.  Arrow to the shoulder.  Infected. Not stabbed in the gut.  Goody healed that.

At what cost?

She knew her brother’s name. Pugsley.  She still didn’t know how she could’ve forgotten.

So much else was a blur, but she was able to put those little pieces together. And the black fog and smoke that still lurked in the corner of her eye… maybe that wasn’t real but if it was, she was safe because of Enid.

Enid.

It was strange but in that moment, she was the only thing in her fevered and foggy mind besides the pain that felt real. 

~~W~F~A~~

Was this something Enid was going to have to get used to?  Witnessing Wednesday, of all people, having a panic attack was unnerving and she didn’t think she could ever get used to it.

Even more worrisome than the fact that Wednesday’s mind was so scattered that she was panicking, was that Enid feared her weakened heart and lungs couldn’t handle the strain.  Her heart was beating so fast and her wheezy breaths were painful to listen to.  As Gina tried to talk her down, Enid could see the urgency on her face.  A panic attack in someone as severely ill as Wednesday was dangerous. What if she wasn’t getting enough oxygen?  What if she stopped breathing again?  What if her heart couldn’t take the strain? 

Trying not to let her own inward panic show, Enid locked eyes with Wednesday.  Her eyes reminded her of the broken thing in the mindscape, but at least now there were traces of the Wednesday she knew in them.  But it was a far cry with how she seemed a few minutes ago when she first woke up and was closer to being like her normal self. 

No, she couldn’t let her get hopelessly lost again, not now, not ever.

Enid took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, making eye contact with her, “Wednesday, breathe, breathe with me, OK?” She took a deep, slow breath and slowly let it out.  She breathed in again, silently encouraging Wednesday to do the same.  She held it and then slowly let it go.

She repeated the process until soon, she and Wednesday were breathing in unison and that seemed to help quiet the panic in both of them. The lost, broken thing from the mindscape slowly shifted and she seemed more like Wednesday again, just exhausted, confused and a little uncharacteristically paranoid.  Maybe a little paranoia was to be expected, but it was better than the alternative.

Once Wednesday was calm and her heartbeat returned to relatively normal, Gina checked her vitals, made some notes and smiled down at Wednesday, “It’s good to finally see you awake, Wednesday.  My name’s Gina, I’m one of your nurses.”

Wednesday looked at her with curious scrutiny, “Have…” she could barely make a sound and she winced, trying to painfully clear her throat and appearing to be a little confused by her lack of voice, “have we met before?” she whispered. 

Enid exchanged glances with Pugsley. 

“No,” Gina said, “Not really.  But I’m part of the team that’s been looking after you the last couple of weeks.  I never had the chance to meet you while you were awake, until now.  You’ve been on quite the journey.”

“F-familiar,” she looked up at Enid and Pugsley as though seeking reassurance but Enid was distracted by memories of the first time Wednesday had a full-blown panic attack which was so serious they needed to sedate her.  She had a vision then, one that touching Gina had triggered which had led to a seizure and, as Gina and her doctor called it, a cardiac event. 

They still had no idea what Wednesday had seen in the few visions she had while in her coma but Enid was very curious. One vision was triggered by Magnuson, who just thinking about instilled a deep fear in Enid. He still played a major role in her never-ending nightmares and knowing that he triggered a vision had her scared that he wasn’t done with them – especially with Laurel still out there. Enid wondered if Magnuson was the reason she was able to escape custody.

As for Gina, they all had kept a wary eye on her, at Morticia’s urging they didn’t want to jump to conclusions and despite having a sour attitude at first, she had warmed up to them and had always been great with Wednesday, only having her best interests in mind.  So far, she had given them no reason to not trust her, but Enid couldn’t help but think that Laurel Gates was the same way when Enid knew her as Ms. Thornhill.

But the mystery of what Wednesday saw would have to wait. They might never know unless Wednesday managed to remember them but she was having a hard time remembering anything lately – something Enid hoped was temporary.

“You probably recognize my voice,” Gina offered.

“No,” she whispered, “I’ve seen you before.”

“Maybe I just have one of those faces,” Gina shrugged. “How are you feeling?”

Wednesday frowned, trying to think, looking to Enid and Pugsley for help.  “C-confused…um…dizzy and ‘verything hurts.  It…hurts to breathe.”

“That’s not surprising,” Gina tsked with sympathy, “you’re dealing with a very serious infection and it spread to your organs, including your lungs.  You also have a cracked rib that doesn’t help.  Do you remember what happened?  Why you’re here?”

“St-stabbed,” she said but then corrected herself, “no, uh…um... shot… with an arrow.”

Wednesday silently seemed to seek confirmation from Enid who nodded.

“That’s right,” Gina said, “and the wound became severely infected, spreading through your body.  You’ve been very sick.”

“I’m so…tired…”

“Understandable,” Gina soothed, “and you can rest soon. I’m going to change your IV and get a doctor to look you over, and then you can go back to sleep, OK?”

“You…s-sure I haven’t…met you before?”

“It’s possible, I suppose, but I think if I met you, I would remember.  From everything I’ve heard, you’re hard to forget,” Gina said with a smile, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.  Your fever has gone up a little, I’m also going to get you something to help you cool down and it’s about time we change your bandages.”

Wednesday frowned, looked back at the sling on her arm and watched her leave.  She turned to Enid and Pugsley, “Get…me out of…here.”  Her eyes were wide and desperate.

“You’re in no condition to leave,” Enid said hesitantly. “Why do you feel like you’ve seen Gina before?”

“Not sure,” she whispered, frustrated, appearing like she was struggling to think.  “Just…familiar.”  She groaned weakly, rocking her head to the side.

“How are you feeling?” Pugsley asked.

She glanced at him and winced as she tried to answer, “H-hurts. Everywhere…I feel…wrong,” her eyes darted to look just past him, fixated on nothing, her breath quickening, “I…please get me out…of here…” 

“Why?” Enid asked, her curiosity about the vision Wednesday had when she first woke up gnawing at her. 

She hesitated, not taking her eyes off the space in the corner she was fixated on, almost falling into a trance-like state.  Enid tried to see what she was looking at but there was nothing there.

“Wednesday?” Enid asked, blocking her view.

She flinched, making eye contact with her, snapping out of it.  “I… I told y-you… no hospitals,” she said, trying to come across as annoyed, trying to be more like her normal grumpy self but instead she sounded so small and vulnerable and afraid.  She weakly tried to sit up but barely had the strength to lift her head.  She let her head drop into her pillow in defeat, clearly agitated.

“You’re still too sick,” Enid commented with a sympathetic whimper, “you’re getting better but the infection was bad, you were going into organ failure and it’s still bad, I don’t think it would be safe…”

“Can’t stay…”

“Why?  Why do you think you can’t stay?  Is it because you’re in a hospital, or because you’re in this hospital?”  Pugsley asked, just as concerned about Wednesday’s visions as Enid was.

“I… I don’t know,” she said, her quiet and hoarse voice broke and she closed her eyes, looking like she was struggling to think or remember something, tears building in her eyes, clearly in pain and agitated by her inability to communicate what she was trying to say. “I…just…Enid, please…”

Enid didn’t know what to say or what to do.  She looked out the door where Gina would be coming back any moment and then back at Wednesday.  She took Wednesday’s hand and glanced at Pugsley, “We’ll figure something out, OK?”

Seemingly unsatisfied with that answer she tried again to sit up, “No…have to…get out of here…”  Visibly frustrated by her failure to even lift her head she glanced at her left arm in confusion and then helplessly back at Enid.  “Please… can’t stay here.”

“It’s not that simple, but I promise you, we’re going to see what we can do, OK?”

“No way out…” she mumbled absently, barely audible.

“Wednesday!” she snapped, gentle but firm, terrified to hear her hopeless mantra from the Mindscape, desperate to keep her present and lucid, “We’re going to figure this out. In the meantime, you’re safe.  We’re here, we’re not leaving you, OK?”

“Yeah, sis,” Pugsley said softly, “you’ve protected me all my life, it’s our turn now.”

Wednesday blinked and nodded once, her eyes a little clearer but then she looked away as though ashamed, squeezing her eyes shut as a few rogue tears fell down her fevered cheeks.

It broke Enid’s heart to see it.

Though she was trying to forget the Mindscape, Enid was suddenly hit with a visceral memory of the broken thing that Wednesday had become, weeping in her arms, begging her not to leave, convinced she was a trick and Enid tried not to sob at the memory. Pugsley silently questioned if Enid was OK and she quickly nodded, wiping her eyes. 

It was wrong to see Wednesday as she had been in the Mindscape, and it was wrong to see her like this now.  And now that she was more like herself than she had been, it just made it even harder to see her struggle. Wednesday was still out of it, still dealing with gaps in her memory that seemed to come and go and her mind teetering between lucid and lost, but now Wednesday was conscious enough to recognize how out of character it was for her to be so weak and scared and emotional. At least when she was lost in her delirium she lacked that awareness.

When Wednesday opened her eyes again she avoided making eye contact, but Enid caught the shame in her eyes.

“It’s OK,” she murmured, “you’ve been through so much – more than you realize.  But you also saved the school.  You defeated Crackstone before he could hurt anyone else.  Remember?” 

Wednesday had nothing to be ashamed of, with everything she had been through, it was amazing she was even alive.  It was amazing that the Wednesday they knew wasn’t completely gone. 

Gina and the night doctor on duty interrupted them to examine her now that she was properly awake.  Enid and Pugsley both kept a wary eye on them as they worked, asking Wednesday questions she struggled to answer, drawing blood, changing her bandages and IV. By the time they were done, Wednesday was agitated and exhausted, at the end of her limited endurance.

And Wednesday still wouldn’t look at them.  She seemed so defeated and mixed with the unwarranted shame, she looked scared.  Enid wished she knew what she could say to convince her that no one thought any less of her, quite the opposite.  She might not be the same, she might not ever be the same to some degree, but the fact that she was still with them, alive, not completely lost to madness only proved that Wednesday was the strongest person she knew. 

Gina took a syringe and injected the contents into a port in Wednesday’s arm.  Wednesday shuddered a moment and then relaxed.

“What’s that?” Enid asked, sounding more accusing than she meant to.  She wanted to trust her, but considering everything, she couldn’t help but be suspicious.

Gina seemed surprised by her tone, “Just something for the pain and to help her sleep.  She needs rest.  She has a big day tomorrow,” she said, referring to the slew of tests the doctor had ordered for her.  “You kids look exhausted, maybe you two should also try and get some rest.  You don’t look well, Enid.  When was the last time you had a proper sleep?”

“When I was a patient here and given sleep meds,” Enid confessed.  That was almost two weeks ago and yet felt like almost yesterday but also much longer than that.

Wednesday turned her head to look at her finally, confused and concerned, fighting the medication she had just been given, “Enid? What…do you mean, ‘patient’?  What happened? You…OK?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m OK now, I promise,” Enid assured her, thrown a little off guard with how quick her reaction to that revelation was when her mind was so scattered. “I heal fast.”

“That’s a long time without a full night’s rest,” Gina commented, “how many hours have you been getting?”

“About an hour at a time?  Maybe two?”

Gina sighed, “I think you should see a doctor about that, it’s not healthy.”

Enid stiffened and shrugged, “I’m fine.”

Truth be told, as exhausted as she was, as much as everyone had been encouraging her to rest, she didn’t want to.  The nightmares were too much.  It was like she was back in the Mindscape, only it blurred with reality and she would watch Wednesday die over and over and be helpless to save her, or she would be preoccupied with saving herself from the Hyde, or Magnuson or her own mother would be in her way, preventing her from saving her friend. 

If she could sleep knowing that Wednesday was safe and she would be free of nightmares, Enid would gladly sleep for a week considering how she was feeling. 

“You’re not fine,” Gina said bluntly, “this is a very stressful situation for all of you.  I’ve seen families of patients suffer from burnout and exhaustion.  You’re both too young to have to go through that and…” she sighed and started out the door, waving for Enid to follow. 

Enid glanced at Wednesday who was visibly struggling to stay awake, clearly not wanting her to go, “I’ll be back, I promise.”

She followed Gina who stopped outside the door and said in a hushed tone, “I know you’re worried about Wednesday’s health and safety, and I can see how it’s affecting you.  I can only imagine how traumatizing the attack at your school and the last couple of weeks has been, I know you’re scared, especially since the person who put Wednesday in there is running free, I get it.  I can understand why you might feel like you need to protect her.  But you’re recovering from your own wounds, and you’re making yourself sick by not getting rest.”

“I’m fine,” Enid bristled.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been staying by Wednesday’s side more than anyone else,” Gina continued, “and that’s beautiful, believe me.  But you need to allow yourself the chance to rest before you collapse from exhaustion.”

“Wednesday needs me,” Enid said, her voice breaking a little. 

“Exactly,” Gina said, matter-of-fact, “and now that she’s awake, she’s going to need you now more than ever.  She’s getting better, but she’s got a long road ahead of her. She’s going to need your help as she faces the challenges that lie ahead.”

Enid tried to hold back a sob at the two-day deadline before she had to go home. 

“Which means you need to take care of yourself,” Gina continued. She gestured to Lurch and two officers in the hallway all guarding her door, “No one who’s not authorized is getting in.  The medication I gave her guarantees she will not wake up for the rest of the night – it’s OK for you two to go home and get some rest and I think you should.”

Enid took a step back, suspicious, “Why?  Are you trying to get rid of us?”

“Of course not,” Gina said, “but you are not doing her any favours staying right now.  You need sleep, you both do.”  She gestured to Pugsley who might not have been having the sleep issues Enid was having, but he and Wednesday’s parents were also quite sleep-deprived.  “She’s already guarded 24/7, and she’s still very sick, but the worst of it is over, she’ll still be here when you come back tomorrow and might not even know you were ever gone.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Enid frowned, “but I’m not leaving her alone.”

Gina sighed, “Then don’t.  But please, try and get some rest.  For your sake and Wednesday’s.”

Enid watched as Gina walked away. 

She went back into Wednesday’s room where Wednesday appeared to have drifted off, but when she sat next to her and placed her hand on Wednesday’s, her eyes fluttered open briefly, making eye contact with her and she let out a soft sigh, closing them again. 

Once they were sure Wednesday was asleep, Enid, Pugsley and Thing, all agreed that they couldn’t ignore Wednesday’s mystery vision and her pleas to leave.  Maybe they were being paranoid, maybe the vision that Gina triggered when Wednesday first woke up and had that severe panic attack didn’t show her or any of the hospital staff doing anything sinister, but considering how she was begging to leave, they didn’t want to assume anything. 

Whether they could trust Wednesday’s medical team or not, Wednesday was not safe.  She was vulnerable and there was only so much they could do to protect her.  And if Gina or any of the hospital staff in charge of her care wanted to harm her, there was so much they could do without raising suspicion.  Vision or not, maybe now that she was awake and getting better it would be a good idea to take her where she could be safe, where no one would know where she was.

The question was how?

~~W~F~A~~

The following afternoon after Wednesday was done with her tests Morticia gazed outside the window at the light snowfall, leaving a thin white powder on the ground.  She always loved winter and found herself homesick, not necessarily to be back at their home, but homesick for this time last year, before Wednesday was cursed, before she was sent to Nevermore, before she was kicked from Nancy Reagan School, before Wednesday presumably had her first vision and began to distance herself from her.  Morticia could only guess that was why she seemed to retreat from the mother-daughter bond they shared. 

She had hoped that now that they had cleared the air and talked about her visions they would be able to rebuild that connection, but despite trying to remain positive, Morticia was scared that the Curse had done too much damage to Wednesday’s mind and she would never be the same. 

Her memory seemed to be improving, Enid had said that last night she was more like herself than she had been. For at least a short while she seemed to remember everything up to the point she went to the hospital.  The problem was that it was a temporary victory and she had fallen back into panic.  It seemed her amnesia was coming and going in waves, and it seemed to be a struggle for her to recall simple things. 

The hope was that it was temporary, that when her infection went down and her fever broke her memory would improve.  She had proven that the memories still existed within her, but it was possible that she might have long-term memory issues to some capacity.  They said that it was possible she might have something close to a normal life, but she wasn’t going to be the same and it was still unclear what exactly that would look like.

All they could do was take things day-to-day. 

Morticia reminded herself that Wednesday was finding her way back.  She might not be the same but she was there. Her memories seemed to be mixed up and scattered, but they were there and she was putting them together piece by piece.  When she was conscious it was lasting longer than before and it was taking her less time to remember who they were. 

But as her memories of who she was and who her family was seemed to come and go, so did memories of the Mindscape and the Curse that nearly destroyed her. They caused such terrifying panic attacks that were slowing down her progress and in the midst of those attacks, it was like Wednesday was no longer there, instead she was a stranger, lost and broken, unaware of her surroundings.

It was terrifying and heartbreaking and she could only hope that those specific memories would fade into obscurity and someday soon be remembered as nothing more than a horrible dream.

Enid seemed to be the only one who could pull her out of those attacks, and Morticia dreaded the thought that she would be leaving in just two days.  They needed to either find a way to postpone her departure or learn to cope without her. 

She glanced over at Enid who having reluctantly succumbed to her exhaustion slept restlessly, her head resting on the rails of Wednesday’s bed.  She appeared to be in the throes of another nightmare. The poor girl needed Wednesday as much as Wednesday needed her.

She didn’t know what to do.  But for now, while her exhausted children slept and Gomez looked into finding out what their options were when it came to Wednesday’s care and safety, all she could do was wait.

 Wiping a tear from her eye Morticia sighed and scrolled through photos on her phone of the last time the whole family, the Addams and the Frump clan were all together.  It was just last year at Wednesday’s quinceañera.  She looked so beautiful in her custom-made black ballgown made of fine silk, lace and chiffon with Swarovski crystals.  It was a dress Wednesday and Morticia both worked on designing together.  Wednesday had wanted it to be a smaller event, not really caring too much about her birthday and only collaborated with her mother on the design in exchange for some yet-to-be-claimed favour, but when the dress came and she put it on, and the spiderweb lace design turned out perfectly, Morticia had almost caught her smiling. 

She had always liked to pretend she wasn’t interested in such things, like she was better than it all, like she had more important things to do, but once in a while, the ghost of the happy little girl within her that died when Nero was murdered would come out.  Her desire to be alone and not engage in social activities was always a part of her, and she would never want to change her little introvert, that was never an issue, but she was not immune to getting caught up in special occasions from time to time. 

Morticia choked out a sob when she came across a picture of her in her gown, after fulfilling her duties as the reluctant birthday girl and retreating from the festivities, just outside the ballroom, dancing with Lurch.  Wednesday had thought no one would see them and probably would kill her if she saw that Morticia had noticed and taken a picture because Wednesday had a rare, genuine smile on her face.  

Just outside the door, Lurch kept watch, still expressing how much he didn’t want to see Wednesday in her condition.  When she accompanied her to get various scans and tests done, she caught him looking their way and he had closed his eyes and turned away, visibly upset.  Wednesday and Lurch had a special bond once upon a time. When she was little she taught him to dance and he taught her music, and when she decided the harpsichord wasn’t for her and set her eyes on the cello, he would often accompany her as she practiced.  

She found a picture of her playing the cello at her quinceañera while people danced and her eyes were closed as she got lost in the music.  Wednesday had always been so talented, determined to master any skill she learned and Morticia worried that her cello playing days were over. 

There was significant nerve damage in her shoulder, not just from the injury itself but also from the infection. They had been warned that she might not be able to use her left arm again to its fullest capacity without permanent pain issues.  But with physiotherapy and possible surgery down the road, they might be able to minimize the damage and effects, but like everything else, it was too soon to tell.  As it was now, she had no feeling in three of her fingers and couldn’t move any of them.

She wiped away a rogue tear from her eyes, just thinking about it.  She was grateful that Wednesday didn’t have to lose her arm completely, but it hurt nonetheless.  Playing the cello had always been therapeutic for Wednesday, in many ways, her music was an extension of herself.  If she couldn’t have that…to have that taken away from her…

She felt a hand on her shoulder and she flinched but relaxed as Gomez sat down beside her, “Are you all right?” he asked quietly, taking her hand and kissing it.

“I’m just reminiscing about Wednesday’s quinceañera,” she said softly, showing him the pictures on her phone, quickly wiping away another tear.

“That was a special evening,” Gomez said, a bittersweet grin on his face as he scrolled through the gallery. “She was exceptionally beautiful. Reminded me of you on your own quincerañera.”

“We weren’t together yet, we barely knew each other,” she smiled, “you were so sweet and shy, asking me to dance.”

“I was terrified you would say no.”

“And I was worried that you would never ask me,” she replied. “That was the main reason I had invited you.  But you did and the rest was, as they say, history.”

“And after years of courting, adventure and marital bliss, we made two beautiful, perfect children,” he said, glancing at Puglsey who was sound asleep on the chair and then at Wednesday who seemed restless as she slept, her wheezy breaths sounded strained and weak. 

“Yes, we did, didn’t we?” she agreed, her voice breaking.  “Gomez, what do we do?  We need to get her out of here, but she’s so sick.”

“I know,” he said, “and I’ve arranged a meeting with the head hospital staff about transferring her.  I’ve looked into possibly setting up hospice care and taking her home…”

“Yes, we should take her home.  She would be safe there, we’ll hire the best team to look after her until she is well, and when Grandmamma is back from the Amazon…she’ll help her, she’ll heal her and then she’ll be…she’ll be all right,” she said, knowing it was wishful thinking.  Grandmama could only do so much.  She might fix her shoulder, but at this point, the wound might be too old and have caused too much damage to repair fully, and even Healers could not fix a broken mind.

“But so far everyone has said that she’s still too sick to safely move, even with accommodation,” he sighed.

“Yes, but how do we know they’re even telling the truth?” she asked.  She gestured to the machines, showing her temperature was at 102 degrees. Still high, but not dangerously so. And while there were still concerns about her heart and lungs, her doctor said she was showing improvement physically, slowly but surely, so how could they not safely transport her elsewhere? “What if they’ll say anything to keep her here?  Where she believes it isn’t safe? Can we even believe them?”

“Do we have a choice?” he asked helplessly. “Do we risk her health for her safety?  As you have pointed out, we still don’t know what she saw in her visions.”

“Yes, and I have a hard time believing that anyone who would choose to be healers would wish her harm, but she wouldn’t beg for us to get her out for no reason.  She might not remember what she saw exactly, but I’m worried she just intuitively knows something we don’t.” 

“I know,” he sighed, “but she’s not… it pains me to say it out loud, but she’s not in her right mind.”

“But we can’t ignore her,” Morticia argued.  It was true she was not in her right mind, but Enid had said that when she was semi-lucid she was desperate to leave and they had to take that seriously. And this morning when running tests, when Wednesday was lucid enough to recognize and remember Morticia as her mother, she said the same thing – that she had to leave, that it wasn’t safe.   And she wasn’t – not with Laurel and her followers out there.  Ultimately, they didn’t know who they could trust and with Wednesday too sick to defend herself that was terrifying.

“I agree,” Gomez nodded, lowering his head, devastated, “Our poor Storm Cloud…she was always so strong, so independent and capable… I don’t think I could ever get used to seeing her like this.”

“Me neither,” she lamented softly, “I know she’s getting better and if anyone can overcome this it’s her, but that Curse had done such a number on her… It might be contained, but it’s still there.  How do we save her from that thing?  How do we protect her from Laurel and whoever else might be working with her?”

“We do the best we can,” he said, “as we always do.”

“What if it’s not good enough, Gomez?” Morticia cried, knowing he didn’t have an answer.  Hating that she still had so many doubts despite trying to be strong for her family’s sake.  “We can’t lose her – not to this curse, not to madness, not to Laurel...  I have never felt so helpless.”

“Cara mia,” Gomez soothed, “you have already done so much, sacrificed so much and because of you she still fights.  You are not helpless.  You’re the one who sensed the curse that plagued her, who found the ritual that contained it…if anyone is helpless it is I.”

“Darling, don’t say that,” Morticia said, “you have been my rock through all of this and without you and Pugsley, the Ritual would not have been strong enough to work.”

“And yet now that it is over, what else can I do but wait?  I need to do something, if I can’t save our Scorpion, then I need to avenge her and yet I cannot even do that for I do not want to leave her side for too long.”

“I feel the same way,” she sighed, understanding all too well his need for a task. 

Enid made a soft sound from where she slept. She had only been asleep about an hour, and based on the pattern her nightmares seemed to take she would be waking soon.  They were all sleep-deprived but not even close to the degree that Enid was.  The poor girl was looking more and more like a ghost, there were prominent dark shadows under her eyes, and she was so pale, even for someone as fair-skinned as she was.

“What do we do about Enid?” Morticia asked, “I’m worried about her. She needs Wednesday as much as Wednesday needs her and her mother just will not listen.”

 “We can still kidnap her,” he offered, “we can take her home with us, keep her in the dungeon…”

“Darling we can’t keep her in the dungeon…”

“But it’s the most relaxing room in the house!”

“For us, yes.  But not for her,” Morticia smiled, kissing him, “Enid is one of us, but her tastes are different.  Maybe we can fix up a room for her – the spare room next to Wednesday’s room.  We’ll fix it up for her in the way she likes it, so she’ll know that she always has a place with us, no matter what.”

Ever since Enid first saved Wednesday’s life, she had been wanting to do something special for her, giving Enid her own room in their mansion was not enough considering all she had done for them, but it was a start.

“Brilliant Tish!  But if we kidnap her…”

“We don’t need to keep her in the dungeon if we do,” she couldn’t help but chuckle.  Gomez always liked to be a little theatrical about such things. “But we can’t do that.  We will need the Sinclairs as allies, not enemies,” she said. 

“But do we really?” Gomez asked, “You talked to Enid’s mother, you know what she’s like and you can see how much stress she’s causing her.”

“And that’s the dilemma,” Morticia sighed. “As much as she wishes to stay, at least until Wednesday is better, I don’t think such extreme measures are what she actually wants.  We need to respect that.  But on the other hand, Enid does not need more stress.  I don’t think her mother is kind to her at all.”

“All the more reason to…”

“Darling, we’re not going to kidnap Enid without her permission.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

Morticia smiled and kissed him again, “Perhaps, but she deserves the world and for her wishes to be respected.”

“Absolutely, I am with you there, 100% Tish,” he kissed her back, “I just want Enid to be happy, and more than anything I want our Viper to recover, and if they need each other for that to happen, I will move heaven and earth to keep them together if that’s what it takes.”

“She’s only got two days,” Morticia sighed, looking at her sadly. Enid was tense, her nightmare was getting bad.  She didn’t want to wake her, but she couldn’t let her suffer any longer.

“I will find out her flight details and buy the remaining tickets,” Gomez said, “it will be overbooked and I can make sure that Enid gets bumped.”

“That will only work once before Mrs. Sinclair becomes suspicious and it won’t buy much time.”

“But it’s something.  Maybe a bomb threat on the day she needs to leave…all flights cancelled!”

Morticia chuckled, glad to see his sense of humour returning along with Wednesday’s health.  Her fever was still high but not dangerously so and her vitals were stable and holding steady.  As uncertain and bleak as her prognosis was, they couldn’t deny that she was still slowly but surely improving, and if anyone was going to beat the odds, it was Wednesday.  It was nice to see he still had hope left in him, enough to joke at least.  “No darling, as fun as it may be, that will create more problems and we’re already dealing with enough.  Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to the other travellers.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he sighed, “but I will keep brainstorming.”

“I know, mon cher, I know,” she kissed him again, “I’m going to wake Enid, I can’t bear to see her suffer her nightmare any longer.”

She wiped her eyes, making sure any last remnants of tears were gone. Enid was falling apart, scared and exhausted, so Morticia needed to be a strong, reassuring presence.

When she gently woke Enid, rescuing her from her latest nightmare, poor Enid was a wreck, crying and scared, echoing Morticia’s concerns about getting Wednesday somewhere safe and her desire to stay with them.  She tried to soothe her as best as she could until Thing snapped from where he was perched on Wednesday’s shoulder and grabbed their attention.

“Thing?  What is it?” she turned his way and saw Wednesday’s eyes fluttering, “Oh, she’s waking up!”

Enid took her hand, “Wednesday?”  Her eyes widened with concern, her head shaking as she looked at her closely.  Wednesday moaned, her face contorting to a pained wince, “No, I think something’s wrong.  Wednesday, wake up!” Enid cupped her hand to Wednesday’s cheek and gasped, her eyes darting to the monitor, “She’s burning up!  The screen says her fever is 102 but, it feels like it was before…maybe even worse!”

Morticia felt her forehead, shocked by the heat radiating from her despite the monitors saying otherwise.  “Pugsley, get the nurse.” Pugsley woke from where he was napping and was instantly on alert.  He nodded and rushed from the room.

“Wednesday?” Enid’s voice begged, “Are you with me?”

Wednesday groaned in pain as her eyes briefly fluttered open before sliding shut again.  Her breathing was wheezy and ragged.  It was like she was drowning.  Her lips were turning a pale blue.  Morticia took her wrist and felt her pulse racing.

“Wednesday stay with me!” Enid begged as Wednesday let out a pained whimper, gasping desperately for air but not getting enough, panicked and in distress.  “You’re safe, Wednesday, you’re safe! Stay with me!”

But despite Enid’s assurances to Wednesday, Morticia looked to Gomez helplessly.  Wednesday was in the midst of a relapse, struggling to breathe, her heart racing and her temperature climbing and yet the monitors attached to her gave no indication that anything was wrong. 

The head day nurse Lorraine entered followed by Pugsley and she seemed confused until she too took Wednesday’s wrist and felt the heat from her rising fever.  She sounded an alarm and other medical staff rushed in.  They stood aside, helpless as they worked to stabilize her again.  They tried to kick them out but Morticia refused to leave, unable to trust them any longer even as they once again saved her life.

Eventually, she was stabilized.  They had to intubate her, there were tubes in her chest draining more fluid built up in her lungs from the infection, she was sedated and there were ice packs around her body to lower her temperature and she was hooked up to new monitors that gave more accurate readings.  They assured them that they only intubated her to give her lungs a break from working so hard, that it was not a full relapse.

The hospital staff claimed the equipment was faulty and that they would investigate what went wrong, but they assured them that what happened was an accident and this setback should not harm Wednesday in the long run, that the worst it did was slow her progress a little. They expressed how lucky it was they noticed her distress in time for her doctors and nurses to save her once again.

As Morticia listened to them trying to save themselves from a painful lawsuit that could destroy them, she tried to remind herself that at the end of the day, they saved Wednesday’s life more than once.  Because of them, despite this setback, she was getting better.  But with Wednesday’s mysterious vision and desire to leave it was hard to believe their excuse that the equipment was faulty and nothing more. 

Maybe none of them meant harm, but the fact that the whole time Wednesday’s temperature had been climbing and she was steadily getting worse while the monitors showed no change told her that someone did this on purpose.  They all knew that there were people after her so for it to be an honest mistake that could easily have killed Wednesday seemed too convenient to be a mere coincidence.

They claimed it was faulty, but Morticia had another word for it that lingered and took root in her mind.

Sabotage.

She wanted to think that everyone tasked with bringing Wednesday back to health was trustworthy, but she could no longer give them the benefit of the doubt.  Someone with access to Wednesday intended to harm her and until she knew who the culprit was she couldn’t trust any of them.

They needed to get her out of there.

The problem was, if she wasn’t before, Wednesday was definitely too sick to move now.  Like it or not, Wednesday needed them.

 And Morticia feared that was exactly what they wanted.