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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Fester Addams swallowed nervously as he took another look at himself in the full-size, broken, marred mirror he borrowed from his brother's bedroom. Fester didn't own a mirror, except for the small one in the bathroom, above the sink because he never cared about his looks anyway. Until now. His bald head freshly shaven and oiled, his teeth perfectly rotten. He even used a cologne...or at least he hoped it was a cologne, he couldn't really tell.

Today was the day, he decided.

Today he shall tell her.

He, Fester Addams, will ask her - the love of his life, the girl of his nightmares, to dinner...no, first he'll ask her name and then he will ask her to dinner. Yes, that sounded about right. No, no, no - he'll ask her name and then ask her out for a coffee and then maybe...perhaps, if all goes as planned he'll ask her to dinner.

Hold on, though...

What if she says no, or worse yet - what if she says yes?

She's far too beautiful to be interested in you, his mind supplied viciously, she could have any man she wants to, dead or alive, why would she give you a second look?

He thought and re-thought and pondered about every word he was going to say to her for the last two weeks. He had it written down in eleven versions. He was well prepared. Nothing, absolutely nothing could go wrong.

Fester rolled his eyes and groaned miserably.

If only he could be more like Gomez. If only he could be so suave, handsome and charming as his younger brother. Gomez wouldn't hesitate a second, he wouldn't spend agonizing weeks in the library staring furtively at the beautiful girl, trying to gain the courage to talk to her or at least find out her name.

But Fester Addams wasn't his brother, he was extremely shy around women. Every time he tried to talk to a woman his heart - both of his hearts actually - would start beating furiously, his palms would sweat profoundly and his mind would just go blank. His chronic shyness was the very reason he never dated a girl in his life. Yet, this time he knew he had to make an effort, from the first time he saw her in the library...oh he was just dazzled, she was so beautiful, she was perfect and he, Fester Addams, was absolutely in love.

And so today was the day.

Today he was going to...he winced suddenly and his shoulders sagged again. It was hopeless to think he could do it. He knew that what really was going to happen is that he was going to sit in the library for hours, pretending to read a book, staring furtively at the enchanting girl and then leave without her even acknowledging his existence.

He briefly entertained the thought of asking Gomez to come with him and do the talking but he discarded that idea almost immediately. He loved his brother to death and he was sure Gomez wouldn't hesitate to help him but he was also sure as hell that he didn't want Gomez Addams in the nearest vicinity of the girl, because he knew that next to his brother he was invisible. He simply didn't stand a chance against Gomez. He didn't have his charms or his bewitching way with words.

It will never work, he should just forget the whole thing, he thought dejectedly as he made his way down to the kitchen where his mother was, no doubt, already up and about.

Morticia Frump slammed the door angrily and her eyes immediately prickled with a ridiculous urge to cry, but she would be damned if she allowed him to make her cry. She was so damn tired of fighting Jared over every tiny little thing, but with her inheritance denied to her for another two years she had no choice but to depend on him financially and she could barely stand it.

She briefly cursed her mother for putting her in that situation but immediately felt a surge of guilt. She knew her mother wanted the best for her and she couldn't have predicted this utter disaster that befell their family. Still, though, what an utterly ridiculous, archaic practice it was and, as far as their family lawyer said, seemingly uncontested.

"Miss Morticia...pssst."

Despite her annoyance, Morticia's lips curled into a small, affectionate smile at the sound of her name. She took a deep breath and promptly schooled her expression into some kind of neutral look before she turned towards the voice.

"Fanny, I've told you so many times, it's just Morticia," she reminded gently as she watched the short, plump woman approach her from the direction of the kitchen door.

"Yes, Miss, I remember and purposely choose to ignore it," Fanny smiled kindly and handed Morticia a brown paper bag."I made some lunch for you."

Morticia resisted an urge to wince. Even after three years, it was difficult for her to stomach the food that was being served in this house...it was entirely different to her mother's cooking and Morticia's tastebuds refused to cooperate with the new flavours. She once even asked Fanny if she could cook her own meals, to which the housekeeper kindly agreed, but Jared found out and didn't take kindly to that arrangement and the weird - in his opinion - food Morticia was cooking. Never in her life, she thought someone would consider a yak stew weird.

"Oh, Fanny, thank you," she thanked the housekeeper politely and forced a grateful smile to her face." You really shouldn't have troubled on my account."

"It's no trouble, Miss," Fanny assured.

Morticia smiled and took a peek into the bag, for the sake of courtesy,

"Is that…?" she frowned.

"A sandwich," Fanny interjected and added slyly."On a moulded, rye bread just as you like it."

Morticia expression softened at her thoughtfulness and she almost forgot about her spat with Jared.

"You're absolutely precious, do you know that?" she complimented."But you really shouldn't have, I would hate you getting into trouble on my account. You know Jared - "

"I have to make sure you eat something," the housekeeper interjected sternly."Look at you, hardly any meat on you left."

Morticia smiled and smoothed her long, raven hair behind her ears.

"I appreciate your concern, Fanny, I really do, "she assured."But Jared -"

"Let me worry about Mr Diamond," the housekeeper winked at her."Now off you go, Tolya is waiting to take you to school."

Morticia nodded in thanks and hurried to the car where Jared's driver was indeed already waiting. This, she knew, was just one Jared's way to make sure his sister-in-law won't put a toe out of line. It was Tolya's duty to make sure Morticia didn't wander around in, what Jared considered to be, 'weird places' with 'even weirder people', so he dropped her to college every day and, undoubtedly, reported straight to Jared.

Thankfully, her brother-in-law vastly overestimated the loyalty of the people working for him. It wasn't entirely his fault, because he treated them well enough and paid them well, so technically he could live in a perception they'd reciprocate in a job well done and unwavering loyalty to their employer and, in most of the cases, he was right - they were good people and Morticia liked most of them.

Yet, no matter how well paid the servants were, household politics - as Morticia learnt - were still household politics and where Jared, as the master of the house, might not be aware of them, Morticia was very well versed in those. All it took, really, was a few strategically placed 'favours' to ensure she had the right people behind her. Fanny, although they liked each other very much and could be called friends, was also one of those 'favours'. And so was Tolya.

"Morning, Miss," he greeted her cheerfully in his thick Russian accent, taking off his driver hat as he helped her into the car.

"Good morning, Anatoly," she smiled, getting into the back seat and waited for him to close the door and get into the driver seat himself. She called him Anatoly to everyone's Tolya, because she noticed he preferred to be called his full name and he certainly appreciated the gesture.

"Beautiful day today, isn't it? Gloomy, just as you like it, yes?" He asked conversationally, gazing at her through the mirror.

"It is indeed," she confirmed, still gracing him with a kind smile."How did your nephew do in his test? Hope it went well?"

"Yes, yes, he did very well, Miss," Tolya grinned at her as he started the engine."Thanks to you, it was very kind of you to help him. He said he wouldn't have done it without you."

"It's so sweet for him to say that," she smiled back."I'm glad he did well."

Indeed. Everything in Diamond's household was politics.

The campus was buzzing with activity and Morticia couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes. She really couldn't comprehend the reason why so many people insisted on being perky this early in the morning and at the same time. Their sunshine disposition and giggles haven't done much to improve her already sour mood after the breakfast argument with her brother-in-law.

Once upon a time, studying Biology and Organic Chemistry wouldn't have crossed her mind and, unsurprisingly her sister was somewhat taken aback once Morticia declared her choice of degree. Ophelia wasn't against her little sister's pursuit of higher education per se, she just couldn't comprehend what use would a young, beautiful girl such as Morticia would have of a science degree. It was neither necessary nor desirable in the market of marriage which, in Ophelia's mind, was always the most sensible thing to do - marriage. A rich, well-connected marriage that is.

Jared's mother, on the other hand, was of an opinion that Morticia should study literature, a nice feminine degree as she described it. A degree that would be ideal for such a young, outspoken person as her. It was always desirable for a young lady to be able to hold an interesting conversation after all. Not too interesting, we don't want to appear overeducated, men don't really like that, no matter what they say in public. After three years of mingling in between Jared and Ophelia's friends and acquaintances, Morticia tended to share that opinion, well, to an extent at least.

She didn't necessarily consider literature to be a feminine degree, nevertheless, Morticia didn't even consider it for one second even though she loved literature and was an avid reader but she wouldn't want to study something that reminded her so vividly and painfully of her father.

When she was very young, she found it extremely annoying, how her father insisted she read the books he chose for her and then asked for her opinions on such and such and grilled her with various points and whys and hows and why nots. Everything had to have its proofs and reasons when all a nine-year-old Morticia preferred to do was to tend to her pets and help her mother in the garden and potions making.

Yet, somehow, despite her initial reluctance, her father's love for literature ingrained itself in her so voraciously and completely that books became an inherent part of her life even now. Even three years after his death, she often caught herself thinking, while reading, how she would discuss this or that with her father and what would he think or say and then she remembered that she won't ask him, that she couldn't ask him because her father was no longer here to discuss anything with her and her heart would fill with such a misery she could barely stand it.

Granted, Biology and Organic Chemistry might be an odd choice, even for her, but it was interesting and demanding, it practically demanded of her long hours of study and allowed her opportunity to be out of the house and she cherished that because she despised its pristine, almost sanitary cleanliness with passion. Besides, what she really longed to study was to her unavailable so this was better than nothing and as close to the real thing as she could get at the moment.

It was certainly better than marriage which, incidentally, was the very reason of the latest argument between Morticia and Jared, the fact that Morticia turned down yet another prospective suitor who was, after all, so very rich and, in Jared's mind, would be 'just ideal for her'. What was it with men, anyway, that the more blatantly Morticia rejected them the more interested they were in pursuing her? Also how, in the world, was it possible that she was too young for her inheritance but not too young to get married?

"Who vexed thou, my fair lady?" the deep, amused voice resonated behind her and she smiled, despite the sour mood.

She stopped and waited for Michael to catch up with her.

"Who do you think?" she asked, raising one of her shapely eyebrows at him.

"Same old same old?" he rightly guessed and they continued to walk together to the classes.

Michael was an anomaly in her life. He was a person she normally wouldn't think she could be friends with, they had seemingly nothing in common. When she first saw him in a calculus class last year her immediate thought was that he looked like a person whose favourite hobby was crushing beer cans against his forehead. It turned out she was right...at least partially.

She can't, for the life of her, remember now how they even got to talk to each other but at some point they did and their friendship formed with surprising ease. It turned out he was out of place here as much as she was.

"Are we still on for tonight's fitting?" Michael asked eagerly, putting his large arm around her shoulders.

Morticia winced and turned to her companion with an apologetic look.

"That's today?"

Michael stared at her in disbelief.

"Don't tell me you forgot, Tiiiiish, you know how important tonight is, I have less than a month to complete that portfolio and no one else will fit into those dresses…" he faltered, noticing the way her eyes shone with an unbridled amusement."It's not funny."

"It was a little bit," she grinned.

"You almost gave me a heart attack," he stressed, putting his hand over his chest for the emphasis."By the way, may I copy chemistry homework from you?"

"Again?"

"Hey, you know I don't give a rat's ass about this whole thing, I'm just here because my mother insists I follow the family tradition."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes in a mock exasperation before digging into her black, leather bag.

"Here," she handed him her notebook."Don't forget to make some mistakes otherwise she'll never believe you've done it on your own."

"You're precious," he complimented blowing her a myriad of air kisses."You know, I may be the lousiest student in the history but I'll always make sure, you're going to be the most glamourous-looking witch the wizarding world has ever seen."

"And we'll live in Paris in our glamorous ever after?"

"You got it, me - the famous designer, the fashion Czar of gothic designs and you, my precious muse," he mused passionately.

"And then, you'll finally tell your mother you're gay?" she teased and almost laughed when he snorted in amusement.

"Are you crazy?" he asked in disbelief."She would get a heart attack and kill me."

"I find it hilarious that a nineteen-year-old, six feet four-man is afraid of a five foot 'tall' lady," she grinned at him.

"Tish, how many times do I need to explain to you that African mamas are like nothing you have ever seen before," he insisted."They're vicious and they beat you up with their pom pom rubber slippers like there's no tomorrow."

"You're afraid of a pom pom rubber slipper?" she laughed.

"Damn right I am," he grinned.

They were almost at the entrance when they heard Morticia's name being called and they turned towards the voice.

"Dean Cleary wants to see you," Elena said breathlessly jogging towards them.

Morticia frowned in confusion at her words and looked at, equally confused looking, Michael.

"Why?" she asked finally.

"Barbie complained you've been making death threats," Elena grinned at her. "Again."

Fester descended the kitchen stairs only to be narrowly missed by a flying object. He rolled his eyes and shook his head in a good-natured exasperation - undoubtedly, his mother lost something again.

Eudora Addams might have been a powerful and highly respected witch but, dear Lucifer, was she the most disorganised witch in modern history. Not a day passed without his mother digging through mountains and mountains of her notes to find whatever she needed, often only to misplace it again ten minutes later.

"I'm sure it must be here somewhere," he heard her mutter angrily to herself, her head half-buried in a cardboard box filled with an array paper notes.

"Good morning, mama," he greeted as he made his way to the table to pour himself some bitter coffee.

"What's that?" came Eudora's muffled voice from inside the box.

"I said good morning," he repeated a little louder and couldn't help but smile as his mother lifted her head from inside the box.

"Oh, good morning dear," she greeted."Up so early?"

"It's eight o'clock in the morning," he pointed out and went over to the stove to get his breakfast. "Mmmmm, lizard pancakes…"

"Help yourself, dear, I have to find my diary."

"Your diary?"

Eudora grunted in affirmative surveying the mess in the kitchen.

"I could swear I saw it somewhere."

"I think I saw it on the desk in the library," he mentioned off-handedly, half-way through platting his breakfast.

Eudora groaned and hit her forehead with the palm of her hand in an exasperated manner.

"Of course, it's in the library," she grunted to herself."I gave it to Gomez to keep it with his, so I wouldn't lose it and I completely forgot about it!" she complained eliciting an amused snort from her son. She narrowed her eyes and turned to him, looking at him suspiciously as he sat down at the wooden table, munching on his breakfast.

"What?" he asked finally when his mother stared at his for a while.

"Something's different," Eudora said confidently."Are you wearing cologne?"

"So?" he asked nonchalantly but could already feel an embarrassment creeping up his cheeks.

"Freshly shaven, oiled head…," Eudora pointed out slowly, coming closer to the table."Son, are you meeting a girl?" she asked and tried very hard not to smirk when Fester's face turned a very bright shade of red.

"No," he denied immediately out of habit."It's just...this new thing I'm trying...Gomez always said it was a good scent for me and anyway...it's not about a girl, I'm just going to the library to work on my thesis."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"We have a vast library at home."

"We don't have this particular book I need."

"Indeed?" she asked raising her eyebrow sceptically."Which one?"

"The one…" he replied scrambling for a title in his head."You know...the one I need...but...we don't have it."

"Oooooh, that one," his mother smiled knowingly, nodding thoughtfully."Does this particular book have a name?"

"She does...I mean it does but I don't know it yet," he mumbled."I intend to find out...today, in the library...where that book...is."

Eudora nodded and gazed at her oldest son silently for few second until it seemed like he wanted to just crawl out of the kitchen.

"Well, good luck with that, dear."

In the nine years of his time at the Department of Natural Sciences, Dean Cleary thought he really had seen it all when it came to teenage girls / young women and their overblown drama. People came and went, times seemingly changed and yet there was always a point, at least once a month, when he had to deal with some petty, catty behaviour even though technically this was a supposedly an adult environment. He came to the conclusion that age is hardly a measure of adulthood nowadays.

In his opinion, Jennifer Stevenson should have never left the high school premises for whereas her grades were certainly impressive, her behaviour didn't go beyond an eleven-grade school student.

"In all honesty, Dean Cleary, I'm not even sure why am I here," Morticia started in her soft, calm voice."I fear that Jessi here might have misunderstood the meaning behind my words, as she often does, for I certainly do not remember alluding to her impending death at any point."

When she was so inclined, Morticia Frump certainly took cattiness to a whole nother level.

"You were discussing the perfect way to deal with annoying people and you said murder is always an option and then you mentioned how your own great-grandmother scared her husband to death - literally," the blond-haired girl next to Morticia argued before turning to Dean Cleary." She was looking at me all the time. She was talking about me," she insisted."And it's Jenny, not Jessi and you bloody well know it."

"Mind your language please, Miss Stevenson," Dean Cleary reminded her.

"Oh, it was just an innocent story," Morticia countered patiently."Surely, you will agree with me, Mr Dean, that I cannot be held responsible for the fact that Janice here considers herself to be annoying and takes everything personally."

"It's Jenny!"

"Of course it is," Morticia agreed with a polite smile."Well, if it's necessary, in order to avoid future misunderstandings I promise to choose my words more carefully when Jocelyn is around," Morticia promised, smiling charmingly at Dean Cleary.

"That sounds perfectly reasonable," Dean Cleary returned the smile."It's very considerate of you, Morticia. Is that alright with you, Jocelyn - sorry, Jenny. Is that alright with you, Jenny?"

"This school is pathetic," the girl retorted angrily, standing up abruptly from her chair and picked her bag up from the floor in a swift motion."My mother will hear about it!"

"Bye, Jane, see you in a biology class," Morticia supplied cordially.

"It's Jenny!"

Fester Addams tried his earnest to look interested in the book he was currently reading 'The Deadliest Infectious Diseases - Your Personal Guide' despite the fact was that he already read this book through and through at least eight times since he was a little boy.

The beautiful girl at the counter smiled at him and he felt his heart immediately cease its beating. He wanted to smile back, he really did but he felt a sudden wave of embarrassment engulf him and he snapped his head down, focusing on the book again.

Dear me, what a pathetic creature he was.

"It might aid your comprehension if you stop holding the book upside down," the velvet voice at the table next to him commented and he immediately turned towards the sound.

It was the ebony-haired girl he's seen often in the library, she was almost as frequent of a visitor as himself, although he suspected she actually came here to read or study. She was smiling at him kindly, her head propped at the pillow of her pale hand, her dark eyes dancing with amusement. She was breathtakingly beautiful. He felt his cheeks colour in embarrassment, he was extremely shy around women in general but beautiful women like her all but intimidated him into sheer speechlessness.

"I'm sorry," the girl said softly."I didn't mean to embarrass you. That's an interesting book you're reading."

His head snapped up to look at her and he saw she was genuinely sorry for making him react the way he did.

"Oh no, it's ok. I'm not reading, I'm just pretending," he explained and immediately winced at the idiocy of his words." I mean I already...ehm..I've read this book, many times already..." he stammered and felt his cheek heat up even more and, to his horror, he let out a stream of gibberish and almost run away from the library.

"Is it any good?" the girl inquired, nodding at the book and if he didn't just utterly humiliate himself at all.

Fester blinked in confusion, somehow surprised she was still interested in talking to him at all.

"Yeah...ehmmm, yeah...it's my favourite book since when I was a wee lad," he gruffed and then, to his utter surprise added:"It inspired me to study medicine, I even qualified as a pathologist - just a little hobby of mine."

"How fascinating," the girl commented looking genuinely curious.

"You really think so?"

"I do," she smiled softly and, to his utter disbelief, he found himself smiling back."I'd really like to read that book myself if you're recommending it."

"I do, it's great," he nodded and then narrowed his eyes curiously at the hardback of the book she just closed. He recognized the book immediately."The Untold History of Witchcraft," he said and watched the girl blink in surprise.

"You know it?" she asked.

"Sure, we have a whole collection of books about witchcraft at home - some hundreds of years old, spell books, manuals - they belong to my mother," he explained and faltered momentarily as if hit by a sudden thought."I have never said so many words to a girl in one sentence before."

The girl smiled at him warmly and stood up from her chair gracefully, making her way towards him.

"I'm Morticia," she said, extending her pale hand towards him."Morticia Frump."

"Fester Addams," he replied, shaking her hand. He was surprised by how warm it was. She was so pale, somehow he just assumed her skin would be ice cold, just as her beauty but it certainly wasn't so.

"Pleased to meet you... Fester Addams."

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

"I have something for you," Fester Addams remarked excitedly in a matter of greeting as he joined Morticia at their usual table in the library.

She looked up from her chemistry notes and smiled at him brightly.

Even after two months since she's met him, there was still a certain feeling of unreality to him. It was so refreshing to have someone who not merely accepted who she was but also understood. She didn't realize how much she missed it until she's met him. She really liked how unusual Fester was, if she was regarded as weird, then Fester Addams was in a category all on its own, both in his looks and in the way his mind worked. He was shy and somewhat awkward but also incredibly sweet and undeniably brilliant. Fester Addams was like no one she's ever met.

Her life before she's come to live in America was rather secluded, almost all her friends were in one way or the other involved in witchcraft and it was incredibly difficult for Morticia to suddenly be placed in an environment where witchcraft belonged to fairytales and she was an abnormality.

It wasn't that she's never had any contact with the world outside of the witchcraft, quite the contrary. Her father, after all, had little to do with it, the only interest he had in magic was his wife and daughters. And not all of her parents' friends or even their neighbours were witches after all but they all knew and never treated them like some sort of lusus naturae because, for all of them, normal was subjective, normal was an illusion. After all, her father always tended to say that what was normal for a spider was chaos for a fly.

Here, there was only one kind of normal. Here, she was the chaos.

It was the very reason that after three years in this country Morticia had the grand total of two close friends.

Michael, who, despite his impressive posture, was an incredibly sensitive person who didn't have an ounce of confidence to reveal to his family that he didn't give a tinker's wink about academics of any kind and his true passion was fashion - as he always described it. Nor had he any intention revealing to them that he wasn't interested in women beyond mere friendship.

And then there's Elena, who was normal by any American standards, she was as straight as they came, pretty blond, blue-eyed girl from an Irish-Italian and a very Catholic family but Elena loved and accepted normal in all its shapes and sizes - although Morticia could do without her persistent nagging and constant digs of a sexual nature about Morticia's lack of experience in that area. Besides the indisputable fact that it was simply irritating, she really couldn't comprehend where exactly Elena thought, Morticia could find time for even a tiny fling, between her studies and everyday hospital visits to her mother she really had little free time left. Not to mention that, for Jared, the family name was everything and he had a very clear idea with whom Morticia could spend her free time with.

It was a sheer luck on her part that Jared was doing business with Michael's family and so he never objected to Morticia's friendship with him.

She wasn't so sure about Fester Addams. Actually, she was pretty sure Jared would disapprove but perhaps not openly because, as she found out, although the Addamses were certainly regarded as eccentrics, they were eccentrics everyone wanted to do business with. In Jared's mind, anything that translated into a good business was, if not openly encouraged, at least silently acceptable so Morticia wasn't worried about his reaction all that much.

"Hello, Fester," she greeted with a warm smile but then her brows furrowed slightly in confusion when he reached into his leather bag and took out a large hardback, surprisingly dusty book and handed it to her with an eager expression on her face.

She looked at the cover, her face instantly brightened in recognition and her breath hitched before she could stop herself.

"Spells and Hexes," she said without reading the title. It was the same volume her mother had, albeit this one was more was battered and she so surprised it didn't even occur to her to ask him how, on earth, did he know. "How...where did you get this?"

He only shrugged in reply, incredibly pleased that his gift made her so happy.

"I thought you might find it interesting," he said instead, smiling at her knowingly.

"I certainly might," she agreed, returning a smile."Thank you. Thank you so much."

"It's my pleasure," he smiled at her shyly before clearing his throat self-conscious."May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she said, putting the volume into her black, leather bag.

"You don't need to answer, there's no obligation attached to this gift but I was just wondering," he started tentatively."What are you doing here?"

"Studying for a degree in Biology and Organic Chemistry," she answered simply even though she knew perfectly well what was he really asking.

"Yes, I know that but why...here? You're a witch," he remarked confidently."I've never seen a witch studying such an ordinary, non-magical degree," he added and winced when he realized the question made her uncomfortable."I mean, it's a very interesting degree, I'm a big chemistry fan myself...I was just wondering, you...you don't need to answer...none of my business, forget I asked."

"It's fine," she assured, even though she certainly wasn't eager to explain that particular question."I...my mother, she used to tutor me, but…" she faltered and swallowed heavily."She can't anymore...she's not...she's not well, and where I live now, with my sister and her husband, I'm not allowed to study...witchcraft. Hence, this degree is the closest there is to study... you know. Not as interesting but it will do," she added with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Oh, I see, I'm sorry," he said sincerely."Why won't they let you study, though? It's such an honour to have a witch in the family."

She looked at him curiously, judging if he was jesting with her but his expression was utterly sincere.

"Not to my brother-in-law, it's not."

"You know there are institutions that offer scholarships," he said knowingly."You don't need a tutor to apply for those."

She looked at him, somewhat startled at their conversation and she realized it was because it was such a long time since she had an opportunity to discuss witchcraft with anyone in any other context than arguments with Jared and she still wasn't used to discussing it so openly. She genuinely forgot how it felt to talk about is so freely. Fester talked about studying witchcraft as if it was perfectly normal, the way they used to discuss it in her household before the subject was rebranded as a taboo and essentially forbidden. It suddenly felt so good to have someone to share this with again, she simply couldn't resist continuing the conversation.

"I know, but the entrance exams are diabolically difficult to pass without a tutor," she admitted."I'm too inexperienced to do it on my own."

"What if you could get a tutor?"

"Even if I could find one, how am I going to pay for the tuition?" she pointed out sadly."My father left me enough money," she clarified quickly."But I can't get access to those until I'm twenty-one."

"Really?" he asked in a confused tone."But...why...I mean, is there no way to access it before then?"

"Well, there is...but, frankly speaking, I would rather wait until I'm twenty-one."

"Is it that bad?"

"Oh, worse," she said sardonically.

"What is it?"

She let out a mirthless laugh and shook her head.

"It's either I wait until I'm twenty-one or...get married, in which case the inheritance goes to my husband anyway."

"Lucifer's tail," Fester's eyes widened at her words."Who adheres to such archaic practice in this day and age?"

"My mother apparently," she replied, it was so bizarre and unthinkable she still couldn't believe her mother's done such a thing to her. Why? Why, on earth, would she do that? It didn't make an ounce of sense when she found out about it three years ago and it had even less sense now.

"This is mad - " he started to say but faltered immediately when he noticed a person behind Morticia and immediately let out a string of mumble, snapping his head down to stare intently at the table before him.

Morticia frowned and her eyes widened in surprise at his behaviour before she felt someone tapping her on her arm and turned around.

"Oh, hello," she greeted.

"Hi," the girl replied shyly."I found the books you asked for," she explained, putting the three books on the table in front of Morticia.

"Oh, thank you so much, you're a lifesaver," she smiled, looking discreetly at Fester who was turning redder by the minute."This is my friend, Fester Addams. Fester," she introduced but Fester only seemed to only continue to shrink in his seat."Fester," she repeated and his head snapped up as if she startled him."This is Dementia, she works in the library."

"Hello, Fester," the beautiful girl smiled at him. Dementia smiled at him. This beautiful angel said his name and smiled at him. He felt his heart may burst with happiness and he wanted to tell her how wonderful she was but the only thing that left his mouth was a string of gibberish and he immediately wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

"He's very shy," Morticia explained and then looked back at the stack of books."Thank you so much, you saved me a lot of time."

"It's nothing, glad I could help," she smiled and the glanced briefly at Fester before turning again to Morticia."I guess I'll see you around then."

Morticia waited until Dementia was back at her desk before she leaned towards her friend and whispered confidently:

"You like her."

"No, I don't," he denied immediately."I've never even noticed her before."

Morticia narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and he looked away, suddenly finding the table immensely interesting.

"I saw you staring at her the first time we've met," she pointed out."You were reading your book upside down and staring at her," she reminded him, making quotation signs with her fingers at the word 'reading'.

"Ok, maybe I noticed her before, once or twice," he mumbled.

"You should ask her out."

"I can't do that!"he exclaimed and looked at her in horror at what she was even suggesting.

"Why not? I'm sure she would say yes."

"Exactly!" he agreed but noticing her confused expression he promptly explained."I can't speak to women, I get nervous and start to mumble."

"You're speaking to me," she pointed out.

"Yes, but you're different," he explained in a tone that suggested it was a perfectly reasonable explanation."I can't talk to Dementia."

"So... you're just going to stare at her from far for the rest of your life?"

"Yes," he agreed."That's exactly what I'm planning to do."

"Fester," she said his name affectionately."You're the sweetest man on earth."

His first indication that his mother was in the library was the string of impressive profanities that reverberated from its direction. It indicated that Eudora Addams was convinced there was no one else in the house because she only used swear words when she was absolutely sure there was nobody around to hear them but her.

It was a habit really, one that she purposely developed since that one time all the Addamses gathered at the family party and there years-old Gomez Addams decided it would be a marvellous time to show off to everyone his newly acquired language skills and let out such an inventive bouquet of profanities, Eudora wasn't sure whether to faint or just pretend he didn't learn it from her. Needless to say, her husband was not impressed and neither was her mother-in-law.

"Mama, what's with the tornado?" Fester asked in a bewildered tone as he took a brief look at the library.

"Hello, darling," his mother replied not taking her eyes from the array of notes scattered on the floor."I think I just figured out what the problem was with the vanishing potion but now I can't find those notes," she explained before adding in an exasperated tone."I really need to sort this out one day."

Fester laughed in his usual gruff manner.

"You always say that," he reminded her but then cleared his throat."Mama, I...actually I have a favour to ask."

"Of course, darling, what is it?" his mother replied, still furiously digging through the mess of paper notes.

"There's this girl," he started and almost rolled his eyes when his mother's eyes widened in surprise and her face brightened instantly."No, mama, not that kind of girl."

"Oh? And what kind of girl is she?" she asked and turned away from him to look into another cardboard box."I should at least label them," she muttered to herself.

"A friend. A girl-friend, her name is Morticia"

His mother's back stiffened visibly and she turned slowly towards him, her eyes even wider with surprise.

"A real girl?" she repeated slowly.

"She's very smart," he assured her.

But his mother acted like she didn't hear him at all.

"An actual girl?" she asked insistently, seeking confirmation. Predictably, Fester a tinge of red embarrassment covered Fester's usually lovely pallor. "Alive?"

"Mama," he mumbled in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry dear, please continue."

Fester took a deep breath before deciding to continue.

"She's a witch in need of a tutor to help her with entrance exams for a scholarship," he explained all in one breath before adding pointedly."But she can't afford one."

"You want me to tutor this girl?" his mother deducted.

"Well yes and no, but generally yes."

"That doesn't make much sense, dear."

"She will not agree to be tutored for free, she's too proud for that" he replied confidently."So I thought...I figured an idea to help her: she could do a great job as your assistant."

"I don't need an assistant," his mother countered immediately."I'm managing perfectly well on my own."

"This tornado seems to indicate otherwise," he said pointing at the mess in the library."She could help you out with that and you always said you're enjoying teaching. It's a win - win situation."

His mother grunted at him unhappily in response.

"Come on, mama, help her out," he pleaded.

"How do you know if she's any good? If her parents don't want to sponsor her studies maybe there's a reason behind it."

"No mama," he hesitated, not really comfortable with discussing Morticia's personal life."Ok, look, her father died three years ago, her mother used to teach her, but she's sick now and Morticia said her sister and brother-in-law are dead against even the very idea of witchcraft. She can't access her inheritance for the next two years so she can't pay for her studies herself."

"Oh, poor dear, how awful," Eudora replied, placing her palm over her heart and her expression immediately turn softer at his words. Suddenly, her face brightened as the idea suddenly occurred to her: "Well, why don't you bring this girl over here? I could use an assistant, you know?"

Fester looked at his watch nervously, it was 12:14. She was late and she was never late. Has he done something to upset her? Has he said something and she no longer wanted to be his friend? Should he apologise...he will apologise and they will speak of it no longer...whatever he said that upset her. Surely, she realized -

"Hey," the familiar velvet voice greeted him."I'm sorry I'm late."

She smiled at him but he thought her body language was so stiff she looked as if she was about to snap in half.

"Don't worry about it," he replied and felt a relief flood his heart when she didn't look upset...not with him at least."Everything ok?" he asked with obvious concern.

"Of course," she replied, removing her cloak and hang it over the chair."Why wouldn't it be?"

"You look very tense," he pointed out.

"Not at all," she replied curtly but winced when he looked down, embarrassed. "I was a little tense," she admitted."I had a small argument with my brother-in-law but I'm starting to feel better."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No, no...it's nothing to worry about," she smiled appeasingly."Normal family stuff," normal my brother-in-law cutting my allowances in half, she thought bitterly.

She didn't use to care much about money but now, gods, now understood its value and painfully so, she understood the independence they could provide her but this eighteen month felt to her more like eighteen years.

Fester nodded gently and cleared his throat.

"I ordered coffee for you but I think it might have gone cold," he announced, pointing at the cup in front of her.

"Oh, thank you," she smiled warmly and took a sip of the black beverage."It's still ok," she assured, even though it was less than lukewarm.

"You remember the talk we had the other day?" he asked suddenly.

"About Dementia?" she asked slyly, grinning at him over the rim of her cup.

"Nnno, I mean yes but before that...about studying."

"Ehm, yeah, I remember."

"Well, it turns out my mother needs help," he declared but, to his disappointment, Morticia only looked at him in confusion.

"Oh... what kind of help?"

"An assistant," he clarified but she still looked at him with a confused frown.

"Okay, what kind of assistant?" she prompted.

"To help her with her work."

"Fester, I don't know what is it that your mother does."

"Oh, that's right," he let out an embarrassed laugh."Let me start again."

"Marvellous idea."

"My mother is a witch, a brilliant one," he added proudly and smiled when Morticia's eyes practically sparkled with curiosity and the realization obviously dawned on her where he was going with it ."Unfortunately, she's as disorganized and she's brilliant. She's finally decided to get an assistant and I thought perhaps this is something you'd be interested in. You'd get paid and get a tutor."

"Yes!" she replied immediately."Yes, I'd love that," she just couldn't believe it. This was some kind of magical twist of fate and she would be so dead if Jared found out about it, but this was the opportunity she couldn't miss.

Morticia Frump was sure she's never seen a mansion this beautiful in her entire life. The whole Addams estate seemed to her absolutely magical, she could practically sense it, she didn't remember when was the last time she felt such a strong presence of witchcraft in any place. Everything here was simply amazing, from the gate, that opened on its own and growled at them in greeting to the butler, who looked as he was just transported from Mary Shelley's novel. Not to mention the swap and the magnificent graveyard adjacent to the estate.

"This place is amazing," she said out loud before she could even stop herself.

"Oh, thank you, the house is hundred and fifty years-old," he said proudly."And in this country it's like prehistoric," he added, making her laugh.

"How do you keep it in such a delightfully rotten state?"she asked curiously.

"Ehm, no idea actually," he admitted."I reckon it's a spell of some kind because by all laws of nature it should have crumbled a century ago."

"How fascinating."

"I'll be happy to give you a tour later," he offered.

"Oh, I'd love that," she smiled brilliantly, slightly dazzled by all the interesting slights.

"Mama is probably in the kitchen," he said and pointed down the corridor."Let me introduce you, she's very eager to meet you."

"She is?" she asked, slightly confused.

"Yeah," he nodded, scratching his head self-consciously."Because... you know... you're a girl and I'm Fester Addams."

Eudora Addams might have been the most unorganized witch in modern existence but she was also an excellent judge of character and this girl - this witch - simply spelled trouble, pun intended. The question was, of course, what kind of trouble was she - the good, the bad or a total mayhem?

"Too pretty," Eudora shook her head in disappointment after staring at the raven-haired girl for a while.

Morticia and Fester looked at each other in utter confusion, each looking for confirmation they heard her correctly.

"I'm very sorry, my dear, but you're far too pretty," Eudora repeated.

"Mama, you can't be serious," Fester countered in disbelief." Too pretty? What kind of reason is that?"

"I assure you, Mrs Addams, that my looks will not, at any point, jeopardize my work. I have them under control," she deadpanned and Eudora couldn't help but smirk.

"Oh, it's not that," she shook her head." You're too pretty to be even in the same house as my son."

"Mama…" Fester mumbled in exasperation, he could already feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment."What, on earth?"

"Not you, dear," she said with a careless wave of her hand." That Castilian Lothario - your brother."

"I don't understand," Morticia interjected, getting more and more confused by this exchange."What any of this has to do with me working as your assistant?"

"Oh, everything," the older woman replied.

Morticia waited patiently for her to elaborate further on the subject but as the minutes passed, in which everyone just stared at each other, she realized that...that was it.

"Anyone cares to explain?" she finally asked and turned towards Fester who looked more and more embarrassed by the minute.

"My brother...ehm...mama worries…you see," he tried to explain but the words just came out as a jumbled mumble.

"What Fester is so eloquently trying to explain," Eudora teased kindly."Is that his brother has one hobby and that hobby is beautiful women. I don't understand how he does it but they just come to him like moths to the light...or I should rather say lambs for the slaughter."

"Oh, is that all?" Morticia asked sardonically."Mrs Addams, you have nothing to worry about, trust me. I know how to deal with men like him."

"You do?" she inquired sceptically.

"I've been known to make grown men cry," Morticia admitted, not even bothering to hide her smirk.

"Interesting," Eudora remarked, narrowing her eyes in a silent contemplation. She was well aware that she was playing with fire here, because this girl was indeed too beautiful to be around Gomez but it was also clear, even from their very brief encounter, that she was certainly no fool.

"Thank you."

Ah, hell, Eudora thought, what was there to loose? Her mind was suddenly made up.

"When can you start?"

Morticia's lips curled into a satisfied smile.

"How about now?"

The more he showed her the house the more dazzled she was by it. There was an impressive display of various weapons from across the centuries in almost every single room, the portraits of the family members seemed to stare at them, she could have swear their gaze followed their every move and she absolutely loved the idea.

"This is a beautiful house," she commented as Fester showed her around."It's so homey."

"It is," Fester agreed."Mama has a real knack for decorating," he added proudly.

"She certainly does," she said, picking up the frame with a picture showing three men, in their riding outfits, smiling jovially at the camera."Is that your father?" she asked, pointing to a tall man with a beard holding a riding hat, standing in between Fester and his brother.

"It is, we don't look much alike," he stated unnecessarily."Gomez looks very much like him, sans the beard."

Morticia studies the photo for a few minutes. The younger Addams was certainly handsome but not in a way she expected, not in a way that would justify his mother opinion of him.

"He was a good father," Fester added suddenly.."Not a very good husband, though."

"Oh," she said, uncertain how to react to that.

"He's...he liked beautiful women...a lot, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, dear."

"Exactly," Fester smiled."He loved my mother, but it's like he just couldn't help himself. " he added with, what Morticia considered, unusual for him resentment."My brother seems to have inherited this unfortunate habit," he added in a lighter tone.

"It is unfortunate," she agreed, putting the picture away."Is that why your mother was warning me away?" she asked teasingly.

"Oh, yes, and she really didn't exaggerate," he admitted with an embarrassed smile."He doesn't even try to hide his infidelities and the women still chase after him," he admitted with embarrassment but there was an affectionate tone to his words. It was clear that whatever his opinion was of his brother's lifestyle he still loved him very much.

"Like lambs for the slaughter?" she supplied with a facetious smile.

"Pretty much," he smiled at her."I guess now my mother is looking forward to see you making my brother cry when he tries to charm you," he said affectionately.

"Why you're so sure he will?" she laughed.

"Oh, he will," he replied confidently."I have no doubt about that."

"I hope you don't mind Lurch taking you home,"he said as they descended the stairs, his voice muffled by the cigar dangling between his teeth."I have my accountant coming over in half an hour."

"Of course, darling," the redheaded woman smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his neck."Thank you for an amazing night,"she whispered against his lips."I must say you certainly live up to your reputation."

"I aim to please,"he replied suggestively with a caddish smile, drawing a soft chuckle out of her.

"Will I see you again tonight?"She asked hopefully tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

Gomez was about to answer... well he was about to lie through his teeth when a loud knock reverberated throughout the hall and he almost squealed with relief. Whoever was at the door was certainly his lifesaver.

"I'll get it, Lurch!"He bellowed before turning to his redhead companion."Excuse me."

He felt his breath hitch as his heart started to beat wildly the very second he opened the door and their eyes met.

He was sure he's never seen such sublime creature in his entire life: raven hair, long and shiny framed her beautiful features, her skin was so pale it was almost white, he was lost in her dark, almond shaped eyes that regarded him curiously before his gaze travelled to the crimson of her full lips and he had sudden, violent need to kiss her.

"Hello, I'm Morticia Frump," the girl said in a low, soft voice that made his groin tighten uncontrollably."Mrs Addams is expecting me."

He cleared his throat, trying his best to refocus his thoughts, but he just couldn't tear his eyes off her.

"Come in," he said finally and the girl smiled at him, almost shattering his heart in the process - what the hell was happening to him? She stepped gracefully into the hall and he watched her look around curiously. She was tall, dressed in a simple black dress, that although certainly modest, made his blood boil. He was sure she must be a sheer epitome of perfection of the female form and his eyes travelled unwittingly towards her long, clad in black stocking legs."I'm Gomez Addams," he managed to say and was relieved that he didn't sound half as desperate as he felt."My mother is in the kitchen, let me show you -"

"- oh, I'm sure she can find her own way, can't you, darling?"Ana interrupted with a forced smile and linked her arm through Gomez's, taking a proprietary position at his side."It's down the hall, the last door on the left, you really can't miss it."

Gomez almost groaned in irritation and looked back at the girl, who was regarding Ana with a confused frown, obviously taken aback at her hostile manner.

"Yes, I know where the kitchen is,"she said before turning her eyes to Gomez."Thank you."

They watched her make her way towards the kitchen and Gomez turned to Ana.

"Well, that wasn't very polite,"he commented with a raised eyebrow pointing in the direction of Morticia.

"Neither was ogling her like a hungry lion,"she retorted sharply.

Gomez sneered dismissively, but didn't deny her words.

"Jealousy is not sexy, Ana,"he said with an air of annoyance which only resulted in making her angry.

"Don't be an asshole,"she retorted spitefully before adding."You like them younger now, Gomez? Because she can't be older that sixteen."

Gomez tilted his head back with a groan:"God, don't start this again."

To his utter dismay, his words had the exact opposite effect that he intended.

"I have seen the way you looked at her," she insisted.

"So what, what harm is there in looking?"He replied dismissively.

"With you looking is just two steps away from fucking,"she answered with deliberate crudeness.

Gomez sighed inwardly, he was so damn tired of her bursts of jealousy. She was obviously feeling way too sure about her status even though he had never promised her an exclusive relationship, but he suspected she was hoping he would change his mind along the way, but no such luck. Gomez was always honest and very unapologetic about his lifestyle. He liked beautiful women, he had a great appreciation for female beauty and he never denied himself carnal pleasures and she bloody well knew that.

However, he didn't have a time nor desire for another prolonged spat with her, so he sneaked his arms around her waist and pulled her against his flesh.

"Ana, don't be jealous,"he whispered against the skin of her cheek, before placing soft kisses along her jaw."As you yourself pointed out she's barely a woman," he added and was relieved when he felt her body relax, if only fractionally.

"Your eyes wander too much, Gomez."

"Mmmm, indeed,"he murmured against her exposed cleavage eliciting a soft laugh out of her and he knew he was forgiven.

"Stop it," she scolded half-heartedly and giggled when he bit cheekily into the soft skin of her breast.

A low growl reverberated behind them and Gomez let her go with a last cheeky squeeze of her bum.

"I'll call you,"he lied.

She leaned closer and placed a possessive kiss into his lips.

"I'll be waiting," she murmured suggestively before turning away from him with a promising look on her face before disappearing through the door followed by Lurch.

Morticia raised her eyebrow and shook her head in amusement as she walked down the dark corridor that led to the kitchen. She wondered if they knew how loud they were being, the acoustics of the old mansion carried their voices to the deepest corners of the house.

She bit her lips thoughtfully and immediately decided that his photo didn't do him justice at all. She didn't expect the youngest Addams to be so disarmingly handsome and she felt instantly attracted to him - to put it mildly.

Indeed, he looked nothing like his brother. Fester was really sweet if terribly shy. Yet Gomez Addams evaporated with charm and confidence of a man who knew exactly the effect he had on the opposite sex and the argument with his lover confirmed that his mother didn't exaggerate in describing him as an extremely charming dandy. A pity, but wasn't that the case with most of the rich and handsome bachelors? They exploited the fact that they were a precious commodity on the market of marriage and with his vast fortune, she was certain, Mr Addams could choose as he pleased.

Nevertheless, she was always surprised at the likes of the women like the redhead in the hall. Surely, she realized that marriage would not stop Mr Addams from sleeping around. Most of the friends of her brother-in-law were married, had children even, but had nevertheless mistresses. Very often, the wives were aware of the situation but happily or otherwise, accepted their circumstances and what choice was there, really? Confront the husband and lose the money and the prestige that came with a rich, well connected husband?

It was one of the reasons, Morticia was not interested either in love or marriage. First of all, in her mind, the marriage was sacred, love was sacred and she would never put up with infidelity. It's either all or nothing - she wanted the love her parents shared - but then she also didn't, because that of course turned out to be a problem in itself.

Besides, she didn't have time to waste on such frivolity; with her inheritance frozen and Jarred refusing to even consider sending her to France, the scholarship was her only option and this was the opportunity she was, sure as hell, not going to waste.

Of course, she knew that, scholarship or not, Jared will still throw a fit but she'll cross that bridge when she gets there. If he thought he could subdue her the way he had had her sister he had another thing coming. She thought she proved to him these last three years that his threats meant nothing to her, their fights, his blackmails or whatever the hell he thought he could come up with didn't impress her. Yet, her brother-in-law was nothing if not persisting, she had to give him that, but then again so was she and as exhausting as the relentless fighting was she would rather die than give in.

God, if only she hadn't had to wait another eighteen months to gain access to her inheritance, she would be living in Paris a long time ago, but alas.

"Good morning, Mrs Addams,"she greeted the matriarch of the Addams household with a warm smile ans she descended the stairs to the kitchen.

"Good morning, my dear,"Mrs Addams greeted cheerfully."I can hear you just got acquainted with my youngest son and his latest catch."

Morticia chuckled at her choice of words as she dropped her black leather bag on the kitchen table.

"I have, indeed,"she confirmed in an amused tone.

"Ah, I tell you, with Fester's chronic shyness and with Gomez jumping from one flower to another practically every week, I will be lucky to ever have any grandchildren at all," she complained, handing Morticia a frayed, leather notebook.

"Oh, I think you are over-dramatising the situation a little, Mrs Addams. Fester is really a wonderful man - he's very sweet and kind, it's not his fault he's terribly shy,"she placated taking her seat at the vast kitchen table."I'm sure he'll find the right woman who will appreciate him exactly the way he is."

"Ah, I hope you're right, my dear,"she said wistfully."In any case, I had Lurch brew a fresh pot of coffee, because it's going to be the most boring Saturday of your life."

"Oh?"

"I need you to catalogue all the ready potions, all potions I run out of and all the ingredients I have and the ones I need to purchase - a mundane task I avoided for weeks, but now I have my darling assistant to do it for me!"She announced cheerfully pointing at Morticia with both hands.

Morticia groaned and flopped dramatically over the kitchen table.

"Mrs. Addams...there's a special place in hell for people like you,"she said into the wooden table eliciting a hearty laugh from the older woman.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Morticia, let's get to work."

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

She briefly toyed with an idea of not telling Jared at all but ultimately decided against it.

Technically, it was none of his business but then she knew that he certainly wouldn't take kindly to Morticia not telling him about it.

Yet, she was apprehensive, because she knew her brother-in-law enough to know that he might very well disagree for the sake of disagreeing with her so she had to approach it carefully. That, however, was easier said than done. She couldn't just merely inform him that she began work for Mrs Addams, even though he perhaps expected a similar move on her part since slashed her allowances after all. It was unfortunate, perhaps a little inconvenient but hardly a conundrum he probably expected it to be.

The real conundrum was that it was difficult to predict Jared's reaction because, there was seldom a pattern to it. Although they argued frequently, he also tended to accommodate her requests, if they fell inside the parameter of what he judged to be reasonable (studying witchcraft, by definition, was not). He was, after all, paying to her university tuitions and even, what took her entirely by surprise, defended her choice of degree when his own mother voiced her objections.

Of course, she suspected it wasn't because he cared about her well-being or education, for that matter, but he probably figured if he indulged her from time to time she would be more complacent as if she was some kind of an unruly child. In his eyes perhaps she was.

The thing was that Morticia wasn't necessarily recalcitrant by nature. She didn't fight him tooth and nail because she enjoyed it. It was the fact that Jared had a particular image of how she should be (grateful, obedient, yielding) and she felt constantly constricted by it and his relentless quest to subdue her to his will and it wasn't in her nature to be subdued. In fact, she would argue it wasn't in anybody's nature to be subdued.

Nevertheless, their recent spat didn't necessarily mean he would shut down the whole idea on the spot, if Morticia presented it as a reasonable request, he might even see merit to it himself. She wasn't, of course, going to tell him the whole truth, that was out of the question, but she wasn't about to lie to him either.

The door to his office was ajar but she knocked nevertheless and heard his gruff "come in".

"Do you have a moment?" she asked casually and almost smiled when he looked at her like he was exhausted by merely seeing her. Which wasn't a bad thing, in the end, she could use it to her advantage.

"Depends," he answered, leaning back in his leather chair and regarded her curiously."Is it something new or more of the same?"

"I'm not here to argue," she said instead and made her way further inside the vast room.

"Sounds promising," he remarked with only a hint of sarcasm and his blue eyes sparkled with a somewhat subdued amusement."Still, I'm almost afraid to ask what's on your mind?"

She allowed a gentle smile to grace her lips at his words.

"I wanted to ask if it would be a problem if I wanted to get a job?" she inquired with deliberate vagueness.

"Why would it be a problem?" he replied, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

"In case you had some misogynistic misconceptions in regards to female employment?" she clarified with deliberate irony, she couldn't after all overplay her act by being too nice to him.

"As long as it has nothing to do with witchcraft then I see no problem with female employment," he assured before regarding her curiously."What kind of employment do you actually have in mind?"

"I have seen an advertisement, at the campus, for an assistant," she answered. It was a stretch but technically not incorrect since, when Fester offered his idea, they were in a cafe opposite the university campus."I thought of applying if you're okay with the idea."

"What kind of assistant?" he asked, absently playing with his fountain pen.

"Mrs Addams is looking for an assistant to help her with her work," she said finally. She knew she didn't have to explain who she was since everyone in this city was at least familiar with the name.

"Mrs Addams as in Eudora Addams?" Jared clarified nevertheless and Morticia nodded in agreement."What is it that she does exactly?"

"She's a herbalist," she explained slowly so it wouldn't look like she rehearsed her answers beforehand."It's an area I'm quite familiar with, so I think I can manage well as her assistant and the pay is reasonable," she added even though, in all honesty, she didn't even care about the pay, not that it wasn't convenient because it certainly was, but for this opportunity itself she'd gladly work for free.

"I don't see why not," Jared agreed finally and Morticia let out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding.

"Thank you," she said but didn't go as far as to smile at him, that would be a stretch too far and would raise suspicion, and she didn't want him to think she cared about this job more than as an opportunity to earn some extra money since he substantially cut her allowances.

"Morticia," he called her when her hand was practically at the door handle and she almost winced at the sound of his voice. He waited until she turned towards him again and watched her carefully for a while before finally leaning forward against his highly-polished desk."Thank you for clearing this with me first, I appreciate that."

She merely nodded and left the room as fast as she could without actually running out of it.

She almost bumped into her sister in the process.

"Hey, easy there, what's the rush?" Ophelia smiled at her softly, placing her hands on Morticia's arms to stop them from colliding.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there," she replied and let out a slight shrug of her shoulders.

"Well, obviously," her sister smiled and removed her hands off Morticia's shoulders."Everything ok?" she asked motioning her head to the room Morticia just vacated.

"Yes," she confirmed in a placating tone."I just had to ask him something, nothing to worry about."

"I see," he sister nodded but her careful gaze hasn't left Morticia's as she studied her for a moment."And what is it you had to ask him?"she prodded but her tone was not exactly curious, seriously worried was perhaps a better description.

"Work," she replied succinctly.

"You want to work...with Jared?" she clarified incredulously, even though it seemed like the most impossible idea in the whole universe and her tone seemed to reflect that because the very thought made Morticia smile.

"Oh no, not at all," she assured, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement."I merely needed to know if he had any objections as to me working."

"And?"

"He said it's fine."

Ophelia nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer but then, as if a thought occurred to her, she narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Anything particular you have in mind?" she inquired gently.

"I do, actually,"she said slowly and resisted an almost overwhelming urge to cross her arms but she certainly didn't look defensive, although she wasn't particularly pleased by the knowing look in Ophelia's eyes."Mrs Addams needs an assistant, so I thought it would be something I could do."

"Addams? The mansion on the Cemetery Lane?"

"Yes, that one" she confirmed with all the nonchalance she could muster.

She watched Ophelia bite her lower lip gently and could practically see her mind putting the puzzles together. Her sister might not have been practising magic for years now but she once got acquainted with the matriarch of the Addams family and Ophelia would undoubtedly recognize a witch when she saw one.

She was certainly right, as her sister wrapped her slim fingers around Morticia's arm and led her gently away from the nearest vicinity of Jared's office.

"Tish, what's going on?" she whispered intensively even though they were alone in the corridor between Jared's office and the parlour.

"What do you mean?" Morticia replied in a normal tone, she wasn't about to start whispering as if she had a secret because, technically speaking, she didn't and was insistent on acting this way.

"You know very well what I mean," Ophelia pointed out insistently.

"No," she replied."No, I really don't."

Her sister gazed at her for one long moment before finally nodding her head and releasing Morticia's arm but didn't look at all convinced.

"Charlie asked about you," she said suddenly."I think he wants you to tell him the story."

Morticia nodded and smiled affectionately at the thought of the almost two-year-old nephew.

"I will go to him now," she assured."Good night."

"Night," Ophelia replied."Tish," she added and Morticia turned to her again, mustering a neutral expression and raised her shapely eyebrow in a questioning manner. "Be careful, please."

Morticia almost smiled at the soft tone and worried expression on her sister's face and not because she was touched by her concern but because she appreciated a game well-played and her sister was nothing if not cunning. But then again, so was she.

"Careful of what?" she asked, feigning confusion and her sister's lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"Just be careful."

Gomez Addams glanced at the bedtime clock and almost groaned in exasperation.

This was ridiculous.

This is was utter madness.

He was certainly not about to pine after a sixteen-year-old girl but he just couldn't get her out of his mind.

He couldn't remember a single thing his accountant told him today because the ebony-haired girl filled his every thought.

After Tully has left, he didn't complete a single task he set himself to do because he found himself staring, through the window in the library, as his brother was enthusiastically giving the girl a tour of their graveyard, obviously telling her stories of their various relatives and their magnificent deaths and she listened to him attentively. She seemed genuinely interested. She nodded and smiled at his brother - gods her smile, her laugh, her voice - everything about this woman seemed to him a divine perfection.

She wasn't a woman though, he reminded himself, she was a girl. He certainly shouldn't have such thoughts about a girl this young. She was far too young, she was Fester's friend and her mother's assistant which were all the signs in the world that told him he should avoid her at any costs.

Except, he immediately knew what a ridiculous idea was that. How was he supposed to avoid a woman, a girl - he reminded himself - she was a girl, not a woman, a girl you have to stay away from. Still, how was he supposed to avoid a girl that was in his house practically every day?

How was he supposed to stay away from her when the mere thought of being away from her was causing him almost physical hurt and how ridiculous was that? He met her just hours ago, he knew nothing about her except that she was a goddess personified.

"Gomez, stop fidgeting and go to sleep," the voice next to him mumbled tiredly.

He could barely remember her name. Nicole or Nicola, something like that. She's approached him at his usual table where he was drinking champagne with his cousin, Balthazaar, and their friends and told him he looked like he needed a distraction.

She wasn't wrong about that but proved to be a rather ineffective distraction because he couldn't even kiss her without imagining what would it feel like to kiss those ruby lips, so full and inviting. Were her hair as silky and soft as they looked?

"I'm gonna go for a walk," he decided aloud and already moved out of her bed, swinging his legs onto the floor in an abrupt manner.

"At three o'clock at night, are you mad?" she asked tiredly, without opening her eyes.

"Restless," he admitted, already half-way through buttoning his trousers."I want to have a walk," he said succinctly.

"You are mad," she decided and turned to the other side."Lock the door behind you please."

They didn't say goodbyes or promised to call each other and he appreciated that. He didn't think he could muster any pretence to pretend there was anything more to him in this one night stand than what it was.

The December air was bitterly cold and, for a moment, he questioned the merit of his idea but he knew he couldn't stay there any longer, in that bed.

In that bed, with a woman who wasn't her.

"Tish, cheer up, eighty-three per cent on your linear algebra test is not the end of the world," Michael pointed out as they were walking together to the canteen."Stop being such an overachiever, it's annoying," he teased good-naturedly.

"Janice got eighty-seven and the mere thought is killing me," she admitted off-handedly but it was only partially true.

"Her name is Jenny and you know it," he grinned at her."You're going to the spooky mansion again after classes?"

"I am indeed."

"So how is it there?" he inquired curiously." Do they have dead bodies hidden in the closet?"

"Hopefully," she replied before adding regrettably: "I haven't seen any yet."

"Have you met Mr Addams yet?"

"I've met him over two months ago."

"Not that Mr Addams," he rolled his eyes at her deliberately obtuse behaviour and watched her smirk."The infamous Mr Addams, I heard he's quite a character."

"I've met him, briefly though," she admitted curtly.

"So how is he?" Michael prodded and she almost winced, not quite sure how to answer him.

He was...he was unsettling.

Granted, in the two weeks since she's started her work for Mrs Addams, she's seen Gomez Addams perhaps a grand total of three times and each time he grunted a polite hello and disappeared soon after, barely sparing her any further look. It was preposterous, yet she could swear, he was deliberately avoiding any interaction with her and didn't know what to make of it.

It was unsettling.

What was even more unsettling is that she thought about it more than she should. It bothered her more than it should have and she couldn't figure out why.

At some point, as she tossed and turned in her bed, she felt annoyed at herself, she felt ridiculous. Was she really so vain to be so injured by his indifference? She wasn't usually concerned with silly things like that. It wasn't that she never kissed a man after all and she's never suffered from the lack of male attention. Although she generally didn't care for it, the truth was that she also admittedly enjoyed it. She ignored it, most of the time, because none of the men were interesting enough to her to warrant any more than fleeting attention. Yet, she had to admit, whether she wanted or not, that Mr Addams sparked her attention.

He was perhaps a little older but she just couldn't forget the way her heart started beating furiously merely seconds after their eyes first met and that never happened to her before. And she could tell he found her attractive, there was no doubt about it, so why was he acting this way now? She certainly didn't like the way he made her feel - silly, ridiculous, insecure. She wasn't any of those things. She was smart, practical, level-headed and never ever prone -

"Tish?"

She blinked, suddenly confused and slightly mortified because she realized she hasn't heard a word Michael just said to her. And she blamed Gomez Addams for that too.

"Are you listening?" Michael asked and his face furrowed, perplexed by his friend's odd behaviour.

"Ehmm...no," she muttered sheepishly."I was…,"

"- miles away," he pointed out, his eyebrow arched."What were you thinking about so intently?"

"Linear subspaces," she answered, deadpan.

Michael smiled and looked at her intently, and amused spark dancing in his brown eyes.

"Liar."

"The more precise the measurements the stronger the potion,"Eudora instructed."Any deviation from the recipe, any at all will change its quality, the time and the strength of the response. Never underestimate the importance of the accurate measurements."

Morticia nodded obediently and duly noted the observation in her notebook.

"My mother used to experiment with the flavours," she mentioned off-handedly."She said the potions tend to have a strong aftertaste, and she wanted to make them less detectable."

Eudora grunted in affirmative.

"It's not an easy task if we want to retain the original strength of the mixture,"she admitted."I gave up on that a year ago."

"She claimed it can be done," she reminisced fondly. Her mother was adamant it can be done and wouldn't listen to anyone who claimed otherwise."She was working on some aconium extract that she boiled for hours and hours but she…" Morticia faltered and swallowed heavily because suddenly all the memories of her previous life assaulted her with such ferocity it felt momentarily dizzying. She could almost smell the scent of her mother's potions that always seemed to penetrate their home. This sweetly bitter scent that lingered constantly in the air, enshrined with the heavy smell of dust. Her lips went dry and tingly and her heart felt as if it was about to burst from the sheer misery and longing.

"Morticia?"

She heard her name spoken as if from a far distance and it took all of her strength to pull out from the memories. She blinked furiously to rid herself of the images and then she looked back at Eudora who was looking at her with concern.

"She didn't complete the experiment, though," Morticia finished but the older woman was still looking at her attentively.

"Time for lunch," Eudora declared out of a sudden and Morticia, although grateful for the change of topic, almost groaned.

"Oh, not for me, thank you," she declined gently."I'm not a big eater."

"Oh, nonsense, my dear," Eudora waved her hand dismissively."I'm known for my cooking. I was once working on a cookbook of my recipes but somehow I misplaced all the notes and now I have no idea where the hell are they."

Morticia bit her lips to prevent herself from laughing but failed miserably and her soft laugh reverberated through the depths of the Addams' vast kitchen.

"Don't laugh,"Eudora scolded half-heartedly."It's a curse to be so brilliant yet so disorganized."

"Finally!" An amused voice reverberated from the direction of the stairs."You've admitted to being disorganised."

Morticia wasn't sure she cared for how her heart started beating furiously as Gomez Addams stepped jovially into the kitchen like he owned the world, cigar in his right hand. He seemed to be smoking them constantly. He faltered when he noticed her and Morticia thought he looked like he considered immediate retreat but ultimately decided against it as he merely nodded at her tensely and made his way towards his mother where she was standing in front of the stove.

"I have admitted no such thing," Eudora denied vehemently as she put the butter on the pan and it sizzled dramatically."I'm perfectly organized."

"The mess in the kitchen that is slowly seeping into the library seems to indicate otherwise," he teased, purposely not looking at Morticia. Dear Lucifer, she was even more beautiful than he remembered and his fingers itched with the need to touch her.

"It's not a mess, darling," his mother insisted.

"What is it then?"

"It's a..ehm...you know…," she replied, moving her hand in a circular motion as scrambling her mind for the right description.

"Artistic disarray," Morticia supplied kindly, eliciting a satisfied ha from the matriarch of the Addams family and Gomez turned towards her as if just noticing she was here. The man was impossible, she decided.

"See?"Eudora turned to her son."Morticia gets it."

"Artistic disarray?" Gomez laughed coming closer to the table where Morticia was sorting the ingredients back into the little jars."More like creative destruction," he teased before smiling at Morticia.

"Semantics," she replied and returned the smile yet she was incredibly confused by his behaviour.

"Ha ha, very funny you two," Eudora supplied, her back turned from them as she busied herself with the cooking."Don't you have things to do, Gomez?"

"As a matter of fact I do," he replied, not taking his eyes off Morticia and he absently started helping her put the small, dry, black leaves into the container."Aunt Constance called, she's got arrested again."

"Does that woman love a good fun," Eudora remarked, shaking her head affectionately."They should have a prison cell named after her."

"Apparently she stabbed uncle Marvin for stepping all over her vegetable path," he explained finally tearing his eyes off the ebony-haired beauty.."She insists he's done it deliberately after she accidentally cooked his pet octopus for dinner."

"Oh dear, that would certainly set her off," she nodded."She loves her garden."

"Long story short, the neighbour saw the whole thing and called the police. They still insisted on arresting her even though uncle Marvin insisted it was just a marital jest."

"People nowadays are so oversensitive," his mother agreed, giving the pan a good shake and the food inside sizzled furiously."Hand me cyanide, please. So, I reckon, you're not staying for lunch?"

"No, I have to go," he said regretfully turning to Morticia again and he could swear he saw a flash of disappointment in her almond-shaped eyes but it was so brief he might have as well imagined it."I will eat it later, I like it better cold anyway."

"Give my regards to Constance," she requested."Tell her I'll call her later this week to catch up."

"I will," he promised, handing his mother the cyanide. It took him all his will power to tear his eyes from the girl. He didn't know what was more agonising, spending his days constantly thinking about her or being so close to her and gods she was absolutely perfect. He had to get out of here."I'll see you later," he mumbled, placing a quick kiss on his mother's cheek before disappearing from the kitchen so quickly Morticia barely had a chance to blink.

She frowned in confusion at his behaviour, the man was a walking contradiction. She couldn't make an ounce of sense from his peculiar behaviour.

She didn't have a chance to ponder upon it any further because suddenly Eudora Addams was before her, a metal plate before her, holding -

"What's that?" Morticia asked. It didn't even look remotely familiar to any food she has ever seen. It looked to her like a plate of black, slimy worms and she was absolutely enticed by the mere prospect.

"Oh, it's Gomez's favourite," she smiled as she placed the plate, fork and knife in front of Morticia, and then added is if an afterthought."Snakehead with catfish noodles all bathed in a delicious squid. Start with the eyes."

Morticia sat down and obediently cut into the wobbly substance, she could swear it moaned.

"Well, what do you think?" Eudora asked her expectantly as she watched Morticia chew on her cookery masterpiece.

"Absolutely hellish," Morticia admitted and watched the matriarch of the Addams family grin at her in a self-satisfying manner.

"Told you," she smirked."Dig in."

"This is lovely," Gomez commented pointing at the metal vase, filled with various rose thorns, on the coffee table in the parlour.

His mother looked up from her place on a settee where she was reading a book and smiled at him.

"Ah yes, Morticia brought them,"she explained."She says every house should have rose thorns, she thinks it adds a homey touch and I quite agree. It turns out she's an avid gardener, did you know? Did you see what an amazing work she's done in the conservatory? Why, it never looked gloomier!"

Gomez chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"You seem very fond of her,"he commented lightly, touching the thorny stems.

"Oh, she's a gem,"his mother praised."I would adopt her if I could. She's like a daughter you were supposed to be,"she deadpanned eliciting a loud, jovial laugh from him.

"So harsh, mama,"he said covering his heart with the palm of his hand."I would have thought you got over the disappointment of not having a daughter these past twenty-five years. Besides, I have many endearing qualities."

"That's true,"she agreed."Pity, you waste them on drinking and women of questionable reputation."

"Is that your way of telling me you disapprove of my life choices?"He asked taking a seat in a chair opposite her and crossing his legs.

"What life choices, dear?"She questioned sardonically."You were born into the privilege, you never had a care in the world until your dear father passed away and you had to join Fester in running a family business."

"Yet, despite my sheltered upbringing you must admit that I am quite excellent at running it,"he grinned cheekily.

"You are,"she admitted."But there's more to life than money and women, Gomez."

"Is there?" He challenged mockingly.

His mother ignored his tone and closed the book on her lap before addressing him again:

"Look at Morticia, she's only nineteen and yet she works so hard to get the scholarship in the most prestigious witchcraft school in France and, if you ask me I have no doubt she'll get it. All that despite the fact that she's studying full time, works for me and her troubles at home," she pointed out intensely."Yet you, with all the advantages…"

"She's nineteen? I thought she's younger,"he interrupted causally, but his posture instantly perked up at the prospect opening before him.

Nineteen. She was nineteen.

She was still younger than the women he usually dated but nineteen was a world of difference from sixteen.

"You leave that girl alone, Gomez,"she warned pointing at him with his finger threateningly, but he only smiled at her caddishly."She has enough on her plate, she certainly doesn't need more trouble from the likes of Gomez Addams."

His cheeky smile disappeared at her words and he regarded her curiously.

"What trouble?" he asked and was taken aback how protective he suddenly felt about her.

"None of your business, just keep your grimy paws away from her" his mother retorted sternly.

Yet, Gomez Addams knew his mother well and he knew one thing especially - that, no matter what, Eudora Addams loved gossips and couldn't keep a secret to save her life, so he just stared at her patiently, waiting for her to spill the beans and sure enough Eudora seemed to hesitate for a moment, but eventually concurred and leaned closer to him as if afraid they might be overhead even though they were the only ones in the house.

"From what I've heard from cousin Melancholia, who heard it from uncle Knick Knack who knows a guy, who knows a guy that has a cousin who does business with Morticia's brother-in-law," she started." Morticia's father died unexpectedly three years ago,"she stated and let her words sink in for a moment before continuing."I don't know exactly what happened but Morticia moved in here from France to live with her sister three years ago, soon after her father died, so I gather her mother is not fit to look after her."

He couldn't say he liked what he was hearing. It was a complication, to say the least.

"Where is her mother now?"

His mother only shrugged.

"I don't know,"she admitted."Apparently, and I don't know if there's any truth in it, but people talk that she tried to kill herself so... she's probably hospitalized somewhere. The family is very private about it, so nobody really knows."

"Poor girl," he remarked more to himself than to his mother. He didn't know what to think of this sudden wave of tenderness that suddenly engulfed him. Another complication, for sure.

"Yes,"his mother nodded."Fester said Morticia's brother-in-law is not keen on paying for her witchcraft studies, so she really counts on that scholarship. The last thing she needs now is a ruined reputation or a broken heart, for that matter,"she said giving him a pointed look before going back to her book.

He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. Admittedly, his mother was absolutely right and it just added to the long list of reasons why pursuing this woman was a spectacularly bad idea.

"I promise not to lay a finger on her," he said solemnly but his mother only raised his eyes at him sceptically and Gomez Addams didn't have to reach very deep into his own heart to know that there's no way in hell he'd be able to keep that promise.

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. :)

Chapter 4

Morticia leaned forward against the sleek surface of a highly polished table in the library, where Fester Addams was currently testing her on organometallic compounds, and looked around, to make sure the were safely out of anyone earshot.

"Ask her out," she whispered insistently.

"Never," he replied in kind in his usual gruff voice."Besides, we're here to study so just answer the question, please."

"Lithium, sodium, potassium, rubidium, caesium and francium, why don't you ask her out she'll say yes," she answered all in one breath and stared at him pointedly.

"Stop pestering me about it, you witch," he shot back from the above the rim of her chemistry book but there was a detectable amusement in his voice."Question six: describe the process of effervescence."

"I shall not because you'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don't tell her how you feel," she insisted.

"Well then, that will make two of us," he answered furtively and couldn't help but smile when Morticia's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, I'm just jesting," he assured her, except that it wasn't exactly the truth.

Most people assumed that Fester Addams didn't know what was going on around him because he spent almost all of his time focusing intently on his experiments - and they were absolutely right, usually that is. He noticed things when it suited him and when he cared to notice them, which is why he usually didn't, especially when it came to his brother's affairs of the heart - it was absolutely mind-bogglingly exhausting to even comprehend it so he rarely attempted to do so.

Yet, despite that, Gomez was in habit of complaining to Fester about the dire complexity of feminine affairs at least once a week, which usually consisted of Fester grunting and nodding when he thought was appropriate and only half-listening. However, that being said, when in the last couple of days it was Gomez Addams who's done all the grunting and nodding, not only did Fester found it weird, he immediately found it suspicious. It wasn't in Gomez's nature to be quiet and withdrawn - that was Fester's job, his brother was usually a human whirlwind of emotions.

By Friday, he started to suspect his brother was dying from some unidentified brain disease. Especially when, on Saturday morning, as Fester was helping Morticia sort out another box of Eudora's notes into some coherent whole, Gomez came down to the kitchen to get more coffee and they both watched, bewildered, as not only he poured most of the scalding beverage on his hand because he didn't notice the cup was overflowing, until Morticia gently pointed it out to him, he also practically killed himself tripping over his own feet so eager was his brother to leave the kitchen.

It was only when Morticia asked Fester was his brother upset with her over something because she got an impression that he was deliberately avoiding her...it finally clicked.

It finally dawned on him.

He should have recognized the symptoms straight away.

It was, after all, the same kind of behaviour Fester exhibited when he was around Dementia.

Gomez Addams was in love and perhaps not even aware of it yet.

Gomez Addams was in love and not the kind of love he was falling in periodically, at least twice a year. Oh no. This was coffee-spilling, tripping-over-his-own-legs, soul-shaking kind of falling in love and therefore, by definition, Gomez Addams was as good as doomed.

Fester didn't know what to do about this discovery, perhaps nothing. Or then, maybe everything. Perhaps he should just sit and watch and let the events unfold, whatever those might be. He was certainly curious enough to just sit back and watch how his brother would handle all this, especially when, currently, Morticia was of an opinion Gomez was a rude boor - just how hilarious was that?

His ever charming, suave, silver-tongued brother - a boar. It was as if he suddenly woke up in some alternative universe.

"Fester, come on," she pressed, interrupting his thoughts.

"The process of effervescent," he said instead and watched her glare at him in exasperation.

"At least talk to her," she insisted."You talk to her once and you'll see it's not even half as terrifying as you think. Ask her about some book, just to start a conversation."

"No."

"Why not?"

"What if she says something back?"

"Isn't that what the word conversation implies?" she teased kindly.

He only grunted in reply but he knew she was right. Theoretically, that is. Theoretically, she was right but he was absolutely terrified of going mute in front of Dementia or worse bubbling a string of nonsense.

"What if I make a fool of myself?"he insisted.

"She wouldn't mind," she assured him."At least try."

"Tell you what," he started and paused briefly until she raised her shapely eyebrow at him in question."If you get a hundred per cent on this test, I will ask Dementia out," he promised and almost laughed when she glared at him. They both knew he was asking for impossible.

"Ugh," Morticia groaned finally before practically snatching the book out of his hands and almost hissed at him."Let me tell you something, Fester Addams, I will personally see to you asking that girl out...or I'll die trying."

"How does it feel?"

"I can't breathe,"Morticia grunted as Michael tightened the strings of the corset of the dress he wanted Morticia to model.

"You'll survive," he assured, tying the final knot on the garment and went over to her front to examine his work."Perfect, remember do not smile. I want you to look like a porcelain doll."

"Will dead porcelain doll do?" she asked with mild sarcasm, standing against the wall that was currently covered with a burgundy material."I think you tied my rib cage together."

"Dead porcelain doll, Tish, you're brilliant!" Michael beamed, blatantly ignoring the rest of her statement, and went over to take his camera. "Hands on your hips, please."

Morticia shook her head in a mild exasperation but did as he requested and soon the room reverberated with the clicks and flashes of the photo camera.

"You do realize no human female has a waist this small, right?" Elena pointed out, curled on the sofa where she was sorting makeup brushed back to their place."Why don't you make clothes that real women can actually wear?"

"Don't be ridiculous, El," Michael huffed behind his camera."I'm an artist, not a seamstress."

"Seamstress is a gender-specific noun," Morticia pointed out.

"Nobody likes smartasses, Tish," Michael countered, rolling his eyes."Stop smiling. Tailor then, I'm not a tailor - I'm an artist."

"Ok, but you do sew clothes, doesn't that make you a tailor?" Elena insisted.

"Was Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel a seamstress?" he pointed out. "Tish, turn slightly to the left."

"Who's that?" Morticia inquired.

"Jesus, Morticia, you used to live in France, how can you not know about Chanel?" Michael groaned half-bewildered, half-exasperated."Have you lived in a cave the whole time?"

"Qui, and I loved it there," she deadpanned.

"Isn't a fashion designer really just a glorified tailor?" Elena teased, winking at Morticia when Michael let out an outraged gasp, almost dropping his camera and turned to her abruptly.

"Thou shall not utter such blasphemy in my apartment," he told her, jabbing his finger at her in outrage."This is a holy place of my creativity. If you're bored, clean my makeup brushes instead of filling your head with vile thoughts."

"Relax, I'm just teasing," she grinned, abandoning the makeup brushes all together and picked a glossy magazine from the table. She started flipping lazily through its pages when something caught her attention."Hey, what's the name of the guy Tish has a crush on?" she asked Michael and almost laughed when Morticia let out an annoyed huff.

"I have no -"

"Gomez Addams," Michael supplied in a deadpan manner.

"He's number four on the list of the most eligible bachelors, look," she said enthusiastically, lifting the magazine up and showing them the page, pointing her finger to the name on the list."Fester is number two, what are the criteria here anyway? How come they are two places apart?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Morticia retorted curtly.

"Too bad there's no pictures, is he handsome?" Elena asked as if she didn't hear her salty answer.

"He's a boor," Morticia said."How can I have a crush on someone who barely speaks to me?"she pointed out.

"Nah, a boor wouldn't get you so worked up," she quipped and grinned at Michael when Morticia snorted at her words.

"I'm not worked up over anyone, certainly not over Mr Addams," she insisted and didn't at all like the knowing looks those two were bestowing upon her.

"You're in denial, Tish," Elena insisted.

"I'm not in denial."

"See? Denying the denial... it's a classic example."

"You didn't say how did your job interview go," she interjected in a matter of fact voice but her friend just looked at her knowingly.

"Excellent attempt at changing the topic, Tish," Elena pointed out."It went well, I think," she admitted."It's a weird place, though."

"How come?"

"Tish, stop frowning," Michael instructed, clicking another picture.

"They asked me to recreate dishes from the menu and," she shook her head."It was like nothing I have seen before: marinated lizard, fried bat wings, frog-eye soup."

"I would eat it, sounds delicious," Morticia remarked.

"You would," Michael smirked."Since you're the only one who likes my mother's cooking."

"That marinated lizard wasn't actually half-bad," Elena interjected.

"Your mother is an excellent cook," Morticia pointed out and Michael lowered his camera to look at her incredulously."What? She is."

"Tish, wet dog food is more appealing than my mother's cooking."

It turned out that when Eudora asked Morticia to organize her notes, she failed to mention that the notes actually consisted of various notebooks and scraps of papers filled with measurement, potions adjustments, spells and commentaries scattered around in sixteen large cardboard boxes that were put in various places around the house, waiting to be sorted into a coherent whole.

She even had boxes in her bedroom, under her bed, which she actually forgot she had there and they were now in process of taking them all down to the kitchen. Morticia thought he's inhaled more dust in the last half an hour that she has in the last three years. Indeed, it was positively refreshing.

"Let me help you," the voice behind her offered gently and she turned to see no other but Gomez Addams and he smiled at her, catching up with her on the stairs.

"It's alright," she retorted slowly, surprised that he was talking to her at all but he's already taken the box off her hands.

"I insist," he said."Kitchen?" he asked jovially.

She stared at him as if he just spoke to her in Chinese.

Although Fester assured he it was not the case, she was getting progressively sure Gomez Addams must be suffering from some kind of mental disorder.

"Pardon?" she asked finally.

"Where were you taking it?"he clarified.

"Oh... yes, the kitchen."

He nodded and turned away, descending the stairs in a jovial manner and for a second she was just too stunned to follow. What alternative universe was this?

"I love the work you've done in the conservatory," he said as they were walking towards the kitchen."It looks so dark and desolate."

Personality disorder. It must be some sort of personality disorder.

"Thank you," she replied, utterly taken aback by his behaviour."Just...ehm, put it next to the others," she added, pointing to the corner, next to the closet where some boxes were already mounting.

"Is there any more boxes?"

"Yes, actually, six more," she said slowly watching him curiously."Your mother is currently digging them out from under her bed."

"I'll get them for you," he declared and then, again, smiled at her. He tried not to laugh about the fact that she was staring at him as if he just grew two heads, which, incidentally, he always wanted to have.

"I give up," she muttered in disbelief.

"You give up?" he repeated and she looked at him startled as if just realizing she said it out loud. He could see she was mightily confused by his abrupt change in behaviour but then what was he supposed to tell her? That he was rude to her because he thought he was lusting after a sixteen-year-old girl, which, thankfully, turned out not to be the case? Never. It's better she thinks him mad.

"Nothing, I mean...thank you, that would be very helpful," she corrected herself and watched him flash her another charming smile before disappearing back upstairs.

She should just give up in her quest on figuring him out. The man was impossible and his moods changed faster than the weather. She didn't know what to make of him.

She just wished her heart would give up on him too and stopped beating like mad every time she saw him.

Now.

No, not now, she's busy and will probably be annoyed with him for interrupting her.

Yet, Morticia was right, he can't spend the rest of his life just staring at her, he'll drive himself mad. As enticing as the prospect was he could think of more appealing ways to drive himself into insanity.

How would he be able to tell if she's interested, though? Will she smile at him or...or what, what were the signs?

Before he knew it, he was right in front of the counter where Dementia was turned with her back towards him, sorting some books. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but his back was already prickling with apprehension and he opened his mouth to say something...anything, but no sound came. His mouth felt dry like sandpaper and he felt as if he might choke on his tongue.

He couldn't do it, he'll only make a mess of this. Better leave it as it is.

Decision made, he was about to return to his table when Dementia suddenly turned towards him and gasped in surprise, dropping the stack of books she was holding on her feet.

Oh gods what now, what should he say?

"Hi," she said suddenly, ignoring the books currently lying at her feet, furiously straightening nonexistent creases on her skirt.

He had every intention to answer but the blood was suddenly pumping in his ears so loudly he could not focus at all. He swallowed nervously and looked at his feet in embarrassment. She'll think he's an idiot and he wanted to die. Now. So desperately. Die instantly and end this torment.

"You're Fester, right?" she added gently and smiled at him encouragingly even though he was still staring intensely at his feet."Morticia's friend."

He looked at her when she mentioned Morticia's name and nodded his head vigorously. He couldn't exactly tell why but somehow, even though she wasn't here, because it was late afternoon and she was most likely with his mother, the mere thought of her calmed him. He could talk about Morticia, she was a safe topic. The was something inherently calming about Morticia.

"Fester Addams," he managed to choke out."Yes, we've met...Morticia, she...she introduced us a few weeks ago."

"I remember," she said and smiled at him."You're quite unforgettable, after all."

He smiled at her...or at least he thought he did but then he was at loss of what to say next and, it seemed, that so was she and the uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and he felt it penetrate him and constrict his chest until he could barely breathe.

"A book," he said suddenly, struck by a sudden idea.

"A book?" she repeated uncertainty.

"Yes...a book," he confirmed."I was wondering if you could recommend me...a book."

"Ehm, sure...I guess, what kind of book are you looking for?"

What kind of...what kind indeed?

"Modern art," he blurted.

"Oh, you like modern art?" she inquired curiously, apparently quite pleased with the idea.

"I know nothing about it," he admitted instantly, without thinking.

"So...you're looking for an introduction to modern art?" she clarified, frowning slightly in confusion.

"Okay, sure," he blurted but she continued to look at him as if she wasn't convinced it's what he's really looking for."Morticia likes it, modern art I mean, so I want to learn something about it," he added. There! That sounded like a perfectly valid excuse.

"Oh," she said, and he could swear her posture went suddenly rigid. Has he said something wrong?"Sure, I can show you a few books," she added in a very detached tone that left him instantly confused.

He almost thought she liked him, but all of a sudden she was acting like he was annoying her. Was he annoying her? No, not annoyed. She looked...disappointed? How could he disappoint her so quickly? He didn't even do finger puppets yet.

"I'll show you," she said and smiled at him tensely.

And suddenly there was a loud thud, as Dementia tripped over the books, that were still laying on the floor, and landed flat on the carpeted floor.

And with this, Fester Addams could not help but grin because he suddenly knew, with utmost certainty, that she was indeed interested after all.

Gomez Addams stood at the door to the conservatory, silently admiring the raven-haired creature who was currently gracefully decapitating the rose buds with decisive snaps of the shears.

God, she was so beautiful, her long, silky, hair, that she wore lose today, reached almost to the enticing curve of her hips and he felt his hands prickle with the need to woven his fingers into those shiny tresses.

Despite the promise to his mother, he just couldn't deny himself the pleasure of being in her company. In the first week since his mother warned him off, they barely exchanged few words save for polite greetings after which Morticia always retreated to the kitchen where she worked with his mother every afternoon, after school and Saturday mornings. Once, he helped her to bring down the boxes from his mother's bedroom.

It was rare to catch her alone and he certainly wasn't about to try anything under the very nose of Eudora Addams, she would skin him alive. Yet, the luck seemed to be on his side this week, as his mother had work commissioned to her by the American Institute of Witchcraft and was away for most of the afternoons, leaving Morticia to finish the work on her own.

Needless to say, Gomez Addams being Gomez Addams, was too curious not to use that opportunity, that so utterly conveniently befallen him, and not to get to know Morticia a little (a lot) better. Truthfully, the more his mother and brother told him about her, the more eager was he to find out more about her. Hell, he found himself wanting to know absolutely everything there was to know about Morticia Frump.

"It's customary to at least say hello,"his raven-haired enchantress interrupted his train of thoughts without even turning to look at him.

"It's quite impossible to sneak up on you, Tish,"he grinned and stepped inside the conservatory.

She became Tish somewhere between the first and second cup of coffee they shared together on Tuesday afternoon when he came home from his business meetings to find her in the library, sitting on the floor, busy organizing his mother's notes that were all scattered in hundreds of small pieces of papers on his desk and across the floor. She immediately apologized for taking up his space but, as she explained, she has already used all the available space in the kitchen.

Somehow he ended up cancelling his afternoon appointments and spent the rest of the day helping her sort out his mother's work.

He loved the ease of conversation that has flown between them. He found out that, apart from witchcraft, she had also vast interests in music - she even played the violin herself, she liked modern art and shared Gomez's taste in literature and they ended up discussing the delightful miseries of Russian novels.

Somehow, one way or another he ended up seeking her company every afternoon this week and she always seemed genuinely happy to see him even though, initially, he could see she was taken aback by his change of attitude towards her.

"Your ubiquitous cigar gives you away,"she replied with a charming smile.

"Ah, betrayed by this delicious habit" he commented returning her smile."Are you done with the paperwork?"

"If only, although with your help I dug myself out from under the mountains of your mother's notes,"she said taking a metal vase from the shelf before placing the rose thorns inside."It will still take me another twenty years or so to go through all of it, but thanks to you I can see the light in the tunnel."

He laughed happily at her predictions before standing casually next to her.

"My mother is a brilliant witch, albeit terribly disorganized one,"he commented affectionately.

"You can say that again,"she smiled finishing her arrangement of the freshly cut thorny stems."What do you think?"She asked pointing to the case with both of her hands.

"Beautiful,"he said without sparing one look at the vase, entirely focused on her beautiful face.

"Thank you,"she said in that soft voice that made his insides churn and he swallowed audibly making her turn to him in mild concern."Are you alright?"

He cleared his throat before muttering a faint fine.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something,"he said tentatively."A friend of mine has a gallery opening this Saturday. You said you like modern art," he explained promptly when she looked at him in confusion."So I was wondering if you'd like to come with me?"

"You mean... as your date?"She inquired. Apparently, the blond beauty she saw him briefly with last week was already a thing of the past.

"Well, the invitation is for two people,"he replied vaguely and smiled at her charmingly.

Well, he certainly wasted no time but she wasn't sure what to make of this answer. Was this some sort of ambiguous attempt to ask her out or was he simply being thoughtful because she had, after all, mentioned her interest in modern arts to him? More to the point, why was she so eager to agree anyway?

He was really nice and charming to her lately, following, what seemed to her, an absolute personality alteration and she had to admit that she really liked him. Not just physically. She found herself enjoying his company tremendously.

He might be a womanizer but he was also undeniably interesting, he knew a lot about literature and it wasn't the pretentious way she noticed most people talked about literature. His weren't memorized phrases to pepper into an upper-class mindless conversation somewhere between recent politics and latest scandals. He was genuinely well read and seemed to know all the works of Shakespeare by heart, not unlike her dear father and it instantly appealed to her, although his opinions often clashed with hers. Particularly, when it came to his opinion that Wuthering Heights was uninspiring drivel, written by a bored girl with an overactive imagination. It was nothing less but appalling and she immediately told him so. She still couldn't decide if he really held such wretched views on one of the best pieces of literature she's ever red, or was he jesting with her, amused by her fervent defence of the novel.

Nevertheless, she liked his self-deprecating sense of humour and enjoyed their conversations more than she was ready to admit.

She liked him more than she was ready to admit.

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea," she finally said tentatively.

"Why not?" he asked, frowning in confusion, a disappointment clearly laced into his voice.

"I'm not sure your mother be ok with it," she clarified.

"Why wouldn't she be?"He asked, feigning innocence. Of course his mother would not be crazy about it, she will probably hit him in the head with a saucepan but maybe, maybe if he somehow convinced her he was taking Morticia out as a friend, she would take more kindly to it ...oh gods, who was he fooling?

"Erm...because she called you a hopeless dandy with a silver tongue - a Castilian lothario whose only hobby is beautiful women,"she explained in a deadpan manner and smirked when he winced at her words, before letting out an embarrassed laugh.

"Well, dear mama, she always knows how to present me in the best light,"he quipped sarcastically but fondly still."Although, in this case, she might not be far away from the truth," he admitted in a self-deprecated manner."Mind you, though, I have plenty of other hobbies,"he assured, grinning at her caddishly and she couldn't help but return the smile."Still, I would rather go with someone who would really appreciate it. It's not a date, it's just an evening at the gallery and I really think you'd enjoy it. There's no harm in that, is there?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly, considering his statement. Alright, so it wasn't a date. It was two people enjoying an evening of modern art. It wasn't a date and she didn't want it to be one. Yet, she also didn't want it not to be a date. Seventh hell of Lucifer, was she going insane, what kind of thinking was that?

He was confusing the hell out of her.

"I guess, you're right," she found herself saying. It was definite then, she was insane.

He practically beamed at her, clasping his hands together in a joyful manner.

"So it's a yes, then?"he asked in confirmation.

"It's a yes,"she said before adding with a charming smile."If your mother agrees first."

She actually laughed at his extremely exaggerated, exasperated groan.

"No."

"But mother…"

"Which part of leave her alone did you not understand?"

"I know but…"

"No way in hell, Gomez."

"It's not a date, it's just an evening in a gallery. It's Sasha's opening night and you know how Morticia enjoys modern art. I want to take someone who'll appreciate the evening. That's all,"he explained casually, leaning against the kitchen table, hands in his pockets, trying his damn best not to show how eager he was to spend an evening alone with Morticia.

Alas, as usual, Eudora Addams saw right through him. His mother turned to him sharply, spatula in hand.

"You may have fooled Morticia with that explanation, but I know you, Gomez Addams and don't think for a second that I haven't noticed those fleeting glances and furtive smiles between the two of you,"she said vehemently, jabbing the spatula into his chest."Leave her alone."

Gomez sighed and raised his hands in surrender.

"Ok, alright...I really like her, mama,"he admitted.

"Yes, but so do I and I don't appreciate losing such a brilliant assistant, because you fancy a damn fling!"

"Mama, it's more than that, I swear,"he promised passionately grabbing her hand in both of his, looking at her with an eagerness she hasn't seen in him in ages."Please, mama."

"Absolutely not."

"One evening, I swear."

She regarded him with a sceptical look and wordlessly turned back to her cauldron. She heard his dejected sigh.

"Mama,"he said cautiously."I can't stop thinking about her."

"Oh, well then why didn't you say so before?" she asked tenderly but the narrowed her eyes at him and added softly:"In that case...it's an even bigger no."

"But why?"

"Do you want that list in alphabetical or chronological order?"

"One evening, one," he insisted, ignoring her reply."Please say yes."

Eudora turned back to her cauldron and sighed in exasperation. Not that she ever expected him to stay away from a girl like Morticia but the truth was that...she really liked that girl and she cared about her. She didn't deserve to have her heart broken.

On the other hand, Morticia wasn't exactly a typical girl Gomez usually dated and if she wanted to go, if she was confident she could handle him just fine and it wouldn't interfere with her work then what reason was there for Eudora to axe it? They were both grown up people after all. They could make their own decisions, no matter how stupid those were in her opinion.

Still, Gomez Addams was still his father's son, hence a word of warning might be in order.

"Gomez, if you hurt that girl in any way, I shall wipe the floors with you, so help me God,"she said viciously and saw him grin at her before leaning forward to place a grateful kiss on her cheek.

"You're the best mother in the world."

"Hmmm. Keep that in mind when I'm gonna be wiping floors with you."

"Stop blinking."

"Stop stabbing my eye with that pencil."

"It's called an eyeliner."

"Pardon, stop stabbing my eye with that eyeliner," she corrected."Why can't you just use powdered kohl as usual?"

"It's quicker that way," he grinned and her."I just want you to look simply mesmerizing on your first date with Mr Addams."

"How many times do I have to tell you it's not a date, Mr Covey?"

"It's not a date," Elena confirmed."She's just letting Mr Boor take her out, so she can continue to suffer more of his rude and unbearable behaviour," she added sarcastically, eliciting a loud laugh from Michael and annoyed glare from Morticia.

"Just eat your sandwich, Elena," she replied, not at all amused that they seemed to have so much fun on her account."It's not a date," she repeated.

"A boy, a girl and an evening in a gallery? Sounds like a date to me," Michael grinned at her.

"Do you need a condom?"Elena asked casually in between bites of her sandwich.

"What -," Morticia almost spat, turning towards her abruptly and eliciting an annoyed huff from Michael.

"Stay still, God damn it," he groused, turning her head towards him again.

"What on earth, Elena? Why would I...I certainly need no such thing."

"You sure?" he friend asked, brushing the bread crumbs from her white shirt.."Better safe than sorry."

"I can't believe you two…"

"You like him," Michael teased."I can tell."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to immediately jump into bed with him."

"I would," Elena mumbled in between the bites.

"You haven't even met the man," Morticia pointed out.

"If Esquire places him as number four of eligible bachelors then that's more than enough for me to know about him," she replied simply.

"You're so romantic," Morticia deadpanned.

"I'm romantic plenty," Elena grinned.

"Just wait till I show you the dress I prepared for you to wear tonight," Michael interrupted jovially.

"I already have a dress for tonight," Morticia assured.

"No, no. I want you to look absolutely stunning for Mr Addams," he insisted."Besides, there's probably going to be many rich and influential people there, which is a great opportunity to advertise my craft."

"You despicable opportunist," she shook her head in mock disapproval.

"El, bring the dress, please," he requested as he started to put a blood-red lipstick on Morticia's lips."You'll love it, I designed it especially for you."

They both turned when they heard Elena coming back to the room with a long, black dress on a hanger.

Michael didn't bother hiding his smirk when he heard Morticia's sharp intake of breath.

"Well, what you think?"

It was all black silk and lace, floor-length and with a sleeve made of lace in a shape of a spider web. It was divine.

"This goes through your middle finger," he explained, pointing out to the extension at the hem.

"Michael, this is absolutely stunning," she praised, touching the soft material gently between her fingers."I love it."

Why, in seven hells, was he feeling so nervous? It wasn't even a real date. In fact, it technically wasn't a date at all. Technically, technically, they were just two people with similar interests in modern art, taking part in an evening cultural entertainment but even that wasn't exactly the truth because Gomez's interest in art ended abruptly in Renaissance and everything after that, with only a few exceptions, he considered to be quite a lot of nonsense.

Sasha was one of those few exceptions, he found her work delightfully macabre. That, and she actually usually explained to him what was the exact meaning behind her compositions so he didn't have to scramble his brain for any sophisticated epithets and intrinsic values that weren't there at all.

In any case, arts aside, he needed to take it slow and proceed carefully - both concepts absolutely alien to him when it came to the progression of his relationships with women but Morticia wasn't just any woman.

If he had any sense he would never pursue her, everything told him it was a bad idea - she was Fester's friend and his mother really liked her as well, one wrong move and they would skin him alive and as enticing as the prospect was, he was adamant Morticia Frump would not be the reason behind it.

No woman ever invaded his every thought so ferociously and so completely.

Finally, the navy Ford arrived in front of the building and a dark-skinned, impressive looking man got out from the driver seat, and Gomez could swear he smirked at him, before opening the passenger door and Gomez watched Morticia gracefully step out of the car.

Lucifer's horns and all that's damned all the way to hell...this dress.

This dress...gods, it clung to her body so intimately he suddenly lost the ability to form a coherent thought. He bit his lower lip so hard he thought it may bleed but he desperately needed to refocus his attention from this goddess, this siren, this dark angel before him.

It took all of his willpower to turn his gaze towards the tall man beside her, she barely reached the dark-skinned man to his shoulder and he looked like he could lift her up with one finger.

Morticia greeted him with a brilliant smile and it was only when they were in front of him that he noticed there was a third person with them. The woman, almost as tall as Morticia, but with a blond chin-length bob cut. She was staring at him with a knowing look and, for some reason, grinning maniacally.

"Have you been waiting long?" Morticia asked in an apologetic tone.

All my life, he thought immediately and shook his head in reply to her question.

"You're not late," he assured and was glad that his voice didn't betray the havoc she was creating in the very core of his soul."I was early. You look amazing," he smiled at her and this time he was absolutely sure the man on her right smirked knowingly.

"Thank you. This is Michael,"she introduced, pointing to the man."My best friend, my hair and make-up artist and also a creative director behind this beautiful dress. And this lovely girl is, also my best friend, Elena. Both of them insisted on dropping me here so they could blatantly stare."

"Gomez Addams,"he introduced himself with an amused smile, kissing Elena's hand gallantly, before extending his hand to the tall African-American.

"I know,"Michael replied with a charming grin, shaking his hand firmly."She hasn't stopped talking about you for two weeks now."

Gomez grinned, immensely pleased with that particular piece of information, and watched Morticia's cheek colour with faint embarrassment before she turned to her friend sharply in an outrage.

"You were not supposed to tell him that!"Morticia scolded exasperated and her fist connected with her friend's arm.

"Well, darling, who can blame you?"Elena defended motioning to Gomez with her hand in a circular motion."He's absolutely delicious."

"Oh my God, kill me,"she whispered, clearly mortified and hang her head dejectedly."Good night, you two, thank you for dropping me," she added promptly before grabbing Gomez's hand and practically dragged him with her towards the entrance.

Once alone Michael and Elena turned towards each other with knowing smiles.

"I bet you a fifty those two gonna fuck before the Spring Break," Elena quipped and her friend immediately snorted in disbelief.

"Please, that's two months from now and this is Morticia we're talking about," he made a face."She will drive him insane before that. He will roll into a ball and hide in his closet for the rest of the century."

"You're an idiot," she turned and started to walk in the direction of the car.

"Why? Do you know something I don't?"

"Come on, now," she pointed in the direction of the building Morticia and Gomez went to. "You can practically cut the sexual tension with a knife there."

The place was buzzing with loud music and an array of people, drinking and talking animatedly. She's noticed most of them seemed to know Gomez and nodded at him before regarding Morticia curiously.

As they moved into the expansive room, where the main exhibition was taking place, she immediately noticed half-naked men and women standing in various places in the room, some on top of wooden cages, wearing nothing but their underwear, all painted from head to toe with all the colours imaginable and wearing dramatic eye makeup. All completed with a subdued surrounding, with only deem flashes of light, except the brightly lit artwork and photos on the walls.

"He's very talented," Morticia commented appreciatively, turning to look at Gomez. He had his hand placed possessively on her hip and she chose not to contemplate on how much she liked it.

"It's a she, actually," he smiled at her charmingly when she tilted her head and regarded him thoughtfully.

"Do you have any male friends, Gomez?"

"One or two," he deadpanned.

"Actually, Gomez is the inspiration behind this collection," the voice close to them said and Morticia turned to her left to see a young, attractive blond woman approaching them, smiling at Morticia."It's called Seven Stages of Madness."

"Seems accurate," Morticia smiled back and the woman laughed jovially before leaning towards Gomez and kissing him on both cheeks.

"Hello, darling," she greeted affectionately."So glad you could come."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he assured, before flashing her a charming smile."Tish, this is my extremely talented friend, Sasha Benson," Gomez introduced and watched Sasha extend her hands towards Morticia."This beautiful creature is Morticia Frump, she works with my mother, trying to put some order into otherwise utter chaos that is my mother."

"Pleased to meet you," Sasha smiled at the introduction.

"Likewise," Morticia smiled back and shook her hand.

"Putting order in the life of Eudora Addams is a brave undertaking," she commented."I salute you," she added in an affectionate tone. She was obviously familiar with Gomez's mother.

"It's a challenge, no doubt," Morticia admitted."Your work is very beautiful," she commented."The way you use the light is just stunning, it really brings out the terror and the sheer insanity. It's breathtaking."

"Thank you," Sasha beamed at her."Thank you so much, that's exactly the effect I was aiming for."

"You've certainly achieved it."

"Oh, let me show you my personal favourite, I'm curious to know what you'll think of it."

"You and Gomez are such a beautiful couple," Sasha commented, picking two wine glasses from the passing waiter. "I would love to photograph you together."

"Oh, we're not a couple," she corrected immediately, accepting the drink."We're not together, we are…" she hesitated briefly, not exactly sure how to continue. What were they exactly? They weren't exactly friends because she felt far too attracted to him but then she wouldn't go as far as not to call him her friend because she undeniably enjoyed spending time with him. It was complicated, at best."...friends," she said finally for the lack of better description.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry, I just made an assumption," Sasha apologized, slightly embarrassed."It's just because Gomez is usually...you know," she added as if this was a perfectly fine justification.

"I don't actually, I don't know him that well," Morticia explained, now genuinely amused.

Sasha laughed but Morticia wasn't sure if she found in actually funny or she found the conversation extremely uneasy and was slowly getting mortified.

"Oh, damn, it's just...well, Gomez is Gomez," she said finally, biting her lower lip before laughing self-consciously."I'm afraid I might have accidentally put my friend's butt in hot oil."

"Not at all," Morticia assured."His mother already introduced him sufficiently enough, if that's what you meant," she added with an amused smile and took a small sip of her wine.

Sasha laughed again and this time there was a clear note of mirth in her laugh.

"I can just imagine what she's called him."

"A Castilian lothario was mentioned," Morticia admitted, eliciting another amused laugh from her blond companion.

"Gomez is really a wonderful friend," Sasha remarked."Really, he'll go to the hell and back for his friends and I feel very fortunate to call myself his friend."

"You mean to say his mother was not entirely correct in her assessment?" she inquired, raising her shapely eyebrow curiously.

"Oh, no," she shook her head immediately."She's absolutely spot on."

"Gomez, I'm impressed," Sasha admitted in a commendable tone as they waited for Morticia to finish talking with quite a few people who expressed an avid interest in her dress and wanted to know more."You've finally picked someone with not only stunning looks but the brain to go with it."

He smirked and nodded his head in agreement before taking a small sip of his wine.

"We're not together, she works for my mother," he said, not taking his eyes of Morticia."It's a bit complicated."

"But you like her," she prodded. They might not be together...yet, yet being the operative word because Sasha Benson knew her friend very well, and she also knew sexual tension when she saw one and this thing simmering between them was certainly not a mere friendship.

"I do," he admitted and his smiled widened when Morticia finally joined them."Your dress is very popular this evening," he commented.

"It is indeed," she smiled at him. Well, Michael will certainly be pleased that his plan worked because there was indeed quite a few people she gave his details to tonight.

"The dress is captivating," he admitted."But the person wearing it is absolutely mesmerizing."

"Was that a line, Gomez?" Morticia teased, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously, eliciting a loud laugh from the woman next to Gomez.

"Well, I guess you'll have to try way harder to charm this creature, Mr Addams," Sasha grinned menacingly but Gomez only laughed jovially at her dig.

"It's beginning to seem that way," he admitted.

"Well, you must forgive me but I must go tend to the other guests as well," Sasha said regretfully before turning to Morticia."It's been an absolute pleasure, I hope to see you again," she added, kissing Morticia on both cheeks.

"It was lovely to meet you and congratulations again, it's an amazing work," she praised.

"Well, you've certainly made an impression," Gomez remarked as they continued to walk through the gallery alone."And she's not easily impressed."

"You two seem very familiar," she said casually or at least, she hoped it sounded that way because she was actually curious to ask him how exactly they got acquainted since Sasha seemed to know quite a lot about Gomez and his family and Morticia wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"We've known each other for a long time," Gomez remarked, smiling at her but didn't offer any further information and she certainly wasn't going to prod him any further.

God forbid, he'll think she actually cared.

"I really enjoyed it tonight, thank you for taking me," Morticia said as they were walking back through the small park, not far from the venue, behind which Michael agreed to pick her up.

"Pleasure's all mine,"he smiled."You really look amazing."

He didn't even touch her but Morticia felt her body tense and cheeks colour with a faint blush as she felt his mere presence enveloping her in its heat and she swallowed heavily.

Despite her better judgment, she couldn't deny the attraction that was simmering between them, although she knew simmering was a vast understatement on her part. It didn't even cover the fact that she could not stop thinking about him, that he constantly invaded her dreams, but she knew a romance was a mistake she could not afford. Especially, a romance with a man who changed women with an alarming frequency and was very open and unapologetic about it.

She already liked him a great deal more than she should, considering she barely met him three weeks ago. Yet, in this short time, he has woven himself into her life with casual and seemingly inevitable ease. She genuinely enjoyed his company and their easy banter, but it was increasingly harder to ignore the unfamiliar yet almost overwhelming feeling of lust that shocked her in its intensity every time she was near him.

"I really like you, Tish,"he whispered, interrupting her thoughts when they finally stopped next to a small fountain.

"I know,"she said with confidence even though the intensity of his gaze almost made her breath hitch."I like you too."

He smiled at her honesty and touched her cheek in a gentle caress before leaning closer to capture her ruby lips in a longed kiss, but their lips touched only briefly before she placed her slim fingers over his lips.

"As much as I want to,"she said gently."I cannot afford to sacrifice everything for a fling with you,"she added firmly and watched his eyes widen in surprise before his hand embraced hers and he pressed his hot lips to her fingers.

"A fling, Tish?"He asked in disbelief."Such a paltry term when you are all I think about lately."

She let out a harsh laugh but didn't extract her hand from his.

"Indeed? I hope you didn't think about me when you took Miss Dale to your bed just a week ago," she remarked mockingly and felt him tense before he released her hand gently."That would be in an extremely poor taste."

"I'm not a monk,"he replied calmly."You want me to apologise for having sex?"

"Don't be ludicrous,"she replied frostily before adding in a softer manner."I really like you, Gomez, but I simply cannot afford to invest myself in something that next month's going be ancient history to you."

"That would never happen,"he assured her with surprising confidence, but she only let out another harsh laugh.

"Don't insult my intelligence,"she said."In case it slipped your attention, in the three weeks since we've met you slept with two different women,"she reminded him and watched him drop his gaze briefly before looking back at her.

"You're judging me, Tish?"He asked sardonically."Never pegged you for a judgmental type. I'm not coercing anyone."

"I don't,"she replied calmly."It's your life, you may do as you please,"she said."But I won't be a part of it. "she added looking straight into his eyes.

"Tish - "

"That's Michael," she said, pointing out to the navy Ford that just arrived behind her without so much as turning to look at it."Thank you again for a lovely evening."

A/N: You didn't think it's going to be that easy, now did you, Gomez? (commencing an evil laugh).

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you very much for your kind comments. I hope you'll enjoy chapter 5. :)

Chapter 5

Anger wasn't an apt word. He wasn't angry, or he wouldn't exactly call it anger. Or if indeed it was he wasn't sure whom it was exactly directed at, was it her or him or just plainly at the hopelessness of the situation?

He was angry at her because she judged him so prematurely. Not unfairly but prematurely, nonetheless. He was also angry because she was wrong about him. He was angry because she didn't even think he deserved a chance.

Most of all he was angry with himself. He was angry because this judgement of hers that befallen him, although premature, was also wholly deserved. He was angry because he didn't know how to change her mind nor was he sure was it even an option. Mere words were not enough, he could not simply charm his way into her heart.

How can he look at her now, with that tragic knowledge that she was beyond his reach, that she'll never belong to him?

Perhaps, if he just avoided her for a few days, a week or so and let the dust settle, let this misery and disappointment fade from his heart.

Gomez found himself in a library, seething, restless, unable to focus on anything but seemingly gaping hole in his heart.

He walked, he sat down, he walked again before picking up a paperweight from his desk and shoving it angrily against the wall.

He wanted her more than anything in his life and she rejected him. At her request, he would cut off his heart and give it to her on a silver plate, but she didn't want it, she didn't want him.

Well, that's not exactly the truth, he thought after taking a deep breath, she said she liked him and even if she didn't say it, he could tell she felt the same desperate attraction that was coursing through his veins. Why then, didn't she want to give him a chance?

"What did that poor wall do to you?"Came his brother's amused, raspy voice interrupting his contemplations.

"I'm not in the mood, Fester," he said before picking one of the knives off the desk and throwing it skilfully against the wall.

"I can see that, "Fester commented serenely, entering the library."You want to talk about it?"

"No," he replied succinctly throwing another knife and it landed next to the first one.

"Does it have anything to do with a certain raven-haired girl?"He prompted and saw his brother's body language tense in annoyance.

Gomez didn't look at him but stared at the wall in silent contemplation.

"I never felt so strongly about anyone," he said finally."But she wants nothing to do with me."

His brother snorted inelegantly, before giving him a sceptical look.

"You are prone to dramatics, brother," he said calmly."Morticia likes you a great deal, even a blind man can see that...but you can't blame her for not wanting her heart broken into a thousand little pieces, Gomez. Not everybody is so casual about sex," he added pointedly.

"I would never do that," he countered immediately."I would never break her heart... and it's not just about sex."

Fester smiled doubtfully, putting a comforting hand on his brother's slumped shoulder.

"Gomez, there's no nice of saying it, but you're not the most reliable man when it comes to affairs of the heart," he said pointedly but with brotherly affection, watching him carefully before adding."Morticia knows that. I know she's beautiful, but there are plethora of beautiful women who will share your bed without a second thought, forget about her."

Gomez gave his brother withering look.

"I don't want other women," he said insistently.

"Why?"Fester asked and Gomez was surprised to hear a clear note of anger in his voice."You want her because she didn't fall to her knees before you the moment you bestowed your charms upon her? Is that what it is? She hurt your pride and self-love?"

"No!"Gomez bellowed vehemently striding across the room frantically."No, God damn it, it has nothing to do with that. I want her in every possible way, Fester," he confessed sliding his hand through his pomaded hair before turning to look at his brother." She's so wonderful," he whispered." She's so smart and funny, witty and kind...I would do anything for her, I want….I want to make her happy, I want to spend the rest of my life showing her what a marvellous treasure she is, that she's the most beautiful, most sublime creature on earth,"he said passionately, before looking at Fester with a look of such abandon his brother never seen on him before."I think I'm in love with her, Fester."

"You think?"His brother repeated sceptically. He loved his brother, he really did, but Gomez fell in love with dizzying frequency and Fester treasured his friendship with Morticia far too much for it to be turned into dust because his brother broke her heart. "Leave her alone, Gomez. Don't you think her life is complicated enough?"

Gomez let out a mirthless laugh.

"Do you think I'm such bastard that you need to protect her from me?"He challenged.

"No," his brother replied calmly."But how many times you claimed to be in love this year alone? Three? Four?" Okay, he might have exaggerated a bit or even a lot, but he wanted to make his point explicitly clear and by the annoyed expression on his brother's face, he most definitely did.

They fell silent for a few long minutes before Fester broke it again with his calm, rational, gruff voice:

"You are not in love Gomez, you will lose interest in her the moment you bed her as you always do," he predicted jadedly before adding: "She might seem very blasé about everything, but she's actually extremely sensitive. You will break her heart and I will lose a very good friend and will probably want to break your neck. All because you think you're In love. Is that what you want?"

"That's not going to happen," he countered vehemently.

"Naturally," he mocked pushing himself off the desk and heading to the door."You will do as you please, you always do."

What a ridiculous cliché she was becoming.

What a pathetic thing she was.

Losing sleep because of a man.

Last night she couldn't sleep at all, she tossed and turned but her mind was just an array of different thoughts, different thoughts but all nevertheless focused on him.

And her lips still tingled from their brief kiss. She could still recall the taste of him and this violent, desperate need, for him.

And how easy would it be to yield to him, to succumb to his lips, to let herself be seduced by his touch? But then what?

If this was a mere physical attraction she couldn't have easily dealt with it. Yet, this was so much more, for her, that is.

Love. She would not admit, not even to herself, not yet, perhaps not ever. After all, what good has love ever brought to her family?

This life, this new life she had to endure - this life that felt to her as if she was constantly living in twilight, where every step she took was taking her farther and farther away from the life she longed to live. This life, this disaster, was a consequence of her mother's love. Her father's death cost her everything. It cost them all everything. Morticia lost everything she had ever knew and loved, most tragically she's lost who she was and that's what made this new life so unbearable and no one seemed to understand that. What good was this love for then that everyone chased after?

She was being unfair, she knew, jaded perhaps, but wasn't it the truth though? Love was good while it lasted. Yet, was it worth the heartbreak that came with it, inevitably so?

Her mother always said that the women in their family loved too much and that was always their downfall. And yet, knowing all this, she still chose to love, chose to marry...but then, how much of it was a choice for her, really?

Did she too feel this overwhelming need, this inordinate desire, this desperate longing to be with this one man? Did her heart, too, feel as if it didn't really beat until she's met this one person, until she met him and then she knew that there will never be anyone else but him?

She didn't know, and she couldn't ask and her mother couldn't answer.

"Tishy, more story!"

She blinked, suddenly confused, until she met the pair of two cobalt blue eyes, staring at her impatiently.

She must have stayed silent for a while because Charlie started fidgeting on her laps.

It was disconcerting how often it happened to her lately.

She smiled apologetically at her nephew and smoothed his sleek, blond hair gently. When he was born almost two years ago Morticia thought he looked possessed, why with this blond hair and blue eyes, this angelic look. Actually, she still thought he looked possessed but she absolutely adored him nonetheless.

"And so," Morticia continued the story." The witch lured Hansel and Gretel to the cottage by promising them more sweets and she was about to push them in when lo and behold! Hensel pushed the poor, defenceless witch into the oven instead, where she was burned alive writhing in agony," Morticia paused dramatically before leaning towards Charlie's ear and whispering ominously."What do you think that felt like?"

"Again!" he laughed happily, clapping his hands and wriggled excitedly on her knees.

"Awww, I always loved this story," Ophelia cooed as she entered the living room where the two of them were enjoying a quiet Sunday afternoon."Do you remember how you used to cry because you felt sorry for the poor witch?"

"It's a very sad story," Morticia insisted."And those children are nothing but vicious murderers."

"Well, I can tell one even sadder," Ophelia said, standing behind the sofa where her son and sister were sitting."Jared's mother is coming over tomorrow and staying for the whole week," she said and grinned when Morticia tilted her head back and groaned dramatically.

"Please tell me this is some mean jest."

"No, sorry," she shook her head."I've just spoken to her over the phone. Jared's as excited as you are."

"Hold the baby, I must go jump off the bridge," she declared morosely.

She didn't necessarily dislike Jared's mother as much as her inbred need to stick her nose into other people's lives. She constantly referred to Morticia per 'that poor child' as if she was a Dickensian orphan and her divine job was to save her and guide her through life, where her idea of saving was, of course, to arrange for a good marriage for Morticia.

"Jump!" Charlie repeated and obediently jumped off the sofa."Mama look! Jump."

"Well done, darling," Ophelia smiled and praised the boy obediently before turning back to Morticia."Jared suspects she's not happy with your work for mama Addams so she's coming over to investigate."

"What's that got to do with her?"

"Oh, you know her, she's still happily stuck in the previous century… or even farther than that. She thinks Jared spoils you allowing you to study and work...both very unattractive features in a woman."

"That's her idea of spoiling?" she asked in disbelief, raising her shapely eyebrow.

"Overeducated women do not make good wives, my dear," she said imitating her mother-in-law." Although, who are we kidding, with almost two million in prospective dowry most men will gladly overlook your pesky education."

"Marriage is such a dull affair," Morticia complained, sinking dramatically down the sofa.

"How would you know if you chew and spit out every single man that proposes to you?" her sister quipped.

"See?" she smirked."They should thank me for not marrying them."

"Jared, darling, this is unacceptable."

"What's unacceptable, mother? That instead of taking money from me, she earns them, I find it more than acceptable," he commented sardonically.

"You know what I mean," his mother insisted, standing up from her chair, again, and pacing the length of his office as if they were dealing with some unspeakable crisis and Jared resisted an urge to sigh. It was way too early for him to deal with his mother's overblown dramatics." Those people are...different," she continued pointedly."And people talk."

"People always talk," he replied in an unconcerned manner desperately wishing for a drink but it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning."She's not doing anything wrong."

"Women in our family are not in a habit of taking up employment, Jared," his mother insisted."It's so...middle-class, really. I do not understand, for the life of me, in my days...What's the use for all this ridiculous study of hers and now work?"

"Peace of mind for me," he interjected and allowed a gentle smirk to curl on his lips."She's busy, she doesn't have time for stupid ideas."

"Working for that woman is a stupid idea, in my opinion," she remarked sternly."Granted, they've always been highly eccentric, her and her late husband. I hear the apple didn't fall far from the tree in that respect."

"Well, that's true," Jared laughed heartily.

"Darling, listen to me, I had Mallory Newham over for tea the other day, her oldest Bradford is twenty-seven and interested in the girl," she informed him pointedly.

"Interested in her money you mean?"

"Semantics."

"For you maybe, not for her."

"Gomez Addams is not an appropriate company for a young girl."

"Dear God, mother, Gomez Addams is not even in this equation," he remarked incredulously.

"She's a beautiful girl and you know how he is," she insisted.

"Until you get to know her and realize how headstrong and impossible she is," he pointed out."Trust me, Gomez Addams likes good fun and beautiful women, but not complicated ones like her. When it comes to complicated, surely you'll agree with me, that my dear sister-in-law is the female equivalent to quantum physics."

"I guess, you're right," his mother mused."Still, I think it's better for her to settle - a husband, a family. Get her priorities in order."

"You see, the problem is that next to Morticia, the iceberg that sank the Titanic is an amateur," he pointed out sardonically.

"That's because you spoil her," she remarked disapprovingly."I've told you, from the very beginning, she should live with me. I've raised two daughters and ensured they've married well, and let me assure you these are very agreeable unions."

Both of his sisters lived in England, far away from the influence of their meddling mother and saw each other twice a year, which, in Jared's opinion, was the very key to their 'agreeable unions'. He really admired his wife's patience in enduring the neverending string of well-meaning bits of advice from her mother-in-law in practically every area of their life from choosing napkins to raising children.

Still, Jared couldn't help but smile and shook his head in amusement at his mother's offer, wouldn't that be interesting. It would be close to putting two hungry lions in one small cage, and he genuinely wasn't sure who would survive that, if anyone.

"Morticia should come for Bradford's birthday party," his mother declared insistently."I'm sure she'll find him a fine man."

"I'm equally sure she won't," he grinned sardonically. Bradford Newham was a nice lad, well-bred, impeccably mannered, handsome and as boring as plain porridge and Morticia would eat him for breakfast. "And good luck with convincing her to come to the party."

"You see, that's exactly what I'm talking about," his mother continued in her disapproving tone."She behaves like that because you allow her. In my days, no one would even ask her opinion on the matter."

Jared groaned internally, now annoyed at himself. Jesus Christ, why does he always walk into that particular trap, and now will be forced to listen about his mother's lecture about women and opinions. It wasn't that he disagreed with her opinion, well he even partly agreed, it's just he heard it so many times it was already imprinted in his brain.

Yes, of course, women should have opinions, dear. Yes, naturally they should be well read, that goes without saying, no one wants a boring wife. No one wants a fool to raise his children. However, there's time and place for women to have opinions, darling. This is why so many marriages fail nowadays, all because women have forgotten their place. This is what causes the crisis (what crisis, he still doesn't know and he's not sure his mother does either) because women want to have it all, what a ridiculous concept. And where does that leave the poor men, she asks, a woman should be the heart and soul of the home, not being out there earning a living, that's a man's job.

"Jared, darling, you're not listening to a word I'm saying," Dorothy Diamond reprimanded sternly.

"Mother, if you so insist, you are free to convince Morticia to come with us to the party," he offered."I will gladly leave this ordeal to you."

He watched his mother raise her head in a determined manner and nod at him in a gesture that told him this conversation was, thankfully, over.

"That would be best, dear," she agreed."This poor girl is in a desperate need of a guiding hand."

He was avoiding her again.

She was absolutely sure he was avoiding her because she doubted he was so extremely busy these past three days to even come downstairs and say hello.

"You have nothing to worry about, "Eudora assured when Morticia finally found it in her to cave in and asked her about her younger's son absence."Gomez simply doesn't take rejection well. He's not used to it. He's charming, rich and handsome, I don't think he was ever rejected by a woman before," she added before turning to Morticia with a huge grin on her face."So well done. If I didn't love you before, I do now."

"Mrs Addams you're vicious," she smirked but that didn't deny the fact didn't like what she was hearing at all.

"Ahhh, thank you, darling," she smiled at the younger woman."But I'm serious. I don't understand why do you feel guilty about it?"

"I don't feel guilty, I feel…," she faltered."I don't know...uncomfortable," she admitted which was more or less the truth. It did make her uncomfortable. Surely, he wasn't going to continue this sulking act indefinitely.

"You shouldn't," Eudora insisted."Gomez has an emotional maturity of a sixteen-year-old. He will sulk for a few days and eventually get over it, trust me, I know him."

Morticia shrugged tensely nevertheless. Admittedly, Eudora was right, Gomez's reaction was surprisingly juvenile. He was out of the house most of the time this week, obviously made sure to avoid any interaction with her and it made her angry. Angry and uncomfortable but most of all she felt disappointed. Angry most of all.

Was he really that much of a cad? Was that all he wanted from her? To seduce her. What did he think she was, a prize?

No. She didn't really think it was so. She was tired because of the lack of sleep (his fault) and was probably overreacting (also his fault). He liked her, there was a connection between them that she couldn't deny and it went far deeper than a mere sexual attraction, at least for her. Gods, she was really becoming a pathetic cliché of a human being.

"Anyway," Eudora remarked in a tone that indicated a change of subject and Morticia was undeniably grateful for that because she was really not comfortable discussing Gomez any further."I would like to put your name forward for the May exams."

Morticia almost dropped the glass bottle she was holding and turned to Eudora with a half-terrified, half-bemused expression on her face.

"Mrs Addams, I'm nowhere near ready for this," she admitted.

"Well, I disagree," Eudora countered slowly."Lack of skill is not your problem, Morticia, lack of confidence is."

Morticia bit her lips but didn't deny her words. Of course, she lacked confidence. It's been...years after all. Under her mother's tutelage, she felt quite ready for her exams but that involved hours and hours of daily learning and practice. Now, with her university studies and work, she had neither the possibility nor the time to prepare.

"You have a fine eye for ingredients and your potions are quite impressive, your mother taught you very well," she praised, smiling at the terrified-looking girl next to her.

"The exams are three months away, though," Morticia pointed out."Even if I can somehow pass the potion component, I'd fail at spells. I haven't cast a spell in far too long, Mrs Addams."

"I will help you with that," Eudora assured."They don't expect you to perform devil knows how complicated spells. Besides, you know all this already, which will make it infinitely easier than starting from scratch. It's a matter of dusting off your potential, really."

"No, Mrs Addams," she shook her head."It's more like digging it out from a deep grave with a small shovel. I honestly, don't feel ready."

Eudora nodded in understanding and Morticia breathed out in relief. She was flattered that Eudora had such a high opinion of her, but she definitely...

"Well, there's not really a choice here for I already put your name in," Eudora interjected her thoughts calmly.

Morticia almost fainted.

"Wha...you...but how?" she blurted.

"Well no offence Morticia but even a child could have forged your signature," she admitted in a matter of fact voice before carefully picking the eye of newt from the small plate and dropping in gently into the mixture already bubbling in the cauldron.

"But where did you even get my details?" Morticia asked in disbelief. Surely, she was jesting with her. Surely, she wasn't serious.

"From your university, of course."

"They gave you my details?" Was this even legal, surely not?

"Well...they gave it or I've stolen them, what does it matter?"

Morticia opened her mouth to reply but for some reason, no sound came. Surely, she didn't just say what she said.

"I have put your name and paid the exam fees," she remarked."This potion should have thickened by now," she mused unhappily.

"No, Mrs Addams I really appreciate…"

"Fester went to buy you all the necessary books and equipment," she informed her, before taking a small, green bottle from the shelf and promptly emptied its content into the cauldron."Well, that's more like it."

"I cannot accept it," Morticia shook her head.

"But of course you can."

"No," she shook her head again."No, I really can't this is too much."

"Nonsense," Eudora waved her hand at her in a dismissive manner.

"I really don't feel comfortable with this…"

The matriarch of the Addams family sighed deeply and adjusted the fire under the cauldron before turning slowly towards Morticia.

"Let me give you one advice and take it to heart: don't make things harder for yourself," Eudora said gently, but with an unmistakable air of finality."I want to do this for you and you owe me nothing except to work hard on those exams."

"I just don't want you to think…"

"I don't," Eudora interjected knowingly."As I said, this is my decision. I want to do this for you," she smiled at her tenderly."You deserve it."

Morticia compressed her lips thoughtfully into a thin line. She hadn't expected this, and she was suddenly as grateful and mortified at the prospect. If she passed now, if she was accepted, this meant that she could start her school even this coming Fall. Even without her inheritance money, she had enough savings to make it through the first year. Modestly, but still.

She would have to work incredibly hard, impossibly hard to make sure her university studies didn't suffer because that would certainly look instantly suspicious, and she didn't want to draw Jared's attention. She didn't know how the hell was she going to accomplish that but her chance was finally here she could not waste it. There might not be another chance like that in devil knows how long.

She turned towards Eudora and suddenly, she was almost overwhelmed with gratitude and before she knew it she drew the older woman into a firm embrace and Eudora smiled tenderly at the gesture.

"Thank you, Mrs Addams."

The full implication of what she was about to embark on didn't hit her until late in the night two days later. The excitement has subdued by the reality of the situation. How exactly was she going to make this all happen, even if, by some miracle, she passed and was accepted, what about her mother, what about Jared and Ophelia? How would Jared react once she informed him of her decision? He would be furious, no doubt, but how far would he go to stop her? Her actions, after all, had consequences that affected far more than just her life.

Paradoxically, it was infinitely easier when her plans were contained in the sphere of impossible dreams, she could plan and dream freely because there was such a slim chance of any of it happening. Now, when she was faced with a realistic chance of accomplishing them, it turned out the things were immensely more complicated.

Had she had her inheritance at her disposal, that would at least cover her mother's care, complex as it was, at least for a few years it took Morticia to complete her studies. And after that? Well, she would cross that bridge when she got there if she ever gets there in the first place.

The first thing she has to take care is to stop wandering off mentally during family dinners because somehow, in some bizarre turn of events, she has agreed to go to someone's birthday party this Saturday, all because she didn't listen to a word Dorothy was saying to her at dinner. Subsequently, she tried to argue her way out of it, but alas, next day an evening dress was waiting for her on her bed when she returned home in the evening. A gift from Jared's mother.

The only consolation was that at least it wasn't in some atrocious pastel colours but floor-length, navy blue.

Despite the dire prospect, she smiled when she entered the library. Fester was already there, even though it was barely eight o'clock in the morning, and waved at her but she could tell he was tense.

"I swear I had nothing to do with that, she just told me to get the books and I did, but I had no idea they were for you, I would never go behind your back," the words rolled from his tongue before she could even take a seat in front of him, all in one breath, obviously he rehearsed his little speech beforehand and the thought made her smile.

"Fester, it's fine, truly," she assured him, dropping her bag on the chair next to her.

"Oh, so you're not cross?" he asked insistently.

"No," she shook her head and smiled at him softly."Would you mind to go with me over the hydration and hemiacetal formation, I have lab works this afternoon."

"Of course," he agreed happily, but continued to watch her carefully."You look very tired," he noticed.

"Yeah, I know, I didn't sleep well last night," last night, the night before and basically this whole week, she thought, taking her notebooks out of the bag.

"Something on your mind?" he inquired gently but she just shook her head and shrugged noncommittally. "Morticia, if it's about Gomez…"

Her head snapped up and she looked at him in a way that was somewhere between surprise and annoyance.

"I really don't want talk about him, Fester," she remarked tensely.

"Okay, I understand, I just...I want to say one thing that's all," he assured and watch her nod faintly even though it was clear she would rather abandon the subject altogether."My brother...really likes you, hold on let me finish," he insisted when he saw her look impatiently to her left."He's a hot-blooded Castilian, his responses are often reactionary and he usually needs few days to digest the situation but he's not...he's not a... jerk," he said for the lack of better description."He might act like an idiot sometimes, like now, but I don't want you to think he's a jerk because he's not."

"I think it's sweet of you to defend him, Fester," she said softly."But really I…," she almost jumped out of her skin when suddenly a stack of books landed in front of her with a loud thump. Gods, she didn't even notice her approaching."Dementia," she greeted pleasantly.

"Hello," Dementia replied stiffly."Professor Jenkin left those for you."

"Oh, wonderful, thank you," she smiled but Dementia merely grunted in reply and promptly returned to her counter without sparing them a second look leaving Morticia more than slightly bewildered. She's couldn't say she knew Dementia very well but she's never seen her so...well, rude before. She frowned at turned back to Fester who, she thought, looked suddenly very guilty."What's that about?"

"How should I know?" he shrugged and blubbered some string of nonsense before grabbing her notebook from the table and practically burying his face in it.

Once Morticia left for her classes, Fester decided to approach Dementia again and just find out what the matter was. He just didn't understand why has she suddenly acted like he didn't exist, was she trying to tell him something? But what? And why didn't she just say it then? Was he supposed to guess? How can he guess when he didn't have a clue what exactly has he done wrong, if anything?

He silently vowed to never again accuse his brother of being dramatic when it came to female behaviour. This was just so confusing, no wonder his brother looked like he was on the verge of insanity. In fact, Fester was going to apologise to Gomez for every single time he laughed at him when he complained about women.

He cleared his throat gruffly when he approached her counter and she looked at him briefly.

"Hi," he said gently.

"Hi," came her stern reply and he almost fainted right there and there. Gods, she hated him, he was sure she despised him.

"I'm not very good with...ehm...with expressing my feelings," he started and was relieved when she looked at him."Sometimes I say things..and...people take it the wrong way. Or, you know, maybe they take it the right way, and...I just say the wrong thing," he mumbled, twisting his hands together in front of him nervously." The thing is. What I want to say is...if I have said something, that...somehow…offended you, it was unintentional."

"You didn't offend me," she offered impassionately.

"Oh, then… why…," he swallowed heavily, almost choking on his words."You...you seem upset with me."

"I'm not upset with you," she offered again in the same impassioned voice.

He waited for her to continue but she just proceeded to sort the books and place them aggressively on her right side. Lucifer's horns, he was even more confused that two minutes ago. He was sure that by the end of today he would join his brother on the verge of insanity.

"Oh, that's...good," he admitted."But you still seem upset."

"I am not upset."

"How come? Because you're very tense and you usually handle the books in a much gentler manner…," he remarked and thought she immediately looked like she wanted to murder him. Well, this was going just great.

"Don't you have somewhere to be? With your girlfriend for example?" she asked meanly.

"My... girlfriend?" he repeated, utterly confused. Who on earth did she mean?

"Yes, your girlfriend."

"But...I don't have a girlfriend," he finally said, so utterly confused he barely remembered his own name now.

"Oh. Oh, well I thought you and Morticia?"

"Oh no, no no no, we're just friends," he denied immediately. That was the problem? She thought he was in love with...

"You seem very close," she pointed out.

"We are," he admitted and let out a burst of choked laughter. He just couldn't believe it. Him and Morticia, what an idea!"But not like that, Morticia's like family," he assured but Dementia didn't look convinced."She's my brother's girlfriend," he blurted and immediately wanted to shoot himself.

"Oh, I didn't know," she said and smiled at him softly.

"They are very private," he continued. He was a dead man. Morticia is going to kill him."They're planning to get married next year actually?" Was he absolutely insane? Why, on earth, was he still talking, but Dementia seemed delighted at the news so he didn't want to take it back now and make it worse. He will explain it later...very much later.

"That's nice, and you get along so well," she remarked, still smiling at him.

"Yeah, she's great. My brother is lucky to have her," he smiled back. Just what kind of blubbering, suicidal idiot was he exactly?

"I'm sure he is," she smiled back."Hey, I ehm...my shift ends in forty minutes, if you have a time we could go and have a coffee?"

He couldn't help but beam at her offer.

"I'd love to."

Well, he might have been a dead man walking but this day was certainly taking its turn into absolute bliss.

"Gomez," the velvet voice behind him called and he tensed immediately before finally turning towards her slowly.

He swallowed audibly, wondering what the hell was he going to tell her, how will he explain his behaviour because she certainly deserved an explanation but he didn't even have a chance to think about it when she claimed his lips in such a violent, delicious kiss it took his breath away.

Gomez fisted his hand into the ebony locks and pressed his mouth firmly against hers, delighting in her soft moan of pleasure. He could not comprehend what changed her mind but he whatever it was he was eternally grateful it did.

He captured her lips into another ferocious kiss and moaned at the exquisite taste of her, she was absolutely intoxicating.

"I want you," she purred next to his ear and moaned deliciously when he ground his hips against hers.

His eyes snapped open and he groaned in sheer misery that engulfed him whole.

She will drive him insane.

His pyjamas clung to his damp skin, his breathing erratic and he was unbearably hard with the need for her.

Was it not torturous enough that she filled his every damn thought during the day, must she also invade his dreams?

He tried to forget her in the arms of a cute and willing trinket but he couldn't even force himself to kiss her because these were not the lips he longed to kiss, not the body he wanted to hold in his arms. The mere thought of another woman in his arms seemed suddenly repulsive.

He felt rage fill him so overwhelmingly and so completely his body shook from its effect.

What was she doing to him? What magic was this?

"What is she doing to me?"

Eudora Addams froze in mid-movement at the surprising question as well as the despairing tone in which it was delivered.

"Who is doing what to you?" she asked, frowning at her youngest son. He was still immaculately dressed, even this early in the morning but he looked like he hasn't slept in days.

"Morticia," he said finally, pinching the space between his eyes tiredly.

"Darling, whatever can she be doing to you?" his mother asked incredulously. "You've barely spoken to her this week."

"I can't stop thinking about her, mother," he explained in a desperate tone."Has she bewitched me? What spell is this?"

"A spell?" she repeated incredulously." Well, now I'm insulted by a mere suggestion that you think someone could put a spell on my own son without me detecting it."

"Mama, I can't sleep, I can't eat," he admitted, running his hand through his pomaded hair in an impatient gesture." I think about her constantly and even when I finally manage to fall asleep all I dream about is her."

"Gomez, this isn't a spell."

"What is it then and how can I get rid of it?" he pleaded desperately."I feel like I'm about to plunge into insanity."

"You're not bewitched, you mad Castilian," his mother said with a surprising tenderness before her lips curled into a mean smirk."You're in love."

Could it be?

Could his mother be right? Was he truly in love? Was this love? This constant longing? This desperate need? Was this love? This misery that threatened to turn his heart into dust? This feeling that nothing will ever matter to him without her? This was love, this was the ancient feeling everyone chased after so ardently?

"Where are you off to?" he asked when he entered his bedroom only to see his brother trying to apparently strangle himself with a tie in front of Gomez's mirror.

"Newhams," he choked out, trying desperately to undo the knot under his chin."I thought I shall sacrifice myself and go, so you don't need to suffer since she'll be there as well."

"Who?" he asked tiredly, only half-listening.

"The woman you've been so skillfully avoiding this week," he smirked before sighing in exasperation."Help me with this damn tie, please."

"Morticia's going to be at the party?" he asked slowly, undoing the mess of a tie knot his brother executed so miserably.

"Her brother-in-law's insisted she goes," he explained, lifting his chin up so Gomez could fix his tie properly."She looked very much like she'd rather throw herself off the cliff," he added in an amused tone but his brother didn't seem to hear him.

"I'll go," he declared suddenly after few minutes of silence.

"You will?" Fester repeated in faux disbelief. Well, there was a reason why he chose to tie this damn tie in this particular bedroom. After all, those two cannot go indefinitely avoiding each other, since it was obvious it was making them so utterly miserable. "Oh well, thank god, because I was really dreading it," he added and promptly exited his brother's bedroom before Gomez had a chance to change his mind.

Time must have stopped, she had no doubt about it. Time must have stopped because she could swear she was at this blasted party for eternity but the grandfather clock in the hall kept insisting it's been exactly twenty-seven minutes. The mere thought that they had to stay here for at least another four hours was enough to make her cry.

She breathed out in relief when she managed to successfully sneak out to the balcony on the east side of the mansion. The only downside was that it was February and it was freezing cold and her dress had no sleeves but even that was a preferable option than going back to this disaster of a party.

She supposed this Brian, Brandon or Bradford or whatever his name was, was nice and polite, handsome even but, gods, a bowl of tofu was more exciting than him. He was so bland and unremarkable, in complete opposition to -

She felt his presence before he even announced himself and, instinctively, her hand tightened against the ornamental, metal balustrade of the balcony. It was utterly disconcerting how attuned she was to his presence, even though she hasn't seen him in a week.

"You'll not experience much of the party hiding in the balcony, Tish," he said in an amused tone and she turned to see him leaning lazily against the balcony door frame, surprisingly without his ubiquitous cigar.

"Well, that's the very point," she replied her arms crossed against her middle in a defensive stance as she leaned against the balustrade. Gods, how devilishly handsome he looked dressed the formal attire. She thought, there was something absolutely wonderful in the way he dressed, this authority combined with an open and blatant mockery as if he couldn't be bothered to take himself seriously but at the same time, it was abundantly clear that it would be a mistake to underestimate him. He must be quite a challenge to do business with."I thought you were avoiding me."

"I was," he admitted honestly, bowing his head briefly before looking back at her."It was stupid and I was an idiot," he added and smiled at her briefly."It took me a while to lick my wounds after being rebuked, but here I am...coming back for more," he bowed to her gallantly and she couldn't help but laugh.

She could definitely see why women clang to him despite his chronic infidelity.

"I haven't changed my mind, Gomez," she said firmly but couldn't help the smile that was tugging at her lips.

"I understand and I respect your decision, even though, I admit, it's killing the very soul in me," he explained coming to stand in front of her with a respect to her personal space."But I don't want things to be awkward between us, I enjoy your company tremendously and I will gladly take anything you're willing to give me."

She looked at him in surprise, she didn't expect him to be so kind and understanding after he ostentatiously sulked and avoided her this week.

"I owe an apology," he whispered."I was an utter idiot and I'm really sorry. I missed you, Tish," he admitted.

"I missed you too," she found herself replying almost instantly before she could stop herself but it was the truth. She has missed him, she realized, she's missed him tremendously.

He smiled, pleased with her admission.

"Do you waltz?"

Gods how he despised these pompous, ludicrous, pretentious parties. This is one thing that he admittedly shared with Morticia, they've both loathed being forced to go to these events.

"Is that your sister-in-law waltzing with the young Addams?"

Jared turned in the direction Colin pointed and his face clouded with instant anger. Morticia was smiling at something that Addams was telling her and they gazed into each other's eyes like some love-sick fools, unwittingly drawing the attention of half a ballroom. Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Yes, that's her," he confirmed stiffly. He should once and for all stop disregarding his mother's intuition.

"They make quite a beautiful pair, don't you think?"Colin commented as they watched other quests dissolve and surround them in a circle as they watched the couple waltz, and they were completely unaware of the excitement they were causing.

"Why does that little wench constantly insists on making a spectacle of herself?" he forced through gritted teeth.

"You're overreacting, my friend," Colin interjected calmly sipping his brandy, before adding: "They're just dancing...but you must agree with everyone else, their waltzing is quite marvellous."

"She's doing it to spite me, Colin," he groused into his wine glass."First, she turns down Johnson's proposal and two days later she picks up the biggest womanizer in town."

Colin laughed heartily at his friend's ire.

"Oh, she's something that one," he admitted."What did she say to the young Johnson that he decided to forgone today's party?"

"You don't want to know," Jared groused which made Colin laugh even harder."Her tongue is sharper than thousands knives, I already feel sorry for the poor bastard who marries her. It's a constant battle."

"Well, it seems that young Mr Addams is up for the challenge," Colin observed with a knowing smirk.

"After my dead body."

"Ah yes, his reputation is not exactly stellar, but his fortune makes up for any shortcomings," he grinned."He doesn't suffer the lack of female attention, but I understand your concern, I don't think Mr Addams is exactly a marrying type."

"No," Jared agreed."God only knows what he sees in that skinny, impertinent girl."

"My friend, your ire with her makes you a little biased," he said cheerfully."She's even more beautiful than her sister. No one can blame Mr Addams for wanting those long legs wrapped around him."

Jared snorted into his wine glass.

"She's even more of a frigid bitch than her sister,"he countered spitefully, watching with growing anger as Gomez Addams twirled Morticia around the dance floor and then with one swift move dipped her so low her long hair brushed the floor to the delight of the crowd around then that cheered at their performance.

He'll surely have to have a talk with his sister-in-law.

"You are a fine dancer, Mr Addams," Jared said silkily approaching the bar, with Ophelia at his arm, where Morticia was in animated conversation with Gomez Addams and he watched with pleasure as Morticia's body language stiffened upon hearing his voice as they both turned towards them.

"Mr Diamond," Gomez greeted, shaking Jared's extended hand.

"You remember my wife, Ophelia?"

"Of course, how could I forget?" Gomez smiled charmingly and bent to kiss her extended hand."Beautiful as always."

"Nice to see you again, Mr Addams, how kind of you to keep a company to my little sister, she was so very hard to convince to come to the party."

"It's my pleasure," Gomez smiled at her."Tish is a marvellous dancer herself."

"Indeed, my dear father was an avid dancer, Tish must have got it from him," Ophelia commented, raising her eyebrow at the affectionate use of her sister's name but returned the smile before turning to her sister. "I haven't realized you were so closely acquainted with Mr Addams, Morticia."

"Yes," Jared interjected."What s surprise, isn't it, my dear?"

"Oh, hardly a surprise," Morticia said sweetly but with a detectable trace of defence."I work for Gomez's mother, it's hard not to get acquainted when I'm in their house every day, now isn't it?"

"Of course, darling" her sister placated."It was just an observation, no need to get defensive," she added with a smile.

Morticia looked at her with a slight frown. Ophelia and Jared were looking at her as if they just caught her red-handed committing a crime. If that was unsettling, their united front was even more worrying.

"In any case, it was good to see you, Mr Addams, I hope the business is going well," Jared said with a smile.

"Likewise," Gomez replied, shaking his hands before nodding to Ophelia.

"Tishy," Ophelia said touching her sister's arm. "We'll be going soon, please make sure you say goodnight to our hosts, especially young Bradford," she added conspirationaly, before adding with a wink."He's most taken with you."

"I will," Morticia replied with a sweet smile. She will give him a goodbye he shall never forget.

They stayed silent until her sister and her husband were safely out ear-shot.

"Make sure to say goodnight to young Mr Bradford," Gomez parodied her sister with a vastly exaggerated high-pitched voice and she had to bite her cheeks not to burst up laughing.

"Stop it, she doesn't sound like that," she scolded half-heartedly.

"He's oh-so-my-goodness smitten with you," he added batting his eyelashes at her and she almost choked on her champagne.

Morticia stopped at the stairs to remove her high heels and dropped them next to the stair, her feet were killing her. She watched Ophelia make way upstairs, and Jared headed for the parlour, undoubtedly, for his last drink before bed.

She couldn't find it in herself to care, though, because she couldn't help but marvel how eerily familiar it felt to be held in his arms, it felt safe - it felt like home. Gomez was indeed a marvellous dancer and she absolutely loved dancing with him. So much, that she danced with him and only him the whole night, without realizing.

"Did you enjoy making a spectacle of yourself?"

Morticia frowned in surprise and stopped on her way up the stairs, it was late and she was tired, she didn't want to talk to him, especially after he drank and she certainly didn't appreciate the argumentative tone in Jared's voice.

"Pardon?"

"Gomez Addams? Really, Morticia? Are you that stupid?"He asked maliciously taking slow steps towards her, but she only regarded him with a cold look.

"Go to hell, Jared," she replied calmly before turning away from him to ascent the stairs again, but he grabbed her by her wrist violently and pulled her towards him."Let go of me," she hissed at him.

"Listen to me, you insolent, little witch," he whispered threateningly, his face so close to hers she could smell the fermented alcohol in his breath."You will not disgrace this family by whoring with the likes of Gomez Addams, do you understand?"

"I am not whoring with anyone, you bastard, let go of me," she pushed at him forcefully but he didn't even budge.

"You know what you need?"He asked silkily before grabbing the fist of-of her hair at the back of her head roughly and watch her flinch, but she kept looking at him with utter contempt."A man who will beat that insolent behaviour out of you and teach you some respect."

"Go ahead," she challenged, smirking at him."Go ahead, I don't give a single…"

She gasped as the force of his strike made her lose her balance, and she had to grab at the staircase to prevent her from falling. Her other hand immediately went to her nose and she saw her fingers stain with droplets of blood. She looked at him in startled disbelief and he himself seemed shocked at his own violence.

"Do you see what you made me do?"He asked lifting her face gently towards him but she slapped his arms off her."I don't want to hurt you, Morticia," he added grabbing her forearms with a deliberate force and she gasped in pain."But you need to learn your place," he said pointedly and released her.

Morticia looked at the angry red marks on her forearms and glared at Jared viciously.

"I'm sorry I hit you," he said gently handing her his white, silk handkerchief to stop the bleeding. He watched her hesitate for a split second before taking it and pressing the expensive material to her nose, soaking it with blood."You need to understand that Addams is not a respectful company. He's a cad and a dandy, he will use and discard you and nobody likes used goods. Your reputation will be ruined, no respectable man will marry you."

"Do you consider yourself more respectable than Mr Addams, because you don't flaunt your lovers in front of my sister?"She goaded him, her words slightly obstructed by her hand she was pressing to her nose before she added pointedly"At least Addams hasn't got a wife and a child."

He struck her again and she swore silently when she felt his signet ring cut into the skin of her left cheek.

"You just don't know when to shut up, do you?"He asked calmly."You still adhere to that nonsense your father put in your head about speaking your own mind, but your sister learned her place and so will you."

She felt like spitting in his face for mentioning her father.

"You're a bastard, do you know that?"She said instead and winced in pain, the cut on her cheek burned like fire.

"I can live with that assessment," he replied amused."Let me be crystal clear, Tish, I don't want to hear any rumours about you and Addams. It's bad enough I put up with your damn school. Do we understand each other?"He asked and exhaled exasperatedly when she stayed silent. He came closer to her and fisted his hand in her hair again, before asking calmly."Do we understand each other?"

"Yes," she hissed forcefully through gritted teeth.

"Good, now let's go to the kitchen put some ice on your cheek, it's turning purple."

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you all for all your kind comments, kudos and subscriptions - I'm beyond grateful for your support. :)

P.S. Any dialogues you recognize in this chapter are taken directly from the 60's tv show or the movies.

Without any further ado, I hope you enjoy chapter 6!

Chapter 6

Eudora Addams was in the process of tending to her lifelong, carefully cultivated caffeine addiction - pouring herself a hearty cup of bitter, black coffee when her youngest son entered - correction - waltzed into the kitchen and immediately grinned at her.

Well, this certainly was a welcomed change after a week of sulking.

"Good morning, mama,"he greeted cheerfully, placing a warm kiss on his mother's cheek.

"Good morning,"she smiled at him."My, my aren't we in a cheerful mood today."

"It's because he spent most of the party dancing with Morticia," came Fester's amused answer as he entered the kitchen behind his brother."It's safe to say the sulking stage is over, they kissed and made up."

"They kissed?"His mother enquired over the rim of her coffee, her eyes widening with surprise.

"Nah, they just danced,"he snickered taking a seat opposite his younger brother."But Gomez is on cloud nine nonetheless,"he added drawing a soft chuckle out of his mother.

Indeed, Gomez came home well after midnight, waking up his brother and telling him what wonderful night he spent in the arms of the most exquisite creature in existence and Fester listened in disbelief, trying to suppress almost an overwhelming urge to wack his brother in the head with the heaviest sledgehammer in his possession. He, sure as hell, didn't send him to that blasted party to waste time with some random tart.

He was about to leave his bed and actually go look for the aforementioned sledgehammer when he realized, in between Gomez's descriptions of silk raven tresses, alabaster skin and bewitching gaze, that he was actually talking about Morticia and by spending the night in her arms he meant...dancing. That's all there was to it...dancing, and his brother acted as if he just experienced the most magnificent evening if his entire existence.

Eudora shook her head in amusement and went over to the stove, taking out a heavy brass pan and put it on a stove to heat up.

"Ah, who would have thought I would live to see the day when it will be Gomez Addams desperately pinning after a girl's attention and not the other way,"she grinned."And people say there's no justice."

"Laugh all you want, you two,"Gomez said taking out a cigar from his breast pocket.

"Where is Morticia, anyway?"Fester asked between sips of his black coffee."She's usually here by nine on Saturdays."

"She's called earlier,"his mother answered, pouring the mixture into a pan where it sizzled fervently."She said she can't come today. Some unexpected family matters."

"What happened?"Gomez asked concern already flooding his voice.

"She didn't say, I asked if everything's alright and she just said it's nothing to worry about and she'll come over on Monday afternoon, "Eudora explained mixing the mixture in the pan before addressing Gomez."I've just assumed you've pulled some nonsensical stunt and annoyed the hell out of her."

"Ha ha," Gomez rolled his eyes.

"Did she mention anything to you yesterday?"

He shook his head frowning. "No, she was perfectly fine,"he said thoughtfully. The only time he noticed her tense was when her brother-in-law approached them but when he asked her about it later she just shrugged and said they didn't get along particularly well but her tone wasn't necessarily hostile but rather indifferent, as if she was merely stating the fact.

"Perhaps it's something to do with her mother," Fester mused aloud.

"Oh, I hope not," Eudora frowned.

"Did she sound worried?" Gomez asked warily.

Eudora frowned and compressed her lips into a thin line, considering his question for a few moments.

"No...not really," she decided."She was rather apologetic for the short notice but I wouldn't say she sounded worried. I guess we'll find out on Monday," Eudora shrugged and busied herself with preparing breakfast.

Perhaps it's nothing, Gomez thought, tapping his fingers absently into the kitchen table. Unexpected family matters didn't necessarily meant something was wrong. It could be anything.

Yet, Gomez Addams couldn't shake off the feeling that settled itself in his gut that told him something was definitely wrong.

She absolutely despised the decor in her room. Pastels were to her the very embodiment of mediocrity, they lacked any character whatsoever, they were depressingly unassuming.

Morticia had no idea why her mind chose to ponder on such an insignificant matter when the pastels in her room were the least of her problems.

"Don't move,"Ophelia requested softly before dabbing an alcohol-soaked cotton to the cut on her cheek and Morticia winced slightly at the stinging sensation."I'm sorry."

"It's ok," she replied, closing her eyes briefly. Her cheek still felt rather sore but thankfully wasn't as swollen as she was afraid it would be, the ice pack Jared made her put on her cheek helped considerably with the swelling. Unfortunately, it has done nothing to the purple bruise that now contrasted vividly with her pale skin and then there was also the cut on her cheek that wasn't deep but it run almost through the length of her cheek bone. She had no idea how to cover those.

Neither did she know why were her immediate thoughts concerned with covering the bruises instead with the fact that he dared to raise his hand on her?

Perhaps because, if she was honest, she didn't at all know how to handle it. The way they were all acting was just so bizarre. Morticia wasn't sure if her sister, but also Jared's mother, were outraged by the mere fact that Jared struck her or was it because he left a bruise. She really couldn't tell.

"He feels really bad for hitting you, Tish,"Ophelia defended gently.

Morticia snorted in disbelief.

"My heart bleeds for him," she deadpanned.

Her sister fell silent for a minute before addressing her in an excessively gentle manner, similar to the one her mother used when Morticia was little and particularly unreasonable.

"He shouldn't have hit you, but Tish, he's right about Addams, for him life is a fun, never-ending party and you are nothing but a lovely pastime until he gets bored with you and looks for someone else,"she explained patiently.

Her relationship with her sister was somewhat precarious. They didn't know each other very well before the circumstances forced them to live together again and Morticia couldn't exactly claim they knew each other any better almost four years later. In some ways they have and in some, they remained strangers. There was this constant, underlying awkwardness in their relations, perhaps due to their age difference or the fact that Ophelia didn't seem to know how to exactly balance being an older sister with responsibilities pertaining to being Morticia's legal guardian.

"You and Jared assume too much,"Morticia defended dispassionately."There's absolutely nothing going on between me and Mr Addams,"she added, deliberately using his last name, but her sister wasn't fooled and looked at her affectionately.

"I don't know if you're aware,"she started with an amused smile."But you can cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a knife,"she said and watched her sister drop her gaze to her entwined hands."It's not worth putting your whole future in jeopardy, he's not worth it."

"I really don't know how to answer that, Ophelia," Morticia stated calmly, looking back at her sister."Despite what you and Jared might think, I'm not stupid, I know exactly what kind of man Gomez Addams is."

"I don't think you're stupid," her sister countered."But you underestimate him."

"In what way?"

"He likes you."

"I like him too, he's a good friend."

"No Tish, you don't understand," her sister smiled softly as if Morticia was an endearingly naive child."He finds you attractive, he likes you in the very carnal meaning of that word," she explained patiently and Morticia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, partly because she found the manner insultingly condescending and partly because she was pleased with her sister's tone. It was exactly what she aimed for.

Over the years Morticia discovered that the best way to navigate through the mind numbingly boring world of unwelcome courting was to appear as clueless as humanly possible. Hence, she carefully cultivated her image of a person who was utterly unaware of any and anyone's attempts to woo her, which in turn usually left the prospective suitors so absolutely mortified they have never bothered any further flirting with her ever again. Admittedly, sometimes it backfired when some men found her behaviour endearing and continued to pursue her, then the best way was to let them know how terribly boring she found them. She usually just stared at them unblinkingly, without so much as moving a single facial muscle until they got so uncomfortable and embarrassed they almost cried. Sometimes she yawned for a good measure.

Jared's mother found her behaviour exasperating, her sister found it utterly amusing and thought Morticia was a hopeless case and Jared, she guessed, was somewhere in between, depending on who the prospective suitor was.

"What do you want me to do then? Avoid him?"

"No, of course not," her sister denied softly."I just want you to be careful and not to fall for whatever promises and sweet words he'll bestow upon you because, have no doubt, that he said it all before to someone else already and that someone is now picking up the pieces of her broken heart."

Morticia almost laughed out loud at her words. How ridiculous that her sister unwittingly voiced the very thoughts that often filled Morticia's mind when she was around Gomez and she didn't want to admit them to herself. There was no denying that he had an impressive way with words and she was no longer surprised that women adored him, he was absolutely enticing - when he wasn't acting like a sulking juvenile, that is.

Ophelia was probably right - hell, Ophelia was right and yet how desperately Morticia wished his words to be true, even knowing very well what an utter fool she would be to fall for them. What an utter fool she would be to fall for him.

"I don't plan to fall in love, Ophelia," she replied instead."With anyone."

Ophelia's lips curled into a small, amused smile.

"No one really plans to fall in love, Tish, it just happens," she smiled patiently."And men like Gomez Addams know exactly how to woo a woman. I have seen women losing their minds over him. I know he's handsome and incredibly charming but… that all he is. All he cares for is good fun, nothing else."

"Is hitting me Jared's way of making sure I don't lose my mind?" she asked sardonically.

"Don't be like that," her sister insisted, her word laced with a mild impatience."He overreacted, but that's because so much is at stake, Tish," she defended again."I'm not saying it's ok, it's not, he shouldn't have hit you."

"How can you defend him at all?"

"I'm not defending him," she denied but swallowed uncomfortably when she met Morticia's skeptical gaze."I don't defend what he's done but...but you're not an easy person to deal with, Tish. You defy him every step of the way."

"And I should just learn my place?"she challenged."Is that's what you want from me?"

"Not everything is about you, Morticia," Ophelia stressed impatiently."How hard is for you to understand that you're not a sole entity living in some abstract world. Your actions affect people around you."

"I know that," she snapped.

"Do you?" her sister challenged."Because you certainly don't act as such."

"You cannot reasonably expect me to just give up who I am because your husband cannot deal with the fact that not everyone has to conform to his idea of normality," Morticia insisted."Our life back home was normal, for me, and this here is not normal. This is not our normal, Ophelia."

"Gods, it's like I'm talking to father all over again," Ophelia muttered sardonically and shook her head in disbelief."This isn't how the real world works, Morticia, in the real world you -"

"Subdue?"

"Adapt," her sister corrected sternly."You adapt, because the world will not bend to your will, Morticia, so before you go and do something royally stupid like involving yourself in a romance with a man who'll ruin your reputation and forget your existence two months later, keep in mind that our mother needs a constant care and that care costs a lot of money."

Morticia swallowed heavily. This wasn't fair, how could she even...

"I would never do anything that would jeopardize mother's -" she whispered, almost choking at her words and noticed Ophelia's body language immediately soften.

"I know," Ophelia interjected softly and bowed her head sheepishly."I know, I'm sorry...I didn't mean to suggest that...I'm sorry," she whispered softly and wrapped her arms around Morticia before pulling her into a gentle hug."It's just...you deserve so much better than him, Tish."

Better than him, better than Gomez. What did that even mean? Safer, more dependable...so utterly dull. Neither was better for her.

And yet how easy would it be for Morticia to lose her mind over him, to fall for his lies and empty promises... if she only allowed herself to yield to this need for him, and she would be lost.

"It's not her fault, Jared, you shouldn't have hit her," Dorothy Diamond huffed disapprovingly but her son only grunted impatiently."You can't hold her responsible for the actions of that bloody Lothario," she insisted."She's not the first girl to fall for his charms and she won't be the last. Women seem to lose their minds around him."

Jared snorted impatiently.

"Well then, I made sure she'll be very careful not to lose hers," he remarked jadedly, carefully buttering his breakfast croissant."I don't want her anywhere near this man."

"I disagree, that would not be a prudent course of action," she pointed out, putting cream and sugar into her coffee.

"Surely, you're jesting," he said incredulously."Just two days ago you were dead set against her having anything to do with that man."

Dorothy shrugged, slowly mixing the hot beverage with a silver spoon.

"That was then and this is now," she replied offhandedly."It's a delicate situation. I'm sure after yesterday's party those two are the talk of the day."

"God, don't remind me."

"That being said," she continued calmly." We need to proceed with caution. I don't want to give any credibility to the rumours by point-blank forbidding her any associations with those people," she added pointedly.

"What do you suggest I do then?" he asked, irritated." Let that bastard tarnish her reputation? Doing business with kooks is one thing, being related to them by scandal is something else entirely."

"We'll do no such thing," his mother replied, finally putting the spoon away."But there's nothing more enticing than forbidden fruit, Jared. If she's really infatuated with the man, it will not be a good move to separate them now, God forbids she'll start to idolize him. No," she added thoughtfully."Let her see for herself who he really is."

Owing to the fact that there were just two people with a key to his apartment, Michael Covey wasn't all that worried when he heard the door opening slightly after six o'clock in the morning but he was nevertheless certainly surprised because it was highly unusual for either of his friends, Elena or Morticia for that matter, to be out and about this early in the morning.

"I'm in a desperate need of a make-up artist," he heard Morticia say sardonically in a matter of greeting as she made her way through the short hallway and into the kitchen that was also serving as Michael workspace.

"You're the last person on earth in the need of a makeup artist, darling," Michael remarked, his voice obstructed by the pin he was currently holding between his lips. He stuck the last pin into the dress and gave it a brief look before finally turning towards her."Shit, Tish, what happened?" he took one look at the angry purple bruise on her cheek and swallowed heavily.

"Anything you can do to cover it?" she said instead, dropping her bag on the floor.

"Did that piece of shit hit you?" he asked and brushed her hair aside with his fingers to look at her cheek.

"Would you believe me if I told you my nephew accidentally hit me with a ball?"

"No."

"Then it's the option number one."

"It's not funny, Tish."

"Who's laughing?" she asked sardonically."Can you cover it up with something? Baking powder just doesn't quite cut it."

"I can try, but even the fairest concealer will be too dark against your skin," he said, pointing to the high chair in front of the kitchen counter."Have you thought of reporting this to the police?"

"Yes, of course," she replied sarcastically.

"That douchebag doesn't have right to hit you, Tish,"he insisted, picking up a tube with a concealer."Do you have your powder with you, I'll try mixing it up with the concealer."

"I do," she answered, picking her black leather bag and a few seconds later presented him with a small black container with loose baking powder inside."He's never done that before," she explained and sat down on the chair."He was drunk and he apologised."

"Are you fucking serious?"he asked incredulously.

"Apparently," she muttered. She had to admit she was a little shaken by the whole thing. Nobody's ever hit her, well until now. She just didn't know what should she do about it, if anything. She couldn't go to the police because what good would it do, anyway? Nothing. It would only make things worse for everyone.

Ophelia took her side, sort of, but still. Even Dorothy berated Jared for hitting her, so what else was there to do?

She actually found herself wanting everyone to just ignore it. She didn't want to explain it and she certainly didn't want people feeling sorry for her, which is how Fanny looked at her this morning and Morticia hated it.

"You can't just let him get away with it," Michael insisted, taping gently into the side of the opened container and transferred some of the baking powder into a glass bowl.

"What is it exactly do you suggest I do?"

"I'm gonna kill him," Michael decided, mixing the baking powder with a liquid concealer."I will beat the shit out of him and then kill him."

"You're the sweetest," she smiled and winced when he applied the corrector to her face."But spending the rest of your life in jail might get boring eventually."

It was really a small mercy that it was pouring down today and was forecasted to be so for the rest of the week. If it wasn't a blessing then Morticia didn't know how else to call it because she could at least cover her face with the hood of her cloak when she was out and not worry about people staring at her in any other way that in what they usually have.

The only downside was that, exactly as Michael predicted, the bruise was too vivid to conceal it without all but painting her face with cosmetics, so that was unfortunate but nevertheless expected and there was little she could do about that. At least he made it less visible. Unfortunately, not enough to avoid the questions that will inevitably follow the moment Eudora Addams saw her, but then, there was little she could do about that as well.

"Hello, Mrs Addams," Morticia greeted, entering the conservatory where Eudora was carefully cutting off flower blossoms off the hemlock.

"Good morning, dear," she greeted putting hemlock blossoms in a small basket beside her."Isn't it a beautiful day today, so dark and gloomy. There's nothing better than to wake up to pouring rain," she mused happily.

"I quite agree," Morticia said tensely, coming closer to where Eudora was standing, wondering, despite herself, what were the chances of the older woman not noticing the bruise on her cheek.

Probably none.

"I was thinking we could practise some spells from the syllabus today," Eudora offered and turned to Morticia with a smile but her smile evaporated instantly and was replaced by a sharp inhale of breath."Good God, what happened?"

Morticia touched her cheek self-consciously and shrugged.

"Nothing," she said reluctantly, hoping in vain that Eudora would not pursue the subject any further but, alas -

"Morticia…"

"It's nothing,"she interjected in a dismissive manner."It looks worse than it is."

Eudora swallowed heavily.

"Is this the "unexpected family matter', Morticia?" she whispered, quite unable to keep the outrage from her voice and was utterly stunned when Morticia's lips curled into a small smirk.

"Well, it was unexpected," she shrugged.

"I do not find this amusing," she replied and watched the younger woman shift uncomfortably." I know you might think it's not my business…"

"You're right," she interrupted in a matter of fact voice."It's not."

"I can help…"

"Mrs Addams, there's nothing to help with," she interjected gently."I had a difference of opinion with my brother-in-law, that's all,"she explained.

Eudora's eyes widened in shock. She just couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"This isn't right, Morticia," she insisted.

"I didn't say it is,"she said."But there's no need to worry or make a big deal out of it."

"But this is a big deal,"Eudora countered."Gomez will not leave it like this…"

"That's not his - "

"What will Gomez not leave?"

Eudora turned abruptly to see her youngest son enter the conservatory in his usual jovial manner, but stopped dead in his track when he noticed her angry expression.

"What's wrong?"He asked his mother but it was Morticia who answered.

"Nothing's wrong,"she said without turning to look at him.

"Her brother-in-law struck her, Gomez," his mother said, her voice shaking with anger."She has a purple bruise on her cheek, that's not nothing, Morticia."

She felt him behind her even before he put his hands on her shoulders and made her turn to face him and felt suddenly embarrassed. She knew it was irrational, but she didn't want him to see her like this. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her, she despised the very thought of it, yet she forced herself to face him nonetheless. She heard his sharp intake of breath and his face clouded with unbridled rage.

"I'll kill him,"he said between his teeth, his jaw rigid."I'll rip him apart."

"Gomez, no,"she said, grabbing at his forearm."It's nothing, it's not worth the trouble."

He looked at her bewildered.

"Not worth the trouble?"He repeated incredulously."Have you seen your face?"

She shrugged.

"Look, we've argued and he's lost his temper but he apologised and it's really none of your business," she told him coldly and watched him frown at her, surprise and hurt clearly reflected on his face."I don't need a knight in shining armour to come and save me,"she added sarcastically.

"Everything that concerns you is my business,"he said pointedly.

"No, you're wrong,"she shook her head and crossed her arms defensively."You have no claim on me and you don't have any right to interfere with my life. Go save someone else, if you so desire, because I certainly don't need you."

He looked at her bewildered. He didn't understand why she suddenly acted like he was the enemy.

"I want to help you, is that such a bad thing?"

She watched him for a few seconds and her lips curled into a small smirk.

"Oh dear, do you feel sorry for me because he hit me?"She asked menacingly."There's no need, I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. As I said it's none of your business... Mr Addams."

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head at her in exasperation, he was practically radiating with anger, whether at her or at Jared it didn't matter. Anger she could deal with, she was used to anger. But pity she would never accept.

"You're right, none of my damn business," he retorted calmly but with an unmistakable barely contained vexation at her attitude."Let him kill you, who the hell cares?"

He was out of the door, before she could grace him with a tart reply, slamming them so hard she thought the whole house shook at its core.

Morticia let out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding and sighed tiredly. She turned to Eudora, but her frosty manner softened instantly at the knowing look in the older woman's eyes.

"He doesn't mean it," Eudora assured the younger woman."When his temper gets in the way he tends to say stupid things that he regrets five seconds later."

Morticia smiled softly at her words, despite herself.

"It's better this way, Mrs Addams."

"I disagree, you should have let him take care of it."

"No, I don't want him to get into trouble over something like that,"she insisted but her tone was soft, affectionate even.

"He gets in trouble all the time," she shrugged."At least this time it would be for a good reason."

Morticia shook her head decisively.

"I appreciate your concern," Morticia assured."But it's more complicated than that."

Eudora nodded understandingly, even though she knew she probably didn't understand a damn thing.

"Come on, let's get on with those spells."

"I'm such a damn idiot,"he said later that evening when he heard his brother's hesitant footsteps in the library, where he was nursing a big glass of brandy or rather swirling it pointlessly in his hand, because the amber liquid was yet to touch his lips.

"Yeah, I saw her,"he said somberly taking a seat next to his brother."Mama said you had a spat," he added and watched his brother nod tensely."Don't take it personally, though, Morticia bites like a cobra when she feels vulnerable."

Fester could imagine what probably happened, he was furious himself but it took one look from Morticia to know she would absolutely hate any interference and he knew her well enough not to attempt and knight-in-a-shining-armour act. He imagined his brother did exactly the opposite.

"I could kill that bastard,"he groused, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and finally took a sip of his brandy."I should kill him for what he's done to her."

"Killing him would not solve anything, as appealing as it may be,"Fester said knowingly but frowned when his brother looked at him with confusion."You know with Morticia's mother and all that."

"What her mother's got to do with anything?"

"Nothing…," Fester muttered quickly. "My point is that you can't help someone who doesn't want help, Gomez."

"Oh? So I should just let that bastard get away with it?"

"What do you want to do?" he asked calmly and was graced with a stone silence in reply.

"I don't know," Gomez admitted finally."He shouldn't get away with this."

"She says a word and that worm is as good as dead," Fester said."But don't make the mistake of butting in into her life, she won't appreciate it."

Gomez Addams was never plagued by insomnia.

Never.

Until he met this beautiful, raven-haired witch that is. Now insomnia seemed to be his constant companion.

He couldn't sleep because his whole body felt charged with rage and his hands prickled with the need to wring Diamond's damn neck for daring to touch her. It surprised him how fiercely protective he was of her when she wasn't his to protect and she didn't want to be.

How dare this bastard to raise his hand on her, how dare he touch her? He just couldn't get the image of her bruised face from his mind and the rage in him was simply indescribable. So much more because there was not a damn thing he could do about it because Morticia was right, he couldn't just interfere with her life even though every single fibre of his being was screaming to do something. He didn't have any claim on her. She didn't belong to him.

She didn't want him.

How would it feel to have her next to him when he fell asleep? He wondered and almost instinctively touched the left side of the bed, empty and cold and he could almost see her, how she would fall asleep each night in his arms. How would it feel to have this wonderful creature by his side, to love her, to love her fully and madly and to be loved by her, to protect her, to be there for her always and forever?

He shouldn't have let her goad him like that, he shouldn't have allowed his temper to get in the way but, gods, the woman herself was impossible. He's never seen such a fierce stubbornness in anyone before.

But Fester was right, what could he do about it? It was her life and she didn't ask for his help. She never asked him for anything and how he wished she did. He wished she would allow him to be there for her.

He wished she'd allow him to love her.

And then.

And then he'd never let her go.

She started to wonder whether she'd get a full night rest ever again without Gomez Addams invading her every thought. Although, perhaps in this situation, it was her own fault because it was the guilt that didn't allow her to fall asleep tonight.

She was too harsh for him. She didn't exactly mean to be but she just couldn't stand all this pity and sympathy that they were bestowing upon her. She didn't need it and certainly didn't want it, from anyone, especially from him, she wasn't a damsel in distress and didn't need to be saved. She hoped she made that explicitly clear and she was sure she shouldn't feel guilty about it.

She was not going to apologise to him for stating the facts.

There was nothing to apologise for. He overreacted, which seemed to be a prevailing trait in his character.

Why then was she feeling so guilty?

She groaned audibly and covered her head with the pillow in a vain attempt to silence the incoherent jumble of her thoughts.

There was nothing to apologise for.

It was her life and he had no right to interfere with it out of some misplaced sense of chivalry or whatever it was.

She will not apologise.

She will most definitely not apologise…

Another groan escaped her and she threw the pillow on the floor in an exasperated gesture.

She will apologise tomorrow.

She fully expected him to avoid her again, she knew she made him angry and, she supposed, it would be very much in his character to retreat and sulk. In truth, she'd probably prefer if he did just that because she didn't really know how to handle this whole situation. In fact, she decided she didn't want to handle it at all.

She certainly did not expect him to meet her at the door the second she stepped through them and by the look of him she judged she wasn't the only one to get less than a spectacular night of sleep.

"I didn't mean it," he said, forgoing the greeting."Yesterday, what I said...I shouldn't have said it...and I didn't mean it. I don't want you to think that I wouldn't care, I would...I do."

"I know," she replied softly before biting her lower lip thoughtfully."I shouldn't...I'm sorry too, I was a bit too…" she faltered, thinking of a word - mean, vicious, unfair?"Direct," she said finally and saw him nod in a mute acceptance.

"I still would very much like to break his neck," he admitted.

"Well," she smiled gently."I appreciate your restraint since he's still my nephew's father."

"He doesn't have any right to touch you," he whispered insistently, trying very hard not to stare at her bruised cheek because it made his blood boil with rage.

"Yes, I know that," she agreed.

"Then why are you allowing him to get away with it?"

"Gomez," she said in a tone that told him she is certainly not going to grace him with an answer."I'd rather not talk about it any more."

"I can't let him get away with it," he insisted. He knew himself and he was sure he will not be able to restrain himself if he sees the bastard, at the very least he'll break his hands.

Morticia smiled softly.

"I don't want you to do anything about it," she replied."I understand you have some inherent male sense of chivalry but -"

"Inherent male sense of chivalry?" he frowned."What kind of man raises his hand against a woman? He's a coward."

"How is beating him into a bloody pulp going to help?" she asked instead.

"It's a good start," he said firmly but she just shook her head.

"Well, I disagree."

He tried his utmost not to sigh in frustration. The woman was impossible. She will drive him insane.

"Mama is outside in the graveyard," he said finally and she frowned slightly, obviously surprised that he backed away so easily."You can go through the door in the conservatory, it's quicker that way," he added and without any further ado went back to the library.

It took all his willpower not to slam the door in frustration.

The next two week proved to be extremely busy in terms of the workload, both with her university studies and the work Morticia was doing with Eudora which, in the end, Morticia didn't mind because it kept her mind occupied and she didn't have time for overthinking - something that never bothered her until she met one Gomez Addams and now it seemed he filled her every thought, day and night and it was slowly driving her insane.

Things at home, however, were surprisingly cordial, not only between her and Ophelia but Jared as well. The subject of Gomez Addams was practically nonexistent, whenever he asked about her plans for the day of inquired about her work he referred exclusively to Mrs Addams as if Gomez never existed in the first place and she wasn't sure what to make of that but she didn't believe this blase attitude for a second but had neither time or desire to ponder upon it any further.

On the other hand, Gomez didn't mention Jared either, and things between her and Gomez were currently in, what she would only describe as an impasse. He didn't avoid her, no, quite the opposite, he was nice and courteous towards her, he often helped her with her work and he asked her opinion on this or that, she enjoyed spending time with him. And yet.

And yet, there was this underlying tension between them. Sometimes he just gazed at her a little too long and she'd caught herself locked in those dark, half-lidded eyes and she just couldn't stop staring at him and her mind would wander back to when he kissed her and the need to feel his lips upon hers again was almost overwhelming in its ferocity. Everything about him was captivating, from the way he looked to the way his mind worked.

She was grateful that they almost never had a chance to be alone together because she was afraid she would do something so utterly stupid as to kiss him. Thankfully, since Morticia was spending almost every moment with Eudora, there was a very limited opportunity to be with him entirely alone.

Unfortunately, it turned out that her ability to cast spells was so rusty, she was surprised she managed to conjure one at all. She simply forgot how much strength and focus it took to cast one measly spell.

Not to mention, she couldn't even describe how embarrassed she was just minutes ago when she mispronounced disintegration spell, just one tiny little mistake, and caused some of Eudora's potion bottles to break and the content spill all over the shelves and the floor.

Subsequently, they had to spend the rest of the afternoon making the list of the potions that will need replacing.

"No need to worry, my dear," Eudora assured as they were in process of clearing the mess."These things happen. You need to work on your focus."

"I wish you'd be less understanding," Morticia admitted with an embarrassed laugh."The nicer you are about it, the more guilty I feel."

Yet, she couldn't deny the fact that, despite the mishaps, it felt absolutely wonderful to be able to be so actively involved in magic again, to do so many things she used to take for granted, to be surrounded with people for whom witchcraft wasn't something abnormal or something they read in fairytales but an actual daily routine. Just as it used to be for her family.

"Well, you will never learn if you're going to be afraid to make mistakes," Eudora replied, dropping the rest of the broken glass into the bin.

"My mother always said that, but I still absolutely despise making mistakes," Morticia admitted as she wiped the remnants of the potions from the shelves with a damp cloth.

"That's not a very sensible approach, Morticia," she laughed."Mistakes are good, as long as you learn from them."

"Or if you can afford to make them," she countered.

Eudora frowned, not sure what to make of her comment.

"Oh, you are far too young to think like that," she remarked."What better time for making mistakes than youth?"

"I guess that depends on the mistake," Morticia replied, eliciting another laugh from the older woman.

"Well, in my opinion, there's no learning witchcraft without mistakes," she supplied kindly."Anyway," she added and opened the drawer in the dresser before taking out a stack of papers and handing them to Morticia" I have asked a friend to send me some theoretical tests from the previous years, so you can practice on them, familiarize yourself with the structure, the style of the questions and all that."

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully, flipping through the loose pages. "I can't even describe how amazing you are, Mrs Addams."

"You're very welcome, my dear," she smiled."It's so nice to have someone with such avid interest in witchcraft," she admitted."Fester had only a brief interest in witchcraft and Gomez was always too impatient. Can you believe when I was pregnant with him everyone told me it's going to be a girl and I was so excited," she added eliciting an amused laugh from Morticia.

"Oh, he would be so precious as a girl," she asserted.

"Gorgeous," Eudora agreed."You see what a disappointment he is to me?" she sighed dramatically.

"I agree, he's outrageous," Morticia nodded."He should definitely apologise."

"Quack, quack."

"Yes, we're going to see the ducks," she told her nephew as they made their way towards the pond. It was a disgustingly sunny day and she usually preferred to stay indoors in ghastly weather like that but she's promised Charlie they would go to see ducks on Sunday and when you promised this boy something he would pursue you relentlessly, sunny weather or not.

Charlie's recent obsession were ducks. Devil knows why, Morticia couldn't comprehend for the life of her, what was so remarkable about the most unremarkable bird in existence but her nephew had about dozen rubber ducks and made everyone read the 'Ugly Duckling' so many times she could just gag at the mere thought of it.

"Quack!"

And yet here she was, taking him to see the ducks...again because this is exactly the same thing they have done last Sunday. Even Jared, who was usually extremely patient with the boy, was more than happy to get them out of the house and even offered them his driver.

However, that was probably due to the fact that Ophelia was of an opinion that Morticia drove like a suicidal maniac and never bothered with seatbelts neither for herself or the child and so Ophelia was adamant not to let her son alone in a car with Morticia.

Still, Morticia was convinced that seatbelts took away all the fun from driving.

"Yes, quack," she smiled tenderly at the little boy.

"Too much ducks, Tishy."

"There will be many ducks in the pond," she corrected kindly."Remember to hold my hand or you will fall into the pond again."

"Many, many quacks!"he exclaimed excitedly."But mama not happy."

"No, your mama wasn't happy," Morticia agreed, although she still didn't understand what the big problem was. It's not like he's drown in that pond, after all, he had great fun splashing with real ducks but Ophelia acted as if Morticia was trying to kill him. Just like that one time she allowed Charlie to play with kitchen knives. That, apparently, was too dangerous as well.

"And then we're going to the zoo," she reminded him."And what are we going to see in the zoo?"

"Kittens!"

"A lion" she corrected softly.

"Meow."

"Close enough."

They were nearing the duck pond when the sound of a familiar jovial, gregarious laugh made her stop immediately and she turned, involuntarily, towards the voice.

This couldn't be.

Of all the parks in all this blasted city and with a woman no less.

She watched the blond woman tilt her head back and laugh heartily at something Gomez's said and Morticia was trying her utmost not to roll her eyes in annoyance.

What was she expecting, though, that he would pine after her like a love-sick puppy after she turned him down and then practically told him to go to hell? Of course he found someone else to fill his time with. It was better that way, she told herself trying her utmost to ignore the vicious stab in her heart.

Wasn't it what everyone told her would happen, though? And yet, somehow, she expected more of him, she realized, unreasonable as it was. Perhaps in was more than a little vain of her but she… she enjoyed his attention, and as nice and friendly as he was to her now, she didn't expect him to back away so easily. She didn't want him to back away.

What did she want then? She's essentially told him to leave her alone and when he does she's resentful he did as she wanted.

She was going insane. Plain and simple.

"Fancy seeing you here," the voice behind them announced interrupting her pitiful musings. She didn't even notice him approaching and he startled her, causing her to turn towards him more sharply than she intended and, next to her Charlie, almost jumped at the suddenness of her reaction."Your nephew?" he smiled and waved at the boy.

"Yes," she confirmed, picking up the little boy who immediately hid his face into the crook of her neck."He's very shy. We were on our way to the zoo, actually."

"Splendid, I love zoos," he announced."May I join you?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," she teased before turning to the child in her arms."What do you think, can he come with us?"

"No," Charlie shook his head, not even bothering to look at Gomez.

"Well, sorry," she grinned."I guess you're not welcomed."

"Come on, pup," he pleaded.

"No," Charlie lifted his head off his aunt's shoulder and frowned at him."Go."

"I'll buy you a big treat," he bargained and grinned when the boy seemed to hesitate."And a toy lion."

Charlie seemed to ponder his offer for a moment before ultimately gracing him with another frown.

"No," he insisted.

"How about I'll take you to the big kids' playground?" he offered with a cheeky grin.

"Gomez, really…"

"Slide!" Charlie exclaimed happily."Big slide."

"The biggest there is," Gomez agreed.

"Zoo," Charlie pointed in the direction of the tall building."Let's go zoo."

"Buying child's acquiescence, Gomez?" she raised her eyebrow at him and clicked her tongue in mock disapproval."That's pathetic."

"It worked? It worked," he grinned.

"Lion, meow."

"That's a pansy lion, pup," Gomez remarked as they made their way to the zoo.

"So, what are you doing here?" Morticia asked with all the nonchalance she possessed." Surely, you're not here to feed ducks?"

"No, I was wandering around in hopes to meet an enchanting girl, so she can drive me insane and lo and behold! She was feeding ducks," he said and laughed heartily when she glared at him half-heartedly."I had lunch with a friend," he admitted.

"What kind of friend?" she asked immediately and almost winced at her jealous tone and, judging by the self-satisfying smirk on his face, there was little hope he hadn't picked up on it."Forget it, not my business."

"Ah, and yet I'm in a mood to indulge your curiosity," he teased and laughed when she glared at him."She's a friend who's helping me with some business matter."

"Okay."

"Don't you want to know what business matter she's helping me with?" he teased and she could not but smile.

"No, Gomez," she shook her head." I do not."

She's decided the world conspired against her to drive her absolutely insane.

First, the young woman in the ticket booth offered them a family ticket but then cooed, batting her long lashes and shamelessly flirted with Gomez, even though he didn't seem to pay her much attention, and so Morticia didn't know what possessed her - because she was certainly not even slightly jealous and there was no reason to be jealous - when she took his hand and practically dragged him to the lions' cages.

She really really appreciated the fact that he didn't comment at all on her behaviour but subsequently, he didn't let go of her hand and neither did she and she wasn't sure she wanted to contemplate on that at all.

At some point, they were also approached by an elderly couple and the lady commented appreciatively on Gomez's choice of clothing and how wonderfully refreshing it was to see that young people were still so attentive to their looks. Morticia silently agreed with her assessment wholeheartedly. Indeed, she's never seen a man with more exquisite taste in clothing than Gomez Addams.

Gomez, of course, smiled at her charmingly and bowed down to the older lady, bestowing some flowery description of a female beauty that only got more breathtaking with time and how lucky her husband was to spend his life with such an exquisite creature by his side.

No wonder his mother called him a cad with a silver tongue. Morticia thought the older lady may faint, she was blushing and fanning herself with her hand so profoundly.

Then the woman turned to Morticia with a gleeful smile on her face and told her what a charming young man her husband was. Morticia's explanation that they weren't married, neither were they a couple seemed to fall on deaf ears and they parted with the advice from the elderly couple that they should have more children because such a beautiful pair as them should not settle on just one child.

How, in everything that's damned, did they even assume that Charlie, with his straight blond hair and blue eyes, could be their child was to her incomprehensible.

In the mid-afternoon, truth to Gomez's word and despite Morticia's ardent protests but to Charlie's unbridled delight, they have indeed found themselves at the big children's playground. Morticia looked at her nephew whose face was somehow smeared with chocolate ice cream, despite the fact that half of the sweet treat actually ended up on his blue jacket and the other half on Gomez's blazer, which he didn't seem to mind at all.

"He's too little to climb it on his own, Gomez," she tried to reason when they approached some kind of twisted monster of a slide.

"Oh, he's not going to be on his own," he declared with that irresistible grin of his."I'm going with him. I love slides. Hand me the pup."

Morticia didn't even have a chance to protest because Charlie leapt from her arms straight to Gomez's extended hands in a split second.

"You little traitor," she tased but couldn't help but smile at the delighted screams that reverberated through the playground not a few minutes later."Gomez, you're a twenty-six-year-old child."

"I can't argue with that," he grinned at her, propping the child on his hip.

"Again!" Charlie exclaimed.

"You're really good with children,' she observed as they were walking back to where Tolya was waiting for them in the car. She had to carry Charlie in her arms because he was already half-asleep since he forgone his afternoon nap on the account of all the fun he had with Gomez on the playground."Ever thought of having any of your own?"

"No," he replied."Unless, you're offering," he added with a cheeky smile.

She rolled her eyes at him in a mock-exasperation. Well, admittedly, she walked right into it.

"I'm certainly not," she denied."It was just an observation."

"You'd be a wonderful mother," he remarked softly and chuckled when she raised her eyebrow at him."The lad obviously adores you."

"Ah, that's because I spoil the hell out of him," she smiled, placing a soft kiss to the boy's blond hair.

"You don't think you'd be a good mother?"

She shrugged noncommittally.

"I don't know, I've never seen myself as a mother, to be honest," she admitted and it was the truth, she could never imagine herself as a mother. Wife maybe, sometimes, never a mother though.

"Well, you're still very young," he pointed out."One day you might want to settle down, have a family," he added and watched her tilt her head and laugh softly.

"I doubt it," she smiled."Neither option seems very enticing. There are so many more exciting things to do in life."

"What would you like to do?" he asked.

"Study... and travel," she replied."My father travelled a lot and he always brought home so many amazing photos and beautiful stories...and gifts," she added with a wistful smile.

"What did he do? For a living, I mean," he asked. She hasn't spoken often of her family and he was incredibly curious to learn more.

"Oh, so many things," she reminisced fondly." He travelled mostly, he loved travelling, especially to South America and Africa, he was enticed by Africa. He wrote extensively about it, books and journals, he was a brilliant photographer and I always thought he was a very gifted writer, although he insisted he lacked the imagination of a true writer."

"It sounds like he was a fascinating individual," he commented softly.

"He was," she smiled.

"Did he ever take you with him for his journeys ?"he asked and she nodded gently.

"We travelled together to Algerian Sahara and Mauritania a few times," she said."We often went to Tunisia and Morocco, but he preferred less tourist orientated places. Europe didn't interest him at all. Although he took us to Spain and Italy, but he preferred more unusual locations."

"I have to wholeheartedly agree with him on that," he interjected and she smiled at him softly.

"I wanted to join him on his trip to Rwanda but my mother vetoed this idea faster than Hitler attacked Poland," she admitted.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely puzzled."Seems like a lovely holiday spot."

She shrugged.

"She said it's too dangerous and I remember I was very cross about it because I really wanted to go. It was the same year Ophelia moved to America," she reminisced thoughtfully."Perhaps, things were changing too much and too quickly for her. Ophelia was away and I was growing up and wanted to travel and she never liked travelling. I think she was relieved when she had little children and had an excuse to stay at home. My father, though…," she bit her lips briefly before continuing in a softer tone."My father was too restless to stay at home for too long, and she missed him tremendously when he was away. I did too."

"We often travelled together, the whole family," he remarked softly."I loved spending my summer holidays in Transylvania. Have you ever been there? It's such a dreary place, absolutely delightful."

She didn't answer because suddenly it's been all too much. She didn't talk about it for so long, about her father and her other life that seemed to happen to her centuries ago and the pain that was still too fresh, she felt her eyes fill with tears.

"Tish?" he asked in a voice clearly laced with concern and they both stopped.

"No," she swallowed heavily."No, I haven't. It sounds like a wonderful place, though."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she whispered."I need to go, he's exhausted and it's already late," she added motioning to the boy currently half-sleeping in her arms.

"Was it something I said?"he asked insistently."I didn't mean to -"

"No," she assured him."No..it's just...it's really hard for me to talk about it," God, she had to go before she bursts into tears in front of him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, it's not…," she shook her head."I don't talk about it often, at all actually… because... this happens," she admitted hoarsely."I really need to go," she added before he could pursue the subject any further."I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," he nodded but he just couldn't take his eyes off her because the fact that she's told him all this, that she's showed such a vulnerability in front of him meant more to him that he was able to put into words and he was absolutely overcome with the wave of tenderness that engulfed him.

And he suddenly knew, with an irrevocable certainty, without the slightest shadow of a doubt that there will never be any other woman for him but her, and he will do absolutely everything to find a way to her heat, or he will die trying.

"Until tomorrow then," he whispered and leaned closer, placing a butterfly kiss on her cheek.

She closed her eyes briefly and thought her heart may burst at the tenderness in his gaze, his closeness and it was surprisingly hard to part with him.

"Bye, Gomez," Charlie mumbled tiredly and Morticia winced inwardly. She certainly didn't look forward to explaining to his parents just where the boy's learnt that name.

"No!" Morticia glared contemptuously at her notebook."Why don't you work, you damned equation?"

"Do you need help?"

She turned towards the familiar, raspy voice and smiled.

"Hello, Fester,"she greeted and saw him nod faintly at her before making his way towards the table where she was working on her practice tests."I can't seem to get this right, I think my brain's fried."

Fester laughed at her comment and sat down next to her.

"May I?"He pointed at her workbook and she slid it towards him dejectedly. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he took into her neat writing, nodding every so often."You need to adjust the variables,"he said finally."This may be one potion but you can make it with two sets of different ingredients, so each will need its own equation and of course the brewing time has to be adjusted in each."

"Ugh, how did I not realize that?"She groused, annoyed with herself."It's so obvious now that you pointed it out. Thank you."

"You need to take it easy, Morticia,"he said gently."Take a break."

"That's not even an option,"she shook her head and adjusted the equation as he suggested."I can tell you how much depends on this."

"I understand that but I worry you will exhaust yourself,"he said and she was touched at the genuine concern in his voice.

"You're really sweet,"she said and smiled at him softly.

Fester let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Come,"he said firmly."Let's go blow something up, that always clears my mind."

She was about to decline his offer but he was being so precious to her that she didn't have the heart to disappoint him.

"Oh, all right,"she said with a smile, closing her book with a snap."I guess a small break won't hurt."

"Three parts of dynamite with a nitroglycerine cap," Fester explained as he set the device against the door."It's perfect for small homes, carports and tool sheds."

"Wait a minute, whose house is it?" she asked suspiciously.

"Oh, our neighbours', they use it as a guest house," he answered offhandedly."I'll send them a cheque later to cover for damages," he assured and took out the box of matches."Ready?"

"Ready," she assured.

"Remember, we have exactly ten seconds to make it over the fence," he reminded."So ran as fast as you can or they will be scooping up our remains from the ground," he grinned.

"Duly noted," she smiled back and took the matchbox from him. She lightened the match and carefully brought it close to a dynamite fuse to ignite it.

"Ok, time to run," Fester announced calmly and they both sprinted towards the fence and barely managed to jump over it when the loud blast reverberated around them and she was only vaguely aware of Fester shouting to her to duck and they both landed on the hard, barren ground.

The whole ground shook with the aftermath of the explosion, she was dirty, had soil in her hair and her ears were ringing and the shards of wood were still flying around them.

Gods, it felt so good. It felt -

"I might have accidentally told Dementia you and Gomez are a couple," Fester piped up suddenly as they were still lying on the ground.

"Excuse me?" she turned her head towards him abruptly. Surely, he didn't just say that."You what?"

"It was an accident I swear!" he defended meekly, therefore confirming that, unfortunately, she heard him correctly.

"Why would you even tell her something like that?" she was too stunned to even lift herself off the ground at this point.

"Because she suspected me of some romantic feelings towards you," he explained."You know, because of all the time we spend together. So I've told her you're my brother's fiancee and I'm just helping you with the school work."

"You brother's fiancee?" she repeated in disbelief.

"You're getting married next year if she asks."

"I'm not sure what to say to that," she decided, finally getting up and dusting her clothes off.

"I'm sorry!" he insisted."I got nervous and it's the first thing that came to my mind but she didn't quite believe me, so I made up this story and told her all of us could go to dinner together so she can get to know you better and see for herself."

She was speechless. Words failed her.

There's no way this absurd situation was really happening to her.

"Please, please just go with it this one time," he begged her, finally standing up himself."I don't want her to think I lied to her."

"But you did," she pointed out.

"If I tell her the truth now she's going to think I'm a liar."

"You are."

"Well, she doesn't have to know that...yet," he pointed out."Oh I beg you, it took so long for me to get here I don't want to ruin it now."

"Did Gomez set you up for this?" she asked suspiciously, placing her hands on her hips.

"Gomez?" Fester repeated in confusion."No, no of course not, I haven't even told him about Dementia yet," he assured and was glad that her posture relaxed visibly.

"When is this dinner?" she asked in a tone of utter defeat and he beamed at her happily.

"Tomorrow."

"Fester!" she groaned exasperatedly.

"I know, I know," he winced and put his hands together in a praying gesture."I didn't know how to tell you. I figured I will just put you in an uncomfortable situation and hope you like me enough not to be able to refuse me and then just beg for forgiveness later."

"Truly masterful plan," she remarked sarcastically.

"Oh, thank you," he breathed out in relief."To be honest I really thought you'd be mad."

"Blooker, old man, you've known me long enough to know that a little market crash can't scare me," Gomez chuckled into the receiver."I really feel like buying a railroad."

"Mr Addams, people have lost fortunes speculating on railroads," his broker pointed out.

"Oh, what's a fortune?" Gomez laughed nonchalantly and nodded when he saw his brother hovering at the door, motioning for him to come in.

"No, no, Mr Addams, people I'm talking about went completely broke, wiped out, penniless," he explained.

"Oh, that's just ghastly," Gomez admitted."As a token of sympathy, let's write them a check for a hundred thousand dollars each and then let's move one that railroad," he said and promptly hanged up before his broker could voice any further objections."Fester, old man, you look like you've just swallowed a spoonful of honey, what's the matter?"

Fester swallowed uncomfortably and sat down in the chair in front of the mahogany desk.

"I need advice," he admitted.

"An advice?"

"You see, there's this girl I have been sort of seeing," he nodded and his brother grinned at him in delight.

"Fester, you sly fox," he exclaimed."Why haven't you told me that before? How long have you known her?"

"Well, that depends, you know, depends how you define knowing someone," he mumbled.

Gomez blinked and bit on his cigar in confusion, not sure what to make of such a statement.

"Okay, you see I have been watching her for some time," he tried to explain.

"Interesting" his brother commented, nodding thoughtfully."Most women do not find stalking all that romantic."

"Very true, they tend to press charges," Fester agreed promptly and Gomez nodded in agreement."But I haven't been stalking her, though. I sort of just sat in the library, where she works, watching her because...well you know how shy I am with women," he described, making a circular movement with his hand and his brother nodded in confirmation."So then I met Morticia and she convinced me to talk to her."

"But…," he frowned, silently processing the information."Haven't you said you and Morticia have known each other since October?"

"I did, yes."

"Just...how long have you been watching this girl for?" Gomez asked curiously, drawing his eyebrow together because they were nearing March now which would mean his brother was essentially staring at that girl for -

"It may or may not have been six months," Fester admitted furtively.

Devil's horns, none of Gomez's relationship ever even lasted that long.

"But you finally asked her out for coffee," he prompted."So what's the problem?"

"I asked her and we went and it was great," he sighed but subsequently his arms dropped in a defeated manner."But then it wasn't because she's shy and I'm shy and we just didn't know what to say, so we stared into our coffee cups for ten minutes and then she said she needs to go home."

Gomez bit his lips and nodded thoughtfully.

Lucifer wept.

"How do you do it?" he asked desperately." How can I be like you?"

"Alright, calm down, let's start with the basics," Gomez said appeasingly."What's the quickest way to a woman's heart?"

"Bilateral incision on the upper left region of the sternum," his brother replied proudly without missing a beat.

Gomez blinked.

"Ah, no...not exactly."

"I'm pretty sure it is," his brother insisted.

"Woo her, admire her," he said passionately, deciding it would be best to just move straight to the point."Make her feel like she's the most sublime creature on earth."

Fester frowned. It seemed way too simple.

"That's it?" he ensured and watched his brother nod."And it works?"

"In ninety-five per cent of cases," Gomez promised, leaning back in his chair.

"What if she's in the five per cent that it doesn't work on?"

His brother shook his head vigorously.

"Impossible."

"Why?"

"The only remaining five per cent is cutting the rose buds off in the conservatory," he quipped.

Morticia decided if she's ultimately agreed to participate in Fester's half-cooked farce, she should at least make sure she'd enjoy the food and so she proposed they should dine in the restaurant Elena worked as a chief. One could never go wrong with deep-fried bat wings.

"May I say how beautiful you look tonight?" Gomez complemented with a charming smile as he helped her exit the green Packard.

"You may not," she retorted but there was a clear amusement laced into her voice."We're not on a date, we're here to help your brother with his date so she doesn't think he's a twisted liar."

"It's nice of you to have agreed to it," he remarked. In all honesty, he was surprised she had agreed at all. He didn't want to read into it more than what it probably was, because she was probably just helping to save his brother's skin and nothing else, but it was promising nevertheless."You're a good friend."

"Too good," she shook her head in a mock-exasperation as they both watched Fester stumble out of the car.

"I'm so nervous, I think I might vomit," he declared and both of them immediately took a precautionary step back as, true to his words, Fester vomited on the sidewalk half a second later.

Well, this is going to be interesting.

Gomez Addams tried very hard not to sigh in exasperation and briefly wondered if it would be appropriate if he threw a bread roll at his brother because Fester Addams haven't said a word to Dementia since she joined them at the table almost fifteen minutes ago. He and Morticia have been doing all the talking while his older brother practically stared into his damn plate throughout the whole time.

Dementia on her part seemed indeed very eager to get to know them better. Gomez judged, she didn't quite believe Fester when he told her Gomez and Morticia met at the funeral of his dear cousin Balthazaar (who, the last time Gomez's checked, was still very much alive) just last year and it was a love at first sight and, apparently, Gomez proposed the very night - small details that Fester forgot to inform them about… just what kind of ludicrous cliche of a story exactly was his brother trying to cook here?

Not that Gomez could not fall in love with Morticia on the spot because, after all, she was exquisite and absolutely everything about her was a divine perfection.

Well, except for her thickheaded stubbornness, that he could perhaps do without.

"Love at first sight," Dementia mused, narrowing her eyes suspiciously."That's so uncommon, unheard of really."

"Oh, it was a surprise for us too," Morticia assured, trying very hard not to glare at Fester who seemed to shrink in his seat at her words."But it's true," she insisted linking her hand with Gomez's and turning to look at him lovingly."He's so handsome, I just couldn't stop staring at him...all through the eulogy," she said softly, gazing into his eyes.

"And you were so beautiful, my darling," he replied tenderly, bringing her hand to his lips and he placed a soft kiss to her knuckles."Pale and mysterious, no one even looked at the corpse."

Gods, she found herself blushing under the intensity of his gaze and her heart was racing in her chest so madly she was sure everyone could hear it.

She was going to kill Fester.

"That's so romantic," Dementia remarked and Morticia turned to her with a smile."Fester mentioned you used to live in France," she added.

"Ah, qui, I was born in France," Morticia answered and next to her Gomez stiffened visibly. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he answered in a painful whisper. God almighty, what is happening?

"My parents met in Paris, actually" Dementia revealed happily.

"Ah that's so sweet, but Paris is la ville de l'amour after all," Morticia grinned but frowned when next to her Gomez let out a pained gasp and bit into his knuckles.

"Gomez, are you alright?" Morticia asked worriedly."Are you in pain?"

Agony, he thought. His heart was beating so furiously he was sure it will burst any second and his blood felt as if was on fire.

"Gomez?" Morticia asked.

"I'm fine," he managed to choke out before clearing his throat when he saw everyone was staring him with worriedly."Shall we order?"

"Ok, sure," Morticia nodded, still watching him intently.

"What shall we order?" Dementia asked, looking at the menu.

"I think I'll go for la specialite de la mansion," Morticia decided."Boulettes de Seiche."

"Gods - " Gomez moaned and hid his face in his hands. What, in all the devils was happening to him? He felt Morticia's gentle touch on his arm and it seemed to burn into his skin. His head snapped towards her and he just couldn't help himself and grabbed her hand, immediately placing a firm kiss to the soft skin of her palm, moaning with pleasure.

"What...what is he doing?" Dementia asked finally in disbelief after they all stared at Gomez with bewildered expressions as he ardently kissed his way up Morticia's arm.

"I...I'm not sure," Morticia muttered in confusion."Gomez...darling."

"Your French…," he whispered instead, still placing hot kisses on the soft skin of her wrist.

"My French?"

"It makes my blood boil," he whispered between the kisses.

"This is so bizarre …" Dementia mused."Say something else," she prodded Morticia.

"Like what?"

"Anything, oh la la, soup du jour - whatever, anything."

"Vous êtes un Castillan fou," Morticia muttered more to herself than the others and sure enough another pained moan came out of Gomez's mouth and he pressed his lips to her lace-clad forearm firmly and Morticia was just too stunned to stop him.

She will have to remember now and for the rest of the forever to never, absolutely never speak French in the presence of this mad Castilian, because apparently any little French word was enough to set him off and she didn't want to even comprehend what it did to her to feel his lips on her skin. It felt like being hit with a bolt of electricity and all she could think about was how it would feel to have those lips against hers.

She felt Gomez nudge her leg gently and point to his brother and ... just what on earth was Fester doing?

"It's a quaint French custom," Morticia explained promptly."Sharing a half eaten bread." So quaint it didn't exist.

"How sweet," Dementia smiled and tore the bun apart, popping some into her mouth."So romantic," she mumbled, her words obstructed with the pieces of bread.

"Fester is truly continental," Gomez nodded."He spent many years abroad."

"Really?"

"Oh yes," Morticia agreed, nodding enthusiastically."He speaks twelve languages, fluently."

"You know I could tell," Dementia marvelled."When I first saw him, I thought he was from Europe."

"You did?" Fester blurted, surprised.

"It's true," she smiled shyly.

"But...I took a bath."

If it was even remotely appropriate, Gomez would just bang his head against the table and, by the way Morticia looked at him, she seemed to have a similar idea.

"Oh, Tish, they're playing our song," Gomez said pointedly and watched her frown above the rim of her wine glass.

"They are?" she asked in confusion before catching the purposeful look in his eye."Oh, indeed."

"Excuse us," he said and promptly lead her to the dancefloor, among other couples and slid his hand around her waist.

"What's this song even called?"

"No idea," he grinned at her, pirouetting her skillfully into the soft rhythms of some random love song. "I just wanted them to spend some time alone and have an excuse to dance with you."

"How cunning of you," she teased and he grinned at her.

"Let's pray they don't end up just staring at their bloody plates the whole time."

She couldn't decide if the evening was an utter disaster (after Fester managed to accidentally spill the wine on Dementia's dress - twice - and then he was so mortified he also vomited on the aforementioned dress and while apologising for that he also dropped a half-eaten mille-feuille on her laps) or was actually, bizarrely, quite successful because ultimately it seemed that Dementia found Fester's clumsiness adorable and even asked him to walk her home, so perhaps it was fair to call the evening quite a successful disaster.

"Elena will finish in few minutes, you don't need to stay," she said.

It was almost midnight and they were the only two people in the small patio.

"I want to stay," he smiled at her charmingly. "I like being with you."

"Me too," she replied before realizing that she was staring at his lips and cleared her throat.

"Are you cold?" he asked and it was only then she's noticed that she was shivering.

"No," she replied but he already took off his blazer and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"You look really beautiful," he remarked, smoothing a stray hair of her raven hair and smiled at her tenderly.

He was so close she could practically feel the warmth radiating from him and she just couldn't stop staring at him. She wanted to kiss him, she realized, she wanted it more than she was ready to admit.

She licked her suddenly dry lips.

She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to kiss him so desperately her mind couldn't think of anything else but to feel those lips against hers. Her body seemed to move on its own accord when her hand stretched to touch his cheek and then her fingers grazed his lips. She finally met his gaze and swallowed heavily when she saw the same desperate need blazing in the darkness of his eyes.

Only once, she thought, just this once. Just to get this need, this longing out her system and no more.

She almost whimpered when their lips touched gently, tentatively and then more demanding but no less tender manner and it felt so good, he tasted so good - of wine and cigars and something that was exclusively and wonderfully him, it made her feel lightheaded. She felt his strong arm circle her waist and he slipped the other hand to her neck under her hair, bringing her closer, pressing her against him so firmly she could feel his rapid heartbeat, or was it hers? She couldn't tell, it felt like one. She framed his face with her hands, deepening their kiss.

"Gods," she whispered hoarsely, resting her forehead against his. She wanted to stay here like this, in his arms, to stay forever in this glorious embrace. He was so close and his scent, earthy and masculine, assaulted her senses and she couldn't resist kissing him again and felt him moan softly. It felt so good, so right to be in his arms as if the two of them were two parts of a whole.

There was a sound of someone clearing their throat behind them and they broke their kiss reluctantly but didn't let go of their embrace.

"Sorry, I had to park on the other side," Elena explained."There was no space … here," she added slowly because the people in front of her didn't seem to see nothing except each other - they looked to her absolutely enchanted, as if frozen and locked in each other's gaze.

"Good night, Tish," he whispered finally and placed a warm kiss to her hand before reluctantly letting go of her. He nodded to Elena before leaving the two of them alone.

Elena looked at her friend and was about to make a snarky comment about what she's just witnessed when she noticed a miserable look on Morticia's face.

"Hey, honey, what's the matter?"

"God, I think I'm in love with him," she whispered and even in her own ears it sounded like confessing to a crime.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

A/N: I know I'm kind of repeating myself, but thank you very much for all your kind comments, kudos and subscriptions. They mean so so much, I can't ever thank you enough for your support.

Chapter 7

"I really don't get it Tish, why are you making yourself miserable?" Elena asked in the middle of putting another blood red nail polish coat on Morticia's nails."If I were you, I'd already be in his bed."

"I don't have time for love affairs," she remarked stubbornly, which was not exactly the whole truth. The truth was that she was scared to pursue this thing with him any further, she was already emotionally invested in the whole thing more that she was prepared to be. Everything in the universe told her involving herself with Gomez Addams was a spectacularly bad idea.

She knew he liked her - a lot. Yet, there was a stark difference with liking someone a lot, lusting after that person and being in love with them. Passion did not equal love, passion didn't last and she, whether she wanted or not, was in love with him.

Moreover, Gomez's feelings were not reliable, no matter what he said to her, these were just words and she didn't trust those words because his feelings tended to change faster than the direction of the wind. He was unpredictable and, undeniably enticing as it would be if the circumstances were different, unpredictable wasn't what she needed. She profoundly doubted he was a man who could sustain a stable, long-term relationship and his lifestyle more than proved that theory.

Admittedly, he was devilishly handsome, incredibly charming and fascinating but he was also hot-blooded, impatient and restless. He seemed to abhor boredom and chased constant excitement - these were not characteristics that bode well for any relationship. Especially not marriage.

Wait, hold on, what marriage, why was she thinking about him in those terms? What in the name -

"Who's talking about love?" Elena asked and Morticia smirked despite herself."No, I know, I get it but, come on, have some fun. I'm sure sex with Mr Addams must be mind-blowing."

"So the rumour goes,' Michael grinned from above his sketching board."But Tish is incapable of casual sex. She's like me, we're in it for looooveee," he explained, drawing the word excessively."If you don't want Mr Addams, I can take him," he added, winking at her cheekily.

"I didn't say I don't want him...I really love this shade…," she mentioned casually, inspecting her freshly painted nails."I just don't want to get into something that will inevitably end with disaster - for me."

"Maybe it won't, maybe you two lovebirds get married and will live happily forever and ever," he mused and Elena snorted at the very idea.

"Somehow I don't think Gomez Addams is a marrying type," she remarked and Morticia pointed at her with the open palm of her hand, nodding her head as if she was proving her point."Which doesn't mean you cannot have fun together."

"We have fun and then what?" Morticia asked."He gets bored and finds someone else to share his bed with and I still work for his mother while I'm also friends with his brother and I have to watch him gallivanting around with a new woman every month or so...that's a tad awkward don't you think?"

"I guess,"she grinned."You have a point. Unless you agree to handle it like adults."

"Oh? Which is?"

"Tish, don't get into this with expectations," Elena explained."He's a Lothario, so what? As long as you know how it ends and don't get your hopes up for anything more than it is you're fine. Besides," she paused for emphasis."Remember that you can always walk away first."

"I don't have my hopes up," she said sardonically.

She didn't, she understood perfectly well she was in for a heartbreak which didn't necessarily mean she was going to actively pursue said heartbreak with a ferocity of a suicidal maniac.

"Let me tell you something," Elena said with an air of finality."Life is made of small experiences. Good and bad ones. That's all there is to it. In my opinion, an affair with Mr Addams is certainly an experience worth having."

"You never know,"Michael mused."Maybe you're the woman he's been waiting for all his life," he pointed out and frowned in annoyance when both women snorted in amusement."God, you two are so cynical."

"Realistic," Morticia corrected."Fester said their father was exactly the same, even after he finally married and had children, so I guess we can safely assume it's some sort of chronic infidelity disorder."

"And yet, Fester doesn't seem to suffer from it."

"That's because he suffers from a chronic shyness," Elena pointed out."We have known him since what, late October?" she wondered and Morticia nodded in confirmation."And he said like ten words to me in total and barely looks at me."

"Fester is a wonderful man, he's just terribly shy," Morticia defended softly.

"He's a sweetheart,"Elena admitted fondly."But I don't blame you for falling for Gomez though, he's gorgeous and you make a beautiful couple."

"We're not a couple."

"That's not what my eyes saw yesterday, " she pointed out with a cheeky smile.

"Hugh?"Michael head snapped up."What did your eyes see and why no one informed me about it yet?"

"They kissed," Elena grinned."And when I say kissed I mean kisssssed."

"Tish, how come I know nothing about it?" he asked with an outraged gasp.

"I don't kiss and tell," she deadpanned.

"Morticia Frump, I'm so disappointed in you," he scolded and huffed when Morticia dared to smirk at him."Don't you realize that I live vicariously through you? This love affair is so exciting. All the passion, all the feelings, and the evil brother-in-law in a way of it all."

"The evil brother-in-law is actually the least of a problem," she replied, blowing gently at her freshly painted nails to help them dry.

"Yep," Elena agreed."The problem is the prince charming who likes to taste all the pretty flowers in the kingdom."

Gomez Addams spent many nights...actually lately he seemed to spend absolutely all his time wondering what would it feel like to kiss this raven-haired enchantress, properly that is - not the fleeting kiss they once shared, but he must admit his imagination was sorely lacking.

Her lips were much softer than he remembered from their brief kiss all those weeks ago. She tasted delicious, absolutely intoxicating. His mind kept replaying the scene and he analysed every single gesture, every look she bestowed upon him, how absolutely wondrous it was to hold her in his arms, to feel her body against his.

What now, though, what did it mean - if anything and how should he go about it?

Gods, he's never felt such a desperate need to be with a woman, in every possible way. He found himself wishing to know everything about her, absolutely everything. He wanted to spend his life studying this magnificent creature, to love her, to worship her. There weren't enough words to describe how absolutely exquisite she was to him.

The last time he felt so confused about a woman was when he was about seventeen and fell in love with Bar's best friend's older sister but that was different. He was inexperienced and infatuated and utterly unsure how to act or what to do.

Perhaps he was being unfair to that first infatuation but it all felt to him paltry in comparison to the ferocity of the feeling this raven-haired witch has awakened in him. Or perhaps it was in the nature of love that one tended to disregard the past loves and think of the current one as the first. He once even read a poem about it.

Never before, however, was he struck with such a certainty of his feelings as now. He just knew, he couldn't explain it, there was no explanation to this, but he knew. Perhaps it was the most cliché and most absurd of descriptions but he just knew she was the one.

How much easier was it to navigate the relationships he did not care for, he always knew what to say, how to act, how to charm. If he was a cad, a Lothario, a hopeless womanizer his mother so often accused him to be, she would probably laugh how insecure he was about this...what was it even? Not a relationship because they were not in a relationship, they were friends with an almost overwhelming attraction towards each other - how does one exactly define that?

He would describe it as love. Profound, heart-shattering, insane.

Love.

If only she gave him a chance.

If only there was a way to allow her the glimpse into his heart to prove to her veracity and integrity of his feelings.

If he could somehow convince her to trust him, to trust him with her heart, to let him show her that she'll always be the sole focus of his existence, that he will always love her, madly and completely but alas, she seemed utterly convinced she was a fleeting pleasure for him and he didn't know how to show her that she was so much more.

She was everything to him.

There was no awkwardness between them after the kiss or at least she wouldn't call it awkwardness because neither one of them mentioned it, both acting as if it never occurred in the first place and she was simultaneously relieved and disappointed about it.

Of course, she appreciated he gave her space and didn't push her into decisions she was perhaps not entirely ready for and yet she was apprehensive to have the whole weight of the decision placed on her shoulders.

She knew they could just leave it at this one kiss and never mention it again and just leave things as they were, and yet, if she was being honest with herself, she couldn't deny that she absolutely loved kissing him and loved being in his arms so what were exactly the chances of continuing this friendship when she was constantly thinking of kissing him again?

She thought if she kissed him, that night at the restaurant, this need in her would be quenched or at least subdue to some manageable level but that was absolutely not the case. He was addictive, there was no other way to call it. Addictive.

Still, sometimes she caught him staring at her and each time she was taken aback by the tenderness in his gaze. She started to wonder did she too have the same look reflected in her eyes.

"Fine lunge, but your riposte…,"he smirked at her and made a clicking sound with his tongue."A tad rusty."

He practically dragged her from the kitchen, where she was studying since the early afternoon, insisting she needed a break. He claimed she was in a dire need of fencing sparring session.

They probably thought they were being subtle, him and Fester, but she noticed they both seemed to agree to take it upon themselves to make sure she took regular study breaks and just didn't overwhelm the hell out of herself - as was her habit, actually.

She tried her utmost to resist them but, secretly, she found it incredibly sweet and it was becoming increasingly hard not to comply.

"You shall pay for that insult dearly, sir" she retorted, lunging at him skillfully but he managed to stop her making their fencing swords crossed together.

"Not bad," he grinned at her before adding teasingly."For a girl."

"I'll have your head on a plate," she teased and he laughed heartily, ducking and missing her sword only narrowly. She didn't waste time and within seconds there was a sound of his sword hitting the floor and she aimed hers at his chest.

"Ahhhh, straight for the heart," he tilted his head and placed his hand over his heart in a wounded gesture before moving swiftly to place a soft kiss to her knuckles."I guess it's yours now," he added, looking at her mischievously with those half-lidded eyes and she thought her knees might buckle under the intensity of his gaze."Did your father teach you how to fence?"

"No," she replied in a whisper, quite unable to take her gaze off his eye."It was my mother actually. Papa didn't care much for sports unless it's horse riding."

"My father was very passionate about sports,"he mentioned casually, finally releasing her hand and threw the fencing sword to Thing who caught it expertly and placed it back in the stand."And he loved horses as well, he spent a small fortune on horses."

"You have stables?" she asked curiously, quite unable to hide her eagerness from her voice.

"Not here, but we own a stable outside the city," he remarked smiling at the enthusiasm in her voice."Mother is renting it for some riding school since my father passed away. We don't use it often nowadays. Do you ride?"

"I used to, I love horses," she admitted."Papa was adamant we all learn to ride. We lived in the countryside after all. He had a mare, he called her Chestnut and she was a devil of a horse. She's thrown me off the saddle more times that I could count."

"We can go," he proposed tentatively, smiling at her."If you'd like, it's an hour ride from the city."

"I don't even own a riding outfit anymore," she admitted."I haven't ridden a horse for quite some time."

"We can borrow one from the school," he offered."I'm sure mama would love to come as well, she's quite a rider."

"Ok, sure, that sounds like a lovely idea," she agreed.

"Wonderful," he beamed at her." I'll ask Lurch to prepare the car."

She blinked.

"What? You mean to go today?"

"Why not?"he asked brightly, stepping closer towards her.

"It's a bit short notice," she protested."I have tons of things to do, Gomez, I can't -"

"Spontaneous ideas are the essence of life, Tish, live a little," he winked at her and with one last smile he disappeared from the living room before she had a chance to voice any further objections.

The first thought that came to him when he watched his mother and Morticia come to the stables was that he might not exactly think this whole idea through.

No. Actually, he definitely didn't think it through.

Somehow he didn't even consider for a second how absolutely luscious Morticia would look in her riding outfit. The way the riding breeches hugged the delicious curves of her hips and thighs made his fingers itch with the need to touch her and, before he could even consider the merit of his action, he bit his lower lip and turned abruptly from the two women and promptly hit his head into a wooden post separating the stalls in a desperate need to rid himself of the salacious images that assaulted him at the sight of her.

"Gomez," his mother exclaimed bewildered."What the hell are you doing?"

"Hitting my head into a wooden post," he deadpanned.

"Care to explain why?"

"No," he muttered."Not particularly."

Eudora turned to Morticia, perhaps hoping the younger woman could shed some light into Gomez Addams' peculiar behaviour, but in vain as Morticia only shrugged helplessly. After their Saturday dinner date, she was way beyond the point to even attempt to explain the absolutely incongruous being that was Gomez Addams.

Morticia looked curiously around the stables. It didn't look much like stables she was used to and it didn't look like something she would associate with the Addamses - it was immaculately scrubbed and bright, even the brass latches on the stalls gleamed as if they were just recently polished.

"Gomez's father was very particular about stable cleanliness," Eudora answered as if reading her thoughts."He believed it keeps horses on top of their form."

Morticia nodded but didn't reply and not for the first time she pondered about the fact that Eudora never referred to her late husband other than 'Gomez's father' or 'Fester's father'. Her tone was neither jaded nor affectionate, rather lukewarm whereas it was very clear that Gomez adored his father, he always talked about him with great affection and he obviously missed him very much. Fester, she noticed, was somewhere between the two.

How peculiar, that one man could have elicited such three different reactions from his own family.

"You can choose any horse you want, they're all well behaved," Eudora commented."Except this devil here," she pointed to the black mare in the stall next to Gomez."Barely anyone rides her, except Gomez and that boy who looks after her, and me...occasionally, when her majesty permits."

"Indeed, she has a mind of her own," Gomez agreed, finally deciding he found his bearings and came over to the mare. He reached out a hand to touch her muzzle and she came to him willingly, snorting contentedly as he caressed her softly. "It took me quite a while to tame her though."

His mother laughed in agreement.

"It was hilarious," she nodded, turning to Morticia."It took him six weeks to even mount her and when he finally did she has thrown him off the saddle in a flash," she reminisced, eliciting an affectionate laugh from her son.

"Well, she adores me now and that's what matters," he remarked affectionately and smiled at Morticia.

He said it without any emphasis but she couldn't help feeling that he meant it as a kind of metaphor or was she reading more to it than it was? She held his gaze for a few moments before slowly making her way towards the mare.

"She's magnificent," she commented instead. She has never seen a horse that had such a regal air about it, she was indeed lovely, every line of her body emanated with strength, beauty and silent power. Morticia extended the hand to touch her but the horse immediately shied away towards Gomez and all but snorted at her.

"She's a bit jealous," he grinned at her.

"So I see," she smiled back.

Eudora rolled her eyes and shook her head in mild exasperation.

"Come Morticia, let's find you a horse," she decided."We didn't come here so you two could stare into each other's eyes."

The man's stamina was inhuman, he seemed to have inexhaustible energy resources and the level of enthusiasm of a seven-year-old.

After three laps around the vast race course, Morticia reined next to Eudora, breathless, her muscles protesting with exertion and cheeks stinging from the cold wind. Gomez, however, looked as of he just finished a light stroll. Still, she couldn't help but admire how seemingly effortlessly he controlled the mare, as if the horse anticipated his every move.

Moreover, Morticia Frump has decided that there was no greater attention seeker on this planet than Gomez Addams and he was indeed excellent at the task.

"The first time he's done it," Eudora remarked softly, pointing to where her son was showing Morticia how to ride a horse while standing on top of the saddle."I almost got a heart attack."

"I believe you," she replied without taking her eyes off Gomez."I keep expecting him to fall and break his neck any minute," she admitted.

"Heban is used to his shenanigans, she puts up with all kinds of his lunacies" Eudora placated."It's hard to decide sometimes whose more insane the horse or its master."

"That was truly impressive," she admitted when he finally joined them and, to Morticia's utter relief, with his behind firmly in the saddle.

"I thank you," he bowed to her gallantly."I was hoping you find me impressive," he added, smiling at her cheekily and she couldn't help but return the smile.

"Be careful with the horse, Gomez," his mother reprimanded."This girl wins a lot of money for me."

"Mama loves horse racings," Gomez supplied when Morticia's narrowed her eyes at him curiously."She has a gambling addiction."

Eudora immediately snorted dismissively.

"It's not an addiction, dear," his mother countered."It's a hobby."

"Of course it is."

His mother shook her head in a mild annoyance and turned to Morticia who was watching their exchange with amusement.

"It's an addiction when one loses the bets continuously and keeps betting," Eudora explained."I happen to make a lot of money on those bets which makes it a little hobby."

"Mama is very competitive," Gomez prodded.

"Hardly, I merely enjoy winning," she countered immediately and then inhaled deeply, obviously ready to change the subject."Ah, that was an excellent idea, Gomez, we should do it more often," Eudora praised but then winced slightly as she moved gently in her saddle."Although, my behind is certainly not used to riding anymore."

"I was thinking we could ride some near the beach," Gomez offered.

"Oh, no, not me, I'm freezing already, the wind is vicious," Eudora shook her head."You two go ahead, I'll wait in the canteen."

They both nodded and watched her ride away for a few moments before Gomez turned towards Morticia and tugged gently at the reins of her horse.

"Come, I'll show you my favourite spot," he remarked, pointing his head towards the meadows in front of them."There's a cliff behind this field and the view is quite remarkable."

She smiled and reined next to him, she could swear Heban glared at her - she's never seen a horse so jealous of its master.

"You look very content," he noticed, interrupting her brief musings as they rode slowly towards the meadow.

"It feels good to have a break," she admitted.

"A little procrastination is essential," he insisted, grinning at her." I procrastinated all my way through the law degree at Oxford. I was even voted the one most likely not to pass the bar," he admitted, eliciting an amused laugh out of her.

"You like to sell yourself short," she noticed and he frowned gently, obviously surprised at her assessment."You always present yourself as if you can't be bothered with anything serious."

"And you don't think that's the case?" he asked sardonically.

"No," she replied, ignoring his mocking tone."You're smart and opinionated but I think you like to be perceived as the exact opposite."

"Very insightful," he commented."Mama would disagree with that view, she thinks I'm an overconfident rake," he grinned at her.

"Well, one doesn't negate the other," she teased and he laughed jovially at her dig.

The meadows slowly gave way to a mostly barren, rocky terrain, sparsely populated by deep green shrubs.

"It's quite something, isn't it?" he remarked when he heard her inhale audibly.

"It certainly is," she agreed as she watched the vast line of trees stretching for miles, the ocean seemed to merge with the grey, cloudy sky.

"Come, let's sit on the edge," he proposed.

"What about the horses?"

"We can leave them loose," he assured, already dismounting his mare."They won't go anywhere."

He went over to her to help her off the saddle and she smiled at him, amused.

"I'm quite capable of dismounting the horse myself, Gomez," she remarked pointedly, rising her shapely eyebrow at him.

"Oh, I know," he assured, helping her off the horse anyway until she turned and suddenly found herself in his arms and under his tender gaze.

She tried very hard to ignore the warm haze that suddenly enveloped her and this overwhelming need to kiss him again.

"I just like being close to you," he admitted softly, staring at her lips and she realized the same need was coursing through him too but before she could think of leaning towards him, he dropped his hands off her arms and motioned to the edge of the cliff."The view is quite magnificent from up there."

She blinked and almost sighed with disappointment at the loss of his warmth and he smiled at her knowingly, as if reading her thoughts but said nothing, slipping his gloved hand casually into hers and lead them towards the edge. She couldn't help but think that the moment had an uncanny metaphorical sense.

"You like to live on the edge," she teased as they settled on the rocky edge of the rugged cliff and she looked down at the depth and the vastness of the forest.

"My father always said one had to be bold in life," he answered her.

She smiled mirthlessly.

"Not everyone can afford to be bold in life, Gomez," she replied, looking at him intently.

"Why not? There's no safe position in life, Tish, not really," he challenged, holding her gaze."So one can as well be bold and take life on."

"Sometimes…," she bit her lower lip, looking back at the ocean."Sometimes one just needs a safe harbour," she countered.

"One doesn't negate the other," he supplied, deliberately using her words.

"You're not a safe harbour, Gomez," she said pointedly, turning to look at him.

"I can be whatever you need me to be," he whispered with surprising confidence, looking at her tenderly.

She held his gaze and it struck her violently how much she wanted to believe him. She wanted it more than she could articulate.

Is that what all those women felt? This need to believe his lies and his empty promises, because this desire to be with him was more profound than reason, this need defied all common sense. This need that turned out to be their downfall and was now becoming hers. Yet, the mere idea of him was to her intoxicating.

Lies, her mind supplied, even though her hand was already framing his jaw and she leaned closer him. Lies, lies, lies.

She felt his arms around her even before their lips were pressed against each other.

A fool, what an utter fool.

She silenced those thoughts, leaning further into the kiss and moaned quietly at the sensation of his tongue against hers. She absolutely loved the way he tasted, the mere feeling of his lips against hers was enough to dazzle her.

"We should go back," she said half-heartedly but didn't stop kissing him.

"We definitely should," he agreed but curled his fingers against the back of her neck, kissing her again and she went to him willingly, pressing her hand against his chest.

A fool.

What an utter fool.

The market was buzzing with activity. It was absolutely peculiar that most of the shoppers were utterly unaware that between food stalls, hand-made jewellery, pots and utilities of all kinds there were actual witches selling potions and magical herbs. Eudora Addams seemed to be at home here as she purposely navigated her way through the myriad of stalls.

"Here, you see here?" Eudora pointed out at the basket with small, white flowers in them."Look at those tiny yellow dots."

Morticia came closer and narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"What yellow dots?" she asked, she couldn't see any dots, these were all perfectly white petals.

"Look," Eudora picked the tiny bloom and brought it closer for inspection."Tiny, faint, yellow dots, it means the flower was picked too early."

"So the potion won't achieve its full strength," Morticia concluded.

"Exactly," Eudora nodded, obviously pleased with the answer."Now, look at -"

"Aunt Eudora!"

They both turned into the direction of the jovial voice and Eudora squinted slightly in the midday sun.

"Balthazar, darling," Eudora exclaimed happily and waited until the tall, brown-haired man reached them."How lovely to see you," she said as Balthazaar placed two customary kisses on her cheeks.

"It's always a delight to see you," he smiled charmingly and Morticia regarded him curiously.

He was as tall as Gomez, they also shared the same confident mannerism. He was undeniably handsome but, unlike Gomez's, his eyes were startlingly green. She has never seen such a vivid shade of green in anyone's eyes.

All in all, he looked pretty amazing for someone who was supposedly dead.

"Not exactly the place I would imagine meeting you," Eudora smiled.

"Indeed, I was forced to volunteer to help Hortensia with dress shopping for her birthday party," he sighed dramatically.

"Ah, yes, we've got the invitation last week," Eudora nodded."Hard to believe she's already sixteen, time flies."

"And let me tell you my sister's worse than Gomez when it comes to shopping," he added, shaking his head in an affectionate way."She's been fussing over the material for the dress for over two hours now," he complained, making Eudora laugh, before finally turning towards Morticia."And who might this enchanting creature be?" Balthazar asked silkily extending his hand gallantly towards Morticia and placed a soft kiss to her knuckles when she dutifully slipped her hand into his. "My dear lady you're a vision. My heart is all but pierced by a Cupid's arrow at your stunning beauty."

Morticia blinked and turned slowly towards Eudora with a disbelieving look on her face and was about to ask Eudora was this really happening but the older woman seemed to read the mute question.

"Yes," Eudora confirmed." Womanizers, cads with silver tongues every single one of them, except my dear Fester, of course, who's an absolute darling."

Balthazaar, however, seemed to take no offence in his aunt's opinion.

"We merely have a great appreciation for female beauty,"he explained with a charming smile.

"Too great, I would say."

"Surely not a reason to not to introduce me to this breathtaking angel," he bowed to Morticia again."Balthazaar Addams, at your service."

Morticia bit her lips and shook her head in mild exasperation. Was womanizing really some genetic disorder that befallen male species of the Addams clan?

"Morticia Frump," she finally said.

"Beautiful name befitting a beautiful woman."

"Thank you," she replied curtly, trying very hard not to roll her eyes but most of all trying to subtly extract her hand from his but he seemed insistent on holding it firmly.

"You're absolutely bewitching," he said." You must allow me to take you out to dinner."

She almost groaned out loud.

"No thank you."

"A drink then."

"Again, no thank you."

"Ah, a challenge - how enticing," he mused."No wonder my dear cousin is claiming to be too busy for our usual nights out - busy chasing after this beguiling enchantress no doubt. I don't blame him, I must say I have never seen a woman so beautiful."

"You must not go out very often then," she retorted curtly, finally extracting her hand from his, quite annoyed with his attitude. Self-confidence was one thing, blind arrogance was quite another.

Eudora laughed heartily.

"I'm adopting you," she declared, putting her hand on Morticia's shoulder in an affectionate gesture, before turning towards her nephew."Morticia is a new mentee of mine," she explained.

"How exciting," he remarked even though Morticia was sure he actually found it quite opposite."Hard to believe my dear cousin would let such a beauty -"

"He tried," Eudora interjected."He was chewed and spit out and now he knows better."

Balthazar let out a loud, amused laugh.

"Oh, I have to remember to tease the hell out of him for it when I next see him," he declared."It's not often women reject Gomez Addams," he added with a wink directed at Morticia."It only makes you more fascinating in my eyes."

She suddenly found herself scrambling her brain for the spell that turns humans into cockroaches.

"I'm so flattered," she replied in a deadpan manner."It's always been my life ambition to be regarded as fascinating by a man I never met before and it finally happened. My life is now complete."

Balthazar let out an embarrassed laugh before turning to his aunt, who was now wearing a mean, self-satisfying smirk.

"I see what you mean," he told her."I guess I will be happy to leave this particular challenge to my cousin, he happens to enjoy pain while I..." he remarked candidly."I happen to value my self-love way too much."

They've barely exited the car when a gruff voice reached them from the side of the conservatory.

"I bet you can't do it with your eyes closed," Fester teased his younger brother and his lips curled into a mean smile.

"Ha! Challenge accepted, old man," Gomez replied, immediately removing the cravat from his neck and tying it around his head, covering his eyes.

"Look, at them," Eudora remarked affectionately."They're still my little boys."

"Come, Morticia," Fester called."You have to try it, it's so much fun."

She smiled at the raw enthusiasm in his voice.

"I never shot a crossbow in my life," she admitted."I'd probably accidentally shoot you in the heart."

"Even better, I have two anyway," he assured before addressing his brother again."Ok loser, hundred points if you hit the apple on my head, two hundred if you nick my ear," he remarked."How was your trip to the market?"

"Oh splendid," Morticia replied and her lips curled into a blatant smirk." And you will never guess who we've met."

"Who?" he replied carefully, trying his utmost to stay still so the apple wouldn't fall off his head as Gomez took his aim at him with his crossbow.

"Your supposedly deceased cousin Balthazar," she replied slyly.

Gomez groaned audibly and turned to them abruptly, involuntarily releasing the arrow and a low cry of pain followed as he hit Fester in his leg.

"That doesn't count, that was pure luck!" he protested, removing the arrow from his left thigh, barely paying attention to the blood that was currently staining his coat.

His brother, however, didn't even look at him.

"Mama, what on earth," Gomez exclaimed removing the cravat from around his eyes."Why would you introduce Morticia to that good for nothing womanizer?

"Ha! You're as bad as each other," his mother laughed before causally motioning to Morticia with her thumb."He asked her out for dinner ten seconds after introducing himself."

"What a cad!" he exclaimed in outrage."A sinful rake!"

"Pot calling the kettle back," his mother muttered.

"Un mujeriego repugnante!"

"At least Balthazaar almost got married," Eudora pointed out."You however -"

"Almost?" Morticia asked curiously.

"Well, he cheated on his bride on their wedding day," she admitted.

"He didn't," she sighed in disbelief.

"With her best friend no less," Fester supplied, twirling the arrow in between his fingers, contently watching his brother fit of jealous outrage.

Finally, Gomez curled his fingers around Morticia's shoulders and he gazed at her intently.

"Don't let him charm you, he's a liar and a cheat," Gomez insisted."Don't listen to a word he says."

Morticia smiled knowingly and tilted her head, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Speaking of liars," Morticia said pointedly before turning to Fester." How are you going to explain to Dementia that your supposedly dearly departed cousin is very much alive?"

"I don't think that will be a problem, Morticia."

"Oh, and why is that?"

He smiled and motioned casually to his brother.

"By the look of it, he won't be alive for much longer."

Morticia looked into her vanity mirror tentatively. She didn't exactly know what changes has she expected to see between yesterday's night and today's morning.

There was nothing special about turning twenty but it was still her birthday and birthdays by their very nature tended to invite some pondering about one's life.

In one year she would be able to access her inheritance...and then... and then what? There were so many variables to consider. The closer the date was looming the more she realized how complicated the whole thing was.

She didn't celebrate her birthday, not anymore. She somewhat endured with her sister and friend's need to commemorate it because she noticed they felt guilty and awkward if they didn't do something for her on that day which she supposed was understandable, nice even and she tried to appreciate it.

Nevertheless, she'd prefer if they didn't do anything because her birthday now brought so many difficult memories. Her father died exactly nine days before her birthday and the letter came exactly four days preceding her sixteenth birthday and the memories of it were still so painfully vivid.

She remembered holding the envelope, with her mother's name on it, officially stamped and she didn't, she couldn't have perceived the heartbreak contained within it because they often got letters from papa through the consular mail since often there was no other reliable mail service to contact them through.

Yet, she knew, the moment she took a better look at the envelope, it way too thin and her father's letters were always at least few pages long, filled with his thoughts and observations, questions about Morticia's readings and study, how much he missed them and what marvellous treasures he'd bring them.

She remembered her mother taking the letter from her with a knowing look on her face, how her body stiffened and jawline hardened and the simple "your father's dead" was delivered in a calm whisper once she familiarized herself with the content of the message.

She was so bizarrely calm and accepting about it that Morticia initially couldn't fully comprehend the reality of the situation. She read and re-read the message but her mind just refused to accept it. Those few lines that barely filled half a page could not possibly mean what they did.

Her mother didn't cry, she was calm and pragmatic and took care of all the things that were required of her, she called Ophelia and Ophelia decided to come over from States. Her mother told her there was no need, there was no body to bury, there was nothing for them to do, as if her father suddenly ceased to exist. Ophelia's said she'd come anyway.

Her mother was quiet and contemplative but at the time Morticia thought it was quite normal, her mother was always thrifty with words. Yet Morticia was stunned and angry that his death didn't evoke any emotions in her mother.

And how wrong was she.

She remembered the moment it happened, she remembered it so clearly. It was her birthday, after all. This very day, four years ago. Her mother was in the living room, reading through some of the father's old letters, while Morticia was cleaning after supper when her mother's sudden whisper made her body stiffen.

"I don't think he's coming home, Tish."

She remembered how her gut tightened and she swallowed heavily, her fingertips prickling with apprehension before she turned slowly to her mother, just in time to see her throwing all her father's letters into the fireplace and she watched, helplessly, as within seconds they were consumed by angry flames.

And that was the last words her mother said to her. Her last words to anyone, really.

That was their last supper together.

She swallowed heavily and blinked when she heard the faint knock to her door. She took a quick look in the mirror and she was pleased that she looked more presentable than she felt.

She didn't expect anyone to be awake this early in the morning except the staff and she raised her eyebrows in surprise when the door opened and her sister peaked through.

"I have something for you," Ophelia whispered, beaming happily as she closed the door gently behind her."You have to promise to keep it in your room though."

"I promise," she smiled, narrowing her eyes suspiciously but her eyes widened when she saw what Ophelia was holding behind her back. "Oh my God, is that -"

"Genuine African Strangler," her sister smiled, handling the small plant to her." Be careful, it bites. Happy birthday, Tish."

Morticia caressed the petal tenderly and truth to Ophelia's statement the plant tried to bite her finger.

"Thank you, Ophelia, it's wonderful," she said, genuinely touched by the gift and, in an unexpected gesture, wrapped her arms around her sister, hugging her closely.

"You're welcome," he sister smiled."How should you name it?"

Morticia looked at the small, vicious, carnivorous plant for a moment before her lips curled into a decisive smile.

"Cleopatra."

"There you are, finally!"

His jovial greeting reached her before she had a chance to properly get through the door.

"Am I late for something?" she frowned in confusion.

"No, but I've been waiting since the morning," he announced, causally lightning his cigar.

She blinked.

"Waiting for what?"

"For you," he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But...I always come at four on Wednesdays," she pointed out raising her shapely eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Yes, I know."

"So...why were you waiting for me since the morning?" she asked but he only grinned at her obnoxiously.

"You are banned from the kitchen premises," he announced instead."Mama's orders."

"Banned?" she repeated in a half-amused, half-bewildered tone.

"Banned," he confirmed.

"May I ask why?"

"You may," he drawled."But I'm forbidden to answer."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You do realize this is all mighty suspicious?" she remarked, crossing her arms against her middle.

"Why?" he asked, seemingly puzzled.

"Gomez, what's going on?"

"Let's go to the parlour," he said instead."I shall ring Lurch for some tea."

"First you'll tell me what's this all about," she insisted.

"I will," he promised but then he grinned at her cheekily."In due course."

She observed him silently for a moment until finally, it dawned on her that he probably knew, they all probably knew, it was her birthday and she almost groaned out loud. Her hopes of just going through this day without an unnecessary fuss suddenly evaporated right before her eyes.

"Alright," she said softly, careful not to sound too defeated because he was looking at her with such an eager expression on his face she really didn't have the heart to disappoint him.

She allowed him to lead her to the parlour and obediently sat on the pink vintage sofa, opposite the fireplace.

"You must close your eyes," he requested and she looked at him in mild exasperation but decided she would rather not prolong this whole thing. The sooner they get it over with the better."No peeking," Gomez said insistently.

"I'm not," she chuckled despite herself."Promise."

"Ok, stay where you are and keep your eyes closed," he requested.

"Gomez, really -"

"I'll be back in a minute," he interjected and immediately after she heard his retreating steps.

Not a minute later she felt something soft being placed on her knees and she opened her eyes only to be faced with two dark pools, staring at her curiously.

She couldn't help but gasp in delight.

"His name is Kitty Kat," Gomez introduced, placing the cub more firmly on her laps and smiled at her, extremely pleased with his gift, because Morticia looked awestruck. "He's an orphan from Kenya."

"Oh, Gomez, he's just precious," she whispered caressing the cub's head in a gentle manner.

"Well, he's yours, happy birthday."

She turned to him and grinned in unbridled delight. She couldn't believe he remembered, it was something she only mentioned to him once. A passing comment on how she always dreamed, as a little girl, of having a lion.

"Thank you," she smiled at him happily."How did you manage to get him?"

"A friend, the one I've met for lunch in the park that made you jealous," he explained cheekily and sat down next to her on the sofa.

"I was certainly not jealous," she tried to glare at him but failed miserably because Kitty started to lick her hand and she couldn't resist cuddling the adorable cub.

Gomez grinned at her knowingly.

"I can't take him home with me, though," she said regrettably." Jared would go berserk."

"That's not a problem, we can keep him here," he said cheerfully.

She smiled at him gratefully and nuzzled the faint mane of the lion's head.

"Thank you, he's a wonderful gift," she turned to look at him again and her breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze. She just couldn't tear her eyes off him.

"You're wonderful," he whispered. He watched her gaze drop to his lips unwittingly before returning to look into his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to feel those crimson lips against his but he didn't move because he wanted the decision to be hers.

She bit her lips and, before she knew it, she found herself leaning closer to him until their foreheads touched gently and her lips tingled with the need to taste him. She whimpered when she felt his tongue against hers and heard his low moan.

" - make way for the birthday cake!"

They jumped apart at the sound of Fester's cheerful growl and he entered the room carrying a huge birthday cake, followed by Eudora.

"Happy birthday, my dear," Eudora beamed happily."I see you've already got your gift."

Gomez Addams sighed deeply in annoyance. He tried his utmost to make a productive afternoon, catching up on his work but alas -

"Stop chewing at my shoes, you fluffy beast" Gomez commanded sternly, nudging the cub aside with his foot but Kitty wriggled his tail happily and immediately pounced back at Gomez's shoe."Kitty, you will end up as the main course tonight if you won't cut it out."

He could swear the lion glared at him before letting out an adorable little roar.

"You got to work on that, you critter," he smirked.

"Gomez, stop vexing him," Morticia scolded half-heartedly at their antics as she entered the library.

"He started it," he answered petulantly.

"No he did not, did you my darling?" she cooed at the pet coming over to snuggle with him."He's just a baby. He needs love and affection."

"I need love and affection," he muttered dramatically.

"Oh, should I call your mother?"

"Ha ha, he's nothing but trouble," he complained."He was whining under my door for hours until I let him in to sleep on my bed."

She blinked.

"You did what?" she asked, unsure she has heard him correctly.

"Don't give me that look."

"Gomez, that's just so...precious," she remarked softly.

He winced.

"Please don't use my name and the word precious in one sentence," he insisted.

"I could just imagine how adorable you must have looked, snuggled together," she teased, grinning at him.

"Snu.. we did not snuggle he slept at the foot of the bed," he stressed in an outraged tone before turning to the cub."Tell her."

Kitty stared at him unblinkingly before swatting his paw and hit Gomez's cigar causing it to fall on the floor and Morticia couldn't help but laugh loudly, tilting her head back.

"Guess, we're having a lion stew tonight," he glared at the cub and Kitty roared at him defiantly, until, to Morticia's bewilderment, Gomez roared back and Kitty all but climbed on the top of her head.

"Gomez, how could you?" she tried to admonish sternly but failed miserably as Gomez came to stand before her and growled at Kitty for a good measure."Stop it, he's just a baby," she laughed, slapping him in the chest.

"Let's eat him," he proposed menacingly, still glaring at the unruly cub."I will get you a vulture instead, now that's a proper pet."

"He doesn't mean it, darling," she addressed the cub tenderly, cradling it in her arms."Gomez, apologise."

He snorted at her defiantly.

"I'll apologise if he apologises for chewing on my shoes," he declared.

Morticia shook her head in an exasperated manner but couldn't help but gaze at him tenderly.

Sexual desire, intoxicating as it was, she could deal with but this increasing companionship between them, his kindness and generosity were becoming far more difficult to ignore. The fact that they seemed to crave and to seek out each other's company almost unwittingly - that, she thought, in many ways was so much more powerful and definitely more terrifying than lust could ever be.

That, she wasn't prepared for at all.

He decided was a fine testament to his impressive reflexes that he wasn't hit by a flying textbook the moment he entered the library, carrying a tray with a teapot and two porcelain cups.

"I feel like the more I study, the less I know,"she complained, tilting her head against the sofa before adding dramatically."I'm going to fail this exam."

"Nonsense,"he assured, picking up the book from the floor and sat next to her on a sofa. "Let me test you," Gomez offered."Every time you give a wrong answer you have to kiss me," he proposed cheekily making her laugh.

"Forget it," she shook her head.

"On the lips,"he added, ignoring her protests." So better work hard on those answers, question number one…"

"Gomez…"

"In order to achieve its maximum potential…"

"Gomez…"

"How long should the brewing of bewitching potion take?"

"Seven days," she replied promptly.

"Damn,"he exclaimed disappointedly."Correct. Ok next one, what are the correct proportions for brewing the transfiguration potion?"

"Mmmm, 7:9:11 for the base and 7:6:9 for the main component."

"Correct again,"he said sadly, eliciting an amused chuckle from her."What was the name of the first witch to successfully enslave the minister...God, even I know that," he groaned in exasperation.

She laughed at him before answering: "Calpernia Addams."

"Ok, let's try this one... a witch is preparing a three-day sleeping potion, but makes a mistake and instead of producing steam the potion explodes. What was her mistake?"He asked, but this time was met with silence and lifted his eyes off the book only to find Morticia looking at him intently.

"Tish?"He whispered her name and swallowed heavily when she reached out and touched the side of his face in a gentle caress.

"Too much hemlock?"She whispered against his lips.

His heart was beating so fast he thought it was about to burst in his chest.

"Sulphur,"he answered hoarsely, before clearing his throat."Too much sulphur."

"Oh, yes,"she whispered and grazed his lips lightly."Definitely, too much sulphur,"she added and with an inevitably, that he thought only existed in his dreams, pressed her lips against his.

He was so surprised that it took him all of the five seconds to recover before he let go of the book and it landed on the floor with a firm thud. His left hand slid to the back of her neck while the other rested on her hip. He heard her soft moan as she leaned further to the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth and they both groaned at the sensation.

She straddled his thighs, pressing herself against him firmly and heard his strangled moan as she deepened their kiss. She has never known such hunger, such a violent need. She was a fool, undeniably so, but she just didn't seem to possess any strength to resist this - to resist him any longer. She wanted him too much.

She felt him growing hard against her and he broke the kiss with a harsh groan when she ground her hips against him.

"Gods, Tish,"he rasped, his eyes closed, biting his lower lip as he struggled to control his desire for her.

"Look at me,"she commanded and, immediately, he turned his head towards her."I want you,"she whispered before placing a soft kiss on his lips."I want to make love to you, I need…"but he didn't let her finish, pushing her against the sofa and claiming her lips in a such a ferocious kiss it made her lightheaded and she moaned deliciously, slipping her fingers into his pomaded hair.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she whispered and brought him down for another kiss but groaned with disappointment when she felt him getting off the sofa.

"Come with me,"he said, helping her stand up but he didn't stop kissing her before he grabbed her hand firmly and pulled her with him towards the bookshelf.

She didn't even ask where were they going, as he pulled a green book slightly and the shelves moved to create an entrance, for at this very moment she would follow him to the gates of hell and back.

She couldn't stop staring at him as she stood before him in his bedroom, watching him shed his crisp, white shirt. She found his body absolutely beautiful. He was slim and toned, his olive skin glistered in the dim light of the fireplace, it seemed stretched over his defined muscles.

She admired him shamelessly, running her hands across the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen, as he stood before her. She swallowed hard, trying not to think that she barely knew what she was doing, focusing only on her need to touch him, to be with him, to make love to him.

"You sure?" she heard him whisper again, apparently reading into her hesitation, and she looked up to gaze into his eyes.

She touched the dark hair on his chest gently, but then emboldened her hands pressed against the hard muscles of his chest. His skin felt hot against hers.

"I've never wanted anything more than the way I want you," she murmured softly against his lips and felt the blush strike her cheeks the moment the confession left her lips. She kissed him, long and hard and then her hands moved boldly towards his belt and undid it slowly. She was surprised that her hands weren't shaking because her whole body felt charged and her heart was beating furiously against her chest.

She felt his strong arm encircle her waist and he kissed her again, possessively, all tongue and teeth while his hands explored her body and she couldn't help but moan. She felt his soft hand on her tight, and then up to her hips and then he pressed her firmly against his body and she gasped gently at the strength of his desire.

"You're so beautiful,"he whispered appreciatively against her neck as he kissed and sucked at the soft skin behind her ear while his hand caressed her breasts and she felt her head spin at the sensation.

She watched, half-dazed, as he peeled her dress off her body and he followed its trail with his lips and hands, sinking onto his knees before placing soft kisses on her bare stomach. His hands caressed her inner thighs and she bit her lips firmly, her body felt hot, ignited by his touch.

His lips moved slowly towards her hips and his finger curled gently into the silk of her panties before slowly sliding them off her legs and she stepped out of them, moaning his name in a soft whisper as the heat in her groin was becoming unbearable.

She moved towards the bed and pulled him with her until her calves hit the rim of his bed and he lifted her momentarily before laying her on the top of the cool, silky sheets and covered her with his body.

It felt so good, so wonderful to have his weight placed against her, to feel his naked skin burn its marks into her. She framed his face with her hands and kissed him again, slowly and luxuriously before his lips travelled to her jaw and then lower.

She thought it was impossible but he seemed to kiss and caress every inch of her body with such intensity and devotion it made her feel so incredibly beautiful she was shaking with the need for him.

She watched him place hot, wet kisses on her stomach and then on her inner thigh and she parted her lips, gasping softly.

"Oh Gods," she moaned when she felt him flick his tongue against her and she instinctively raised her hips towards him. She thought her muscles might shatter with the sheer need and she whimpered as he pressed his tongue against her. She slipped her hand into his hair, tugging at it encouragingly and arched against him, moaning his name when a weave of such an exquisite pleasure crushed against her hot as lightning.

She was still shaking from the aftermath of her climax when he spread her legs wider and settled in between her thighs and she noticed that he too was shaking. Then he kissed her again, long and slow before slipping into her in one swift move.

She broke the kiss with a sharp gasp and bit her lips into a thin line as the dull tension spread through her groin and Gomez looked at her - startled, before realizations came to him, yet to her relief he said nothing. Instead, he stayed still and she felt his lips against hers, soft, gentle yet demanding as his hand travelled lower to caress her until she was writhing under him with pleasure again.

He moaned then, moving inside her in sharp, forceful motions and she found herself drawn into this sensual rhythm with him, their moans reverberating through the dark space of his bedroom, before the white heat hit her and she cried out in pure ecstasy, arching against him, clutching at him desperately until she felt him tense against her and he cried out her name, pushing deeper into her before finally collapsing on top of her.

Her arms immediately enveloped him, pressing his body firmly against hers, she wanted then to merge into one, he was so close she could feel his heart beating wildly against her chest.

At that moment, in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, basking in post-coital drowsiness she couldn't help but admit to herself - and only to herself - that she was indeed inevitably and infinitely in love with him.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

It occurred to her that it was quite preposterous that they called it losing virginity because it certainly didn't feel as if she's lost anything at all. Granted, she most probably just added more complications to her life but she couldn't find it in herself to care or regret it. She decided to deal with the consequences later, whenever that later might come.

She snuggled closer to him, feeling pleasantly lethargic and couldn't help but marvel how wonderful it was to be with him, how right and so uncanny natural. As if this was where she belonged – with him, in his arms - she blinked, startled at her own musings. Good God, she was becoming a living, breathing cliché.

"You should have told me, "he said gently caressing her bare, supple back.

"Tell you what?" she replied sleepily without lifting her head off his chest.

"That you've never done it before," he clarified and felt her shrug against him.

"Oh, that," she murmured." Why? Would you have gallantly turned me down if you knew?" she asked in an unmistakably mocking tone.

"Hell no," he replied immediately, making her chuckle. "But I wouldn't have pounced at you like a hungry lion," he said placing a soft kiss to her hair and felt her smile against his chest.

"I liked it," she assured him. "You're really good at it. No wonder women chase after you," she teased.

"More like my money," he replied sardonically.

She lifted herself from his chest to look at him.

"You don't think women would pursue you if you were not rich?" she asked propping her head on her hand.

"Certainly not as vehemently," he chuckled, tucking a strand of her ebony hair behind her ear and she couldn't help but smile at the tender gesture.

"I guess money helps," she said tracing the line of his lips with her thumb. "So does being devilishly handsome."

"And charming, don't forget I'm incredibly charming," he said with a caddish smile.

"Yes," she agreed." And modest, no doubt, "she added making Gomez laugh.

"No," he said flipping then both in one swift move, so that she was nestled in his arms under him." I don't even have that word in my dictionary," he added before leaning towards her to place a hot kiss on her smiling lips.

It still felt to him unreal that she was truly here with him, in his bed, in his arms and it was so much more wondrous that he could have ever imagined. He was suddenly sure he will never want another woman in his bed but her, he will never want another woman in his life and he would surely die without her.

"Gomez…," she interrupted the kiss gently." I need to go soon, Tolya will be here in less than an hour."

"Stay," he pleaded against the skin of her neck, placing small, delightful kisses down the column of her throat." I want you to stay...I want to wake you up in the morning in the most delicious of ways."

She moaned gently and slipped her fingers into his hair at the back of his neck surrendering to his soft caresses for a moment.

"I can't," she said regretfully.

"You want to stay," he whispered silkily but felt her stiffen in his arms, so he turned his head to gazed at her." What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied, placing a soft kiss on his lips." I want to be with you," she assured and his body relaxed visibly." It's just...if I stay, he will know," she replied finally but seeing a confusion cross his face she added:" Jared will know."

If she stayed it would be undeniably suspicious. It wasn't in her habit to stay the night anywhere without letting her sister know beforehand and even then she wasn't doing it all that often. Not that Ophelia would make any problems but there was no way in hell she could come up with any excuse to stay the night, in the middle of the week no less, without Jared realizing just where and with whom she's spent the night with.

"So?" he asked." Let him know, who cares?"

She bit her lower lip, looking away from him briefly.

"I don't want him to know," she admitted.

He frowned and studied her intently for a moment.

"Why not?" he asked finally.

"I just don't," she said simply tracing slow patterns on his hips." I don't want anyone to know, Gomez," she insisted.

He looked at her sharply, in fact, more sharply than he intended, but he sure as hell didn't like what she was so clearly insinuating...just what kind of bastard did she think he was exactly?

"It's not in my habit to kiss and tell," he told her firmly.

"I didn't think it was," she assured him, caressing his cheek gently." But it never hurts to clarify the matters."

"What's so bad if your brother-in-law knows?"

"He doesn't like you," she answered bluntly.

"Ditto," he deadpanned." Can't say I care about his blessing."

She laughed gently.

"Neither do I, but he can't know," she said and placed a soft kiss to his jaw." Nobody can know, not yet," she insisted. It was more of a case of not ever but she wasn't interested in vexing him any further.

"Why not?" he pressed again.

"Why what?" she asked teasingly, pressing him firmly against her, eliciting a low moan out of him.

"Tish," he whispered in a raspy voice with a noticeable trace of irritation but there was also an undeniable lust there. She's decided it wouldn't hurt to explore that further in aid to end this conversation that she really didn't care having at the moment. She tried not to smirk when she felt him growing hard against her again.

"I like when you say my name like that," she murmured against his lips before claiming the in such a delicious kiss he could barely remember what they were talking about at all.

He thought briefly that he should not let her get away with this lousy non-explanation but her hands and lips were just too potent of a distraction for him to ignore, let alone form a coherent sentence.

"Do you want to shower together?" he heard her sultry whisper and moaned ardently at the very prospect before capitulating entirely and all but dragging her to the bathroom.

She stopped in front of the door, suddenly hesitant of going inside but then sighed, rolling her eyes at her own silliness. There was no way anyone could tell that she had sex but she felt undeniably elevated. There was this feeling in her that she couldn't quite describe, whenever she thought about him and the most delicious things he's done to her the first time and then in the shower, and then in his bed again. She felt as if her whole being was ignited by the mere thought of him and she wondered if others could see it, was she containing it or was she unwittingly radiating with those blissful feelings that were coursing through her?

She certainly didn't want to raise anyone's suspicions by appearing too happy.

Although, on the other hand, she will certainly raise them if she continues to stand and stare at front of the door for God knows how long, she thought in annoyance and finally pushed the door open.

She barely managed to step through the threshold when the little, pyjama-clad creature collided with her legs and wrapped his chubby arms around her knees before flashing her a toothy grin.

"What are you still doing up, you little rascal?" she smiled at her nephew and picked him up into her arms." Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"No sleep," he shook his head vigorously. "Daddy let me no sleep."

Morticia frowned, slightly confused by his words. It was past ten o'clock, way past his bedtime and she could think of no reason why would Jared let his son stay up so late in the middle of the week but the understanding dawned on her the moment a rather tired and, undoubtedly, irritated Jarred stepped out of the parlour.

"Oh, thank God it's you," he said with undeniable relief in his voice.

Morticia cocked an eyebrow at him and then turned to look at her nephew who looked very much awake and, she just noticed, was happily munching on some candy stick. He must have given his father the time of his life because never, in the history of humanity, could she recall the time when her brother-in-law was thanking any sort of deity for seeing her.

"Katy sick," Charlie explained, referring to his nanny, while sucking on his candy. "Daddy is my nanny now."

"Katy's sick?"

"Some damn food poisoning or something," Jared confirmed, apparently not overly concerned about the health of his son's nanny." Ophelia's at my mother's bridge night and it's Fanny day's off and...he won't go to sleep," he explained.

"Have you been giving your father a hard time?" she asked, quite unable to hide the amusement form her voice.

"Yes!" he exclaimed happily." I never go to sleep again."

"Make sure he goes to bed," Jared sighed in exasperation." I have tons of work and I've wasted enough time," he added motioning to his son.

"You shouldn't have given him sweets to eat this late," she pointed to the sugary treat. "It makes him hyper."

"I didn't ask for your advice, I asked you to put him to sleep," he responded sarcastically.

Morticia was about to offer him an equally tart reply but momentarily thought better of it. It was late and she didn't want to argue in front of the little boy so she chose not to respond and moved in the direction of the stairs.

"Morticia," he called her name just as she ascended the first step and watched her turn to him reluctantly.

She didn't say anything but stared at him expectantly.

"I want to speak to you after you put him to bed," he informed her.

"Can it wait? It's rather late and I have classes early morning," she replied, propping the baby on her hip.

"It cannot," he responded curtly and without waiting for her reply walked away in the direction of his office.

"Daddy upset?" the little voice piped out.

She didn't reply but placed a soft kiss to his blond hair.

"Come," she said instead. "Let's wash those sticky hands and brush your teeth."

"Nooooooo," he whined dramatically, almost falling off her arms.

It turned out that putting her nephew to bed was going to be quite a chore. After the initial sugar rush, courtesy of the late sweet treat, came the inevitable sugar crash which resulted in her nephew crying his eyes out because, apparently, Ophelia bought him the wrong toothbrush, green instead of yellow, and he refused to brush his teeth and then suddenly decided he was hungry and then wanted to drink warm milk from his baby bottle – which Ophelia was adamant he was way too big to use. Morticia, however, was certainly not going to go through a full-blown meltdown at eleven o'clock at night so she capitulated and they both went to the kitchen to look for a baby bottle she knew Fanny was hiding in the cupboard for the emergencies such as the one currently underway.

Eventually, they both settled on the rocking chair and Charlie cuddled on her laps, a bottle of milk firmly between his chubby, little hands.

"New book?" she asked as she picked the book with a blue cover and a tall cat wearing a red and white-striped hat and a red bow tie.

"Nana give me."

Morticia examined the cover and almost winced at the prospect. First 'The Ugly Duckling' and now this. Who exactly approved publishing such awful literature for children?

She sighed and opened the book.

"We looked! Then we saw him step in on the mat. We looked and we saw him! The cat in the hat! "she read, trying very hard not to groan in pain." And he said to us, 'why do you sit there like that?' 'I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny but we can have lots of good fun that is funny!' she looked down to the boy with a pained expression on her face. "Are you really enjoying this?"

He nodded.

"Cat...meow."

Mortcia sighed exasperatedly. There was no way in hell, in any circumstances, she'd ever allow such an awful book to be anywhere near her own children. Not that she ever planned to have any but still.

She turned the remaining pages and peaked on the last page.

"Oh no," she sighed in disappointment. "He lives."

Thankfully, she didn't have an opportunity to read much of the book because Charlie fell asleep not even half-way through this awful, sorry excuse for a bedtime story. She put him in his cot gently, slowly extracting the nearly empty baby bottle before smiling affectionately at the little boy.

Her smile was, however, short-lived when she remembered that she still had to see Jared before she could retire for the night. She could not think of a single thing that he could want from her this late at night that could be even remotely positive.

On the other hand, she really couldn't think what might he want from her at all because lately they generally stayed out of each other's way and so there wasn't any opportunity for any conflict between them.

Well, there was no point to drive herself insane with speculations, she would find out in a few minutes anyway.

She knocked out of habit, even though he was, of course, expecting her and heard his low voice, telling her to come in.

"Sit down," he offered and she was relieved to notice that the sharp edge was almost entirely gone from his voice.

She sat down at the small settee next to the coffee table, deliberately putting some tangible distance between them. She watched him play with his pen for a few moments, clicking it absently before, finally addressing her somewhat tentatively.

"Have you spoken to Dr Richards lately?"

She blinked, entirely surprised by the question. Whatever she was expecting from this late-night conversation it certainly wasn't this.

"Yes, of course" she blurted, drawing her eyebrows in confusion. Why was he asking her that when he knew very well that she spoke to her mother's doctor at least once a week?

"I mean about this new approach he wanted to try," he clarified, obviously noticing her confusion.

"Oh, that," she said and nodded in confirmation." Ophelia is not very convinced we should try it."

"Actually, she's very much against it," he confirmed." What do you think of it?"

"I...I don't know really, I haven't given it much thought since Ophelia axed the idea on the spot."

"Ok," he sighed impatiently." But what was your first thought when he proposed it?"

"I thought it's very risky," she admitted.

He nodded and watched her in contemplation for a few moments.

"It's risky," he agreed.

"You want them to go ahead with it?" she guessed.

"I'm not a psychiatrist," he replied sardonically." But I don't see any progress in her treatment in the last two years."

"It's not that easy, Jared," she defended. "Remember what happened last time when they took her off her medication."

"So what then? Shall we keep her forever in that near comatose state?"

"No," she agreed." But Ophelia is right to be concerned," she added, swallowing hard." Without those medications...," she faltered, unsure how to phrase it exactly." My mother is a witch - "

"I know who she is, no need for reminders," he interrupted sharply.

"What I mean is," she said calmly." That if she wants to do it again, she will and there's no stopping her -"

"Yes, I understand that," he interrupted again, but his tone was softer now." But if that Swiss doctor claims he can help, we should at least try. If we have to pay for someone to watch her twenty-four hours then so be it because, at the moment, I pour all that money into treatment that clearly isn't working."

She swallowed heavily but didn't reply. She suddenly didn't entirely like where this conversation was going.

"What do you want to do? Stop her treatment?" she finally asked bluntly but could feel her stomach churn and her heart beat wildly with apprehension.

"No," he assured firmly." I want results. We can't keep her on opiates for the rest of her life, Morticia."

She breathed out in relief and nodded but her heart still continued to hammer against her chest.

"I want you to help me to convince Ophelia to agree to the new treatment," he added.

She bit her lips into a thin line and considered his request for a moment. Convince Ophelia to the treatment when she wasn't convinced about it herself. There were so many things that could go wrong, so many it made her anxious to even think about it but then, Jared had a point. They couldn't just prolong this whole thing indefinitely, even though he was probably more concerned with the amount of money that went to this treatment. Then again, why wouldn't he? It was his money and he was essentially wasting hundreds of thousands of dollars on the treatment that was ineffective, on a mother-in-law he barely knew. However, if they do go ahead, it's going to cost incomparably more than what they...well, what he was paying now.

"This is going to cost you a lot of money, Jared," she pointed out finally.

"Initially yes, but not in the long term, it's not," he denied." At the moment it seems that I'm paying for a fancy residential care home not supposedly a state of the art hospital."

"You're right," she admitted reluctantly. He was right, though.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the topic of her mother's care was an elephant in the room for a quite some time now. Jared, simply voiced what they all knew and just refused to talk about, because although this current treatment lacked the results, there was one important factor that they all had to take into account – it was keeping her mother alive.

"Well, I'm glad you agree," he commented." But as you yourself pointed out, this is going to cost a lot of money."

She nodded.

Jared leaned forward and propped his elbow on the polished surface of his desk.

"If we go ahead with this treatment, it will cost a fortune. You'll need to contribute," he said and immediately saw her frown in confusion.

"How?" she asked but the moment the question left her lips she realized what he meant.

"Jesus, Mortcia, don't act stupid," he sighed in exasperation. "You know how."

Is that what it was about, to marry her off? She thought in contempt but then immediately realized that no, no it couldn't be. She knew it couldn't because it was ridiculous to even suspect that Jared could have somehow arranged the whole thing. Still, the sheer timing seemed to her ludicrously spot on.

She couldn't help but swallow heavily and suddenly felt nauseous but then had an almost overwhelming need to laugh out loud. She would have laughed if there was anything even remotely amusing about what he's just told her. Still, she had to recognize what a simply perfect paradox her life was. It was indeed a little bit hilarious that every single time life managed to put her back in her place. Just hours ago, she's experienced the most glorious moments since she arrived in this blasted country and yet, here she was again, painfully reminded that it was all just an illusion.

Here it was, this gift of an opportunity to help her mother come back from this constant twilight of existence. Yet, what could be a golden opportunity for her mother will be also the golden cage for her.

What was the choice, though? How can she refuse, it was unthinkable to put her petty desires in front of her mother's wellbeing. If this doctor could indeed help her, they could both return home and could try to rebuild their life, leave this awful country. She didn't have to stay married forever; it was just a matter of accessing the money after all.

"Fine," she nodded." I'll speak to Ophelia, if she agrees then we can...," she faltered briefly." We can go about this other thing."

He smirked, amused by her choice of words.

"You mean arranging for your marriage?" he asked sardonically

"Yes," she said slowly, already standing up from the settee." That."

He nodded.

"I'll have my lawyer prepare the prenuptial contract," he informed. "With over two million dollars in a prospective dowry, it won't be difficult to find a suitor but since the money will be legally his, I want the clause that he'll make at least a quarter of it available for the treatment."

She shrugged.

"Do what you think it's best, I'm not a lawyer," she responded tiredly and moved towards the door. She felt suddenly exhausted.

She wanted to leave this room, she didn't want to discuss the matter a minute longer. Her chest felt so constricted she could barely breathe.

"One more thing," he called after her just as she reached for the door handle.

She turned towards him mutely, patiently waiting for him to continue.

"I don't want you to stay this late at the Addams's," he stated firmly." It doesn't look good and this whole thing doesn't do your reputation any favours as it is."

"What whole thing?"

"Don't play coy, it really doesn't suit you."

"I'm not doing anything wrong," she insisted.

"I don't care," he replied frostily. "You spend there too much time as it is."

"I work there," she pointed out.

"Then work more efficiently," he responded. "Tolya will pick you up from that blasted place at seven-thirty from now on."

"You can't be serious," she let out a mirthless laugh. "I think I can decide for myself what time I want to come home, thank you."

"No, no you cannot," he replied. "Listen to me very carefully. I've already told you that Gomez Addams has less than stellar reputation. The only reason you're still allowed there is that I don't want to give any credibility to the gossips already circulating, do you understand?"

She frowned.

"What gossips?"

He snorted in disbelief and leaned back in his chair.

"Do you live in some fucking bubble, Morticia?" he asked menacingly.

"Apparently," she deadpanned.

He tilted his head to the side and regarded her curiously.

"Do you really not realize that half of this city are wondering how long will it take for Mr Addams to make you his latest victim?" he asked sardonically." We certainly do not want your future husband thinking his wife is Gomez Addams' bed toy, now would we?" he added crudely.

Was that who she was? she wondered unwittingly but shook the thought off immediately. She wasn't anyone's toy and she wasn't going to rise to Jared's bait.

"Good night, Jared," she said instead and pressed the door handle but noticed him smirk nevertheless.

"Sweet dreams," he replied.

He couldn't stand how empty his bed felt after Morticia's left, hence he decided some late night work might be in order.

It was a sound plan, he thought, for he doubted the sleep would come to him tonight but it subsequently turned out that he couldn't concentrate on his work either. He ended up standing in front of the tall window, staring absently at the vast graveyard outside.

He thought...he didn't know what be expected.

No, actually that was not the truth at all. He knew exactly what he expected.

He assumed that, once they'd crossed the line between friends and lovers, they would be...well, together, in a relationship, that he will be able to show the whole world that this magnificent creature belonged to him now, but alas that was apparently not the case at all.

It seemed that all they progressed to was a carnal side of their relationship but that didn't mean they were together - they were merely sleeping together. Paradoxically, once upon a time - in fact, mere months ago he was a great supporter of such arrangements. Enjoyable trysts without any further obligations – what's not to like? Yet now, with a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, a causal relationship was the last thing he wanted.

Actually, perhaps not.

The last thing he wanted was to appear needy, he loathed the very thought of it. Nothing ever annoyed the hell out of him more than women who were too needy towards him and he wasn't about to become needy himself. Yet, and yet he wanted some sort of reassurance from her, that there was more to it than mere lust, he wanted her to need him as much as he needed her.

He shook his head and groaned, exasperated by his own thoughts, if this wasn't the very epitome of neediness he didn't know what was. What a pathetic creature he was becoming, craving this woman more than an addict craved his next dose, he needed her more than he needed his next breath. Even being away from her now felt to him as if he was being torn in half.

Yet, he couldn't shake off the feeling that she was using her brother-in-law as an excuse. Not that she was lying but there was more to it that she was telling him, far more than that bastard not liking him. He couldn't imagine her holding Diamond's opinion so highly or needing his approval.

He groaned audibly and hit his head into the ornamented window.

He needed to be more patient. Surely, she realized they could not go on sneaking around forever.

He blinked when the sudden thought hit him like a ton of bricks.

Unless...unless she didn't think there would be any forever.

Unless she didn't expect this relationship to last.

And that was to him more unbearable than anything.

Her breakfast sat in front of her untouched.

She barely had any sleep but even freshly brewed cup of coffee didn't look appealing today.

"I'm still not convinced it's such a good idea," Ophelia admitted." But Jared thinks we should give it a try."

Morticia winced inadvertently – not because she disagreed with it but because she instinctively loathed the idea of teaming up with her brother-in-law in this little charade. Besides, her sister was not an idiot. She would sense the faux intentions in their united front immediately if they do not proceed carefully, so she stayed silent for a few moments, seemingly considering her sister's words.

"Dr Richards thinks it's a good time to take her off her medication," Jared commented carefully as if he was explaining the matter to her for the first time." They cannot start any therapy sessions with her if she's constantly sedated."

Her mother wasn't exactly sedated but the statement wasn't that far from the truth either. The medication, although necessary, severely decreased her alertness and there was little contact with her.

"I think Jared's right," she said finally and her sister's posture tensed immediately. She could see she was surprised with Morticia's stance on this." She can't get better if they constantly keep her on the strongest antidepressants," she pointed out when she saw her sister frown.

"I think it's premature," Ophelia remarked stubbornly.

"It's been almost two years," Jared supplied. "What's the point to pay all that money to keep her in a vegetative state?"

Morticia felt a sudden wave of irritation at his crude description but then immediately suppressed it because, crude is it may be, Jared had a point.

"Better that way than dead," her sister snapped.

But was it really, Morticia thought involuntarily, was this - what her mother's become - lifeless, uncommunicative, a shadow of a woman she once was - in any way better than being dead?

Morticia knew what her sister worried about, though. If they took their mother off her medication, what was there to stop her from making an attempt to take her own life – again? Locked doors and secure medicine cabinets might stop their usual patients, but were no match for a witch such as their mother. The fact was that the medicine calmed her, decreased her alertness and ability to feel...anything really but kept her alive nonetheless.

"If there's a chance she might get better," Morticia continued." Then we must try."

"We would need to arrange for someone to be constantly with her, Morticia, do you understand that?"

"Then we'll do so," she insisted.

Her sister shook her head.

"Do you two even realize the cost of such care?" she asked, her gaze travelling between the two people at the table.

Morticia locked her eyes briefly with Jared's and he motioned his head at her discreetly.

Her mouth felt suddenly dry and she had to clear her throat.

"We'll use my money," she proposed finally.

"What money, Tish?" her sister responded sardonically." Your money is an ice cube for another year, we would need that money now."

"I know," she agreed." I meant that...other option."

Her sister turned to her sharply and narrowed her eyes.

"Are you insane?"

"Insane because she wants to help her mother?" Jared interjected sternly.

"No, that's not what I meant and you both know it," Ophelia defended fiercely, obviously annoyed at the insinuations. She watched her sister intently." You'll be left with nothing, Morticia. You will lose all the money," she pointed out bluntly.

Morticia only shrugged in response.

"I don't care," she said.

"You should care," Ophelia replied insistently.

"All I care," she responded softly." Is to have my mother back."

She could practically feel all her dreams shatter as she said those words. They all crumbled into dust and perished just before her eyes and yet, there was some strange calmness about it. She didn't have to worry about her exams because it no longer mattered whether she passed them or not. There was nothing to stress about anymore.

"Very well then," her sister's voice interrupted her silent contemplations." I shall call Dr Richards and tell him to go ahead with it."

Michael Covey barely had a chance to go to sleep, or so it seemed. Nevertheless, he was sure it was some unholy hour because his eyelids simply refused to open. He could not be bothered to open them even when he felt the presence in his bedroom. Oh hell, if it was a vicious murderer, he was too tired to care anyway.

"I might have done something stupid," the would-be-vicious-murderer-announced.

"Welcome to the club," he mumbled sleepily. "It's too early to worry about anything, Tish," he added when he felt the bed sink slightly, indicating that she was probably now sitting next to him. Probably, because he wasn't going to open his eyes to check.

"It's seven-thirty-two," she pointed out." You have classes at nine-fifteen and I have been up since four in the morning."

"I'm not going," he announced." Good night."

"It's morning."

"Either way I'm asleep."

"I have slept with Gomez," she said finally and smirked when Michael's eyes practically popped open.

"I'm awake," he decided." Go make coffee, good woman, and I'll be with you in thirty seconds."

Morticia Frump wasn't generally in a habit of confiding into anyone every little thing about her life but she suddenly felt more than a little overwhelmed with everything that was happening. Therefore, she decided she would just need to share this with Michael before she drives herself insane, and she had to admit it felt good to get it all out. The simple fact of sharing this with someone calmed her considerably.

"Wait," her friend mumbled tiredly, pinching the space between his eyes." And all this happened between yesterday and today?"

She nodded and smirked despite herself, cradling her cup of black coffee between her hands.

"You're not seriously thinking of going ahead with this whole getting married idea, are you?" he asked in disbelief.

"Of course I am," she countered.

"But that's insane," he insisted.

"You know what's insane?" she asked sardonically." My mother's medical bills."

"There must be another way," he said stubbornly. "I don't know...play a damn lottery or something."

"Grand plan," she laughed.

"This isn't even remotely funny, Tish," he commented soberly." What about your witchcraft school...what about you and Gomez?"

"Well, I think the school is no longer an option at the moment," she answered simply" I'm not getting married tomorrow," she pointed out." And I'm pretty sure this thing between me and Gomez is probably not going to last long enough to even remotely matter when the time comes."

"So you want to continue this fling with him?" he frowned.

"Why not?" she shrugged." Discreetly of course."

"And is Mr Addams on the same page?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Because he likes you, Tish," he pointed out." Maybe he wants something more of it than a fling."

"Definitely," she nodded." He's probably planning how we're going to name our children as we speak."

He rolled his eyes at her sarcastic tone but smirked at the idea nevertheless.

"You're going to tell him, though, aren't you?"

"Why would I do that?" she frowned." It's nothing to do with him."

He looked at her bewildered, not sure what to make of such a statement.

"There has to be another way, Tish," he insisted.

She smiled.

"It's not the end of the world," she replied.

After all, her whole world crashed around her once already.

All this, it was just another thing to survive, that's all.

Gomez Addams was truly hoping his meeting with Tully would be over by the time Morticia arrived at the mansion but alas, somehow he didn't realize it was already April. April, which meant it was a new quarter and hence the only time he designated for the new business which meant he had two or even three good hours ahead of him. The urge to burst into tears was almost overwhelming.

In the end, he was so eager to just get away from this meeting as soon as possible that he couldn't even extract enough enthusiasm for whatever dear Tully Alford tried to trick him into this time - and he felt really guilty afterwards because Tully tried so so hard. He was Gomez's favourite accountant to date - charlatan, deadbeat, human parasite - what was there not to adore? Yet, Gomez barely glanced at the business proposals, he barely knew what the devil has he agreed to this time. He needed to review all those damn paperwork later because Tully looked way too happy with this meeting.

Later though, much later. He had more important things to take care of at the moment.

Unfortunately, he couldn't take care of any of them when the object of his interest was currently downstairs with his dear mother -

He grabbed the balustrade of the stairs to keep his balance when a powerful explosion shook the house to its core and he coughed, waving his hand in front of him trying to get rid of the vast amount of dust that was suddenly everywhere.

"Hey, prince charming," the voice above him called." Are you going to stand there forever or would you mind helping me out?"

Gomez looked up and couldn't help but snort in amusement, there he was his brother dangling from the ceiling where there was now a huge gaping hole.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked bemused." Catch you in my arms, princess?"

"That would be nice, yes."

"Or maybe I will just let you fall on your a-"

"Fester Addams!" came the angry voice, followed by even angrier footsteps as his mother emerged from the kitchen, a very amused-looking Morticia behind her." How many bloody times do I need to tell you not to play with your toys when I'm making potions...what the hell are you doing dangling from that ceiling?"

"Ohhh, you know just...dangling," he replied lightly.

"Get off this instant," Eudora insisted.

"Yes, mama," he agreed solemnly and let go of the broken wood he was holding into and fell straight into Lurch's arms who, in his usual fashion, arrived out of nowhere.

"Morticia, get some more hemlock from the garden, please," Eudora requested, still frowning at her eldest son." We'll need to start all over again."

"I'll help you," Gomez offered immediately and the two of them disappeared through the door to the conservatory quicker than Eudora Addams could blink.

The trio looked at each other bewildered before Eudora narrowed her eyes suspiciously, staring in the direction of the conservatory.

If those two were trying to be subtle...well, they weren't.

They barely made it out of the conservatory before they fell upon each other ravenously.

"You're insane," she whispered but didn't stop kissing him." Your mother's going to see -"

"Let her know, this is all I could think about all day," he rasped between the kisses and she moaned, wrapping her willowy hands around his neck." I want you so much, it makes my blood boil."

"You're mad," she smiled against his lips, pressing her forehead against his." We can't have sex with your mother in the house."

"Our bedrooms are in separate wings," he pointed out." She'll never know."

"Mhmmm, I think it's not exactly hard to figure out, Gomez."

"Then let her know, who cares," he insisted, pulling her closer. Gods, he just couldn't stop kissing her, he barely knew how he survived without those lips for this long.

"I care."

"She won't mind," he assured." If there's anyone to get a piece of her mind it's going to be me not you," he smirked." You're worried about nothing. I need to see you tonight."

"Oh, that's out of the question," she replied, raising her shapely eyebrow at him.

"Why?"

"It takes over three hours to brew that potion," she said." Which, thanks to Fester, is now spilt on the floor so we have to start all over again."

He tilted his head back and groaned dramatically.

"I'll kill him," he decided.

"It wouldn't make the potion brew any faster," she laughed but then couldn't help but look at him tenderly. She realized that even amid all this mess, just being with him made her feel so good, none of the grim prospects mattered to her anymore.

Perhaps, Elena was right. Life was all about those small experiences and why should she deny herself this when it felt so wonderful. It didn't matter that it wasn't meant to last.

All it mattered was here and now, with him.

Morticia peered over the small cauldron, observing the liquid intently as it bubbled slowly and reached for the freshly picked hemlock before dropping in carefully into the mixture. The potion still bubbled steadily which meant she didn't add the plant too early and Morticia breathed out in relief.

"Very good," Eudora praised, standing patiently next to the young woman." Now what?"

"Wait for the potion to turn green, which should be in about nine minutes if I've done everything correctly," she answered, looking briefly and the wall clock.

"That's right," Eudora smiled, observing the young woman carefully." I'm glad to see you're so much more confident about this."

"You're an excellent tutor, Mrs Addams," Morticia smiled back. She was indeed more confident, she couldn't tell exactly if it was due to her skills or the fact that it just didn't matter anymore really, so the pressure has been lifted and she wasn't worried about mistakes any longer. It was heart-breaking and liberating at the same time.

"How are you feeling about the upcoming exams?"

"Fine," she assured. "I guess there's nothing left for me but to do my best and hope for a miracle," she added, making Eudora laugh but it was uncanny how true the statement was.

"So, just to get it out of the way," Eudora continued casually." Do we pretend I don't know about the two of you sleeping together or do we give up the pretence so you do not need to continue this half-assed attempted at sneaking around?"

Morticia immediately felt the blush hit her cheeks and opened her mouth to reply something...anything but she was just too stunned by the question to even form a coherent thought.

"You could have at least pretended to be oblivious," she remarked finally." Where are your manners, Mrs Addams?"

"I've left them somewhere in the last decade or so," she deadpanned. "That's the privilege of old age, my dear," Eudora smirked." You just get to say whatever you want and the rest of the world has to deal with it."

Ultimately, Morticia decided it was indeed only fair to do her best and try to ace those exams. It was the least she owed Eudora for all her time and commitment, even if it was all for nought at this point.

No one questioned her on the fact that Tolya picked her up much earlier than usual, so she didn't feel obliged to explain it. Hence, her days passed on an intensive study, magical or otherwise, interlaced with even more intense lovemaking.

It seemed to her that the more she was with him the more her body seemed to crave him. Sometimes, actually most of the time, all it took was one look for them to just fall upon each other and nothing mattered then but this heat between them.

It was truly insane.

Gomez Addams promised himself each day to steer the conversation somewhere where he could approach the subject of their relationship but found himself distracted and reluctant to make this thing between them awkward.

Morticia seemed content to just let the things continue as they were, she's never attempted to discuss this thing between them in any greater depth and he found himself apprehensive to start the topic even though it worried him, this lack of definition, the absence of certainty in all this. He was afraid to lose what they had because although this lack of certainty bothered him, he couldn't imagine going back to the time when she wasn't sharing his bed. The more they were together the more he needed her and he was apprehensive that if he pushed her into something, she was not ready for, she would choose to end it and he couldn't even bear to think of such a prospect.

Anyway, did he really need to define this relationship? Did it really need a name? Couldn't he just be content with what they had?

No. No, he couldn't.

He didn't want her for a mere lover, he wanted to claim her, chauvinistic as it might sound, he wanted her to belong to him and no one else.

"Gomez," she purred his name while in the process of placing open-mouthed kissed up his stomach until she was right above his lips." You're too gentle with me," she admitted, biting her lower lip tentatively and watched him raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"I am?" he asked, sneaking his arms around her waist.

She nodded in confirmation.

"You don't need to be so... careful," she added." I wouldn't mind if you'd…," she paused, suddenly not entirely confident to voice her thoughts.

"Tell me," he encouraged

"I wouldn't mind if you were more...rough with me," she admitted finally and felt a faint blush creep up her cheeks but he seemed to be delighted at her confession.

He moaned and flipped them over swiftly claiming her lips in a ferocious kiss.

"Lie down on your stomach," he rasped against her lips.

She complied and immediately felt his hands on her hips and buttocks, caressing and squeezing the soft, supple flesh and she moaned deliciously. He placed a trail of wet kisses against her spine and she's shivered with pleasure at the sensation.

"Go on your hands and knees," he requested.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she did as he requested. She wanted him so much her whole body was trembling.

He slipped his hand to her breasts, then down in between her legs and moaned when he could feel how wet she was for him. He caressed her until she was moaning and pressing against him insistently. He put his warm hand on her lower back before sliding into her roughly and she gasped at the fullness of him, propping herself on her forearms and fisted her hands into the silk bed sheets. He didn't give her time to adjust to him and she moaned ardently when he pushed deeper and deeper into her, digging his fingers into the soft swell of her hips.

"Good?" he rasped.

"Yes, oh God yes," she whimpered.

He pushed into her sharply and the climax hit her so hard she couldn't help but cry out loudly, pressing her forehead against her hands. She felt him withdraw from her and immediately push her roughly on her back before slipping into her again, moaning her name in a low, hoarse whisper before biting into the white skin of her neck, eliciting a delicious groan from her.

"Say it again," she moaned as he pushed deeper into her." Say my name like that again."

"Tish," he whispered and claimed her lips into such a possessive kiss it made her instantly lightheaded.

She slipped her fingers into his pomaded hair and pressed his lips firmly against hers when she felt another release spread through her and her lips parted in a soft gasp.

"I love you," he heard her whisper faintly as she arched against him and felt her inner muscles wrapped around his again so fiercely, he couldn't hold on any longer, letting out a low moan, burying his face into the crook of her neck as he tensed and let his release pour into her.

He looked at her and she smiled at him contentedly but didn't make any mention of what she just whispered to him.

"Gods, this was so good," she purred and brought him down for a kiss." We'll have to do it again."

He laughed and tightened his arms around her.

"You're insatiable, woman," he teased, making her laugh and moved to slip out of her but she stopped him, shaking her head.

"Not yet, "she whispered sensually." I want you to stay inside me."

He smiled gently and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then the tip of her nose until he reached her smiling lips.

"You're so delightful, Tish," he whispered, even though it wasn't what he longed to say to her but she didn't seem to be aware of what she whispered to him in the height of passion or didn't want to discuss it and he, the fool, the utter idiot that he was, allowed those words to fade between them into the post-coital drowsiness.

Morticia sat on the sofa in the library, turning the pages of the book lazily as she waited for Fester to check over her work. It often surprised her that a lot of books in the Addams mansion were heavily annotated, the neat pencilled handwriting sometimes filled the entire margins around the text, oftentimes arguing vehemently against the author.

She often found herself reading those thoughts instead of the actual book. They were interesting insights.

Her father would be appalled though, he hated writing on books. He even disliked when Morticia bent the page to mark her reading instead of using her bookmark.

"Who annotated those?" she asked, pointing at one of the first pages of a battered edition of 'The Cossacks'.

Fester looked up from where he was checking over her biology workbook and narrowed his eyes in contemplation.

"My father, probably," he answered." Or Gomez, who knows, they both have the same habit of scribbling on books. I never much cared for literary fiction myself."

"'It seemed to me that at last I had fallen in love, but then I saw it was an involuntary lie, that one cannot love like that, and I could go no farther;'" she quoted the underlined sentence." Was I to blame that I couldn't go on? What was I to do?"

"That certainly sounds like my father," he remarked scornfully.

"He also underlined this: 'There's just one thing: you haven't yet been in love, and you don't know what it means to be in love.'

"Well, he fell in and out of love continuously throughout his life," he snorted." Maybe that was his lifestyle, devil knows," he added sarcastically.

"Just like Gomez's?" she asked sardonically but winced immediately when she noticed it made Fester uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, forget about it, I shouldn't have said that, I don't know why I did."

"Gomez is not my father," he said nevertheless and the was a clear note of defence in his voice.

She smiled at him gently.

"That's not what you said before," she reminded him and closed the book with a soft snap before replacing it back on the shelf." Anyway, found any mistakes?" she asked, pointing to the open workbook on the desk.

Fester blinked, suddenly sure he should say something, anything but in all honesty, he felt immensely uncomfortable to even think about what was going on between Morticia and his brother let alone talk about it. Whatever they were doing, it was between them and he wasn't interested in interfering in any way.

"Fester?"

He blinked again and looked up at her.

"Just two."

"What?" she groused dejectedly, making her way towards him with an annoyed look on her face." Where?"

"Two mistakes is not the end of the world," he pointed out, amused." You still got the rest of it perfectly correct."

She snorted.

"Mistakes are for mere mortals, Fester," she argued." Last time I got a lower mark than Jenny, eighty-two, she got eighty-three - I almost died of embarrassment. I still can't think about it without stabbing pain in my heart."

He laughed heartily at her admission.

"You're awfully competitive," he admitted.

"I'm not," she denied vehemently but with a clearly detectable amusement." I just love biology, is that so hard to believe?"

A soft knock reverberated through the library and Gomez looked up, from the pile of documents on his desk that was currently occupying him, to see Morticia leaning on the door frame, her black leather bag on her arm and the brown, paper package, no doubt containing various ingredients for his mother's potions, wrapped securely in her arms, a small smile gracing her ruby lips.

He wondered will he ever get used to how enchantingly beautiful she was as his heart started beating wildly at the mere sight of her. God, she looked wonderful. Her long, raven hair was plaited into a loose French braid, some loose tendrils framing her lovely face. Her black, velvet, knee-length dress with long lace sleeves although demure by any standards, clung to her in such a beguiling way it made his mouth dry.

She looked at him with a bemused expression on her face and he realized he was probably staring at her... again. He cleared his throat and mumbled hello to her.

"Hello, Gomez," she replied amused as she made her way slowly towards the mahogany desk he was currently seating behind." I asked if you've seen your mother? We were supposed to finish brewing the potion today, but she's nowhere to be seen."

"She's had an urgent phone call from the Institute this morning, she tried to phone you but your housekeeper said you've already left the house," he explained.

"Oh…," she stated, putting the heavy paper package on his desk and dropped her leather bag on the chair next to her and looked at him pointedly." So it's just you and me, then?"

She watched his face brighten at her words as if that thought just occurred to him and he smiled at her mischievously, throwing his fountain pen carelessly behind him before pushing his chair away from his desk abruptly and, before she knew it, she was in his arms. They wasted no time as their lips met in a hot kiss.

"God, you taste delicious," he groaned appreciatively against her neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin and was rewarded with a soft moan.

"Bedroom?" she suggested, her fingers already popping the buttons of his pinstripe blazer open.

"Definitely."

It seemed they were laying like that for hours, but his breathing was still uneven and their bodies glistened with faint perspiration in an aftermath of their lovemaking.

"I love your hair," his voice broke the silence after a while, his fingers playing lazily with the strands of her black tresses." Sometimes at night, I can almost feel them against my skin," he added and felt her smile against his chest before she placed a soft kiss to his skin.

Morticia looked at the bedside clock and sighed regretfully before reluctantly detaching herself from his warm embrace.

"Where are you going?"

She smiled at his disappointed tone.

"Gomez, I have things to do," she explained." I'm not getting paid for frolicking in the bed with you all day."

"No? You definitely should be," he remarked cheekily, making her laugh." You're quite excellent at frolicking in the bed with me," he added, sneaking his arm around her waist and pulled her back on the bed, eliciting a soft squeak of surprise from her.

"Gomez," she admonished but didn't resist when his lips captured hers in a soft kiss.

"I'm in love with you, Tish," he whispered. Suddenly, the sheer need to tell her was simply overwhelming. He wanted her to know, he wanted to tell her every day for the rest of his life how much she meant to him.

She laughed, shaking her head at him.

"No, you're not."

"I am," he insisted."You are all I think about."

"Mhmmm," she looked at him sceptically, amusement dancing in her dark eyes." That's not love, Mr Addams, that's lust," she teased and brought him down for another kiss." Your reputation speaks for itself."

"No, that was before," he insisted.

"Before what?" she asked in an amused tone nipping at his jaw.

"Before you," he whispered passionately against her lips before capturing them in another ravenous kiss. "I love you," he whispered tenderly and was slightly annoyed when she laughed again and rolled her eyes on him.

Fine, he knew his reputation wasn't exactly pristine but didn't she realize how special she was, how wonderful?

"You're so exquisite, Tish," he said, caressing her cheek tenderly." I want to marry you."

She let out a loud hearty laugh then, tilting her head back.

"Dear God, what came over you today?"

"I'm serious," he said softly."I want to marry you. Let's get married, Tish."

She laughed again, her hands framing his face.

"Gomez, you don't have to say those things," she assured."I don't expect them and I don't want them."

"I mean them," he insisted." You don't believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you," she smiled and kissed him softly." I believe that you think you're in love with me," she teased, but then she licked her lips before continuing in a more serious tone." Until another woman comes around and then you'll be in love again," she pointed out but there was not a trace of malice in her voice, just an acceptance, he realized, as if she was already convinced that this was the scenario they were heading for and he couldn't help but feel offended that she thought so little of his feelings for her.

"No," he interjected, more sharply than he intended, before capturing her hand and placing a firm kiss to her knuckles."No, Tish. There will never be another woman but you."

She smiled at him and caressed his face gently.

"Ok, Gomez," she said softly."But I really need to go and finish the work for your mother. I promised my sister to be home early today, they're having a soiree tonight," she explained, deliberately changing the topic and pushed him gently off of her, getting up from the bed and started picking up her clothes from the floor.

He could tell there was little he could do at this point, she obviously had her mind made up about him. He will have to find another way.

"A soiree?" he asked curiously.

She nodded.

"Jared's business associates," she explained.

"Why do you have to be there?"

"Jared wants me to be there," she replied simply as she put on her underwear and reached for her dress.

"Why?"He asked again reaching for his cigar.

"It's probably another business dinner combined with a not so subtle attempt to introduce me to another prospective suitor," she said casually and slipped into her dress gracefully, before coming over to him and sitting next to him on the bed with her back turned." Help me with the buttons, please."

He put his cigar away in a crystal ashtray and leaned towards her, placing a soft kiss on her lower back before doing the long line of buttons for her.

"Prospective suitor?" he repeated in what he hoped was incredibly causal tone. He didn't like what she was telling him one bit." How many were there?"

"Oh one or two, perhaps four but who's counting?" she replied sardonically, before turning her head to him."You're done?"

He nodded and she smiled, leaning closer for a kiss.

"Thank you," she said softly and was about to stand up, but he grabbed her arms gently to keep her in place and she looked at him questioningly.

"He can't just marry you off, Tish," he said insistently, his forehead creasing in a frown and she looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. He noticed her lips move briefly as if she wanted to tell him something but thought better of it and her hand went to caress his cheek softly instead.

"Marry me off?" she repeated mockingly." What a crude term."

"You know what I mean," he said pointedly.

"No, of course, he can't," she replied dismissively, but the look on his face told her that he's not going to let her go until she gives him an answer he deemed satisfactory."I really don't understand why are you getting so vexed about it, it's just a soiree."

"Oh, should I be happy that your brother-in-law is planning to arrange a marriage for you?" he asked sternly.

He noticed her eyes spark with anger, she clearly didn't appreciate his tone and was about to make it very clear to him.

"Look, it doesn't matter and it's really none of your concern," she said instead, deliberately adding frost to her tone, but to her dismay, he only let out a mirthless chuckle.

"You're trying to make me angry" he concluded and the look in her eyes told him he was right."It's not going to work."

"I don't know why are we even talking about it?"

"Why not?"He challenged before adding in a hurtful tone: "You can open up to my brother, but you never tell me anything."

"What I tell Fester is none of your business," she said calmly but snatched her arm away from him with surprising swiftness.

"Why do you have to be so bloody stubborn?" he lashed out, getting off the bed abruptly and grabbed his robe, putting in on angrily.

"That's also none of your business."

"God damn it, Tish," he hissed but forced himself to take a deep breath and continued in a gentler tone:" I just want to be there for you, is it such a bad thing?"

She, however, would have none of it. She slipped her shoes on all the while watching him and came to stand in front of him so close he could smell her perfume.

"Alright, let me make this crystal clear for you," she said menacingly and smiled when she saw his body twitch with repressed anger, so she pressed on."If you think that just because we sleep together gives you the right to interfere with my life, I can't even begin to tell you how mistaken you are."

She half expected him to storm off away from her as he had last time, but to her surprise, he's done no such thing. Instead, he looked at her with a look of such utter surrender and helplessness she almost gave in, her fingers itched with the need to touch him.

"You know when you feel vulnerable, your tongue cuts like a sword," he said, remembering similar expression Fester used to describe her when he confessed in his brother.

She looked up at him and licked her lips before saying softly: "I'm sorry…I didn't want to argue but I...I really have a lot of work to do and it's already late."

He nodded, but his hand went to her cheek in a gentle caress.

"You will drive me insane, cara mia," he said softly.

She smiled, then repeated the Spanish endearment slowly, as if tasting it on her tongue.

"Cara mia...that's nice, I like the way it sounds."

"You will always be cara mia," he promised.

She smiled at him, but he could see she thought nothing of his declaration.

"I need to go."

If there was one thing in life Morticia Frump couldn't stand it was the ostentatious, half-witted morons her brother-in-law was doing business with. She understood that business was business and he often couldn't really do anything about who to do the business with but it seemed to her that nowadays all his business associated consisted mainly of aforementioned half-witted idiots.

"I fear we're probably boring your pretty head to death with all that political talk, aren't we mademoiselle?

In her opinion, Michel Chalon came as close to the above description as one could.

"Oh, not at all, Monsieur," Morticia smiled sweetly." What's more fascinating to my pretty head than a group of privileged, rich men discussing the condition of the working class?"

She could practically feel Jared's irritation project from across the long table but Michel laughed heartily at her answer.

"Ah, Jared, where you've been hiding this delightful cheri?" he addressed his host jovially.

"My sister-in-law is rather an opinionated little thing," Jared supplied, glaring straight at her.

"Indeed," Michel turned towards Morticia again." You disagree with our theory, mademoiselle?"

"Hardly, but what people born into privilege can know of the struggle of the working class?"

"Very socialist point of view," he snorted but still nevertheless amused.

"Hence, by default, incorrect?" she challenged.

"I'm not a supporter, I admit," he smiled at her."Too utopian, I'm afraid."

"It's because we make it so."

"Do we?"

"Socialism works when one's main concern is the good of the many rather than the privileged few," she said confidently.

"By isn't it the very essence of an American dream that the great wealth can be achieved by hard work?" he challenged." It's not a government job to nanny its people."

"Pretty words when so many of America's wealthiest achieved their great wealth by exploiting the most vulnerable," she replied pointedly.

Michel clasped his hands together in a delight.

"You talk exactly like my little Madeline," he laughed good-naturedly." My daughter always argues with me, she thinks my wealth blinds me to the realities of everyday life."

"Perhaps, she has a point," she remarked.

He laughed again.

"Oh, Jared," he turned to her brother-in-law." You must all visit us this summer in our Château, I would love my Madeline to meet Morticia, I tell you they could be sisters," he insisted.

"Oh, we would love that," Jared agreed. "Wouldn't we, Tish?"

She met his pointed gaze across the table before turning back to Michel.

"I would be delighted," she smiled." She sounds like a wonderful person."

She resisted looking at the wall clock but was pretty sure a thousand years in purgatory was less exhausting than this absurd dinner.

She noticed her sister approach her with a tall, moustached man who, she observed, sat rather moodily throughout almost entire dinner, barely exchanging few words with anyone.

"Francois, I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to introduce you to my younger sister," Ophelia said warmly, which Morticia thought was rather over-acted since Ophelia was still annoyed with her for being late to the soiree. She wasn't technically late but she wasn't on time either because Gomez ended up coming to see her in the kitchen, to make sure she wasn't cross with him and well, needless to say, she's lost track of time. "Morticia, this is Francois Chalon, Michel's oldest son."

"My condolences," Morticia said politely, extending her hand and watched him place a quick kiss to the soft skin on the back of her hand. "I admire your guts admitting being related to such a pretentious buffoon."

"Thank you," he grinned." Not many people understand my daily struggles."

She blinked, entirely taken aback by his response but then her lips curled into an amused smile.

"You must forgive my sister, Francois, she was taught manners by a pack of wild boars," Ophelia deadpanned.

"That's true," Morticia admitted." I had a grand time, though."

"You don't mind keeping Francois company, do you Tishy?"

"No, not at all," she smiled." I can teach him all my wild boar manners."

"You're a darling," her sister replied and blew her a solitary kiss before promptly turning on her heel and returning to her husband.

Morticia resisted the urge to groan out loud.

"As enchanting as her older sister," Francois said with a charming smile."What an unusual name, Morticia."

"Thank you, my father gave it to me," she replied succinctly.

"It suits you perfectly."

She couldn't help but smile as he looked at her with those deep, cobalt blue eyes. There were sincerity and kindness in them she seldom saw in Jared's business associates.

"I liked what you said to my father," he admitted." Not many people stand up to him."

"Including you?" she asked knowingly.

"I must admit to being guilty of that as well," he laughed self-consciously."He's very stubborn in his views."

"So I noticed."

"But he likes you," he smiled at her." He likes when people stand up to him. Women especially, he finds it..." he faltered, as if unsure he should continue.

"Adorable?" she supplied in a deadpan manner.

"Indeed," he confirmed." This is a beautiful dress," Francois complemented, looking at Morticia's long, black gown with spider web sleeves she was wearing.

"My brother-in-law thinks otherwise," she replied with amusement.

"Ah, but then I don't think he'd approve of anything that falls...what's the expression...a hair's breadth out of the officially established decorum," he replied knowingly and was pleased when his reply elicited a soft laugh out of her.

"You're a good judge of character, Mr Chalon."

"Also an excellent fencer," he added and she laughed again."And you are beguilingly refreshing sight, Miss Frump."

"Morticia," she found herself saying before she could stop herself.

"Morticia," he repeated."Then you must call me Francois."

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you all very much for kudos, subscriptions and all the lovely comments - I really appreciate it and cherish it all. Here's chapter 9, hope you'll enjoy.

  CHAPTER 9

Family businesses were peculiar things, Jared mused silently as he observed his companion reading intently through the agreement of the business deal they were about to sign, especially family businesses that run into generations.

On one hand, one appreciated the comfort and advantages of coming from a wealthy family and on the other one could not help but feel like a prisoner of his family's success. How peculiar, that despite all the advancement of the modern world, they were all still very much trapped in the ancient conventions.

There was no option, for example, for Jared not to get into business with his father or well, at least no one has ever mentioned any other option. No one ever asked him what would he liked to do, who to become, what to do with his life. It has all been essentially preordained for him.

The only choice he felt he ever made for himself was marrying Ophelia. He was absolutely enticed how unusual she was. She was like no one he has ever met - an enchanting, free-spirited girl with daisies in her hair - he was instantly smitten. Was being an operative word. There was no longer anything unusual about his wife and it was his fault, he knew that.

It was all so wonderful when they were living together in Paris, just the two of them with no care in the world. He missed that time, the parties that went on until the early hours of the morning, all the interesting people they were surrounded by, the whole bohemian atmosphere of that time.

He even loved how different Ophelia's family was, from her larger than life father to her sullen little sister. He had never met a man more fascinating that his late father-in-law, there seemed no boundaries for him, no obstacles - the world just bent to his will. It seemed only befitting that his wife would be equally unusual. Except it never occurred to him that she would be a witch.

A witch, a real spell casting, potion brewing witch. A witch. Witches, all three of them.

He still remembered vividly the first time Ophelia used a spell - a simple one - to light up the candles on the dinner table. It all felt so enchanting, bizarre and almost intoxicatingly refreshing. This life was so different from what was waiting at him at home and he enjoyed every minute of it.

Until they came to live in America and the spell broke, so to speak. Until he took his wife here and saw for the first time just how different Ophelia was from anyone else he knew here. How everyone stared at her daisies, how peculiar her behaviour was outside the spectrum of their life in Paris.

And suddenly it didn't feel to him enchanting anymore, it was mortifying.

He still could recall the look his mother-in-law gave him when she saw Ophelia at the airport when they all came to America to visit them. She didn't make a single comment about the absence of daisies, as if she knew, as if she expected it to happen and was merely proven right.

It was that look that nowadays he so often saw in Morticia's eyes. It was uncanny how similar she was to her mother - not visually, because Morticia looked nothing like Hester Frump, it was Ophelia who was a mirror image of her mother. Yet it was Morticia who carried the same silent power, the same piercing gaze - and he hated that gaze more than he could put into words. This constant reminder that he caved in, that he was a coward who didn't have guts to live his life on his own terms and he forced his wife to subdue to that as well.

And she did. Gone were the daisies but with them, it seemed, also the girl he fell in love with. He still loved her, he couldn't imagine being married to anyone else but he wasn't in love, and being in love made all the difference. He wasn't in love because that enticing spark was gone and so he often looked for that spark somewhere else, outside the bounds of marriage, because sometimes he looked at his wife and couldn't stand how...normal she became. Even though, it was for the better because the alternative was to him unthinkable.

"This is certainly a deal of mutual benefit," Francois commented, taking a sip of his brandy."Father will be very pleased."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that," his companion agreed."I hope to see him still before you leave back home. How unfortunate that he was taken ill on this trip."

"Certainly," Francois nodded." Ah well, my father has little regards for his health, his doctor advised him against flying because of his blood pressure but he paid no mind."

"What did the doctor say?"

"He needs to rest and take his medication," Francois replied."He should be fit to fly back to France in time but I don't think he will be making any more trips overseas."

"More travelling for you," Jarred supplied with a sympathetic smirk.

"Well, perhaps all for the best," Francois smiled furtively, taking a pen from the inside pocket of his blazer but then suddenly hesitated." Actually, I wanted to speak to you about a certain matter."

"Oh?"

"It's not business related," he assured, sensing a slight discomfort in the other man."Your sister-in-law."

Jared frowned in confusion. This was certainly not what he expected.

"What about her?"

"She's a fascinating girl," Francois replied admiringly."I'd like to get to know her better, with your permission of course."

Jared couldn't help but laugh loudly.

"Are you serious?" he asked, highly amused.

"Why not?" his companion asked."She's smart, charming and very beautiful."

"She's untamed, insolent and headstrong," Jared countered."She will eat you for breakfast."

"All the better," he smiled." I abhor meekness in women."

Jared laughed heartily again.

"Francois, she's more trouble than she's worth, trust me, "Jared replied sardonically."She's a constant battle, this one."

"Let me be the judge of that," he countered.

Jared shook his head in amused disbelief. He watched the man for a few moments. He could not imagine his sister-in-law falling for someone like him. He was handsome, alright, but just too...tamed for her. Although perhaps tame was exactly what she needed, she could certainly use some taming herself. He might be a good influence on her.

Not to mention, Jared would certainly appreciate being related to one of the wealthiest families in France and their connections to the tough French market his father was trying to access for years.

They had to arrange for marriage for Morticia quite soon anyway, very soon actually, and this was a truly two-birds-one-stone opportunity. If this fellow liked her so much, God only knows why, all the better.

"By all means, "Jared agreed with amusement."But so that you won't tell me later that I didn't warn you, she'll drive the hell out of you, mark my words."

"Your mother took all my books away and forbade me to study a minute longer," Morticia complained, entering the living room where Fester was working on his latest project and he looked up at her, regarding her with an amused smirk.

"Good, you're overdoing it anyway," he supplied."Your exam is in three days -"

"Please don't remind me," she groaned and sat at the chair next to him.

"You won't learn anything more than what you already know," he pointed out and hissed sharply when the device short-circuited, sending the sparks flying."You're as prepared as you can be," he added and laughed when she groaned and flopped dramatically against the table.

"Where is Kitty?" she asked, propping her head on the pillow of her hand. She decided it was best not to think about the upcoming Monday exam, even though there was little else she could think about but Kitty was a cute distraction nevertheless.

"Probably chewing on Gomez's shoes," Fester snickered, eliciting a gentle snort out of Morticia.

Apparently, her precious pet was determined to rid Gomez Addams of all the shoes in his possession.

"Speaking of, were you aware that your brother wears shoes worth almost ten thousand dollars?" she asked." A pair of shoes. Is he insane?"

"Yeah, he likes fine things, expensive taste," he agreed, looking through the attached to the table large magnifying glass."Whereas I wore the same shoes for fifteen years, Gomez spends over four thousand dollars a month on his cigars alone," he remarked fondly.

"How can you afford him?" she teased.

"We probably can't," he laughed."Which is why he is currently out in the business meeting and I'm having fun."

Morticia smiled and nodded at him before narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"What is this, exactly?" She asked pointing to the complicated device on the table.

"A gift for Dementia," he smiled."An explosive device."

"An explosive device," she repeated slowly, raising her shapely eyebrows in mild surprise and watched him nod at her eagerly."Sure, I guess you can say it with flowers or...with a hand-made explosive device."

"Exactly," he smiled." Can you hand be the protective goggles?" he requested, pointing to a case with tools in the desk.

"Everything well between you and Dementia?" she asked tentatively, handing him the goggles.

"Sure, why?"

"It's Thursday afternoon," she pointed out but when he turned towards her with a confused expression on his face, she clarified further."You're usually at the library."

"Ah, well yeah...we've decided to you know…," he faltered, looking for the right word."Cool it."

Morticia blinked.

"Cool it?" she repeated, not quite sure she understood him correctly.

"Yeah, cool it," he confirmed slowly without stopping his work."We've decided things were progressing way too fast, it was a bit overwhelming. We have to slow down and just let the things settle."

Morticia's eyes widened as if he just told her he decided to become an orthodontist and move to the suburbs.

"Fester, you've been staring at that girl for months," she reminded him." You went out for a coffee a few times and once we all went to dinner, just how much slower can you actually take it?"

"Slower than you and Gomez," he teased good-naturedly and laughed when she punched him in the arm.

"Ha ha," she rolled her eyes but smiled, nevertheless, before getting up from her chair."I better go check if Kitty hasn't devoured all of Gomez's shoes."

Fester snorted in amusement.

"Plenty to devour on," he replied, zapping another cable in the process."You and I combined probably have fewer clothes than Gomez."

"That's probably entirely accurate," she smiled."Still not the reason to spoil Kitty, I'm determined to teach him good manners."

"Ha! Good luck."

Morticia was about to make her way out of the living room when the front door creaked open and a very irritated Gomez Addams stepped in, ubiquitous cigar in one hand and a leather briefcase in another.

"Tough day?" she teased, leaning against the doorframe, and watch him turn towards her, his vexed expression melting away instantly at the sight of her.

"It's about to get better," he replied cheekily and smiled as he approached her, throwing the briefcase carelessly on the floor and his arm immediately encircled her waist."Hello," he greeted her and promptly placed a firm kiss on her lips before she could voice any protests. He knew she didn't feel entirely comfortable with being affectionate with him when others were present but God, he had a such a hellish day (and not in a good way) the only thing that kept him from killing someone was the thought that he'll be able to forget all about it in her arms.

She was about to point out to him that his brother was mere two feet away from them but the moment she felt his lips on hers, he was the only thing on her mind and she wrapped her arms around his neck, surrendering into the delicious kiss.

"Don't mind me, you two," came Fester's gruff voice but he barely looked at them. He generally refrained to even think about the fact that his brother and his very best friend were having an affair but he was slowly getting used to that. In fact, he recently decided that he would absolutely love if Morticia was to become his sister-in-law, she was already a family to him. He was secretly hoping things were going in this direction. His brother certainly seemed over his head for Morticia.

"We don't," Gomez murmured against Morticia's lips, apparently not eager at all to interrupt their affections.

"We do," came Morticia's amused reply as she pushed him back gently."Later," she promised and laughed at his defeated growl.

"How did your meeting go?" Fester asked.

"I was bored out of my mind," Gomez groused, linking his hand with Morticia's and led them to the vintage sofa opposite the table where Fester was working. "I'm starting to regret we bought those shares in the first place."

"Give him time," Fester placated, quite surprised at his annoyed attitude. His brother was usually very forgiving, even indulging, to their business associates, which told him that perhaps there was something else on his mind that got him so vexed."He may bounce back."

"No time in the world will save that pitiful excuse -" he started to complain when suddenly felt a set of small claws digging into his calf and sighed in exasperation." Kitty, you insane ball of fluff," he remarked in a mock-annoyance, shaking the cub off his leg and tried to nudge him away but Kitty, in his usual insufferable manner, started to bite at his shoes.

"Kitty!" Morticia's scolded in a soft yet undeniably stern voice the lion immediately sat obediently next to Gomez and roared happily at his mistress." I saw what you did, you naughty boy."

"Can we put him in a stew now?" Gomez asked menacingly and, unsurprisingly, was rewarded with a swat on his chest from Morticia.

"See, this is why he keeps doing it," Morticia remarked, picking the cub and placing him on her laps." You're constantly threatening to put him in your mother's stew."

"It doesn't have to be mama's stew," Gomez assured. "Any stew will do."

"He doesn't mean it," Morticia assured the pet, gently rubbing Kitty behind his ears.

"I do so," Gomez insisted, his words muffled by the cigar between his teeth."I'm telling you he would be a delicious dinner," he remarked and laughed when Morticia covered the cub's ears and glared at Gomez.

"I know you secretly find him cute and adorable," she insisted, grinning at him and kissed Kitty's faint mane affectionately.

Gomez immediately snorted at her insinuations.

"I don't even have such pansy words in my dictionary," he replied in a mock-offence.

"Kitty peed on Gomez's shoes this morning," Fester revealed gleefully." Mama almost died laughing."

"It's not funny, Tish," Gomez glared at her when he noticed her biting her lips together in an obvious attempt to prevent herself laughing.

"I know, I'm not laughing," she assured but then promptly laughed anyway. "He wouldn't do it if you were nicer to him."

"I am nice to him," he insisted but then tilted his head and massaged his neck tiredly."Let's go play with the crossbow," he proposed.

"You two go, I want to finish this," Fester replied, focusing closely at the two wires that were currently sticking out."It's high time Morticia learnt how to use a crossbow anyway," he added, looking at his friend pointedly."I can't believe you never got a crossbow for Christmas as a child. If that's not child neglect, I don't know what is."

"Focus on your target," Gomez reprimanded in a mock-exasperation when Morticia grazed gently at the skin of his neck. His hands rested gently on the curve of her hips as he stood behind her, making sure her posture was just right.

"Isn't that what I'm doing?" she asked, turning towards him again and batted her eyelashes coquettishly.

"Sex, sex, sex," he muttered teasingly against her lips." Is that all you think about?"

She laughed, turning towards him fully and abandoned the crossbow on the next to her on the barren ground.

"Actually, lately," she whispered, fisting her fingers into his shirt." Yes," she purred, capturing his lips in a playful kiss and was pleased when he let out a low growl and pulled her closer to himself. Still, he was really tense today, his business meeting must really have gone in a less than spectacular manner.

"Tish," he whispered softly.

"Gomez," she replied in kind.

He smiled at her playfulness and kissed her again slowly and tenderly but then looked at her inquisitively for a few moments.

She narrowed her eyes slightly and regarded him curiously.

"Are you ok?" she asked with evident concern and caressed his cheek gently."You're very tense today."

"Who's Francois Chalon?" he asked suddenly and watched her frown, obviously taken aback by the question.

"He's one of Jared's business associates, why?" she answered and cocked her eyebrow at him in surprise.

"So you know him?" he inquired, watching her intently.

"Yes," she confirmed slowly." I do know him."

She could practically feel him tense even further but didn't really know what to make of this sudden question.

"And how well do you exactly know each other?" he asked with surprising sharpness.

She immediately glared at him frostily.

"I'm not sure I appreciate your tone," she replied stiffly and detached herself from his embrace."Or your insinuations."

"I apologise," he said in a tone that suggested he wasn't very apologetic at all." You see, the rumour has it that he has some serious plans towards you," he explained firmly, watching her closely."Something you want to tell me, Tish?"

She stared at him in disbelief, both at that he was telling her and the hidden accusation behind his words and she felt growing increasingly angry.

"Do you really think that I would cheat on you behind your back, Gomez?" she asked bluntly with such hurtful anger in her voice that his posture immediately softened.

"No," he replied uncomfortably."I don't, but such gossips do not come out of thin air, something must have prompted it," he pointed out.

"I have met him at the soiree two weeks ago," she retorted frostily. She had no idea where such gossips could have originated from but she doubted it was from a Francois himself. He just didn't seem the kind of man who would spread stupid rumours, especially when he was probably aware that she would not appreciate it.

"The soiree where your dear brother-in-law was looking for a suitor for you?" he scoffed."I guess he was quite successful then."

"If you insist on talking to me in that tone then we might as well end this conversation and come back to it where you don't behave like an ogre," she informed him and turned to make her way back to the house but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. She looked at his fingers, curled around the pale skin of her wrist and glared at him."Let go of me."

"What's going on, Tish?" he asked insistently but his tone was no longer mocking, rather he looked like he was dreading the answer."Because I would rather find out from you."

Her hostile posture relaxed immediately at his implication and she shook her head, coming closer to him.

"Gomez no, it's nothing like that," she assured, framing his face between her hands." There's no one else, I swear," she kissed him softly and if to prove her point but his body language barely relaxed at her words.

"Who is he to you, Tish?" he asked tensely as his hands rested softly on her hips.

She shrugged.

"No one. I've only met him two weeks ago," she repeated."I saw him once at that soiree and once we went to an art gallery. I was supposed to go with Ophelia and we were all talking about it and it turned out he wanted to see the same exhibition," she explained softly."So Ophelia suggested we go together, that's all."

"You didn't say anything to me," he pointed out.

"There was nothing to say," she assured."It didn't mean anything to me."

"Obviously it meant a lot to him," he insisted.

She took a deep breath and exhaled impatiently.

"What do you want me to do about that?" she asked. She really didn't understand what the problem was? It was a business necessity to indulge the prospective business partners, surely she didn't have to explain that to him.

He stayed silent for a long moment, not exactly looking at her, contemplating his answer before finally looking back at her.

"I'm tired, Tish," he said suddenly."I'm tired of keeping this a secret."

She felt suddenly cold and her hands prickled with apprehension. She bit her lips into a thin line so hard she was afraid they might bleed.

"I can't," she whispered finally.

"Why not?"

"I already told you - "

"No," he interrupted sharply." No, you didn't. You don't really expect me to believe that you don't want anyone to know about us because that bastard doesn't like me? I really hope you don't think of me such an idiot."

"I don't think you're an idiot," she replied softly.

"Then do not treat me as one," he interrupted sharply. "Don't give me lies."

"I'm not lying to you," she whispered insistently.

"You're not telling me the whole truth either," he accused." You might as well lie to me. If all there is here for you," he continued, motioning between them." Is casual sex, then tell me so, at least I will know where I stand."

He watched her posture tense further, if that was even possible, and bit her lips into a thin line again, staring intensely at the ground but she didn't say anything and he felt his patience with her wearing thin.

"You said you love me," he pressed and she looked at him then, letting out a small, mirthless laugh.

"I thought we were pretending you didn't hear that," she replied sardonically.

"You didn't mean it?"

"I meant it."

"Then why can't you commit to me?" he asked, phrasing it deliberately as if she was being unable to commit to him because he couldn't bear the thought that she simply didn't want to be with him beyond the sphere of passionate encounters." I think I deserve to know at least that, don't I?"

He watched her swallow uncomfortably but was still greeted with her stone silence.

"You cannot avoid those questions forever, Morticia," he challenged." How long do you want to carry this on?"

He could feel his temper getting the better of him and decided it was in the best interest of everyone involved if he just left before he told her something he would, inevitably, regret later.

"Gomez wait," she called after him and he stopped but didn't turn towards her." Please," she requested softly and swallowed heavily before continuing:"I can't allow him to know, because he explicitly told me to stay away from you."

He turned to her then, his face creased with confusion.

"Why?"

"Because... he thinks you will use me and discard me and nobody likes used goods," she replied bluntly, deliberately quoting her brother-in-law. It was crude, alright, but it got the point across." Nobody will want a wife that was Gomez Addams' bed toy," she added and watched him flinch and swallow heavily.

"Is that what you think as well?" he whispered.

"No," she replied slowly and he relaxed visibly but his posture was still tense. "I think when you say you love, perhaps you really mean it," she continued deliberately looking him in the eye."You mean it now. I just don't believe that this will last for you."

"Give me a chance to prove it to you," he pleaded.

"I can't," she whispered.

"Why not?"

She shifted uncomfortably and looked away from him. He was half-expecting her not to answer, she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here.

"My mother," she said finally in a painful whisper and swallowed heavily." She's very sick. He...Jared pays for her treatment. I could have never afforded it without him and I can't put my mother's well being in jeopardy by going against him, do you understand?"

"I can - "

"No," she interrupted immediately, shaking her head." I could never accept such a commitment from you just because you think you're in love, Gomez."

"I don't think I'm in love, I am in love with you" he insisted." I would rather die than live without you."

She smiled gently.

"It's just words, Gomez," she whispered." I can't put my future and my mother's well being in line for pretty words... no matter how much I want to."

If she commits to him, if she allows herself to love him fully she would never be able to leave him. She was certain of that. She would become her mother, her sister, she would become like all those women who turned a blind eye to all sorts of infidelities, who then became bitter and disillusioned all because they loved too much.

She didn't want that.

"Give me a chance to prove you wrong."

"How, Gomez? You marry me and after two years, if lucky, you'll get bored with having the same woman in your bed and will look for some entertainment outside the old ball and chain?"

"No," he denied fervently." I swear to you that will never happen."

"I wish it could be so, I really do," she said and his heart almost broke at how painfully soft her voice was."But you're a gamble I cannot afford...I simply don't trust you to be there for me in the long shot."

He thought it would hurt less if she ripped him apart, in many ways she just has. He wanted to assure her, desperately, but what did he have to offer her? The certainty of his feelings against all the glaring evidence that he was indeed unreliable cad who never had a serious relationship in his life.

She would have to believe him, to put his trust into him and she was not going to do that because too much was at stake.

It all seemed hopeless but he would rather be damned than lose her. He would prove it to her, somehow, he will show her every day for the rest of his life that she's everything to him.

"You and I," he said slowly." Are destined to be together. We belong together and I will prove it to you, I swear."

"Don't say things like that," she whispered." I don't want promises you can't keep. I don't want us to become resentful and bitter when this ends," she added and kissed him softly. "I want to be with you," she assured." As long as this lasts."

"Forever," he insisted.

"And how long is that, Gomez?" she asked and smiled humourlessly when he didn't provide her with a reply." I want to enjoy this thing between us," she continued slowly." But if it's a commitment you're seeking from me then I can't give it to you."

He started to wonder whether he would ever get a good night sleep again without constant longing for her gnawing at his insides. He had this horrible, sinking feeling that she was slowly slipping out of his grip and he was powerless to stop her.

It made him hurt and angry that she thought his love for her was unreliable, that she didn't believe he would be the for her for the rest of the forever.

He didn't understand what did she expect of him, that he would forever live in this twilight of a relationship? How the hell could he prove himself to her if she won't let him, if she won't give him a chance?

She can't accuse him of pretty words and at the same time deny him any chance to prove to her that she was everything to him.

Was he supposed to feel guilty about his lifestyle? Is she going to hold it against him indefinitely as an excuse not to commit to him? Surely, she could see how ridiculous it was.

He wasn't a monk for God's sake. He liked good fun, what was wrong with that? He never coerced anyone, they were all willing participants, in for a good time. Was it his fault that some women expected from him more than he was able to give them? What the hell did she expect him to do? Apologise?

It was then and she was now, and she was all that mattered to him now.

"Whatever happened to my darling, son? You look very gloomy tonight."

He turned towards the soft voice and forced a smile on his face. His mother seemed to be all ready to rest for the night, attired in her nightgown and green, velvet robe, her long grey hair plaited into a solitary braid, a half-finished drink of her usual vodka martini in her hand as she sat in the armchair opposite his, crossing her legs.

"Any reason you're staring into an empty fireplace?" she asked, smiling at him before taking a small sip of her drink.

"Does anyone stare into an empty fireplace without reason?" he asked sardonically but kindly still.

"Something on your mind? A certain raven-haired girl perchance?" she guessed, swirling the clear liquid slowly.

He hesitated for a moment, licked his lips slowly and looked at his mother somberly.

"I told Morticia that I love her," he said slowly, watching his mother for any reaction but her face remained merely politely expectant. "She doesn't believe me."

Eudora snorted scornfully.

"Shocking," she remarked mockingly, taking another sip of her drink.

"How can I prove it to her, mama?"

"Gomez, consider her position on this...arrangement," she said for the lack of better word."How can she trust a word you're saying when you slept with half of the women in this city alone?"

"That's a bit of exaggeration…" he replied gruffly.

"All that time you go through women like a wildfire and you expect her to just accept your declarations because you've suddenly decided you're in love?" she asked sardonically. "Just what kind of fool do you think she is?"

"I don't think she's a fool," he spat." But how can I prove myself to her if she won't let me?"

"This girl doesn't owe you a damn thing, Gomez," his mother told him firmly." You can cry unfairness of the situation all you want but this is your fault, it's the choices you've made that makes you now unreliable in her eyes. What do you expect her to do? Put everything in line for you?"

"We all make mistakes," he insisted."It's rather unfair to hold them against me indefinitely."

"Did you think you were making mistakes when you slept with all those women? When you bestowed your pretty words and useless promises on them and then left them when they served their purpose?" she asked bluntly."Have you ever considered, how did that make them feel?" she paused, waiting for his reply and after a stretch of silence, she smiled at him knowingly."Of course, you didn't. It was all good fun for you, wasn't it? Never for a second have you considered their feeling, have you?"

He looked at her sharply, gripping the armrest of his armchair so fiercely he thought it may crumble any minute.

"That girl you were seeing before you met Morticia," his mother remarked, tilting her head and regarding him curiously."Did you even broke up with her?" she asked and without waiting for his reply continued."You haven't, have you? You simply stopped calling because your eyes were set on a new prize."

"Morticia is not a prize," he hissed.

"This is the same damn thing your father did to me all through our marriage, this is the same boys will be boys attitude he had," his mother remarked spitefully.

"Father loved you."

"He did," she admitted."But he was never faithful to me," she added hurtfully." Do you have any idea what it feels like to be betrayed like that? It makes you feel inadequate, worthless, makes you feel like you're not enough, that you can never be enough and I kept forgiving him like a bloody fool," she swallowed heavily before continuing in a firm tone. "You're exactly like your father, Gomez."

"I'm not," he defended angrily." I love her, she's everything to me."

"Oh really?" she asked sardonically." What did you tell her? That your heart never beat so fast for anyone before? That she's all you can think about?" she continued mockingly." She's the love of your life and you shall worship her forever? There will never be another woman in your life but her? Tell me, Gomez, what ground-breaking declaration have you bestowed upon that girl?"

He stayed silent and she watched him carefully.

"All of the above?" she guessed." These are the same things your father told me. The same pretty words and empty promises," she said. "Honestly? I'm infinitely glad that Morticia has enough brains not to believe a single word you say to her because that's all there is to it - words. How long will this emotional high last for you? Another month, another year at best."

"Forever," he insisted.

"Your father promised me forever too, Gomez," she remarked bitterly."And his forever lasted less than two years," she said pointedly. "You're my son and I love you, whatever there is between the two of you I shall not interfere but do not expect any help from me in throwing that girl off the cliff."

He stood up abruptly and swallowed heavily, he was so angry his whole body felt aflame.

"You're wrong about me, mama," he insisted in a low whisper."You're all wrong about me. I love her and, if she lets me, I will spend the rest of my life showing her how much."

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think. :)

Chapter Text

A/N: Welcome to chapter 10. :)

A word of warning, there's some strong language in this chapter.

Thank you for all your support, hope you'll enjoy!

Chapter 10

"Gomez Addams, if those notes end up on the floor, I will murder you slowly and painfully," Morticia's stern but undeniably amused voice reverberated through the kitchen but resulted only in eliciting a low growl from her lover as Gomez buried his face in the crook of her neck and his arms enveloped her waist.

"God, Tish, when you speak like this…my blood boils," he moaned into the back of her neck, pulling her flesh firmly against his.

"Gomez, you maniac, stop it," she laughed, swatting his wandering hands away and picked a stack of notes to skim through them so she could sort them into a correct pile.

"I couldn't sleep all night, thinking about you," he whispered as his lips travelled the length of her arm."You're so delicious, I can't get enough of you."

"Control yourself, you animal" she scolded half-heartedly.

He grinned at her.

"I'll try," he promised but then snatched the pile of notes from her hand and threw it carelessly on the chair.

"Gomez!" she exclaimed in outrage but then laughed gently again and turned towards him, finally giving in into the kiss.

"You taste so good," he said appreciatively, attacking her lips in a ferocious kiss. He growled low at the back of his throat before pushing her against the kitchen table.

"Gomez," she moaned as he started to kiss her neck."Don't you dare to move a single paper from this table."

"Let's go upstairs, then," he murmured against the pale column of her throat.

"Mmmm, later," she murmured softly, slipping her hands into his sleek hair."I need to finish this first."

"There's no end to mama's notes," he complained and felt her chest tremble with a small laugh. It was the truth though, it seemed that every time Morticia managed to go through the series of boxes filled with his mother's notes and sort them into a coherent whole, Eudora Addams managed to find yet another box here and there. He could swear his mother was producing those blasted noted out of thin air, for the sole reason of annoying the hell out of him.

"Fair point," she agreed. "But I have two weeks of final exams coming up, so I will be basically living in the library, hence why I want to finish it today," she explained and couldn't help but smirk when he let out a low, disappointed growl but eventually lifted his head to look at her.

"I hope you mean the library in our house because there's no way I can last two weeks without you," he remarked firmly, resting his hands on the soft swell of her hips.

She smiled and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"I'm afraid you're too potent of a distraction, Mr Addams," she teased."And I do have to actually study."

"I shall not interfere with your study routine, Scout's honour," he assured her and laughed when she made a face and raised her eyebrows.

"You were a Scout?" she asked, bemused.

"Hell no, but I went to a camp for pre-teen offenders. Does that count?"

"I guess," she grinned and nipped at his lips playfully.

She was relieved that he was in a much better mood today. She didn't like it when he was sulking and there was this underlying tension between them the day following their heated conversation. He didn't exactly avoid her yesterday but still spent nearly a whole afternoon occupied with various business matters in the library, or so he claimed.

She missed him.

It was ridiculous, because it was just one day after all, but the fact was that whenever she was in the Addams mansion they really spent a lot of time together - one way or another - they always seemed to seek out each other's company to the point where he's woven himself into her daily routine so completely that his absence felt like a gaping hole in her heart.

It was scary how much she seemed to need him in her life.

"How about…," he murmured softly against her lips."I'll help you finish this," he proposed nodding gently to the various piles of notes mounted on the table."And then I take you out to dinner?"

She blinked, surprised at the impromptu offer.

"Dinner?"

"Yeah, Tish, dinner. I want to take you out to dinner," he said, amused that she looked so taken aback by the idea."Just the two of us."

"Gomez," she said, not quite looking at him, her tone uneasy."I would love to - "

"But?" he interrupted knowingly and with a detectable trace of irritation.

"But...it's Saturday evening."

He frowned at her in confusion.

"So?"

"All the restaurants will be very busy and someone can see us," she explained, a little exasperated that she needed to explain herself but her tone was nevertheless apologetic. "I can't be seen with you."

She watched his jaw clench in annoyance and felt her body tense in response.

"Is there anything we can do together, then?" he asked tensely before adding sardonically."You know, besides the obvious."

"Gomez - "

"Would it be all right for Monsieur Chalon to take you out?" he prodded sarcastically and could see her eyes flash with sudden anger.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, extracting her arms from him."You're not being fair."

"Well, then that makes two of us," he spat.

She swallowed heavily, not quite sure how to respond to that.

"I thought we discussed this already," she finally said tiredly, leaning against the table, forcing herself not to look away from his heated gaze and crossed her arms against her middle." Is it more of the same? Are you deliberately spoiling for a fight?"

"No."

"It seems like you do," she challenged."We've been through this already. Why are you insisting on making this unnecessarily difficult?"

"I'm not making this difficult, you are. I just want to take you out," he responded in a frustrated tone."Why can't we just spend time together like a normal couple, is that too much to ask?"

She flinched at his words and blinked furiously, suddenly filled with a ridiculous urge to cry. He seemed to notice it because his posture softened immediately. He swore under his breath and exhaled tiredly, closing his eyes briefly, looking very much as if he didn't know what to do with himself before shaking his head in frustration.

She half-expected him to lash out at her with another string of hurtful words, but to her surprise, he didn't. He looked at her with such a startling array of emotion that she was absolutely unsure how to react and then, quite suddenly, he pulled her gently against his chest, nestling her head under his chin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, she was taken aback by how tired and defeated he sounded."But it cannot go on like this for much longer, Tish."

She tensed and panicked momentarily, realizing what he meant and her heart started beating so furiously she thought it may burst in her chest.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him, even though both of them knew perfectly well what he meant.

"I understand…," he said slowly, faltering briefly."I understand that you may not feel that you can trust me with your heart, I get that but I…," he bit his lips and swallowed heavily."What you're doing...is not fair to me either, Tish."

The silence that stretched between them, his implications and the feeling of impending loss were almost too much to bear.

"I love you," Gomez finally said, gazing at her so intensely she almost forgot how to breathe." And I want to commit to you."

She shook her head and swallowed heavily, reluctantly detaching herself from his embrace.

"You can't simply demand a commitment from me, Gomez," she replied firmly but couldn't help how shaky her voice sounded.

"And you can't demand from me to prolong this charade indefinitely," he retorted with surprising calmness.

"I don't think that's fair, you know that I can't - "

"I can't go on living in twilight because you always find a convenient excuse not to commit to me."

"It's not an excuse, it's a fact. You have nothing to lose in this equation," she pointed out sharply." Yet you dare to ask me to put my whole life in the line for you."

"Yes, I do," he responded in an equally sharp tone and she couldn't decide if she was impressed or outraged by his audacity. Perhaps a little bit of both."Because there's no other way about it, Morticia."

"Because you've decided so," she challenged and he let out a mirthless laugh.

"How do you see it then?" He asked and when she didn't reply reached out and cupped her cheek with almost painful tenderness but his gaze on her was steady, purposeful."You have to make a decision. Any decision."

"Don't give me ultimatums," she glared at him.

"You might see it as you wish, but either we make some decisions or this is going nowhere," he insisted.

"You're hardly in a position to make demands, Gomez," she hissed angrily and flinched away from him.

"What is it then?" He challenged."Shall I just stand by and calmly wait for that damned brother-in-law of yours to arrange a suitable marriage for you? Where am I in all this?"

"Why is my commitment so important to you?"she asked instead.

"What do you mean why?"he asked incredulously."I love you, I want to be with you -"

"I am with you," she insisted.

"You are with me and yet some damn Frenchman thinks you are available," he pointed out.

"So what? What does it matter?" She asked jadedly."I told you already, he means nothing to me. I am here, with you and you're creating unnecessary problems."

"I want to be able to take you out to dinner whenever I want to, without making some Machiavellian schemes beforehand because you don't want your brother-in-law to know with whom you're spending your time with."

She inhaled deeply and pressed her fingers to the line of her eyebrows as if in aid to relieve a growing headache.

"It wouldn't kill you if for once you would focus on someone other than yourself, Gomez," she spat.

"I would love to," he fired back." If you stopped feeding me with excuses and half-truths."

He watched her dark eyes shine with unconcealed anger and she pressed her lips together in a visible effort to contain it but didn't reply to him.

"It doesn't matter what I do," he continued in a hurtful tone."I could give you the world and you still won't trust me. You still won't commit to me. There's nothing I can do or say to prove myself to you because you've already decided that I'm an unreliable cad -"

"That's ridiculous," she huffed dismissively."I didn't decide it, Gomez, you did. You can't put the blame on me."

"You can't hold it against me infinitely."

"Watch me then," she retorted sharply.

"God damn it, Tish," he hissed, sliding his hand through his pomaded hair in a frustrated gesture." This is not a relationship, this is insanity."

"It's not a prison either, Gomez," she retorted in a hurtful tone before adding menacingly in a slow, deliberate way."I'm sure there's plenty of other women...you know, less complicated, more amicable and willing to do whatever you bid them, take your pick. It's what would happen eventually anyway."

"Stop saying that!" he exclaimed in exasperation."I don't want other women, I want you."

"Tough luck, then."

"Why does it have to be a constant battle with you?"

"I didn't choose to argue."

"You don't want to commit to me because you don't trust me, but then when I want to make a serious commitment to you, you don't want it either, so what the hell is it, Tish?"

She looked at him hard and watched his chest expand and constrict in an effort to contain his anger. Perhaps, deep inside, she knew that it was a reasonable question but she was too angry to be reasonable. At this moment all she wanted to do was to hurt him.

She approached him slowly, so close their bodies were almost touching and she could smell the lingering scent of his cigar.

"Neither," she said in a voice that was somewhere between a whisper and a hiss and saw him flinch."I want nothing from you, you may do as you please. That's what you do best, after all, don't you?"

It was a lie.

A mean, hurtful lie and they both knew it but it was enough to do the damage she intended.

His jaw went stiff, his eyes shone with sudden moisture, she could practically feel the anger and hurt radiating from him and immediately knew she went too far but it was too late and she also knew she wasn't going to take it back either even though the guilt was already filling her heart.

His lips moved slightly as if in an attempt to reciprocate her with equally hurtful words but he seemed to have thought better of it and merely swallowed heavily, finally looking away from her and let out a defeated sigh before leaving the kitchen without another word.

She blinked repeatedly to clear her eyes that were suddenly filled with angry tears, blurring her vision. She wanted nothing more than to call after him but found herself unable to do so. She was too angry with him, with herself, with this whole situation.

And yet, it took all of her willpower not to go after him.

It took all of his willpower not to return to the kitchen and apologise, take it all back, to tell her that he will take whatever she's willing to give him but he knew, deep inside, that it would be a paramount mistake on his part.

He was too angry to talk to her anyway and would probably only make things worse.

He knew she was being deliberately cruel to him and could see the regret forming on her face the moment the hurtful words left her lips. It was always a battle of wills between the two of them.

Sometimes, he got an impression that she was purposely involving them in all sorts of competitions in this relationship, who cared most, who loved the most, who sacrificed most - and somehow, no matter what he'd done, he always seemed to come short.

Still, he couldn't help the way he felt, he couldn't go on with this relationship without some sort of commitment from her, anything more substantial than this limbo they were currently locked in. She was with him, but then she wasn't. He didn't have any claim on her other than the little she allowed him to have which in the end wasn't much.

She didn't understand how unbearable it was becoming to him to live this way, she didn't realize how much he wanted her, just to be able to be with her, to know that she belonged to him. All he wanted was to be able to love her. Love her freely and openly, to be able to feel her body against his when he fell asleep, to wake up each day next to her, to share his life with her. To be everything to her, just as she was everything to him.

He knew he took a huge gamble pushing her like he did and it could only go two ways from here but, in his mind, there was no other choice. There was simply no other way around it.

He thought relentlessly over his options these past two days. His mind constantly replayed what she's told him, also his mother's words and each time he arrived at the same conclusion - there was nothing he could say or do to convince Morticia to give him a chance. There was only one way to show her that he was eternally committed to her, that he worshipped and adored her - she had to give him a chance, she had to put her trust in him and allow him to prove himself to her.

He knew that if he didn't push her, if he didn't put their relationship in the tip of a sword, she would probably never make that decision herself, any decision for that matter. They would go in circles indefinitely.

He understood her position, truly, he did, and painfully so. Yet, at the same time, she didn't seem to even consider, never mind try to understand his.

"Well isn't that a fucking morose view," the jolly voice exclaimed at the entrance to the library and Gomez blinked, surprised he didn't even hear the front door opening.

"Bar," Gomez greeted his cousin with a welcoming smile, he was actually oddly happy to see him.

"Don't Bar me, you cad," Balthazar Addams frowned and made his way further into the room."This is what you're blowing me off for these past weeks?"he groused, pointing to the paperwork on the desk.

"I told you I was busy with work."

"I was hoping it was a metaphor for fooling around with your mother's assistant but fuckin' hell, Gomez," he waved his hand at him accusingly. "Work? This is how you're spending your Saturday evenings now - pouring over financial reports? My heart cannot take this. What's next? Warm slippers and hot cocoa with uncle Knick Knack discussing recent politics and bowel movement?"

"Gods, you're being dramatic," Gomez laughed despite himself, leaning back in his chair.

"No one has seen you out in weeks," Balthazaar pointed out."What the hell is wrong with you?"

Gomez took out a cigar from his breast pocket and shrugged dismissively.

"Nothing," he replied noncommittally."I just didn't feel like going out."

"Gomez, you're turning into a fucking hermit."

"Maybe a little bit," he admitted and grinned but his cousin only frowned at him in concern.

"Come on, it's Saturday evening, let's go out for a drink or seven," Balthazar offered with a caddish smile."Good old times. The girls've been asking about you, they thought you died or something," he added and grinned when he managed to elicit an amused snort out of Gomez.

Gomez took a slow puff of his cigar and regarded his cousin thoughtfully. He didn't particularly feel like going out, but then he certainly didn't feel like staying in for another sleepless night either. Perhaps a few drinks with his cousin was not a bad idea.

"Ugh, damn it, you're right," Gomez agreed, opening the middle drawer in the desk to take out his leather wallet."I should get out of the house more."

"Now you're talking!" Balthazaar exclaimed jovially, smacking his cousin on the shoulder."Let's go...oh, hellllooo there," he suddenly exclaimed in a purposeful drawl and Gomez didn't give to look up to see who was Balthazaar greeting in such manner."Nice to see you again."

"Hello," Morticia returned the greeting impassionately and Gomez couldn't help but smirk. He supposed mama didn't exaggerate when she mentioned that Morticia wasn't particularly fond of Balthazar because she certainly looked like she wanted to run in the opposite direction.

"How is it possible that you look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you?" he grinned at her charmingly.

"Well, sadly you look and act exactly the same," she retorted impassionately, fixing the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder, her other hand on the front door's handle.

"Leave her alone, you idiot," Gomez shook his head with hardly concealed amusement, putting the wallet in the pocket, inside if his blazer.

His cousin, however, seemed very much inclined to be chewed out.

"I'm taking Gomez for a night out of some fun, would you care to join us?" he offered silkily as they both approached the door.

"Oh, Morticia doesn't like to go out much," Gomez mentioned with a measured callousness before he could stop himself." God forbids, someone might see her."

He watched her eyes cut to his in a surprised hurt but she schooled her features almost immediately. He thought an iceberg would look more approachable, at this moment, than Morticia.

"Have fun," she retorted, still looking at him hard and pressed the door handle purposely.

Every fibre in him was screaming to call after her, to apologise, to tell her he didn't mean it, because he truly didn't and he didn't know why the hell did he say it in the first place; but he didn't do anything but stood there, next to his cousin and watched her get into the car and greet her driver with a kind but undeniably forced smile.

He could practically feel Balthazar's bemused gaze on him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, exactly?" he asked as they watched the car leave the premises of the Addams mansion, but his voice sounded more concerned than bewildered.

He was an idiot, that's what, Gomez thought bitterly.

"Nothing," he replied without looking at him."Let's go."

The music in the club was so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts but he welcomed it. His thoughts were not the place he was particularly interested in exploring any further tonight.

He ordered a neat whiskey, even though normally it wouldn't be his liquor of choice but he wanted to feel the burn of something other than this damn guilt that was currently gnawing at his insides.

"Gomez, old chap, stop glaring the hell out of this place," Balthazar sighed in exasperation."You're scaring the girls away, sulking here, looking like a fucking axe murderer."

Gomez winced at his words but didn't bother replying, nor did he bother to look more approachable.

"Fancy seeing you here again, stranger."

The sultry voice greeted next to his ear and he felt a familiar, slim hand rest at his shoulder.

"We missed you."

"Gomez is not in the mood, Cassie," Balthazar warned with a semi-amused smirk as he watched the slim woman, dressed in an extremely short, black sequin dress, sit on Gomez's laps and wrap one arm around his neck but his cousin's moody expression barely even flinched.

"Since when does he need to be in the mood?" the pretty blond woman teased, re-filling Gomez's empty glass with another whiskey.

"I'm suspecting a middle age crisis," Balthazar replied, only half-joking.

"He's not even thirty yet," Cassie rolled her eyes."Women problem, I presume?" she guessed, looking knowingly at Gomez and saw him wince slightly at her words."Awwww, who is she?"

Balthazar leaned back in his seat and regarded his cousin curiously.

"Hell, Gomez, is that what it is about?" he snorted in amusement."That raven bird who works for your mother."

"No."

"Have you gone insane?" Balthazar laughed."She's a jailbait. Is she even of a legal age to drink in this country?"

"Bar, shut up," Cassie reprimanded when Gomez glared at his companion."Are we mending a broken heart here, Gomez?" she asked, practically forcing the glass with whiskey into his hand.

"We're not mending anything," he finally replied."Nothing to mend," he added scornfully and drowned the whole glass in one go.

Balthazar shook his head gently in disbelief.

"Cassie, sugar, be a darling and get us a bottle of Roederer, will you?" he asked pointedly and the blond woman took a hint instantly.

"Sure," she nodded and slowly got up from Gomez's lap.

"Take your time," Balthazar called after her before turning back to him sulking cousin and leaned closer so he wouldn't have to shout through the loud music."You're not seriously pining after that girl, are you?"

"I seriously do not want to talk about her," Gomez retorted sternly.

"Gomez," Balthazaar sighed." She's beautiful all right but her personality just screams high maintenance. Do yourself a favour and forget about her, there's plenty of pretty birds here to choose from," he added, pointing with his hand vaguely around them but Gomez just shook his head.

"Have you never…" he started to ask but then faltered briefly, not sure he wanted to actually prod the subject.

"Have I never what?" his cousin encouraged, lightning his cigar in the process.

"Met someone...you know...special," he said finally and winced at how awfully cliche it sounded and he half-expected Balthazar to laugh at him but, to his surprise, he didn't. His cousin shrugged and watched the smoking tip of the cigar intently as if it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room.

"All women are the same, old man," he replied finally. "They are all enticing, initially, and then they complain, demand and nag - all of them."

"Even Marina?" he asked, referring to Bar's ex-fiancee. His cousin could act blase all he wanted, but Gomez was there in the aftermath of Marina leaving him at the altar after Bart cheated on her - it wasn't pretty.

"Yes, well," he smiled ruefully but didn't continue the thought.

"You were in love with her," Gomez pointed out."You made it as far as the altar. Why did you do it? Why did you cheat on her?" They never actually discussed it, the fact that his fiancee walked-in on Balthazar and her best friend in flagrante delicto. Gomez never commented on it, never judged him for it (because hell, who was he to judge anyway). He was just there for him in the aftermath of it all but Balthazar never wanted to talk about it and Gomez never pressed either but he was curious nevertheless.

Balthazar shrugged and licked his lips thoughtfully.

"I panicked," he replied simply.

"You panicked?"

"Yeah, I panicked," he admitted.

"You didn't want to marry her?"

"I did," he nodded but then smirked."Well, I thought I did but then I… I don't know, the thought that I had to spend the rest of my life with that one person - I wasn't ready for that."

"Why did you propose then?" he asked."If you weren't ready."

"I don't know," he shrugged."It seemed like a good idea at the moment and she wanted to get married."

"And you didn't."

"Sometimes I did," he grinned but it didn't really reach his eyes. "Other times I didn't but all in all I wanted to give it a go. Danielle," he said, referring to Marina's best friend." I don't know, she was there and she was willing and then...well you know the rest of the story."

Gomez nodded thoughtfully and considered what Bar's just told him.

He understood where Balthazaar was coming from, he knew that feeling very well, when women wanted more than you're ready to give but sometimes you just feel like caving in for the hell of it because who cares and why not.

That wasn't the case with Morticia, though.

When he thought about her, about being with her, marrying her, Gomez didn't feel panic, far from it. He felt excited, he longed to spend the rest of his life with this woman. He felt elevated by the mere thought of it.

She was the love of his life, there was not an ounce of doubt in his heart about that.

He just had to find a way to convince her and to do that, it was imperative that she learned to trust him first.

Just as it was imperative for him to learn to be more patient with her, which he knew was not going to be an easy task because the woman was headstrong and impossible and he was hot-tempered and impatient.

It's as if she wanted scientific evidence, in black and white, a valid proof that committing to him was worth the risk and if she couldn't find such evidence she wasn't going to take the said risk.

And the only proof he was able to provide was that he was infinitely and madly in love with her.

She's decided to be reasonable about it.

Well, to try to be reasonable about at least.

It was just an argument. People argued. Couples argued. All couples argued. It was normal, it wasn't the end of the world.

Except, arguing with Gomez indeed felt like the end of the world.

She didn't know what she's expected entering this relationship with him but she didn't know how to handle those disagreements without being cruel and hurtful towards him, it's like she couldn't help herself.

She wasn't an overly emotional person by nature, she never had much trouble with containing her emotions. She usually only cried whenever she felt overwhelmed or angry, or both.

Gomez made her feel incredibly vulnerable, whenever she was with him she felt as if she had no power whatsoever over her feelings, she felt bare. She hated that, didn't know how to handle it and her natural response was to lash out on him, to hurt him, to make him feel as vulnerable as she felt.

She didn't know how to navigate this relationship. She just knew that they couldn't just continue to tear each other apart.

She should start by refusing to feel so emotional about his decisions.

Just because he went out with his cousin, didn't necessarily mean there were other women involved. Or even if there were, surely he wouldn't do anything stupid just to hurt her because they had an argument?

She didn't think he would.

Actually, she was dead certain he would never do that to her, couldn't say why, she just knew.

She reckoned the problem of being in a relationship that wasn't necessarily defined in terms of a relationship was that Morticia wasn't exactly sure what the boundaries were.

She certainly didn't expect, for example, that Gomez would be so vexed by the fact that she went out to an art gallery event with another man. Mostly, because she didn't, not even for a second, considered Francois in any romantic terms whatsoever. Still, she didn't do anything wrong and Gomez has blown it out of proportions. It wasn't her fault if he was feeling insecure...ok, all right maybe it was partially her fault because she refused to commit to him, but then he really was making it a bigger deal of it than it was worth.

Of course, had she known that there were any rumours about her and Francois circulating the city she'd probably at least let Gomez know about her plans beforehand. As a courtesy, not because she thought she had to. It annoyed her that he thought she had to explain herself to him as if she was doing something wrong. She had every right to go out wherever she wanted with whomever she wanted.

After all, she never asked him where he went to or with whom, she thought bitterly, but then it occurred to her that she never had to ask him that because he always made sure to let her know his plans beforehand and she felt immediately rueful.

Still, why should she feel guilty if she wanted to spend an afternoon in a gallery with someone other than Gomez Addams? She wasn't cheating on him if she enjoyed the company of another man, especially if it was purely platonic in nature.

In all honesty, she wasn't sure why was this thing even occupying her mind when she had much more pressing matters to think about.

She had her entrance exams tomorrow afternoon, for example. Granted, it didn't matter whether she passed or not since, at this point, there were exactly zero chances of her attending any school of witchcraft whatsoever, but she felt incredibly anxious about the prospect that she might fail. She could not bear the thought that after all that work and effort Mrs Addams put into teaching her, she might disappoint her.

She also didn't know what to do with Gomez.

There she was, thinking about him again.

Exams, school, the upcoming meeting with her mother's doctor - all those things that demanded her urgent attention and her mind stupidly wandered off to that mad Castilian anyway.

She will give him some time and then approach the subject herself again, doing her utmost not to lash out on him and avoid being unreasonably mean - that will mean a lot of tongue biting on her part. She will have to make sure they arrived at a satisfactory solution that didn't involve her making any promises of commitment to him.

She was almost grateful when a soft knock to her bedroom door interrupted her Sunday morning musings. One of these days she will really have to learn to stop overthinking and over analyzing every single aspect of her entire life.

"Rise and shine," their housekeeper greeted her with a bright smile on her face as she entered the room.

"Fanny, it's nine o'clock in the morning on Sunday," Morticia replied, stretching languidly in her bed."Why do we have to rise and shine at such an ungodly hour?"

"Mrs Diamond wanted me to let you know that we'll be having a guest for breakfast," the older woman announced as she placed the small crystal bowl with a freshly cooked pieces of hamburger on Morticia's bedside table where a certain, small African Strangler was shielding itself from the rays of the morning sunshine. "Also, your plant likes to have her meals at the same time every day, otherwise she bites."

It was the truth. Her African Strangler practically demanded its meals at the same time every single day. It so happened that a couple of times Morticia came home later than usual and so Cleo's supper has been delayed - silly plant closed itself in and refused any food for two days in protest. Morticia had to ask Fanny to feed the plant if she was running late.

"Who on earth is coming over so early?" Morticia complained more to herself than to the housekeeper and swung her legs onto the soft, carpeted floor before picking the bowl with Cleopatra's breakfast when the realisation dawned on her."Oh no, please say it's not,-"

"Mr Diamond's mother is coming over," she nodded, smiling at the younger woman when Morticia rolled her eyes almost unwittingly.

"Splendid," she muttered. This is exactly what she needed on top of everything else, a day in the company of Dorothy Diamond."Here you go, my darling," she cooed at the plant and it immediately snatched the meat off the fork, swallowing it greedily."Cleo, really, no one is going to take that food away from you, no need to gulp," Morticia scolded gently, shaking her head in mild exasperation.

"It's just a plant, Miss," Fanny laughed gently. "You can't expect it to learn table manners."

"I very well can," Morticia retorted with a small smile, caressing Cleopatra's leaves gently to which the plant reciprocated with almost biting Morticia's finger off.

"You're spoiling this weed, Miss," Fanny smiled."It does as it pleases."

"Oh, perhaps a little," Morticia agreed."She's still a baby, though."

Fanny nodded but then looked around the room as of making sure there was no one else with them before leaning slightly towards Morticia.

"A courier delivered flowers today, bright and early," she whispered conspiratorially.

Morticia blinked momentarily in confusion.

"Flowers?" she repeated carefully. Surely, Gomez wasn't insane enough to send her flowers.

"Ay, a huge bouquet of red roses," she nodded eagerly.

Has he lost his mind or what?

"For whom?" she asked in a deliberately obtuse manner.

Fanny rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"For you, of course," she grinned slyly."From none other but Mr Chalon," she added, cocking her eyebrow at her suggestively."He likes you."

"Oh, there he is!" Dorothy Diamond cooed in an overly excited manner." My little prince."

"Nana!" Charlie exclaimed and giggled excitedly as he ran towards them across the backyard patio where the family was currently having their breakfast. All sans Jared who, to Morticia's unbridled relief, excused himself with some unfinished business matter or other.

Which, Morticia thought, was her only consolation because the ridiculously sunny weather and their breakfast guest have done little to improve her mood.

"Look at you," Dorothy smiled at her grandson when practically flung himself on her. "You're getting bigger every time I see you. Did you sleep well?"

"No," Charlie frowned, shaking his head and eliciting an amused chuckle from his grandmother."No sleep, I don't like sleep. Mama makes me."

"Ah well, Nana has something to cheer you up," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Mother, you're going to spoil his breakfast," Ophelia objected half-heartedly when Dorothy handed Charlie a chocolate chip cookie and the boy practically shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

"Oh, let me spoil him," the older woman waved her hand at her nonchalantly."He's my precious kitten."

"Meow!" Charlie exclaimed obediently, letting the cookie crumbs fall from his mouth and onto his fresh, white polo shirt.

"All my other grandchildren are halfway across the world," Dorothy continued with a smile and kissed the boy's head affectionately while her grandson munched contentedly on a sweet treat." So... Morticia," she addressed her with a purposeful glint in her eyes."What do you think of young Mr Chalon?"

Here it comes, Morticia thought and rolled her eyes internally. Granted, she was expecting the topic to come up eventually so she just shrugged noncommittally and took a slow sip of her black coffee.

What did she think of him, indeed? Certainly, until this morning she thought he was nice and she actually quite enjoyed their visit to the art gallery. She wanted to see that exhibition for weeks, after all, nobody expressed love and angst better than Munch and it turned out Francois was also a fan of the Norwegian artist.

Ophelia, never one to miss an opportunity, suggested that they should all go together. Morticia wasn't exactly thrilled about such prospect but in the end, she must admit, had a good time. She was pleasantly surprised that Francois really knew a lot about the artist. They discussed Munch's life and inspirations, also his delightfully tumultuous affair with Eva Mudocci and ended their outing with an afternoon coffee and more conversation about art and...well that was it.

It was a nice afternoon, that's all.

How did it turn into the gossip of their impending relationship she really didn't know.

"Not much, really," she replied equivocally."I barely know him."

"Yet, I hear you've made quite an impression on him," Dorothy smiled suggestively at Morticia." He even asked Jared if he can get to know you better."

Morticia winced at her words. Perhaps it was incredibly naive of her but she never considered, not for a second, that spending time with Francois may be taken as her consent for him to pursue her romantically. Apparently, even these days one could not be friendly towards men without them immediately reading it as a sign that you were interested in them.

"Indeed?" she asked sweetly above the rim of her porcelain coffee cup."Have they also agreed on the amount of land, goats and milking cows as my dowry?"

"The man is certainly interested," Dorothy remarked, ignoring Morticia's sarcastic tone." And with this sweet disposition of yours, we better strike the iron while it's hot."

"Oh, not to worry, mother," Ophelia smiled suggestively." Morticia treated Mr Chalon with her usual charm and kindness and yet he still sent her a huge bouquet of roses."

"Makes one wonder if he's just incredibly romantic or purely insane," Dorothy wondered aloud.

"Perhaps a little bit of both," Ophelias supplied and they both smiled at each other.

Morticia resisted an urge to sigh. She really didn't understand how did she even end up in this mess.

Moreover, it was really disconcerting how her sister and Dorothy acted as if they were two steps away from planning her wedding.

Surely, her sister realized Morticia viewed this whole idea of marriage merely as a way of accessing the money in a timely manner. She certainly didn't plan on staying married any longer that it was strictly necessary, which she reckoned wouldn't be longer than a few weeks.

"He's a widower, did you know?" Dorothy said all of a sudden and both Morticia and Ophelia turned towards her in surprise.

"No," Ophelia replied and watched Dorothy nod at her in confirmation.

"His wife died in a car accident two years ago," she continued."Awful accident, their driver died on the impact, she died a few days later in the hospital."

"Oh my God, that's terrible," Ophelia winced sympathetically."What a tragedy."

Dorothy nodded again.

"His four-year-old daughter was the only survivor," she added and watched Morticia turn towards her sharply and her eyes widened at the revelation as she continued slowly, "Miracle really, she was sitting right next to her mother."

Morticia didn't even ask how Dorothy knew all the details. She always seemed to know everything about everyone. It was irrelevant because at this moment she was really lost for words anyway.

She suddenly realized that there was something familiar in his gaze. Something she once upon a time saw in her mother's eyes after papa died - this heartbreaking longing for something that can never be again.

"That poor man, this is so heartbreaking," Ophelia remarked softly. "Can't imagine what he must have gone through."

"Indeed," Dorothy agreed before adding pointedly to Morticia."Michel told me you're the first woman he showed any interest in since his wife died."

Morticia didn't reply but met her gaze steadily.

Well, great, she thought, how utterly splendid. How was she supposed to navigate that?

She didn't have a chance to ponder upon it any longer because there was a sudden commotion behind them and they all turned towards the terrace door to see their butler step out and next to him, of course, none other but the very subject of their discussion.

"I have taken the liberty of inviting Francois for breakfast, hope you don't mind" Dorothy announced with a smile and Morticia has a sudden yet overwhelming urge to tell her very explicitly what she thought of her unilateral decision."Francois!" Jared's mother exclaimed, with a clear delight in her voice."I'm so glad you could have come."

"I could never turn down such a lovely invitation," Francois replied, bowing to the older woman and placed a customary kiss on her hand and ruffled Charlie's hair in a friendly greeting to which the little boy paid exactly no attention, busy with munching on another cookie.

Dorothy smiled indulgently.

"Well, we could not have simply allowed you to go back to France without a proper goodbye now, could we?" she asked softly, turning slightly to Morticia as if expecting the younger woman to confirm her words but, quite unsurprisingly, was met with silence and a blank stare. Dorothy cleared her throat gently."We were just talking about you, actually."

"You have?" Francois let out a slightly self-conscious laugh before greeting Ophelia but his eyes seemed to linger on Morticia."I hope only good things?"

"We were just marvelling what a beautiful bouquet you've sent to our dear Morticia," she remarked.

"Oh, I saw it on my way to the hotel and its beauty reminded me of you," he said and turned to Morticia with a charming smile but the woman in question barely moved a facial muscle."I hope you liked them."

"She loved them," Ophelia replied when Francois was greeted with another blank stare and stony silence from her sister.

Francois smiled understandingly at Ophelia.

"I hate to be so direct," he said gently."But I was wondering if I could have a word in private with your sister?"

"Naturally!" it was Dorothy who replied and practically dragged both her daughter-in-law and her grandson back into the house before Morticia had so much of a chance to blink.

Morticia decided that if there was ever a good time for the world to end, she couldn't think of a better moment than here and now. She really, really, really wished to be anywhere but here, with anyone but him.

"I can't help but notice that you seem upset with me," Francois remarked softly as he tentatively sat next to her on the metal garden bench."Didn't you like the flowers I sent you? You said you like roses."

"I like roses," she replied impassionately, finally turning to look at him.

"Is that the reason you cut all the blossoms off?" he asked in an amused tone, raising his eyebrows at her.

"I like them much better this way," she replied succinctly.

He laughed gently and shook his head in amusement.

"You're so unique," he said adoringly but again failed to elicit even a shadow of a smile from the ebony-haired woman. He shifted, somewhat nervously before clearing his throat ."Have I done something to upset you?"

The question, asked in a soft, inviting tone, was met with an almost glacial stare.

"You've asked my brother-in-law if you could court me?" she replied in her soft, gentle voice but there was an unmistakably mocking frost to her tone.

"I meant no offence," he raised his hands in a gesture of defence.

"Indeed?" she asked in mild disbelief."How quaint, for I certainly find the idea quite offensive. One would think we have left this kind of nonsense somewhere at the beginning of the century."

"I'm a traditional man," he explained with a soft shrug of his broad shoulders."I meant it as a gesture of respect, it wasn't my intention to cause offence," he added, sincerely."I'm truly sorry if I did."

"Treating me as a commodity and spreading rumours is hardly a gesture of respect, Monsieur Chalon," she retorted coldly.

He frowned, obviously taken aback by her hostile tone.

"I might be unintentionally guilty of the first offence," he admitted sheepishly."But I'd never spread rumours... about anyone," he admitted."I'm not that kind of man."

"I'm not in the mood to play games, Francois" she replied and stood up from the bench in a defiant manner.

"I would never do that," he defended, standing up as well."I like you," he added fervently."I really like you, Morticia, I would never disrespect you. I have no idea what rumours are you talking about, you must believe me."

She narrowed her eyes, observing him carefully but she could not find any deception in his eyes. He seemed genuinely contrite.

"The whole city," she started slowly, but faltered, suddenly unsure how to phrase it."People gossip…"

"About you and me?" He guessed and smiled at her in a very unconcerned manner when she nodded at him."Does it bother you?" He prodded.

She bit her lips into a thin line thoughtfully, momentarily pondering how to answer him because the truth was - it didn't.

Gossips didn't bother her per se, if someone had so much time on their hands to fill their day with rumours about her, then she supposed she could only pity them and the fact how utterly dull their lives must be.

However, it did bother her because she didn't appreciate such a mindless talk to cause a rift between her and Gomez. She absolutely hated arguing with him, she hated it more than she could put it into words.

"It's rather disconcerting that everyone seems to know more about my affairs that I do," she replied instead, crossing her arms against her middle in a defensive manner.

"People always gossip, it's in their nature" he nodded understandingly."You should not allow it to bother you."

"Well, you certainly do not look concerned," she observed.

"I admit, it's difficult for me to feel offended that people spread rumours about us being romantically involved," he smiled softly."Although, I admit that it escalated rather quickly," he added as an afterthought.

Morticia closed her eyes briefly and sighed tiredly, forcing her manner to relax.

"Francois -"

"I know we've just met," he interrupted her gently." I understand this is all too fast, even for me...this has never happened to me before, it feels insane, I realize that but…," he faltered and took her hands gently into his before looking straight into her dark, expressive eyes."I think you're absolutely amazing, I'm in complete awe of you, Morticia."

She shook her head gently.

"You know nothing about me," she insisted but didn't extract her hands from his.

"I wish nothing more but a chance to get to know you better," he whispered, looking at her softly.

"I'm not looking for love, Francois," she replied frankly.

"Have you ever been in love, Morticia?" he asked, watching her curiously.

She faltered only briefly before shaking her head gently.

"No," she lied."And I'm not planning to be."

He laughed in amusement.

"One can hardly plan to fall in love," he smiled indulgently."It just happens."

"But one can choose whether to surrender to it or not," she retorted insistently.

"Ah, if it only were that simple," he said, squeezing her hands gently but then looked at her seriously." I do not wish to pressure you, I know it may seem too fast for you and you're very young but... I am very serious about you. I feel the connection to you in a way I haven't felt for…," he swallowed heavily and gazed at her tenderly before admitting sadly," For quite some time. All I ask is for us to get to know each other better before we decide on anything, no harm in that is there?"

"Francois," she started slowly, finally gently extracting her hands from his." I like you...just...not in the way you want me to. I could never love you," she admitted bluntly but to her surprise, he only smiled at her.

"Ah, my dear Morticia," he remarked in light amusement." Love doesn't just strike you like lightning, people grow and learn to love each other," he explained patiently before looking at her deeply. "I could certainly see myself in love with you."

"I couldn't," she replied firmly and she realized suddenly and violently, how much she meant it. She knew, with irrevocable certainty that she could never love him. Not him nor anyone else who wasn't Gomez Addams despite the fact that she realized, painfully so, what an utter fool she was to love him.

Here was the man who might have been the safe harbour she longed for - reliable and dependable, and yet...the mere thought of being with someone other than Gomez was to her repulsive.

"Time will tell," he retorted kindly."Give me a chance, that's all I ask."

"You're wasting your time," she insisted but he shrugged gently.

"Any time I spend with you," he whispered."Is not a time I'd ever consider wasted."

Morticia fully realized that life was not just lovely thorns and singing vultures but she wished fate or life or God or whoever was in charge would be more considerate with their timing when throwing at her all this insanity.

She felt more than a little overwhelmed.

Things between her and Gomez were...well she supposed they were rather tense after their conversation slash argument on Thursday and then a follow up on Saturday. Although perhaps tense was really a mild term for it. She didn't have a chance to speak to him since Saturday, because she was yet to step a foot in the Addams mansion.

It still bothered her, though, because she hated to hurt him and she hated arguing with him. However, there was little she could do about it at the moment. She had her entrance exams in exactly forty-two minutes.

On top of that, tomorrow morning Ophelia and herself had a meeting with the Swiss doctor to discuss her mother's treatment and that, more than anything else, made Morticia extremely anxious.

She also guilty because somehow she failed to resolve this thing with Francois in a manner that would be deemed final and satisfactory. Granted, she didn't promise him anything but didn't exactly rebuke him either. He was very persistent, she had to give him that but then again what was she supposed to do? How could she turn him down, when he merely asked to get to know her better, without revealing exactly why this was a hopeless case for him? What was she supposed to say, that she didn't want to get to know him better because she's madly in love with one of the biggest womanizers this town has ever seen?

Michael was of an opinion that she should simply tell Gomez about the whole situation with her mother, the treatment and inheritance and go from there but she found herself hesitant to do so. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her, she didn't want him to be with her out of some chivalrous sense of duty because he felt it was his duty to help her - it wasn't. It had nothing to do with him.

Still, Michael had a point, she couldn't just keep this whole thing secret from him, it was unthinkable. She also didn't think he would take kindly to her idea of business marriage either - to put it mildly.

Elena, however, thought Gomez was behaving like a cad (paraphrasing) and he had no right to essentially demand any commitment from her if Morticia didn't want to commit to him (again paraphrasing). She too had a point. Except, it wasn't that Morticia didn't want to commit to him, she wanted to. The issue here was -

"I still think he's being an arsehole," Elena concluded stubbornly."If a guy talked to me like that, he'd be speaking a couple of octaves higher."

" And I, for one, insist that it's a good thing that he wants to commit to her," Michael interjected sternly, ignoring Elena's outraged inhale of breath.

"He's basically told her she either commits to him or its over."

"He might have phrased it awkwardly -"

"Jackass -"

"But he has a point," he insisted." Tish, you hesitated going into this relationship because you were afraid he would never seriously commit to you, then you went into it never expecting it to last, but it turns out this guy really wants to be with you and it seems to me you don't know how to handle it because it's not what you expected... are you sure it's the right place?" he asked suddenly, somewhat doubtful as they drove slowly among the complex of seemingly abandoned buildings.

"Positive," Morticia replied, silently considering his point.

"Because it looks like a place where Cosa Nostra disposes of dead bodies," he insisted.

"I'm too nervous to appreciate the scenery, Michael."

"Are you sure you're ok, Tish? You look very pale," he observed and she looked at him as if he just said the most idiotic thing in the universe." I mean paler than usual."

"I feel fine…," she assured meekly because actually, she had an overwhelming desire to just give up and go home." There's no way in hell I can pass this exam anyway."

"Hey, what's with the negative talk?" Elena turned towards her from her front seat." You'll do great, and then we'll all go have a nice dinner and get drunk."

"Sounds like a plan to me!" Michael grinned at her in the rear-view mirror.

"I never get drunk," she pointed out."Besides, it's Monday. Who gets drunk on Monday during the finals week?"

"Yeah, okay fair point. It's still my life mission to get you drunk, though," Elena supplied."Everyone should get drunk at least once in their lives."

"Nah, Tish is a class act," Michael grinned and winked at her."She doesn't get wasted. She's a lady."

Elena turned to him sharply and narrowed her eyes.

"And what am I, chopped liver?"

Michael laughed sheepishly.

"I'm not answering that," he retorted and Morticia couldn't help but laugh.

"What do you mean by that?" Elena insisted, pinching his forearm.

"Here's the building!" He announced cheerfully.

"You do realize her exam lasts for three hours, right?" Elena pointed out, jabbing her manicured finger into his arm."So you're not getting away from this conversation."

He stopped the car and turned to her with an utterly confused expression on his face.

"What conversation?" he deadpanned.

Five minutes later they found themselves in a tall industrial building that looked very much like it was going to collapse any minute. They made their way through the myriad of long corridors until they arrived in a grand hall (or something that once upon a time was supposed to be a grand hall) where there was already a sizeable conglomeration of people waiting, some talking animatedly, some sitting in the corners cramming last minute studying before the exam.

"Well, this is disappointing," Michael commented, wrinkling his nose in dismay, as he looked around the array of young people in the hall and their parents.

"What did you expect, pointy hats and magic wands?" Morticia snickered.

He snorted.

"Well, yeah," he deadpanned."I mean look at them, what the hell is this? They're just normal people waiting to take their hocus pocus exam."

Morticia shrugged.

"Sorry to disappoint," she remarked in amusement." If it makes you feel any better, Gomez's great aunt Calpernia was burned as a witch in 1706," she supplied in a matter of fact voice.

"You're kidding?" Elena turned to her sharply, her jaw dropping slightly at the revelation.

"They say she danced naked in the town square and enslaved the minister."

"That's so cool," Elena said in awe."She'd be my hero."

Michael shook his head in disappointment, before turning back to Morticia and pointed to Elena in an accusing manner.

"You see what I'm saying?" he complained."How come just a hundred years ago people would consider burning you on a stalk for just mentioning witchcraft and these days you tell someone 'hey, I'm a witch' and they react as if you just told them you're doing yoga before breakfast? Where is the mystery? The adventure, the hidden world of witchcraft?"

"Michael, please," Morticia rolled her eyes."You read too many fantasy books. I buy all the ingredients for potions at the local farmer's market."

Michael stared at her, unblinkingly.

"That's...that's just tragic," he exclaimed dramatically."And nobody uses magic wands?"

Morticia made a face and actually laughed out loud.

"There's no such thing."

Michael sighed in disappointment, slouching his posture dramatically.

"My whole childhood is a lie," he muttered in defeat, eliciting another soft laugh from Morticia.

"Well damn, what is he doing here?"

Morticia frowned and turned to where Elena was pointing and her lips immediately curled into an involuntary smile.

There he was, standing against the wall, surprisingly without his ubiquitous cigar in hand, looking like he didn't have a care in the world or couldn't be bothered to care anyway. She chose not to ponder upon how ridiculously grateful she was to see him, that he was here for her despite their fight.

"Why does he always look like he's been taken straight from the cover of GQ?" she heard Michael ask behind her and let out a small laugh at his remark.

"I thought you said you two had an argument," Elena remarked in confusion."And he was being a jerk."

"I didn't say he was being a jerk," she denied immediately.

"Well, I read between the lines."

He seemed to feel her gaze on him because he turned slowly towards them and his face brightened the moment his eyes caught hers and a small smile graced his lips as he made his way towards them in his usual purposeful, confident stride but his gaze was guarded, unsure, as if he was afraid she will not want him here.

"I didn't expect you to be here," she said in a matter of greeting.

He bit his lips and his gaze shifted briefly t the floor before he looked up at her tenderly.

"It never occurred to me not to be here," he replied simply and could swear there was a squeal of delight from where Michael was leaning against the wall and a soft, sceptical grunt where Elena was standing next to Morticia with her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Gomez."Do you mind to give us a moment?" he asked tentatively.

"Sure thing," Michael agreed immediately before placing a soft kiss on Morticia's cheek."Good luck, Tish."

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully.

"Wait, hold on," Elena objected."Why are we leaving her alone with this je-" she started to protest but to no avail because Michael covered her mouth with his hand and grinned at Gomez apologetically.

"We'll be at that small coffee place near the entrance," he informed Gomez, ignoring his friend's unhappy growl and all but dragged her with him down the eastern corridor.

Morticia looked at Gomez, her lips curling into a small, rueful smile.

"Sorry...about that, she's a -"

"She's right," he interjected and returned her smile."I was being a bastard," he continued in a soft voice."I was angry but that was no reason to behave like an ogre. I don't know why I keep saying things like that, I don't mean them. It's stupid and juvenile."

She nodded.

"It is," she agreed."But I was out of line as well."

He nodded and swallowed audibly before continuing.

"I'm...I'm really trying, Tish," he whispered."And it...it hurts that you constantly keep me at arm's length. It's - I want to be there for you, I want it more than I can put into words but I...I can't if you won't let me, do you understand?"

She looked at him tenderly and rested her hands gently on his broad chest.

"I understand," she nodded."I'll try, Gomez," she added in a soft whisper."I promise...to try - I will try, "she corrected herself." But you have to give me some time. Don't pressure me like that, I can't just -"

"I won't," he promised and cupped her cheek gently."As long as we're honest towards each other. No lies, no half-truths. We have to learn to trust each other, no matter what."

She knew what he was asking of her and she couldn't say she felt particularly ready. In fact, she felt more than a little apprehensive about the prospect but found herself nodding at him in agreement.

"I will try, Gomez," she promised again. She thought that was the best she could do at the moment and he smiled at her tenderly, seemingly content with her answer. "I must be the oldest person here," she complained suddenly, fisting her fingers nervously into the lapel of his blazer.

"Also the most beautiful," he grinned and was pleased when she smiled at him."You're brilliant and you will do great," he assured but she bit her lips, looking at the people around her, and muttered something unintelligible under her breath before lifting her head to look at him again.

"Let's just forget the whole thing," she proposed. "Let's go home and have sex."

"Request denied until further notice," he retorted in a deadpan manner."You vixen."

She laughed again, but her voice was more than a little shaky. He has never seen her so stressed before.

"Thank you," she whispered."For being here. It really means a lot."

He smiled gently and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips.

"Deep breaths, Tish," he smiled encouragingly before placing another soft kiss to her forehead."You look like you're about to faint."

"I think I might," she admitted in a soft whisper.

"Faint away, I'll catch you. Always."

Gomez Addams hesitated momentarily before stepping into a small, shabby-looking coffee shop, for some reason he suddenly felt apprehensive at the prospect of spending the next three hours in the company of Morticia's friends. Especially when one of them didn't seem to particularly like him at all.

Although, on the other hand, he needed all the help he could get to move this relationship to where it should be and he could use some people on his side.

He ordered a double espresso before locating the pair at the couch near the crumbling cement wall and slowly navigated through the tables to join them.

"I must admit I haven't expected you to be here," Elena stated, motioning the seat in front of her." For a hopeless dandy, this is an extremely sweet gesture."

"Jesus, El…" Michael rolled his eyes."Give the man a break."

"I might if he stops acting like an entitled jerk."

Michael opened his mouth in outrage and he thought about saying something, anything to calm his friend but Gomez lifted his hand and gave it a gentle wave that indicated that he wasn't offended at all.

"She didn't say anything I haven't heard before," Gomez smiled and took a casual sip of his espresso before taking a fresh cigar out of his breast pocket and offering it to Michael."And she's right."

"Male solidarity," Elena commented sardonically, cocking her shapely eyebrow at him."How adorable," she added before snatching the cigar from Gomez's hand." He doesn't smoke," she smirked, nonchalantly placing the cigar between her lips.

He smiled and flicked his vintage lighter, bringing the flame to the tip of her cigar.

"I don't understand you, though," Elena continued, puffing slowly on the cigar and made a face, coughing a little."God, this is strong," she commented, frowning at the cigar."Why did you think it was a good idea to pressure her into a committed relationship?"

Next to her, Michael groaned in exasperation.

"El, come on, it's none of your business."

"In my defence, I didn't think it was a good idea," Gomez replied sardonically.

"So, that's the best idea you could come up with?" She asked and then with a look of utter disdain, jabbed the cigar into an ashtray."This is disgusting, how do you smoke this?"

He shrugged.

"I smoke since I was five," he admitted.

"Five…," Elena blurted, not entirely sure she heard him correctly."As in five-years-old?"

He nodded.

"Mother insisted."

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of the trio waiting for her against the wall and was quite happy to notice that Elena no longer looked like she wanted to bite Gomez's head off.

"So, how did it go?" Elena asked the moment Morticia reached them.

Morticia took a deep breath before finally answering,

"Either I completely aced it," she replied with a small smile."Or I flunked the hell out of it, I really cannot tell which one at this point."

"You aced it," Michael assured."You never flunked an exam in your life."

"I guess we'll find out in three weeks," she remarked."I'm just glad it's over. Thank you for staying, you must have been bored out of your mind waiting."

"Are you kidding?" Elena asked, cocking her eyebrow at her."We've got to spent three hours with Mr Addams here and interrogate him about your sex life."

Morticia blinked and stared at her friend incredulously for the whole of five seconds.

"You didn't," she blurted.

"She did," Gomez confirmed, grinning at her obvious embarrassment."Well, she tried."

"He was most uncooperative," Elena sighed in disappointment.

"Although, we got ourselves invited for the Addams annual Halloween party," Michael pointed out happily.

"Oh, yeah, did you know that Gomez's uncle had thrown an axe at his own wife at last year's party and then everyone joined in and had a jolly family brawl?" Elena grinned excitedly." Eleven injured, house for the total renovation. Just how cool is that?"

"Don't forget that his great uncle was best friends with none other but Jack the Ripper," Michael supplied.

Elena nodded vigorously.

"Gomez promised to teach us how to expertly throw an axe, so we won't feel left out at the party."

Morticia turned slowly to Gomez who looked all too pleased with himself.

"I leave you with them for few hours and you turn them into two maniacally excited five-year-olds," she scolded half-heartedly.

"I'm a charming fellow," he remarked casually, linking his hand with hers and placed a small kiss to her knuckles, eliciting a soft smile from her.

"I'm starving," Elena remarked and as if to prove her point her stomach rumbled loudly.

"So am I," Gomez concurred."And I know just the place," he announced and motioned his head into the direction of the exit door for others to follow.

Elena was about to follow the pair when she felt Michael's fingers curl around her arm to stop her and she looked at him quizzically.

"So," he whispered conspiratorially as they watched Gomez and Morticia make their way towards the exit, their hands linked, talking in the barely audible, soft tones."What do you think of him?"

"I think he's still a jerk until he proves otherwise," she declared with a soft snort before her lips curled into a small, content smile." That being said, if I had someone who looked at me the way he looks at her," she remarked pointedly."I would marry them in a second."

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think. :)

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you very much for reading, kudos, subscriptions and, of course, a big fat thank you! to those who took their time to leave reviews - I hope you know how precious you are!

This chapter is insanely long, I know, but it just would work any other way. Hope you'll enjoy!

Chapter 11

Death was often discussed in their household.

It wasn't a subject that was ever avoided, even when they were little children. There was no reason to, for death was a fact of life just as everything else. Death was part of living, just as life was part of dying.

Morticia never feared death.

Her mother believed firmly in the existence of the human soul, she often told Morticia that the body was simply a host to a soul, nothing more. It was only the body that died, and after death, soul began a new adventure into the great unknown. It was the soul that mattered. Morticia was never sure she was ever fully convinced of such theories but, still, she liked to believe it was true.

Her father didn't believe in the existence of either soul nor God but he used to say that being mindful of death invigorated one's perception of life, because tomorrow's never certain, so it encouraged to live one's life to the fullest. Oh, and there was no doubt that he lived his life to the fullest.

Gomez Addams often reminded her of her father. Albeit not physically, because they looked nothing alike, except for their height and their dark eyes maybe. She didn't even know if Gomez believed in the existence of some higher deity or soul or afterlife because they never discussed it, but he reminded her of her father in his love and appreciation of death, yet at the same time both of them had an incredible thirst for life, the desire to live life to the fullest, to experience all and be all. Their charisma, their charm and passion were as contagious as it was addictive. One couldn't just say no to them, no matter how impossible they seemed, no matter how insane they appeared, one longed to join them in their insanity.

And yet, it wasn't always so simple, because her mother - for all her preaching about death, it's inevitability and the great mystery, all the enticing theory attached to it - it was glaringly obvious that Hester Frump failed to live up to her own theory, her own ideas. Thinking about it now, Morticia wondered how much of her preconceptions about death and life were really hers, and how much were they her father's and she just adopted them.

Because the fact remained that her mother fell apart. Her mother couldn't deal with his death. She was alive yet defeated by death.

Whereas for Morticia, as shocking and devastating as his death was, she came to accept it. If he had to die, she reckoned, there was no better way for him to die than the way he did. She liked to think that if he could have chosen his own way to depart from this world, this would be it. He died the way he lived. One had to be grateful for that. She was sure her father would despise the idea of simply dying of old age.

She thought Gomez would as well.

Morticia smiled at the thought and dipped the white puff into the small, ornamental container with the baking powder and tapped it gently, watching the tiny particles fall back into the small box before applying it to her face gently. Her mother often told her she wasted her time putting the makeup on, that she was beautiful and didn't need it and, after all, it's not as if her skin would get any lighter, but Morticia liked it. She enjoyed the ritual of applying makeup, especially the black kohl, she liked how it accentuated and dramatised her eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Tish, can you hurry up?" her sister exasperated voice reached her as the bedroom's door opened, without the courtesy of knocking, and Ophelia peaked in. Morticia felt a brief flash of annoyance.

"Mother never thaught you it's polite to knock?" she retorted and tried not to roll her eyes when her sister ostentatiously delivered three, deliberate, very slow and very loud knocks into the flat surface of the door.

"You're hilarious," Morticia deadpanned.

"Come on, I don't want to be late," Ophelia rushed her.

"We need to be at the hospital at seven and it's barely five-twenty," she pointed out. "It's less than an hour drive."

"Doesn't matter, you ready?"

Morticia nodded and stood up, grabbing her black leather bag in the process.

"Do you have any exams today?" Ophelia asked as the made their way downstairs, towards the hall.

"Just one in the afternoon, enzyme inhibition."

Her sister snorted, amused.

"I don't even know what that is," Ophelia smiled at her.

"It's a molecule - "

"No, no," she interrupted, raising her hand to stop her sister from continuing any further."I'm not asking for an explanation, I was merely informing you that I have not a damn clue what you're actually studying...or why, for that matter," she added as an afterthought.

"Fair enough," Morticia laughed softly but her smile faded when she noticed Jared waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asked the moment they both descended the stairs without so much as nodding at Morticia in greeting."I can ask -"

"No, darling," Ophelia interjected kindly and smiled at him."We'll be perfectly all right on our own."

"Then at least let Tolya take you," he insisted.

"He'll be more of use to you," she replied, checking the content of her purse for the last time as they all walked towards the front door."Besides, you know I like to drive."

"All right," Jared acquiesced reluctantly."As long as you don't let her drive," he insisted, motioning his head gently towards Morticia and Ophelia chuckled in amusement.

"I'm not suicidal," she assured, smirking at her sister.

"My driving skills are perfectly fine," Morticia insisted, rolling her eyes at their digs. She couldn't understand why, in the devil, everyone was so terrified of letting her drive. She didn't even kill anyone yet."It's not my fault the speed limits in this country are so ridiculously low."

"I don't think skills is the apt word in this context," Jared commented, but she was slightly surprised that his tone was kind, teasing even."I still want to know how, in the world, did you manage to pass the driving test?"

"I smiled," she deadpanned, looking straight at her brother-in-law and, behind her, her sister laughed at her reply.

"I won't let her drive, I promise," Ophelia assured before Jared could form a reply.

"Just be careful," he insisted before, to Morticia's surprise, placed a soft kiss to Ophelia's forehead.

Morticia watched the scene curiously, it wasn't often that her brother-in-law expressed his affections so openly. Not that they weren't affectionate, but theirs was certainly a very private relationship, they generally refrained from any public forms of affection that extended further than a peck on the cheek. Hence, this new, explicit tenderness was slightly bemusing.

"I will," Ophelia smiled at her husband."I'll see you later."

"Put your seatbelt on," Ophelia's told her firmly the moment they entered the car and Morticia turned her head towards her in disbelief.

"Surely, you're jesting" she replied, putting her bag on the floor between her feet.

"This isn't a request," her sister insisted, fastening her own seatbelt with a soft click and nodded her head at Morticia to do the same.

"Oh, come on."

"We're not moving until you put your seatbelt on."

Morticia glared and her but after a few minutes of staring contest, she sighed dejectedly.

"Fine," she pulled the seatbelt and fastened it in a very ostentatious manner.

"Good girl," Ophelia deadpanned and Morticia couldn't help but smile. A little.

"So, ehm," she began, leaning slightly into her seat."What's with your husband and his overly joyful disposition?" she asked casually."Dorothy's moving away to England?"

"If only," Ophelia grinned, starting the car but didn't elaborate any further and Morticia frowned gently. She didn't exactly know what to make of this.

"Is everything all right?" she asked tentatively, concerned, and her sister turned towards her with a soft smile.

"Fine," she assured, nodding."He's fine...we're fine."

Morticia waited for her sister to continue, but curiously she was again met with silence.

"Okay," Morticia agreed softly but watched Ophelia intently, even more concerned. She generally refrained from interfering in any way into her sister's personal life, even though sometimes she thought perhaps she should. Their interactions tended to be agreeable and comfortable, at times even bordering on warm, they cared about each other, and in many ways, Ophelia was all the family Morticia had now. That being said, they did not have a very close relationship and were certainly not in the habit of confining into each other so Morticia was never comfortable in prodding Ophelia about her personal life."If you say so."

Her sister winced slightly and sighed, as if annoyed and compressed her lips thoughtfully.

"I'm pregnant, Tish," Ophelia said blandly, without even looking at Morticia."That's why he's so happy."

Morticia blinked, momentarily taken aback but then nodded, silently pondering over the information.

"And, are you? Happy?" she asked carefully in a gentle tone. She wasn't sure how to react to the news. Normally, she reckoned congratulations would be in order but her sister didn't exactly look overly ecstatic about the prospect of another child, so she decided it would be prudent to tread lightly.

Ophelia shrugged noncommittally.

"I'm not unhappy," she remarked."Jared wanted another child, and I… I guess I did...I do too but it's just...not exactly a good time for another baby."

"Because of mama?"

Ophelia nodded, not taking her eyes off the road.

"Among other things," she responded absently and sighed tiredly."But anyway, Dorothy invited Francois to come over with us to Rhode Island."

Morticia closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the car seat.

"May I point out that your mother-in-law has a simply atrocious taste when it comes to holiday destinations?" she lamented, purposely not mentioning the real issue at hand. Why that woman insisted on meddling into her life was beyond her.

"I'll take Rhode Island over The Hamptons," Ophelia pointed out with a smile."Those four days felt like four hundred years."

"All right, fair point," Morticia agreed reluctantly. Her sister was right, nothing could be worse than last year's feats of snobbery that took place at The Hamptons among the various friends and acquaintances of the Diamonds.

"But I think it's good," she admitted and laughed gently when Morticia turned towards her with an incredulous look on her face." I mean you know, for you and Francois to just spend some time together, get to know each other better," she added and didn't miss the slight twitch in her sister's body language." Come on, he's a nice guy, he will be good for you. You know, Jared is very much in favour of this relationship as well."

Morticia pursed her lips tensely and turned to her sister.

"Oh is he now?" she asked wryly. She wasn't surprised, really. Her brother-in-law might be a bastard but he wasn't an idiot and he surely recognized what a golden opportunity for business such marriage would be for him.

"Come on, don't be like this."

"Like what?" she asked, more sharply than she intended.

"What's the problem here, Tish?" Ophelia asked, her tone slightly exasperated."You said you want to do this, this was your idea, so don't act like Jared's forcing your hand. Besides, I thought you liked Francois, I don't understand why are you so annoyed?"

Morticia didn't reply immediately but exhaled impatiently.

"Can we go through the meeting first before you start planning my wedding?" she proposed sardonically.

"I just think you should give him a chance," Ophelia insisted, ignoring her request."He really likes you."

"He doesn't have to like me," Morticia replied frostily."Stop acting like it's a love match, it's not and it's not going to be. It's no more than a business deal, surely you realize that."

"It can be more than that if you want."

"I don't," she responded curtly.

"Why not?" he sister challenged."He's nice, sophisticated, kind, handsome and very rich. What more could you ask for?"

Morticia chuckled sardonically.

"Love, for example?"

Ophelia's face softened.

"He will love you," her sister assured kindly."He's already crazy about you."

Morticia closed her eyes briefly.

"What if I can never love him?"

"Oh Tishy," her sister rolled the words around her tongue sardonically." You're such a romantic, but great love affairs do not necessarily make great marriages, with Francois you will have stability, that what's imperative. He's not a dandy, he's serious about you."

"I really don't want to talk about it right now, Ophelia," she said sharply.

"All right, no need to get upset."

"I'm not upset," she insisted. Except, she was more than upset, she was furious because she shouldn't be in this situation. It was ridiculous and cruel and plainly unfair.

"I only want what's best for you," her sister retorted softly."We all do."

"I know," she replied, forcing the softer tone into her voice. She seriously doubted Jared gave the slightest damn about her well-being. Then again, neither did she about his, for that matter. "I just can't think about it right now. We can talk about it later."

"All right, sure."

"Good morning, mama," Morticia greeted softly and placed a tender kiss on her mother's cool forehead but the older woman didn't acknowledge neither the greeting nor the gesture.

She rarely did.

Sometimes, she would turn towards her and look at Morticia without really seeing her. Today though, the only indication that there was a real person and not a life-size doll sitting in the armchair was the gentle rise and fall of her chest, slow and measured intake of breath and periodical flutter of her lashes.

Four years later and Morticia couldn't help the tightening in her gut at the sight of her once beautiful mother. Although perhaps she still was, her blond hair had only a few streaks of grey in them, her face marked gently with the passing of time. She was still beautiful but her face reflected such profound sadness and emptiness, she looked as if there was no longer soul in her, all there was left to her was the mere frame. Her eyes were no longer enchanting sapphire like Ophelia's, they seemed to have shade in them that turned them into most unremarkable grey.

She took her mother's bony hand into both of hers and brought it close to her cheek and closed her eyes briefly at the sensation.

God, how she missed her. What would she give to have her back, to hear her low, soft voice, she missed her voice so much.

"She's always said that women in our family love too much," Ophelia remarked thoughtfully, as she leaned against the wall, her eyes firmly on her mother." That...we love with a soul crashing abandon. We just allow men we love to take over our lives and we accept all things unacceptable because to live without them is unthinkable and more unbearable than the constant pain of knowing that you're living a lie."

Morticia frowned and swallowed heavily. She wasn't sure how much her sister was talking about their mother or herself but, nevertheless, she didn't like what she was implying.

"They loved each other," Morticia defended. "Papa loved her very much."

Ophelia exhaled derisively.

"She gave up everything for him," Ophelia pointed out." What did he give up for her? Nothing. She lived her life for him and now look at her."

Morticia bit her lips into a thin line and felt her eyes fill with angry tears at Ophelia's cruel words and she wasn't sure what hurt more, that she dared to voice those vile thoughts or that she was probably right.

"Do you know where papa was when mother was giving birth to his first child?" she continued bitterly and without waiting for Morticia to reply she answered her own question,"In Colombia, by the time he returned I was three weeks old. Did you know that?"

"No," she admitted quietly.

"Nothing mattered to him more than his bloody travels, his damned adventures," she remarked sourly." And she kept making excuses for him. He was practically spitting in her face and she insisted it was raining. I couldn't stand it, I couldn't stand that she allowed him to treat her like that."

"They were always so happy when they were together," Morticia insisted, her tone wistful."Just because you didn't understand their relationship and the way they chose to live, doesn't mean they were unhappy."

"The way he chose to live, you mean," he sister remarked bitterly."Oh, Tish, by the time you could even comprehend what was going on, mother gave up on trying to make him stay. In the end, she took from him what he was willing to give her. He didn't care that he was slowly destroying her, that he was breaking her heart because there was always adventure waiting," she continued bitterly and then turned to look directly at Morticia."Your money... your inheritance, do you know why she put that ludicrous clause about marriage?"she paused and watched Morticia shake her head gently."Father didn't know of course- "

"And you knew," she reckoned but it was a statement, not a question. She knew her father would never have permitted such thing, it was out of the question.

"I knew," her sister concurred."I told her this wasn't a good idea," she continued and Mortcia couldn't help but snort derisively."She was so scared to lose you too. She watched him fill your head with his ideas, his love for travel and adventures and you took his every word as gospel."

"I would have never left her alone on her own," Morticia insisted in a hoarse whisper, unwittingly wrapping her fingers around her mother's frail hand a little tighter."But she had no right - "

"No," Ophelia agreed."She hadn't, but she meant no harm, she was just afraid, Tish. In the end, you were all she had left but I think she realized how desperately futile the whole idea was, she mentioned going to the lawyer after father's return from Ecuador but... she never got a chance."

Because her father never returned.

Morticia spent the last four years wondering what was behind the reason for her mother's choice to amend the inheritance conditions. She imagined all sorts of things, came up with all sorts of excuses - perhaps she had to, she didn't have a choice, there was something (or someone) that forced her hand.

Now that she knew...she actually wished she didn't, because it all sounded to her so simplistically selfish. So unremarkable it was almost too ridiculous to comprehend, to just think what that moment of her mother's selfish decision would now cost Morticia filled her with such a wave of bitter anger she could barely stand it.

"You want love, Tish?" her sister broke the heavy silence, motioning to their mother purposely with the palm of her hand."This is it."

Doctor Bruno Fieldman looked awfully unassuming. Slim framed and of medium height, probably in his early sixties, bespectacled, neither handsome nor unattractive. The grey suit he wore was at least a size too big and his eyes were kind and intelligent but there was absolutely nothing memorable about him.

"Thank you for coming over so early in the morning to see me, I appreciate it," he started cordially in his heavily accented English.

"Not at all," Ophelia replied kindly."We really appreciate your time. Doctor Richards has spoken very highly of you."

"Doctor Richards is a distinguished colleague," he remarked, smiling fondly."And, indeed, a great friend of mine," he added and then turned towards Morticia, watching her intently for a minute or so."Your aura," he started slowly, making circular motions with his hand."Is very similar to your mother's, you know? Very powerful, very...raw."

Morticia blinked, entirely taken aback at the statement and turned towards her sister but Ophelia only shook her head gently at her, which Morticia reckoned meant she shouldn't answer the question, so she remained quiet. All of a sudden, though, she felt it; as if the room was suddenly constricted yet charged with unseen energy and she let out a silent gasp.

"I was actually looking forward to meeting both of you," the doctor continued causally."I was curious to see the offspring of such a powerful witch as your mother."

"How did you do that?" Morticia asked curiously, despite herself."How did you contain it?"

The older man chuckled gently.

"Old habits die hard," he admitted furtively."Nowadays, young witches and wizards are not taught to suppress their magic auras, I suppose there's no longer need for it, really. Times changed, we no longer face the threat of being burned on the stake...well, not in this country at least," he added with a kind smile and slowly turned towards Ophelia."Although I see, you've learnt the art quite successfully."

"Is Doctor Richards aware that you -?" Ophelia asked warily, ignoring his remark.

"Oh, yes," he replied immediately."Which is in fact why he contacted me about your mother. We've worked together on a similar case many years ago."

"So you can help her?"

"I'm quite confident I can," he concurred."You're probably aware that, regrettably, mental health is not an area that is overly explored in the world of witchcraft," he admitted ruefully."This is something that I work very hard to change. The fact is that practising witchcraft is not without consequences and yet most of us are unaware of its hidden dangers. I'm not talking about being burned on a stake - we're past that. No. I'm talking about far-reaching effects on one's psyche, on our souls," he explained passionately, putting his hand over his heart as if for emphasis.

"That's only dark magic, tough," Morticia remarked carefully. She remembered her mother warning her about not delving too far into the dark magic without mastering the basics first but Morticia wasn't overly concerned about it then, when there was still so much for her to learn, she didn't even dream about exploring witchcraft on such an advanced level.

"I dare to claim that there's only one kind of magic," the doctor insisted somberly."This concept of dark and white magic is utterly artificial. When one deals with magic, one must inevitably deal with the dark forces, there's no other way. The only distinction is how the magic powers are used - that we can roughly categorize into good or bad, if you like. Unless we're talking about herbalists, that's the only thing that would fall into the so-called white magic category, but then one can hardly call it magic. No matter how long you brew catnip and caraway without the bewitching spell, it's just a harmless tea."

"Even if it so, what any of it has to do with our mother?" Ophelia asked."It's not witchcraft that put her in that state.."

"But it did," Dr Fieldman contradicted patiently." I have over thirty years of experience in the field, Mrs Diamond, twenty with an almost sole focus on mental health in... our community."

"I didn't mean to undermine your credentials."

"I understand," the man nodded." My point is, magic is dangerous, it's not for everyone and that's a fact. Once one starts to deal with the dark forces, it only goes two ways, either one has the innate capacity to rein them and bend them to their will or those forces will consume them. The terrifying truth is that not everyone who practises witchcraft should practice because the changes in body chemistry, the psyche and soul itself are profound and irreversible."

"What are you saying, then?" Morticia spoke, trying to fully comprehend what the man was telling them."That this state she's in is the effect of witchcraft?"

"In essence, yes," he concurred patiently and raised his hands as if to frame an unseen object between them." All people, every human being has light and darkness within them, we do good deeds, we sin, we do good again etcetera, that's the natural way of things. The whole world, seen and unseen, strives for balance. When one starts to deal with the magic arts this balance is profoundly shaken and so the soul longs to regain that equilibrium that's been lost, to balance the darkness with the light. Most commonly, with the most powerful magic of all... love," he explained and smiled at their sceptical expressions."Yes, I'm aware of how awfully cliche that sounds, but it's true. A witch, or wizard, do not merely fall in love, you see, it goes way beyond. They connect to their partner so deeply that without them, they lose the reason to live," he paused and let his words sink in before continuing." My patients described being without their loved ones as agony, pure and simple. The longing so profound it hurts to breathe. Which is, of course, natural when one experience bereavement but for them, for the witches, it never ends, these feelings of emptiness never stop, they consume them to the point where they can no longer continue to live."

This is what I'm becoming, Morticia thought in panic and pressed her long, sharp nails into the back of her palm so hard she was certain it will leave marks. This is the exact feeling she was experiencing since she met Gomez, this restlessness when she didn't see him even for a few days, this unbearable longing that was almost physically painful.

She realized that if she allowed herself to love him, to love him fully and unreservedly, to commit to him...she'll give him the ability to destroy her.

"This's not a balance," she heard herself say and the doctor turned towards her. She blinked, realizing she said her thoughts out loud and cleared her throat gently, swallowing hard. "You said the soul seeks balance."

"That's right."

"But this is not a balance, doctor," she almost hissed at him and wrapped her arms around herself because the panic in her heart made her whole body tremble.

"You're right, it's not," he agreed."Your mother, just like many others before her, fell from one extreme to the other. She allowed her husband to become her sole purpose in life. That's the mistake."

"Dedication to her family is a mistake?"

"In a way it is," he insisted."Witches... love with abandon, with utter dedication and, unwittingly, expect the same from their spouses, which is all well if the spouse can reciprocate with the same intensity and dedication of their feelings. The problem is, for the vast majority of people, this kind of love happens only in the early stages of falling in love, if it happens at all. The emotional heights of new love, that's usually a period of up to two years, sometimes three."

Morticia swallowed heavily, considering his words. It was better to never know love, to never experience this imprisonment of heart and soul. This love that made her too raw, too vulnerable. If this was how deep she felt about him now, what will it do to her later? What will it do to her when this ends?

Will she become like his mother, bitter and disillusioned? Her sister, hurt yet unable to let go? Her mother?

Her mother, the mere shadow of a woman she once was?

Dear God, she cannot allow this to happen to her.

She will not allow it.

"You said you can help, though," her sister's voice, interrupting Morticia's silent musings.

"I can," he concurred, folding his hands on his lap."There's a unique therapy I co-designed that we've been using with considerable success over the years," he explained."It's a combination of traditional psychotherapy techniques, witchcraft and purposely designed potions that work as antidepressants but at the same time inhibit the patient's ability to cast spells which, as you're no doubt aware, is crucial until the successful completion of the individual's therapy."

"How much is it going to cost?" Morticia asked, trying to contain apprehension in her voice.

Dr Fieldman smiled as her almost apologetically.

"The costs are considerable, I'm afraid," he admitted." My clinic is located in Lausanne, you see, as for the moment, only Swiss Institute of Witchcraft authorized the use of my therapy. All other countries refuse to authorise it because it would be equal to admitting that we have a problem in our community."

"But we do have a problem," Morticia interjected, looking at her mother still sitting almost motionless in her armchair, staring at the same space outside the window she was when they arrived almost an hour ago.

"Of course we do," the doctor agreed with a solemn nod."The scale of which is continuously growing and we lack the resources to tackle it but they insist on ignoring the problem, they accuse me of creating conspiracy theories and unnecessary panic," he continued, but then suddenly gave a frustrated wave of his bony hand as if he had this conversation a thousand times before already and took a deep breath instead. "The sad truth is that there is a lot of money involved in the institutionalized teaching and practice of witchcraft and...well, I'm sure I don't need to explain," he smiled tightly."In the end, we're still people, magic or not. "

"Lausanne," Ophelia whispered, compressing her lips into a thin line."How long?" she asked."How long would this therapy take?"

"It's difficult to judge at this point," he admitted."But I would say...anything from six months to two years is certainly a range of time to be expected, plus the additional therapy sessions after the main part of the treatment is completed."

Morticia turned to look at her sister silently and Ophelia looked back at her thoughtfully. They both knew there was no option for Ophelia to move to Switzerland with their mother, not now when she's expecting a baby. Therefore, there was only one option left, Morticia would need to move to Lausanne for...well, for God knows how long at this point and that put the additional costs on this treatment. It would mean interrupting her studies but that was actually the least of her problems.

"This is a big decision, I understand that," Dr Fieldman broke the stretching silence."Take your time, think it through and do let me know as soon as you can."

She wanted to tell him that she didn't need to think it through, that her mother's well-being was everything to her, to go through with it, to start making preparation but the enormity and the impending reality of the situation just struck her like a ton of bricks and for a moment she felt like she couldn't breathe let alone speak.

"We've already decided, we spoke about it extensively," Ophelia said softly."We want to go through with it," she assured."We'll need some time to plan and organize, include the move to Switzerland into an equation," she explained and Dr Fieldman nodded in understanding.

"Of course, of course," he concurred, already standing up."Take all the time you need. We'll be in touch."

He never doubted that there's a distinction between having sex and making love, however cliche it sounded, even to him. Making love to this woman felt like nothing he ever experienced before - an inferno, all-consuming yet irresistible. She was addictive, completely mesmerizing and he could never get enough of her. If it was possible, he'd never let her go from his arms so he could always feel her glorious body against his, to feel as if they were one entity.

"Gods, Tish, slow down," Gomez moaned ardently, grabbing her hips roughly as she moved tantalizingly above him and this image alone was to him the most exquisite agony imaginable.

"No," she denied in a sultry, breathy whisper that made set his blood aflame. She moved her hips sharply against him and heard him swear under his breath."I want it like this," she purred and fisted her hand into his pomaded hair, capturing his lips in such a sinful kiss he immediately knew there was no way in hell he's going to last much longer."You feel so good."

He let out a raspy sound that was somewhere between a cry and a moan, moved his hand between them to caress her and she moaned deliciously against his lips as her inner muscles started to contract around him.

She gasped in surprise when he flipped them over in one swift move, still buried inside her and lifted her hips, pounding into her aggressively, whispering her name in a hoarse moan.

"Harder," she whispered and almost whimpered when he complied."More…," she urged in her sultry, bedroom voice."I need...oh mmmmmm…gods," she moaned and arched against him further as her release hit her, hot and intense, and the move was his undoing.

He cried out her name and jerked against her, unable to hold on any longer. He buried his head into the crook of her neck and sighed against her damp skin, their breathing laboured, her legs still wrapped firmly around his middle.

"You'll kill me one day," he muttered, placing a soft kiss on the alabaster skin."You vixen."

"Hmmm, if you're lucky," she teased, eliciting a low, content growl out of him.

"Everything all right?" he asked gently as he lay down against the pillows and she curled against him.

"It is now," she replied suggestively and smiled at him, before placing a warm kiss on his lips.

He returned the smile and his hand moved gently to caress her raven tresses, curling it around his fingers.

"You seem restless today," he pointed out and felt her tense slightly in his arms. He could practically sense her erecting a wall between them.

"I'm fine," she assured, propping her head on her palm."Just... lots of things on my mind, that's all."

This was the other side of the inferno - the agony, where she was with him and yet she wasn't. She was in his arms and yet miles away. He wasn't sure if it was even possible to really know this woman fully and completely. And how he longed for it, how he craved to know every intimate thing about her, he wanted it from the very core of his soul.

"Your mother?" he prodded when she stayed silent and immediately hated the feeling, it made him feel like he was intruding on something she didn't want to share with him. He felt her shrug gently and murmur absently."You want to talk about it?"

"No," she replied in a jaded whisper before snuggling against his chest again."I don't know. Maybe."

He blinked in surprise because she never talked about her mother, except this one time, during an argument he wasn't eager to reminisce any time soon. He placed a soft kiss to the crown of her head and waited for her to continue but she remained silent and he had to suppress almost violent desire to groan in exasperation.

"He's convinced he can help her," she finally whispered after few minutes of silence.

"The doctor?"

"Yes."

"That's... good news," he remarked carefully.

"I know, it is, it's just…," she lifted herself off his chest and propped her head on the pillow of her hand."He insists on transferring her to another hospital, where he works."

"So, what's the problem?"

"The hospital is in Lausanne, near Lausanne actually."

"Why Lausanne?"

"Because the method he uses...the therapy is not exactly...approved outside of Switzerland. It's complicated," she answered carefully."That place provides specialized care for people like my mother."

"Witches," he supplied immediately.

"Yes," she nodded."He said the contemporary medicine is of no use because what she suffers from is the sickness of the soul, practising witchcraft corrupts the soul, it alters it because of the witch's interaction with the spirits. Apparently, not many witches delve into the psychological impacts of practising witchcraft."

"Do you think it's true?"

"That witchcraft corrupts the soul?" she asked and watched him nod at her but she didn't answer immediately even though the same question has been on her mind since this morning. She looked back at Gomez who was regarding her with a soft, curious gaze. "I think many things corrupt the soul."

He smiled knowingly at her furtive answer.

"That's not what I asked," he pointed out gently.

"I know," she smiled back."I'm not sure I want to ponder upon it, to be honest."

"Does it worry you," he asked softly." What he said?"

She shrugged gently.

"A bit," she admitted which was more than stretching the truth. It didn't worry her, it terrified her because of so much of what Doctor Fieldman said she's already noticed in her own behaviour. Especially towards the man lying next to her."It's not something I ever considered. It's not...talked about, I never heard anyone mention it."

"Do you think your soul is corrupted?"

"By you, maybe," she answered teasingly, even though there was very little amusing about it because she knew how dangerously close it was to the truth, and leaned towards him for a kiss.

"Mmmmmm, I certainly like the sound of that," he murmured before pressing his lips against hers when suddenly the thought occurred to him."Tish," he whispered and waited until she looked at him."If your mother moves to Lausanne, who…," he faltered briefly before continuing."Who'll be coming with her?" He asked, even though somehow he knew the answer before he even finished the question.

"I will, of course," she responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world."My sister wouldn't be able to move even if she wanted to," she forestalled the question that she suspected would inevitably follow.

"Why not?" he asked tensely."Why does it have to be you?"

"She's expecting another baby," she explained patiently and almost smirked at his concrete expression.

"Oh," he remarked sheepishly.

"Besides, she has her family here," she added."I have no one beside her and my mother so it makes the most sense for me to move there."

"You have me," he whispered firmly, looking at her with such an explicit tenderness it made her mouth dry.

"My mother's well being comes before anything else," she replied softly.

"I know," he smiled ruefully." But I could come with you."

"To Switzerland?"

"Yes, Tish, to Switzerland," he confirmed, mildly surprised by her bewildered expression. Also, if he was entirely honest with himself, slightly insulted."If you want me to," he added after a while she remained silent for longer than it was comfortable.

"I would," she assured."It's just...it's quite a big decision to make for a,-"

"If you're about to say for a fling, I will jump off the nearest bridge," he forewarned.

"The nearest bridge is in your swamp, though," she pointed out, amused.

"I can drown very successfully in that swamp," he assured but then his expression turned serious again."I mean it, though."

"To drown yourself in the swamp?" she taunted even though she knew perfectly well what he meant.

"That too," he replied.

She smiled gently and compressed her lips into a thin line before she reached to caress his cheek.

"I can't ask that of you, Gomez," she replied."I don't know how long we'll have to be there, it can be six months or six years and you have a family here, what about your mother and Fester? You can't give it all up for me."

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Tish."

"What if you change your mind?"

"I won't," he assured firmly.

"What if you will?" she insisted.

"What if I won't?" He asked, trying very hard not to get exasperated. "Sometimes I think you're so convinced I will change my mind about you, that you won't consider for a second the possibility that I will not, that you're everything to me and I will always love you and be there for you."

"Well, it goes both ways," she replied."You think you're so certain of your feelings for me but...nothing lasts forever, Gomez. How can you be sure you will feel the same way in two months time?"

"How can you be certain that I won't?" he challenged, impressed with himself that he managed to sound so calm because she was exasperating the hell out of him. She must be the most stubborn individual he ever met in his life...beside himself that is.

"The odds are not in my favour," she replied wryly.

He frowned.

"What do you mean by that?"

She sighed and drawn her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Nothing," she whispered."I don't want to talk about it anymore," she added and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Avoiding uncomfortable topics won't make them go away, Tish," he pointed out before adding in a lighter tone."I know, I've checked."

"You're sure? I've been so good at it lately," she quipped and felt him chuckle before he took a deep breath and pulled her closer.

"You will drive me insane, cara mia," he whispered into her hair.

"You know what's insane?" she asked, already climbing on top of him in that feline manner of hers, placing soft kisses on his jaw before she was directly above his lips."It's insane how much I adore when you call me that," she admitted and watched his eyes illuminate with unbridled pleasure at her confession.

"Excellent attempt at changing the subject, querida," he laughed dryly.

"See? I told you I was good at it," she quipped and grinned at him before capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

It was ludicrously early in the morning, yet the library was packed with people cramming for the last days of the final exams before school broke for the summer. It was convenient to have a table in a nice secluded corner of the library, far from other students so they had the freedom to talk without the need to whisper.

The workload this year was insanely intensive due to the fact that she combined her studies with work and additional study of witchcraft under the tutelage of Eudora Addams and Morticia could feel the exhaustion creep up on her these final weeks. Thankfully, Fester was an invaluable help with her studies and she truly thought she wouldn't be able to go through this exam period so smoothly without him.

Curiously, even Michael was much more relaxed this year, whereas usually exam period was his time to panic and have a nervous breakdown at the prospect of failing the year because he couldn't be bothered to put even the minimum effort into his studies.

"Marvelous, it's a work of art, truly," Dementia praised.

The portfolio with his designs, however, was a whole different story.

"Ah, you're too kind," Michael replied with such a faux modesty even Fester couldn't help but roll his eyes to high heavens.

"No, really," Dementia insisted."It's amazing. Your attention to detail is superb."

"Dementia, I beg you," Morticia finally pleaded."Stop inflating his ego, he's going to be unbearable."

Dementia smiled at her.

"They are really good, though," she remarked.

"He knows that," Morticia replied."He's been bragging about his artistic genius since I met him," she teased kindly.

"That's a blatant lie," Michael denied, highly offended."I distinctly remember, I waited at least two weeks before showing you my work."

"More like two days…" she muttered. "If you won't at least read through the notes, you will fail this exam," Morticia reprimanded lightly, looking towards Micheal with a half-exasperated, half-amused expression. Her friend has done absolutely nothing productive for the last forty minutes but spent all that time showing Dementia the portfolio he finally completed."We came here to study, not to promote your craft."

"Come on, Tish, everyone should fail at least one exam in their life," Michael insisted with a cheeky grin."It's good for you, it's... character building. Give it a try."

Morticia bit her cheeks and shook her head in an exasperated gesture.

"I'm not even going to grace it with a reply."

"I'm right and you know it."

"You're wrong and I know it," she retorted, amused.

"Oh, this one is just magnificent," Dementia exclaimed, looking at the photo of Morticia in the long, black dress she wore for Sasha's opening night all those weeks ago."Oh, those details are divine," she praised before turning towards Morticia."Although your waist looks impossibly small here."

Morticia laughed gently and nodded in agreement.

"That's because it is," she smiled."Michael is promoting impossible beauty standards."

"I am not -" he denied vehemently.

"He made me wear a metal corset for those photoshoots in which I could barely breathe and almost died."

"But you didn't," he pointed out, smirking.

"I almost did."

"Well, Gomez thinks those photos are excellent," Michael remarked casually.

"What?" Morticia turned sharply towards him.

"He said so himself," he said proudly, smirking.

"When did you even have a chance to show him those photos?" she inquired curiously because she did not recall Gomez mentioning anything.

"I always carry my portfolio in the car, just in case," he admitted.

"In case of what?" Fester asked, confused.

"In case I might encounter someone important who will be dazzled my genius and help me advance my career," he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world."First rules of success: always be prepared."

Morticia raised her shapely eyebrows at him sceptically.

"That's your first rule of success? Really?" she asked."And yet you barely open your textbooks, they look brand new."

"That," he stressed, motioning carelessly to an array of open textbooks on the table."I do not care about. Gomez says life is too short to waste it on things that do not make you want to crawl on your belly through hot coals and broken glass."

"That definitely sounds like my brother," Fester quipped dryly.

"And he's absolutely correct," Michael added, nodding jovially."Gomez introduced me to his artist friend who introduced me to this guy that works for Givenchy and he knows a girl that works in admissions at Paris College of Arts and she's going to help me with my application and portfolio."

"Isn't that a blatant nepotism?" Morticia supplied, pursing her lips in taunt disapproval.

"No," he replied, waving his index finger in a gesture of negation."Gomez said it's only nepotism if I were a half-witted, talentless hack trying to get a place I don't deserve but, as he rightly pointed out, I am a creative genius and that makes it simple favour."

"This must be Gomez's own personal definition of nepotism," Morticia quipped with an affectionate smile.

"It is, actually," Fester concurred with a grin of his own. "You should see how creative he is when he has to get aunt Constance out of jail, now that's an art in itself!"

"Gomez has an excellent taste," Michael praised, leaning back in his chair languidly."He has a true eye for beauty and, let me tell you, his wardrobe is simply exquisite. Tish, you should marry him."

"Sounds like you should marry him," she teased.

"If that was even remotely an option...I would," he assured, narrowly missing the pen Morticia has thrown at him.

"But they are getting married," Dementia pointed out, confused and turned towards Morticia."Aren't you?"

Morticia blinked. She distinctly remembered Fester promising her he would tell Dementia the truth weeks ago but that apparently was not the case. If that wasn't a spectacular example of slowly digging his own grave, she didn't know what was.

"Of course," she reassured with a soft smile."I was just jesting with him," she was going to kill Fester. Surely, he realized they could not keep this charade forever.

"Hugh?!" Michael exclaimed, drawing his eyebrow in an outraged confusion, utterly missing the pointed look she was bestowing upon him."You guys are getting married? And you didn't tell me? Tish, how could you?"

"Because you're not invited," Morticia deadpanned.

"Of course I'm invited!" He insisted."When's the wedding...stop glaring at me, you know it creeps me out."

What. A. Doofus.

"Next year," Fester supplied instead and barely even winced when Morticia sharply drove her booted foot into his sheen without turning her attention form Michael."They're getting married next year in December," he added, earning himself another sharp kick from Morticia.

"Oh, that's plenty of time then," Michael breathed out in relief."That's more than enough time for me to design your wedding dress."

Morticia bit her cheeks, suddenly undecided if she wanted to groan in exasperation or laugh out loud at the hilarity of the situation. If this wasn't a perfect material for a really bad romance novel, she didn't know what was.

"It's going to be exquisite," he assured, turning towards Dementia."I'm thinking black lace and burgundy silk, sort of ghostly, willow style."

Dementia sighed, obviously delighted with the idea.

"Oh, I like that!"

Traditionally, Morticia followed the end of school with few days where she could catch up on her sleep and generally do nothing productive whatsoever. Conveniently, Mrs Addams insisted Morticia took the weekend off, Friday included, so she could rest and she was inclined to just that.

Therefore, with that marvellous plan in place, she really, really didn't understand why was she being woken up at the time she was utterly sure she should not be awake yet and so she refused to open her eyes.

"Where do you keep your travel bag?"

She murmured something into her pillow that she hoped sounded rude and dismissive, it was so early in the morning her brain refused to supply her with a coherent thought, let alone form a coherent sentence.

"Tish, this plant is staring at me."

Morticia groaned in reply and covered her head with the duvet in hopes that if she blatantly ignores her, she would eventually give up and leave her alone, even though she knew there was not the slightest chance of that in hell, because when Elena decided on something then she decided on something.

"Is it in the closet?"

Morticia didn't reply heard the soft squeak, indicating that the closet's door has been opened and let out another unhappy groan.

"Good God why is your closet so neat?" she complained."Are you developing some form of OCD?"

"Go away."

"I swear this plant is staring at me."

"I told you I'm not going anywhere," Morticia insisted from under the covers."What's with you and this annoying habit of spontaneous getaways?"

"Spontaneous ideas are the best, Tish."

"No, they're not," she denied."Meticulously designed, planned way in advance ideas are the best."

"Your sister thought it's an excellent idea...aha!" Elena insisted, finally locating the black, leather travel bag and pulled in out of the closet.

"Tell me who, in the devil, let you inside my room, so I can turn them into a lizard?"

"Your sister, of course," she answered in a melodic tone as she pulled one of Morticia's black dresses off its hanger." She said a weekend away is exactly what you need."

"I despise both of you," Morticia growled.

"It's my only entire weekend off," Elena pointed out."I will work my arse off the whole summer. I wanna go out of town to relax. "

"Then go."

"I want to go with you," she insisted, her tone amused.

"Denied," Morticia mumbled sleepily into the pillow.

"Come on, do it for me…," she insisted and climbed into bed with Morticia, pulling the covers off her friend's head."What kind of friend are you?"

"An ex-friend," she muttered in a deadpan manner but ultimately turned onto her back and rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"You know, you look so cute without your makeup and your hair all tousled from sleep," Elena cooed and laughed when Morticia glared at her, so she added for good measure,"Adorable."

"That's it, that's the final insult," she growled."I'm not going anywhere, goodnight," she added and turned away from her companion, fully intending to go back to sleep.

"Cute is not an insult," Elena laughed.

"It is so," Morticia insisted. "So is adorable."

"Come on," she nudged her arm gently."Go prepare, we have an almost four-hour drive ahead of us."

Morticia moaned dramatically but got out of the bed and grumpily made her way to the bathroom. She knew her friend well enough to know that she was doomed to whatever weekend getaway idea Elena came up with this time.

She really should choose her friends more carefully.

"I shall compose a four-pages-long poem that will convey my utter hatred for you and this idea," Morticia declared before she shut the door to the bathroom in her friend's grinning face.

The only consolation was that the sky was grey and the air smelled of the upcoming rain which she considered perfect conditions for driving if it wasn't so hot and humid. Although, she still had no idea where, in the devil, were they going even though they were driving for almost an hour now.

She also was slightly guilty and annoyed that she didn't even get a chance to at least inform Gomez about her weekend away, even though she just found out about it this morning. She didn't even have an excuse to call him because Ophelia was aware that Mrs Addams herself insisted upon Morticia taking the weekend off to rest. She wasn't about to call him now because she didn't want Elena to think she needed Gomez to know everything about her whereabouts.

Because she didn't need to.

She wanted to.

Yet, she certainly wasn't going to mention this next to Elena because she would inevitably take it as a sign that Morticia needed permission from Gomez to get away for the weekend with her friend and it was way too early for Morticia to get into feminist debates of any kind and explain that letting your boyfriend (she hated that word) know your plans beforehand is not a sign of female enslavement.

"Oh my God, surely you can last three days without Mr Addams," came her friend's annoyed slash extremely amused voice.

"I wasn't even thinking about him," Morticia insisted, already feeling a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Mhmmm...and what were you thinking about then with that dreamy look on your face if not your handsome Castilian?"

Morticia rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically.

"That I can't believe Ophelia insisted I go away for a weekend with you," she replied instead, wrapping her hands around the disposable paper cup as she slowly sipped on her black coffee that they picked up on their way."I'm so disappointed in her."

"Why? I'm a perfectly charming and responsible trip companion," she insisted, grinning at Morticia and then her eyes widened slightly as if she just remembered something."Hey, remember when we first started hanging around together and your sister was so paranoid she took you to gynaecologist just a few days later?" she reminisced fondly and Morticia snorted gently in amusement.

"She gave me a two-hour long lecture about safe sex, sexually transmitted diseases and resisting peer pressure" Morticia concurred, smiling at the memory."And how my life would be ruined if I got pregnant at seventeen."

Elena laughed heartily.

"That was so funny."

They still found it hilarious that all it took was one party, where Elena simply arrived at with one guy and left with someone else, to earn her seemingly life-long reputation of being frivolous, whereas the fact was that she was quite selective when it came to her choice of romantic partners. Nevertheless, Ophelia was utterly convinced that her little sister will somehow be pressured into having sex simply by befriending Elena. Hence, to ease her sister's growing paranoia and to earn herself some peace of mind, Morticia proposed they get an appointment with a gynaecologist to discuss birth control options for her. Which, in the end, Morticia was eternally grateful for because by the time she and Gomez came to realize they haven't once discussed the subject of birth control they were already sleeping together for over a month.

"So, you and Gomez are getting married, huh?" Elena piped out suddenly, highly amused.

"I can't believe he complained to you about not being invited to my nonexistent wedding," Morticia muttered incredulously."He's insane."

"Morticia Addams," Elena said slowly and flicked her fingers."It has a nice ring to it."

"Stop it," she laughed gently.

"Yes, Mrs Addams," she deadpanned.

"This isn't funny."

"Then why are you laughing?" she grinned but then her expression turned more serious."But this may be an option, you know?"

"What may be an option?"

"To marry Gomez," she clarified.

Morticia blinked, staring at her incredulously.

"Are you insane?"

"No, I thought about it, it's a perfect solution," Elena insisted."If you marry him, you get all the money because he's disgustingly rich already and you don't have to marry some arsehole who swipes your inheritance."

"You called Gomez an arsehole just two weeks ago," she pointed out, arching her eyebrow at her.

"Yeah well, that was then and things have changed."

"Have they?" she asked, amused."And what changed exactly?"

"He's a nice guy," she pointed out."He's insane about you."

Morticia snorted sardonically.

"He is," Elena insisted."You know he is."

"He is now," Morticia pointed out."There's no guarantee he'll feel the same way next month."

"You've been together for over two months now," she remarked."He's faithful to you...for all we know."

Morticia looked at her with a sardonic expression of her face.

"I'm so flattered," she quipped wryly.

"I just think you're being unfair," Elena defended.

"No, I don't think so."

"No, I mean...I get it, you're worried because Gomez is...well Gomez, but then, come on. He's really trying and there are no guarantees in any relationship," Elena insisted."People divorce after twenty, thirty years. Look at Michael's parents, thirty-five years down the drain, they're constantly at each other's throats."

"That's true but they didn't exactly enter into a relationship with an overwhelming odds of a disaster," she pointed out."They were high school sweethearts, so I still think thirty-five years is an impressive achievement. Whereas we'll be lucky to reach five months."

"All right fair point, but still, an arsehole you know is better than a total stranger of an arsehole," she insisted, eliciting an amused laugh from Morticia."You can ask him to marry you... sort of ...I don't know… on a temporary trial basis."

"Is that even a thing?"

"Yeah, I know," Elena winced."It sounded better in my head," she admitted, focusing intently on the road ahead." You should still consider marrying him though."

"What do you want me to do?" Morticia laughed in response."Propose to him?" she added sardonically.

"Why not?"

"Never," she muttered.

"Come on, it's not like he's going to say no."

"This would be the most humiliating moment in human history, I would rather die."

"Seriously?" Elena asked in disbelief."Would you rather marry a total stranger?"

"Yes," she insisted stubbornly and bit her lips into a thin line before letting out an exasperated breath."Ok, no, I would not but asking him to..no, it's just...not an option," she shook her head in denial.

"Think about it logically."

"I don't want to," she muttered, crossing her arms against her middle.

"Do you really think that Gomez will just allow you to go and marry someone else and then move to Switzerland indefinitely?"

"Is this is your idea of making me relax after the exams?" she replied instead, glaring at her friend."Because it's not working."

"Wait," Elena grinned."The day is still young."

"Where are we going anyway?" she asked half-curious to know and half-desperate to change the subject.

"I told you, it's a girly weekend away," Elena explained casually.

"And where is that girly weekend taking place?"

"Lakeside," Elena revealed and smiled when Morticia looked at her in horror.

"Do you know how many people are going to be there this time of the year?" she asked and groaned pitifully.

"None, trust me, I know the perfect spot," she assured." Just you and me, I swear. Also, the weather forecast said to expect thunderstorms, I thought you might appreciate the romantic atmosphere of potential death experiences I'm creating."

"Your efforts are noted and appreciated," Morticia replied obediently.

"You'll love it," Elena insisted." I have your favourite wine."

"I don't have a favourite wine."

"Well, you do now," Elena replied, making Morticia laugh. "I cooked your favourite food, it's gonna be fun and, if all goes well, I'll get you drunk and then you'll tell me all about you know who."

"In your dreams," she shook her head in an amused exasperation and then looked at Elena, as if a thought occurred to her." I didn't know you owned a Land Rover."

"Oh, it's not mine," she replied casually as she pulled over and stopped at the petrol station. "I borrowed from a friend."

Morticia narrowed her eyes, slightly suspicious by the somewhat furtive answer.

"Really, who?" she asked slowly.

Elena didn't reply immediately, looking curiously around the station before finally turning to her friend with a very proud smile on her face.

He questioned the merit of this whole idea at least one thousand times while he waited for them to arrive, half-convinced himself she will hate it and will be mad at him, so he breathed out a huge sigh of relief when he saw her exit the car and to practically beam at him.

"Never thought I will see you speechless," he teased as he waited for her to join him on the sidewalk on the other side of the car.

She was speechless. She simply could not believe they've managed to plan all this so meticulously behind her back without her noticing. She decided to blame this utter obliviousness on being so busy with her final exams but, in all honesty, she couldn't find it in her to care because this unexpected prospect of a whole weekend alone with Gomez was simply too enticing to focus on anything but that.

"Isn't that Machiavellian planning at its finest," she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his lips."You sly fox."

"A word of warning, Gomez," Elena interrupted them sternly, pulling her bag from the back seat and came to stand in front of Gomez ."If she comes back from this trip anything other than blissfully happy I will cut your heart out, marinade it and serve it to Morticia for dinner," she declared, earning herself an annoyed glare from Gomez but she promptly reciprocated him with a glare on her own and Morticia watched their interaction with an amused expression on her face.

Gomez frowned and came closer so he could tower above the slim blond woman before him but to her credit, Elena barely moved a facial muscle, staring at him defiantly.

"I like you," he decided and his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. He reached into his breast pocket and produced a white envelope and handed it to Elena."Enjoy it, although, in my opinion, this place is entirely too bright, the pastel decor is simply atrocious and the bed's so soft I have no idea how anyone can get a good night sleep in it."

"Gomez, this place s a luxury spa, it's a dream," she insisted, hugging the envelope close to her chest.

"This luxury spa of yours does not have a single nail bed," he complained."How exactly one is supposed to relax there?"

Elena blinked, sighed, then blinked again. If the two people standing before her were not meant for each other she didn't know who was.

"I do relaxing my way," she finally retorted."And you do yours," she added before turning to Morticia with a blatant smirk."I would say have fun, but I'm pretty sure you will," she added suggestively before kissing her cheek and promptly disappearing into the direction of the green Packard where Lurch was already waiting for her by the door.

Morticia turned to Gomez and cocked her head slightly.

"What?" he asked finally when she stared at him for a while.

"What is it with the two of you?" she asked."I can't decide if you like or despise each other."

"Land Rover Gomez?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him as he settled behind the wheel and closed the car door." What else are you hiding from me? A Porsche?"

"Hey, she, who's driven around in a Buick, should not cast stones," he replied and grinned when he heard her outraged inhale of breath.

"Thin ice, Mr Addams, thin ice," she stressed, narrowing her eyes on him.

"You've started it, cara mia," he retorted and leaned towards her, kissing her before she had a chance to offer any response. "Ready?" he asked and she nodded, smiling at him happily.

"Are we really going to the lakeside?"

"We are, indeed," he confirmed, starting the car."You will love it, I promise," he assured, grinning at her caddishly.

"You're not going to make me fasten the seatbelt, though, are you?"

He turned towards her with a confused expression on his face.

"A seatbelt?"

"Yes, Gomez, a seatbelt," she repeated but noticed, with growing amusement, that his confused frown only seemed to deepen so she pointed to the strap mounted in the door frame.

"Oh, is that what it is?" he mused as if he indeed just realized the use of it."I was always wondering what the hell is that thing there for."

"Simple question," he remarked innocently but grinned at her mischievously and watched her draw her bottom lip into her teeth before her lips curled into an amused smile and she shook her head at him."Come on."

"Eyes on the road, Gomez," she replied, highly amused.

"Come on, Tish."

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Stop ruining it," he groused and she laughed heartily.

"I'm not answering that, Gomez," she insisted, purposely not looking at him.

"Why not?"

"You're incorrigible," she accused but her eyes shone with amusement as she finally turned towards him."Is there ever a time when you don't have sex on your mind?"

"No," he answered immediately."You?"

She groaned in exasperation and tilted her head against her seat.

"How far away is this place?" she remarked instead, biting her cheeks to prevent herself from laughing.

"Far enough for you to answer the question."

"How about I ask questions?"

"Fire away," he encouraged.

"I have been dying to ask -"

"Sounds promising."

"How come, you speak with a trace of a Spanish accent while your mother and brother don't?"

He laughed, highly amused at the question.

"I thought you liked my accent?"

"I love it," she assured."But I'm really curious to know how did you acquire it."

"All right, but you have to promise not to laugh."

"I promise," she said but immediately after the promise felt her lips she felt them curl into an amused grin she was simply unable to stop.

"Hey," he reprimanded.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," she tilted her head and laughed."I just know it's going to be something insane."

"A little," he admitted."Ok, here it comes. When I was fourteen, "he started and looked at her indulgently." I went through this phase when I was absolutely and utterly obsessed with my family's history and heritage. So much that I asked my parents if I could move to Spain and live with my grandmama, who, by the way, is eight-six now and still lives in Burgos and would love to meet you because I've already told her all about you," he interjected jovially.

"You didn't," she remarked, opening her mouth in disbelief.

"Of course I did," he grinned."She's furious you don't want to marry me."

"You're insane, do you know that?"

"So anyway -"

"Absolutely mad."

"I lived with her for about eighteen months, speaking Spanish exclusively all that time," he continued."Eventually, I got bored and decided to return to the States."

"And it turned out you speak English with a Spanish accent?" she guessed.

"No," he grinned."It started as a jest, really. There was this girl I tried to woo by pretending I was a dashing Spanish tourist," he admitted and, predictably, elicited an amused laugh out of her."She was very helpful, eagerly showing me around the city I knew as well as the back of my hand since I was born and raised here," he grinned again ."She said my accent was charming. Turned out she wasn't the only girl who thought so. I started talking like that all the time."

"Figures," she laughed.

"I swear it's true," he insisted."Somehow this accent got inbred in my brain because it never goes away now."

"I wish I could say I'm surprised," she remarked lightly."But this is exactly the kind of inane explanation I expected. Although, I sincerely hope you were jesting about that part with your grandmother."

"I wasn't," he replied, grinning at her."She offered to come over and speak to you."

"Gomez!"

"You'll like her," he assured."She's a charming mixture of an adorable old lady and mad dark killer with pyromaniac tendencies."

"Well, she does sound like a wonderful person," she admitted."Pity, she wants to tell me off."

"Don't worry," he appeased."She only speaks Spanish. Do you want to stop for a coffee?"

Her knees almost buckled when she exited the car as they finally arrived at the cottage. She lifted her hands above her head to stretch her stiff muscles after so many hours of driving and looked around curiously.

The cottage looked bigger than she expected, with a sizeable terrace at the back, overlooking the vast lake. It was quiet and secluded, surrounded by a thick array of trees.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, standing right behind her and slid his arms around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

She looked at him over her shoulder, smiling at the eagerness in his voice.

"I love it here," she admitted."It's so dark and desolate."

"We can watch the thunderstorm tonight from the terrace," he offered.

"Oh yes, I would love that," she concurred readily, delighted with the idea and moved towards the cottage.

It was simultaneously surprising and somehow entirely expected that the front door wasn't locked at all. She pushed it open and was immediately surrounded by the familiar scent of dust and rotten wood. She blinked, momentarily confused by the familiarity of the sensation and then she realized it was because it felt so much like their cottage back in France. It felt like home and her chest constricted with such a profound longing she had to close her eyes and took a deep, calming breath to rid herself of the images of her past life. She didn't want to think about them now...or at all, really. She opened her eyes and forced herself to move inside the cottage.

It was indeed quite spacious, the door opened immediately to the small open kitchen area that connected to the living room. She smiled at the sight of the highly eclectic selection of furniture that practically had Eudora Addams name written all over them, a garden bench instead of a sofa, old battered table and four chairs, each in a different style from the others. An old, dust-covered gramophone sat in the corner preceding the small corridor.

She opened another set of doors and peeked inside. She assumed it was supposed to be a bedroom. She assumed, because -

"Gomez, where are we going to sleep?" she asked from the door, watching him taking their bags out of the car." There's no bed."

"Oh," he laughed, running his hand through his pomaded hair self consciously." Right...the bed. The bed got broken please don't ask how," he explained, resting his hands on his hips.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and then raised her shapely eyebrow.

"I probably don't want to know anyway," she remarked more to herself than to him.

"Not what you're thinking," he laughed, pointing at her with both index fingers and she regarded him curiously."But I still refuse to tell. Here," he grinned and threw her a soft, rolled material than looked suspiciously like a camping sleeping bag.

She looked at the package in her arms and gazed at him doubtfully.

"Really?"

"If we're creative we can make a double bed out of it," he replied with a charming smile, swinging her travel bag over his shoulder before joining her on the front porch."Let's try it immediately," he offered cheekily already pushing her against the door frame and she laughed, dropping the sleeping bag on the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down for a long, slow kiss.

"Forget about the bed," she whispered suggestively between the kisses before pulling him roughly inside the cottage.

"Fifteen? Really?" She asked incredulously, propping her head on her palm as she stretched next to him on the sleeping bag they spread on the floor, and laughed when he nodded at her again.

"I told her I was seventeen," he admitted, his words slightly muffled by the cigar in his mouth.

"Gomez," she laughed again and swatted him lightly on the arm." You little garçon de joie, have you never had any other hobbies?"

"Gods Tish, your French…," he moaned, throwing his cigar away carelessly and pushed her down the makeshift bed, climbing on top of her."I can't even begin to tell you what it does to me."

"Hmmmmm, I can certainly feel what it does to you," she teased and then added in a deliberately sultry voice."Je peux le sentir très bien."

Her lips curled into a self-satisfied smile when he let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a howl and attacked her lips in a ravishing kiss.

"Do you realize, we've done nothing since we got here but -"

"Mmmmmmmmm," he murmured and nuzzled her cheek."Speak for yourself, I've made coffee and cooked us lunch."

"We've had a cold yak for lunch that my dear friend's cooked and you didn't even bother to plate it," she pointed out, highly amused."That's not cooking."

"It almost is," he insisted while placing soft kisses along her jaw bone.

"Would you argue that case in a court?" she teased.

He lifted his head to look at her.

"Fervently," he replied before claiming her laughing lips in a playful kiss.

God, it felt so good to be with him like that, free and open, enjoying each other without constricts of time looming above them and she couldn't help but allow herself to imagine that this could be her life with him. Blissful and wondrous. If he could belong to her. If they could belong to each other. Forever.

Except, he mind immediately supplied viciously, there was not going to be any forever for them and this wasn't really her life.

She heard him whisper her name and blinked, suddenly realizing she was staring at him absently and the worried look on his face told her she was probably doing it for too long. She smiled weakly and shook her head gently, claiming his lips in a ferocious kiss before he could ask her any questions.

Forever may not exist for them but suddenly the need to claim him was almost overwhelming in its intensity. To claim him and to be claimed by him, to belong to him and, before she fully realized her actions, she bit into the soft flesh of his lips, hard, until she felt the crimson droplets on her tongue and heard his loud moan of pleasure.

He broke the kiss and looked at her with a mixture of surprise and delight and something she couldn't quite decipher. He touched his lips with his fingertips and looked at the dark, crimson droplets before slowly touching her lips. She moaned, slowly licking the blood off his fingers and he watched, mesmerized, his breathing turning shallow and the lust in his eyes made her own breath hitch.

And suddenly she realized what she wanted from him, what she needed and craved.

"Mark me," she whispered shakily against his lips, almost overwhelmed with this new, profound need for him."I want you to leave your marks on me."

She cried out when he howled and assaulted her lips in such a ferocious kiss it was almost violent in its intensity and she relished in it, fisting her fingers into his hair. She moaned as he bit into her skin, again and again, leaving the stinging marks and she was unable to tell where the pain ended and this intense pleasure started because it felt like nothing she experienced before, familiar and yet completely new. It didn't feel like the pain she knew. It was hungrier, darker and all-consuming.

She moaned and pressed her nails into his back, feeling his skin pierce against their sharpness. He hissed and arched against her. She could feel him against her stomach hard and pulsing, shaking with barely contained lust for her and she cried out loudly when he drove into her sharply and she immediately wrapped her legs around his middle tightly as the pain, pleasure, blood and sweat blended into one, until she was barely aware of anything but him and this need between them.

She felt her inner muscles contract around him as the blissful heat spread through her body and she cried out, arching against him. She heard him swear and jerk against her, and his own cries of pleasure filled the space around them, drowning the world until it seemed there was nothing left but them.

"Mine," she whispered, touching his bruised lips."Gods, so mine."

Gomez always thought there was nothing more romantic than watching thunderstorms. Experiencing thunderstorms within an immediate distance of a vast lake was even more enticing since there was always a delightful possibility of being struck by lightning. The clouds hovering above the lake were almost black and there was a sporadic boom of thunder and wind howling as Gomez busied himself with spreading out two battered deckchairs on the terrace overlooking the lake.

"What's this?" came the soft voice behind him.

"What's what?" he asked, glancing briefly at her as he finished spreading the second deck chair before finally turning towards her and smiled at the sight of her. He decided he absolutely loved the way she looked wearing his shirt, barely buttoned it reached only to her mid-thighs and his eyes travelled unwittingly towards her long bare legs before he noticed she was holding a clear, white bottle with a Cyrillic inscription across it."Oh…," he laughed, clearly embarrassed."That's ehm...I didn't know we had one left…"

"What is it?" she asked, looking curiously at the heavy glass bottle.

He went over to her and extracted the bottle from her hands, placing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"It's a gift from our Russian cousins," he explained with a sheepish smile."If you can even call it a gift. It's samogon."

"A samogon?" she inquired curiously and watched him nod at her. She pursed her lips."Some kind of hard liquor?"

"A moonshine," he explained.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Can we try it?" she asked brazenly, smiling at him suggestively.

"Hell no," he denied immediately and, to her utter surprise, opened the bottle and emptied the whole content on the grass beside the terrace.

"You don't think I could have handled a moonshine?" she asked challengingly, folding her arms against her middle defiantly.

Gomez coughed gently and put the empty bottle away on the wooden floor.

"Let me answer this with a fable of Balthazar the Brave who spent a whole night vomiting his guts out after drinking this," he explained pointedly."And this certainly isn't how I want our first weekend alone to go," he concluded, smiling broadly.

"Point well taken," she smiled back, just as the first crack of lightning travelled across the midnight sky. She went over to him and rested her palms on his bare chest and kissed him softly."Shall I get some wine?"

He nodded and she made a move to go back to the cottage to get the wine but he stopped her, wrapping his arms around her firmly.

"Actually," he murmured against her cheek."I have an idea."

"Oh?" she purred, arching her eyebrow at him."Pray tell."

"Let's go have a swim in the lake," he proposed, tracing lazy circled on her hips."Then we'll have some wine."

She regarded him intently.

"Swim in the lake during the thunderstorm?" she clarified and he nodded at her eagerly."Sound like a death wish."

"If only," he responded wistfully. "Never once have I been struck by lightning, whereas Fester, that lucky dog, gets struck every single time."

"Oh, poor you," she smiled and placed a comforting kiss on the tip of his nose."Let's go then."

"Have you really never swam in the lake during a thunderstorm?" he asked as they approached the dock, holding hands.

"Never," she admitted."In fact, I was never even tempted to try half of the asinine things I've done since I've met you," she teased." When I'm with you, even the most insane ideas seem enticing."

He grinned, clearly pleased with her admission.

"Now's your chance, ready?" he asked just as they reached the end of the deck.

"Are we going to swim fully clothed?" she asked doubtfully.

"Tish, we're barely clothed," he pointed out."On three?"

"On three," she concurred but before she could even ready herself, the mad Castillian next to her shouter 'three' and she yelped in surprise and he pulled her with him into the dark lake.

They resurfaced at the same time and Gomez was surprised when Morticia all but climbed on top of him, wrapping her arms and legs firmly around him and he looked at her quizzically.

"I just remembered I can't swim," she explained, noticing his surprised expression.

He tilted his head and laughed gregariously, the sound blending with the thunderbolts around them. There was a powerful cracking sound, followed by another thunderbolt and they watched the lightning strike viciously above the line of the trees, illuminating the sky and the heavy rain droplets started to fall into the water around them.

"Magnificent," she whispered in awe.

"Told you," he smirked proudly."Truly magical."

"I wish we could stay here," she smiled at him, wrapping her arms tighter around him and, for a moment, they just looked at each other softly, tenderly.

"I love you, Tish," he whispered hoarsely and she felt completely undone, defeated by the emotions in his voice.

She looked at him and swallowed heavily, her eyes filling with hot tears, because suddenly everything else ceased to matter.

The only thing that mattered to her was him, here and now and always.

Forever.

And at this moment, she wanted nothing more but him. It was terrifying, the sheer intensity of her feelings for him, her need and longing to be with him.

She looked at him tenderly and cupped his cheek, gently tracing the line of his full lips before kissing him firmly.

"I love you too," she whispered against his lips and just like that she knew, she was lost in him.

Forever.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed. :) And please remember that swimming in a lake during a thunderstorm is a BIG no-no, don't do it at home.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

In her dream, her mother was dead and in the non-logic of a dream she didn't question it. She didn't question the relief that penetrated her very soul either.

Her mother was dead, it was over and she so couldn't disappoint her any more, she couldn't fail her. She didn't have to worry about her because her mother was safe, nothing could harm her now. In her dream, Morticia didn't feel guilty, it felt as heart-breaking as it felt liberating.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Her life was her own now, she was free to mould it and shape it as she wished.

Nothing mattered. Except him.

He was all that mattered. He was her everything.

Her eyes snapped open and she felt instantly wide awake, even though, judging by the light outside, it was still very early in the morning, the sound of heavy raindrops against the windows filled the small bedroom. Her heart was beating steadily but her palms felt sweaty and her mouth dry. She swallowed heavily. The sudden waves of regret and contrition but most of all self-loathing were so overpowering she instantly felt nauseous.

What kind of a vile, horrible person was she? What kind of a iniquitous daughter could dream of such things? Why was she subconsciously projecting such heinous thoughts? She wasn't resentful towards her mother, her mother wasn't a burden to her, Morticia loved her and missed her and she would never feel relief at the face of her mother's death.

Except, it was a lie, well, not a lie exactly because she couldn't imagine finding any kind of solace in her mother's death. However, she noticed since their conversation with Dr Fieldman, since Ophelia reviled the true reason behind her mother's decision to amend the inheritance condition, Morticia could not help but feel resentful. Each time she pushed the feeling away, she squashed it and rejected it but it kept coming back. The thoughts like...we'd be free to be together if it weren't for her, she would be free if it weren't for her. If it weren't for her illness, the illness that was her own doing, the illness she couldn't hold anyone responsible but herself. After all, thousands of people lost their loved ones every day, Morticia lost her beloved father as well, people die but life goes on. Yet, here they all were… all of them, in one way or the other, prisoners of her mother's self-induced heartbreak -

Shut up...be silent. Just shut. Up.

Why was she thinking like that? Why was she so bitter and selfish? This wasn't her. She didn't think like that. She could never think like that. She wasn't selfish, she didn't blame her mother for what has become of their life. Her life.

She felt a movement behind her and the naked body pressed against her more firmly and a warm hand rested softly on her naked stomach. She closed her eyes and let his presence comfort her, calm her.

It was amazing really; how good he made her feel just by being here, just to feel his body against hers was enough to push all her worries and anxiety away. They were together and that was all that mattered to her. She placed her hand over his and brought it to her lips, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

There was a subtle change of pattern in his breathing, which told her he was slowly waking up, and she turned gently in his arms to face him. She smiled when he inhaled deeply and his eyelids fluttered open, his dark eyes immediately sparkled with pleasure.

"Now, this is an exquisite view to wake up to," he murmured, sneaking his arm around her bare waist, his voice still raspy from sleep.

"Hmmmmm, I quite agree," she concurred and captured his lips into a relaxed, slow morning kiss.

He moaned softly, pulling her closer to himself and she allowed herself to get lost in his embrace, his soft caressed and his lips.

How many mornings has she spent thinking about this, about him? How would it feel to wake up next to him, to make love to him like this; slowly, unhurriedly. How wonderful was it to be able to focus on each other first thing in the morning, to celebrate each other, just them before everything else.

She loved making love to him, the way he looked at her, touched her as if she wasn't a human but a goddess or the most exquisite, the most precious work of art. The way he whispered her name just before he climaxed, the way his lips felt on her body didn't feel like kisses anymore, it felt almost like a worship, he made her feel like the most beautiful being on earth.

"God, I could get used to this," she said contentedly, her release still pounding gloriously in her groin. His heart beating furiously against hers, together.

"I couldn't agree more," he murmured into the sleek column of her neck, placing soft, luxurious kisses to her jawline and all the way to her lips. "Since we're awake so early," he continued suggestively. "Are you up to some hiking today?" He proposed and almost laughed out loud when she looked at him as if he just spoke in a foreign language.

She blinked and frowned at him in a way that he always found particularly endearing, usually when he was doing something that made her question his sanity.

"Hi...wha...hiking?" she asked utterly taken aback, not entirely sure she heard him correctly and watched him nod at her jovially.

"Hiking," he repeated, highly amused by her bewildered response.

She watched him for a few seconds, as if judging if he was jesting with her, but his eager and sincere expression told her he was definitely not jesting.

"Gomeeeez," she moaned dramatically." What's with you and this unnatural need for constant physical activity?"

He laughed and moved to lie down next to her, propping his head on her pillow of his hand while his other hand traced lazy patterns on her bare hip.

"It's fun," he replied simply.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I beg to differ," she murmured.

"There's an absolutely enticing cave I want to show you, trust me you'll love it," he assured her enthusiastically but she only wrinkled her nose at him, unconvinced.

"Hmmm, how far is it?" she asked reluctantly.

"Two hours," he grinned." Three to four in this weather, if we go out after breakfast, we'll be back in time for tea."

"Three to four...are you mad?," she moaned and shook her head without waiting for his reply. No way she was going anywhere that required walking for such a prolonged amount of time. No, no, there was exactly zero chances of that.

"Come on. The trail is steep and extremely narrow, it was raining all night so the path will be muddy...one wrong step and we're as good as dead," he said raising his eyebrows indulgently and she couldn't help but smile at his eagerness. Truly, this man had excitement levels of a five-year-old." Think about it, wild animals just waiting to devour us - "

"Mmmmm," she murmured, nuzzling his cheek before biting gently at his jaw." I would rather be devoured by you, mon cher," she whispered and her lips curled into a satisfied smirk when a low growl reverberated from the back of his throat and he practically attacked her lips in a voracious kiss. Hopefully, this meant the hiking trip was no longer.

"Gods, your French, Tish… call me that, always," he requested in between the ravishing kisses.

"Always?" she repeated, amused but couldn't help the feeling that there was something deeper behind his passionate request.

He looked at her intently, as if he just realized the same thing.

"Always," he whispered before claiming her lips again.

"I can't believe you talked me into it," she complained again an hour into their walk as they manoeuvred the steep trail, careful not to slip on the wet stones and muddy path. "You have a horrible influence on me," she teased.

He, however, seemed to think nothing of her complaints. Indeed, he seemed vastly amused by her extensive litany of protestations and general dismay for arduous physical activity.

"Why, thank you," he grinned and wrapped his fingers tightly around her hand when they entered a particularly muddy trail and she almost slipped twice.

"I didn't mean it as a compliment," she pointed out, but her voice had an undeniably amused note as she held firmly to his hand.

"I know, " he grinned at her. "Yet, I chose to interpret it as one."

"It doesn't work like that, mon cher."

He tensed and stopped immediately, turning abruptly towards her.

"Careful with that French, querida," he warned.

"Or what?" she challenged, batting her eyelashes at him coquettishly.

"I'm not a gentleman enough not to ravish you on this muddy trail if you keep it up," he forewarned, eliciting a soft laugh out of her as he pulled her closer until she was right in his arms, her body pressed firmly against his.

"Well, I'm half tempted to...is that wild hemlock?" she asked suddenly and without waiting for is reply went over to where the plant was peeking from behind the trees." Look, there's poison sumac as well," she pointed out enthusiastically, ignoring his disappointed growl." We can get some for your mother."

"Hey," he protested. "What happened to my excellent plan of ravishing you on this muddy trail?"

"You ravish me plenty," she replied and grinned at him when he let out a dismissive huff.

"Not plenty enough, if you ask me," he insisted, but obediently took out a grey linen bag from his rucksack and squatted next to where Morticia was gently picking the white flowers off the hemlock's stems. "I thought you planted hemlock in the conservatory."

"I did," she confirmed." But fresh wild hemlock produces much stronger potions," she said, gently dropping the flowers into the bag Gomez was holding.

"I can't believe this," Gomez mused, more to himself than to her." Here I am, devising this sly plan to spend an uninterrupted weekend with you and still, mama manages to interfere, without even being physically here."

Generally speaking, Morticia Frump tried to behave ladylike ...most of the time. Her mother had somewhat inbred into her proper conduct but Morticia had to admit she found a certain allure in impeccable manners and gentle disposition. Although, her gentle disposition deserted her periodically, particularly when she was angry or annoyed, or both.

That being said, after over three hours of continuous walking through the dirtiest and muddiest of terrains she has ever encountered, and then almost an hour that took them to explore the cave (which, admittedly was as glorious as Gomez promised), she couldn't give a single damn about manners, looking ladylike or whatnot as she all but crawled on the large rock near the impressive-looking cave, next to a small waterfall. She moaned tiredly and bent slightly to massage her aching calves.

"My legs are killing me," she complained and narrowed her eyes at him in mock reproach." You will have to carry me all the way down to the cottage."

"Would that include carrying you through the threshold?" he asked cheekily and laughed when she glared at him.

"You could at least have the decency to pretend to be tired," she answered instead, purposely choosing to ignore his question.

"Never," he retorted jovially, taking their snake pate sandwiches on stale bread and coffee flask out of the rucksack. "I have a reputation to uphold."

"Surely, you get tired sometimes," she asked, accepting a neatly wrapped sandwich and a metal cup filled with black coffee from him." You know, like the rest of us humans," she teased, smiling at him as he sat next to her on the rock.

"Nope," he replied casually and took a bite of his sandwich and watched do the same. "Good, huh?"

She nodded, chewing her bite thoughtfully.

"It's delicious, I didn't know Elena could make a snake pate," she wondered out loud. "I thought she hated snakes."

"She didn't make it," he said, before adding proudly. "I did."

"You?" she asked, arching her eyebrow in a sceptical manner and watched him nod at her with a smug expression on his face. "Why, aren't you full of surprises, Mr Addams," she praised and leaned to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I can bake too," he boasted and she laughed heartily at that.

"Dear Lucifer, I've got to see that," she said, highly amused." You must look quite dashing in your mother's apron and a batch of freshly baked cookies."

"I do, you wouldn't be able to resist me," he confirmed with a cheeky grin and she laughed again.

He cleared his throat, somewhat uncomfortably and she looked at him inquisitively.

"Ehmm, at risk of having my heart cut out and marinated," he started tentatively, looking straight into her eyes. "Permission to discuss this relationship in greater depth."

She smiled over the rim of her coffee cup and took a sip of the dark, hot liquid before answering, reluctantly.

"Granted."

His lips curled in a small smile but he stayed silent for a few moments, wondering how to proceed.

"What happens now?" he asked simply." Where do we go from here?" He really hated to break the tranquillity of their brief time together but he needed to give this relationship more definition. Most ardently, he longed to acknowledge her in public, because he had to admit this continuous lack of certainty pertaining to this relationship made him feel insecure and her declaration of love didn't really change that. He wasn't sure where he stood and Morticia never seemed eager to discuss it either, never started on the subject unless he prompted it first. Even then though, it seemed that they seem to go around in circles and never arrived at anything substantial.

She didn't answer him immediately, staring into her half-full coffee cup, swirling the liquid absently.

"What do you want to happen?" she asked instead and he blinked, momentarily startled by the question.

"I love you," he answered." I want to marry you," he said and he thought she looked pleased with his answer but then looked at him thoughtfully.

"I love you too," she assured." It's just...what scares me...is that…," she paused and swallowed heavily, looking away from him briefly." I fear that what really entices you is the chase, not the catch," she admitted bluntly and watched him shake his head in denial.

"You're wrong," he replied firmly." You are more than I could have ever dreamed of," he assured fervently." Because I have never dreamed someone so wonderful as you could ever exist. I love, I adore you and there's no one but you. There will never be anyone else but you, I swear to you."

How she wanted to believe him, how she longed for it to be so. She could imagine her life with him so vividly with all its insane gloriousness, and she wanted it so badly, the very need was gnawing at her insides. Yet, the truth was that she was absolutely terrified of her feelings for him, of her need for him and, if she was perfectly honest, the lack of certain commitment in this relationship gave her at least fleeting illusion that she had at least feeble control over her feelings.

"After my father died...my mother never recovered," she found herself saying." She just fell into such despair; we didn't know how to help her. Nothing mattered to her, it's like she suddenly stopped living," she said and swallowed heavily. She frowned angrily, feeling her eyes fill with tears. She hated when that happened. She cleared her throat and blinked furiously." Her love for him," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper." It's what ultimately destroyed her because this - what she is now - it's a living death, that's what it is. And I...I promised myself that it will never happen to me, I will never allow myself to love someone so completely."

"Tish…"

"And I failed at that too," she interjected." Because most of the time I feel like... I no longer know how to live my life without you," she whispered and swallowed heavily."And it scares me more than I can put into words because for the past four years I watched my mother crumble under the loss of my father and all I thought was that it's better to be truly dead than to suffer like that, better never to love at all. Loving someone should not hurt like that," she said, her voice hoarse with emotions." The way she loved him was not healthy. Her love for him brought the misery upon everyone in my family and it's what will eventually kill her. It's not normal to love like that, it's not healthy and I don't want to love that way," she admitted fiercely and then looked at him with such intensity he has almost forgotten how to breathe. "But this is how I love you, Gomez, with the same hopeless abandon and I don't know how to handle it without a heartbreak."

She blinked again and wiped her eyes furiously; she really didn't understand why she was turning into a pile of mush next to him. That too scared her because all her life she was usually able to keep her emotions to herself, until she met him. Until Gomez Addams entered her life and ever since it like her emotions were scattered all around the universe.

"I know," he replied, his voice unbearably soft and she looked at him in surprise." What you've just described, this is how I've felt about you since the moment I've met you. It's like my soul can't bear being without you, when I'm not with you... I feel restless, I can't sleep, sometimes it feels like I can't breathe, it's an agony. I never knew it could be physically painful not to be with someone. It isscary," he admitted." The thought of loving you so deeply is terrifying, more terrifying than I'm ready to admit, even to myself, but the thought of living my life without you... is simply unbearable. I will die without you, I have no doubt about it."

"This isn't healthy, Gomez," she insisted and immediately hated how vulnerable her voice was. "This thing between us, it's insane, it's sheer madness."

"Cara mia," he whispered passionately, taking her coffee cup from her hands and put it aside, before cradling her hands into his. "If loving you is insanity, then I could think of no better reason to go insane but you. To live without you wouldn't be living, it would be dying, it would be torture," he declared and placed a tender kiss to the back of her hand, pressing it lovingly against his cheek.

Her heart was beating so fast she could feel its pulses her throat, she felt dazzled by the tenderness, passion and the convictions in his voice

"Gomez, I would love nothing more than to plunge in this insanity with you," she assured, framing his face with her hands." And if it was just about me, I would, without hesitation... but it's not just about me. I have a responsibility towards my mother - "

"Then let me help-"

"No," she interjected firmly.

"Why not?" he challenged and watched her wince, ever so slightly before she slowly removed her palms from where they were framing his face and rested them somewhat awkwardly on her laps.

She stared at her entwined hands for a moment.

"I can't," she finally replied tensely." I wouldn't feel comfortable to burden you with this, it's too much. "

"Nothing would ever be too much for you, Tish," he declared, turning her face back towards him. "And your family would never be a burden to me, they would be family."

She swallowed heavily and smiled at him gently, touched by his words.

"I don't think you realize the extent of such commitment, Gomez," she said bluntly. "Her full treatment may last for years and even then, she might need specialized care for the rest of her life. You have a family here, your whole life, your business - "

"You are my whole life, Morticia," he interrupted her firmly. "You have to stop putting yourself second to everyone else and believe me when I tell you that nothing matters to me than you and your happiness. I love you, and that means your mother's wellbeing is as important to me as it is for you. I want to marry you, I want to take care of you in every meaning of that word, and that includes your family. We are the Addamses, family is everything."

She looked at him tenderly, incredibly touched by his words.

"Gods, you can argue your cases, I give you that," she whispered, caressing his face gently." But we barely know each other, what if it doesn't work out?"

He let out a small laugh and cleared his throat.

"Tough crowd," he muttered and she couldn't help the gentle laugh that escaped her.

"Merely trying to be realistic," she insisted, her tone amused." I love you," she assured again. "But mere love is not enough, Gomez. Relationships...marriages are more complicated than that," she pointed out.

"I'm good at complicated," he retorted. "I got the second-highest grade at the law of evidence exam in my year group," he quipped, making her smile at him in that half-affectionate half-exasperated manner of hers.

Morticia bit her lips, pondering all that has been said between them. Everything in her was practically screaming to agree with. Yes, let's get married. Let's get married and damn the consequences. What's the point to overthink it? Elena was right, there were no guarantees in any relationship. What was the point of denying herself the happiness with this man beside her? After all, everyone else in their family put their own needs above everything and everyone else. Her father, whom she held in such high esteem put his love for travel and adventure above his wife and family, her sister moved away to America without a second thought and her mother...her mother's decisions were perhaps the most heart-breaking of all.

"My grandmother told me just recently," he whispered, interrupting her thoughts, looking at her intensely." That when my grandfather asked for her hand, he gifted her with two daggers and a promise, that if it didn't work out, they would cut each other's hearts out."

"Gomez - " she started to protest but he shook his head at her and proceeded to kneel at her feet.

"I promise to love you truly, madly and infinitely," he said firmly, taking her hands onto his." Since I first saw you, my heart beats only into the sound of your name, cara mia. I worship you, I adore you and it will always be so."

She swallowed heavily but just couldn't take her eyes off him.

"And if it doesn't work out, we'll cut our hearts out?" she asked, smiling weakly.

"With my grandparent's daggers," he promised, eliciting a gentle laugh from her. "Marry me, cara."

She looked at him tenderly and smoothed his dark hair back in a gentle caress.

"I'm not saying no," she finally said and could see the spark in his eye fade with disappointment. "But I can't say yes, either, not yet," she said and let her words sink in.

"Not yet?"

"Let's wait until my mother's treatment is organized, I want to focus on that first," she explained and she could tell he relaxed visibly." Gomez, my brother-in-law will not approve of this," she forewarned. "Neither will my sister, and I don't want to take chances that Jared can use my mother or my sister as trump cards."

He frowned, carefully considering her words.

"What could he do?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I'm not at all eager to find out. This new treatment and the transfer are stressful enough as they are, I don't want to create additional problems for anyone, especially Ophelia."

"All right, I understand," he said but his voice was visibly disheartened.

"This isn't a no, Gomez," she repeated. "I love you, more than I can put into words, and I want to be with you."

"I know," he assured." I love you and as long as we're together, that's all that matters."

She cocked her head gently and regarded him in a somewhat amused manner.

"Even if we never get married?"

"The hell we won't, " he huffed promptly. "Even if it takes me a thousand years, you will be Mrs Addams," he told her confidently and pressed a soft kiss to her smiling lips.

"Let's go back to the cottage," she murmured between the kisses." I want to make love to you."

He grinned at her and before she knew it swept her off her feet. She gasped in surprise and immediately tightened her hold on his neck.

"What on earth?" she laughed.

"You said something about carrying you back to the cottage," he reminded her.

"You're not seriously thinking of carrying me all the way back?"

"Why, of course I am!"

"Put me down, you mad Castilian," she ordered, trying to sound firm but failing miserably.

"Only for a moment, so we can collect our things," he promised, letting her back on her feet.

"You're insane if you think I will let you carry me through that muddy trail," she retorted, already emptying the remnants of their coffee for the metal cups on the ground.

"Challange accepted," he retorted cheekily and she swatted his arm gently in reply."So, ehm, hypothetically speaking," he said off-handedly as he tightened the strings of his rucksack. "Say, if I were to take you for an evening in the Opéra de Lausanne around ...oh, I don't know...September 18th," he proposed innocently and grinned at her before continuing." And then take you for dinner and a romantic midnight walk and, say, still entirely hypothetically speaking, proposed to you, you'd say yes?"

"Hypothetically speaking?" she repeated, biting her cheeks to prevent herself from smiling...hell, prevent the full-blown grin that was threatening to escape.

"Entirely made-up situation," he deadpanned." What would you say?"

"Hmmmm," she pretended to wonder. "Would you go on your knees again?"

"Most definitely."

"Well, hypothetically speaking, I would say..." she paused deliberately, and then slowly embraced his neck and pulled him close until their lips were just millimetres apart." Yes, yes, of course, I would marry you, Mr Addams."

She barely had time to finish the sentence before her lips were claimed in the most ardent of kisses.

There was a subtle change in their dynamics in days following their weekend at the cottage. Nothing really changed and then at the same time everything changed but they were small things and yet their impact felt enormous.

First, Morticia asked him if he would like to join her and her friends for dinner in Michael's place, something that was apparently some kind of tradition of theirs ever since Elena decided to pursue a career in gastronomy and tested all her recipes on her two best friends, with various degrees of success. He was incredibly touched by the gesture and really enjoyed himself. Since then Morticia made a visible effort to include him in her life as much as possible. Not that she suddenly had a personality overhaul and just poured her heart out to him on every occasion (that was his job, after all, he was the Castilian in this relationship) but it meant a lot to him nevertheless.

On the other hand, she still wasn't eager to discuss the situation with her mother, or move to Switzerland for that matter, although he could see that the whole thing was making her stressed and anxious. The fact that her mother managed to contract some chest infection certainly didn't help. He really didn't understand how one could contract a chest infection in such blasting temperatures as they were experiencing recently but Fester pointed out that Mrs Frump was not very active person, due to her condition, so her immune system was probably not the greatest and it did not take much for such person to contract an infection and was much more difficult to recover from so obviously Morticia was worried.

There was no doubt that she was worried and when Morticia was stressed and/or anxious she could become really snappy, as he had an opportunity to find out on numerous occasions. Two days ago, for example, in his quest to make her feel better about her mother he told her, all on the good faith, that everything would be fine, she shouldn't worry so much. He meant well, obviously, but Morticia coldly replied that people should really stop saying things like that because it was an annoying and stupid thing to say and didn't help at all; if the doctors couldn't confidently tell her all will be well, how could he?

However, despite her earlier outburst, she accepted his offer to pick her up from the hospital, and that – that surprised him the most, because she absolutely never allowed any opportunity to be seen with him in public. She even let him take her out for lunch after the hospital visit. Alone, just the two on them. Something, that just a few weeks ago was almost unimaginable.

She didn't exactly announce their relationship to the world but it was as if she wasn't trying to actively keep it a secret either and although he was delighted with such turn of events, he wasn't sure what to make of this sudden change. He wasn't an idiot enough to question her about it, though.

That being said, taking their relationship to this new lever led Gomez Addams to an unwelcome discovery - that he was jealous. Really jealous. Jealousy crept upon him suddenly and unexpectedly as insane as it was because technically Morticia never gave him the slightest reason to be jealous (all right, except that one time when she went out to the gallery with That Bloody Frenchman). Of course, he wasn't naïve enough to think for a second that Morticia didn't turn heads, being a goddess personified, but, it turns out that there's a whole ocean of difference between knowing and actually seeing men possessing her with their hungry looks. She didn't seem to pay attention to any of that but he certainly did and it drove him mad. Ideally, he wanted to rip apart any and every man who dared to look at his beautiful querida in a less than respectful way.

In all honesty, if this was the way all other men felt when Gomez was blatantly ogling their wives, he truly didn't understand why was he still alive.

Morticia found his jealousy endearing, he found it insanely irritating.

It so happened that, just yesterday, Morticia met their mailman at the gate, on her way to the Addams mansion, and probably thought nothing about having a friendly chat with the man because, why the hell would she? It would all be fine and dandy if the said mailman wasn't looking at her the way Gomez thought, only Gomez Addams was allowed to look at her and well...

Long story short, the arrow from the crossbow Gomez was then playing with, in a well-measured, purposeful accident ended up piercing mailman's leather bag, almost giving the poor man a heart attack, whereas Morticia barely flinched and looked merely surprised.

Gomez didn't know what possessed him and he was sure he certainly didn't appreciate a knowing smirk that formed on Morticia's crimson lips as he joined them at the gate to apologise to the mailman and, with all the nonchalance he could muster, wrapped his arm around Morticia's waist.

Gods, he was becoming pathetic, love-sick puppy, needy and jealous, the very things he always loathed in his relationships and yet here he was. Thankfully, his darling querdia didn't seem to mind either his jealousy nor neediness so that made him feel sort of slightly less pathetic, but only just so.

"Do you think I should introduce Dementia to mama?" his brother's voice reverberated from the opposite chair.

"Huh? Sorry, old man, I was miles away," Gomez apologized, neatly folding his afternoon newspaper and placing it on the coffee table in front of him, turning his attention to his brother.

"I was just wondering...you know... isn't it too fast?"

"What's fast?"

"Oh, right...you see I was wondering if it's a good time to introduce Dementia to mama," he said, biting his nails nervously. "What do you think?"

Well, he thought it was about a damn time Fester introduced his love interest to mama, but he knew his brother's charting on uncharted territory that was romantic relationships and he didn't want to embarrass him or make him feel like he wasn't doing it right.

"What do you think?" Gomez asked instead. "If you feel you're ready then do it. You know mama would be delighted to meet her."

"Mama would be delighted to meet whom?" Eudora's curious voice reverberated from the direction of the door. Still, she paid them little mind as she purposely made her way towards a vast array of shelves, scanning the titles while silently humming to herself.

"Well, I haven't told you yet but I was sort of seeing someone," Fester started tentatively. "Her name is - "

"Dementia, I know, the girl from the library," his mother interjected in a deadpan manner." It a bloody time I got introduced," she said, still intently searching the shelves." It's been almost a year since you started going to stare at her in the library."

"How...how do you know that?" Fester blurted, turning sharply towards his brother with an accusatory glare to which Gomez immediately raised his hands in defence.

"Wasn't me, I haven't told her a thing," he promised.

"Well, who if not you, Morticia would never - "

"Neither of them," his mother replied with a smirk.

"Then how do you know?"

"Oh, please, how hard is it to find out a person's social security number these days and go from there?" she snorted and waved her hand dismissively.

"Quite hard, actually," Fester muttered in disbelief." How did you even -"

"Her name is Dementia, twenty-six-years-old, she's working at the university library since March 17th last year,-"

Fester jaw practically dropped in outrage.

"What the hell mama?!" he exclaimed but his mother continued, utterly unconcerned.

"She has two older brothers, her father was accused but subsequently acquitted for selling stolen uranium and his connections to New York's underworld, bless him."

"How does she even know all that?!" Fester all but squealed and turned towards his brother, incredulous but Gomez only shrugged, equally stunned.

"Since Thursday is Dementia's day off, how about you invite her for dinner here, aha!" she exclaimed, taking the burgundy-coloured leather volume from the shelf." There it is!"

"What do you need the family album for?" Fester asked curiously.

"Oh, I want to show Morticia Gomez's baby photos," Eudora explained, already on her way out of the library. "He looked so adorable with a diper and that precious little moustache. Who knows, maybe I can inspire some grandchildren," she added as an afterthought.

Gomez chuckled and picked his newspaper again, scanning the article he was reading. Suddenly, his face creased with a frown.

"Wait...what?!"

Throughout her childhood Morticia never had the dubious pleasure of being scolded by her parents, there was never any need for that. She wasn't a rebellious child and rarely got in trouble, and even when she did it was never deliberately. That did not mean she was dissident or retiring in nature, she wasn't, although she admittedly enjoyed her quiet moments of solitude.

She didn't want to be any trouble, since her father was away so much on his various travels and adventures, leaving her mother to practically raise her on her own, she certainly did not want to cause her dear mother any grief.

However, she imagined had she ever got in trouble to warrant the rebuke from her parents it would go quite similar to this.

"I can't believe you haven't told him, Tish," Elena muttered as she paced the small space between the grey sofa, where Morticia was sitting trying not to roll her eyes in annoyance, and the kitchen counter. "You have to tell him."

"I will," Morticia said in a monotone voice for, what seemed to her at least a thousandth time these past fifteen minutes.

"Mhm, when?"

"When I run out of all other options," she replied, her tone was sarcastic but she more or less meant it. More rather than less, actually. She knew her situation, she wasn't delusional about what's going to happen but for some reason, she just couldn't accept it. And it was strange because at the very beginning she didn't even question it. It wasn't as if she wasn't aware of the inheritance conditions, after all, she spent a great deal of her sixteenth year being absolutely outraged about it but she didn't question it. Yet now, with all the knowledge that has been bestowed upon her, she found it unbearable. Humiliating.

Elena blinked, slowly. Then took a deep breath, bit her lips into a thin line before letting the air out in an overly exasperated fashion.

"Michael, speak to her, please," Elena said in jaded tone and closed her eyes, pressing the tips of her fingers to her temples as if fighting an enormous headache.

"She's right, Tish," Michael concurred obediently, his words obscured by the pencil currently placed vertically in between his teeth as he busied himself with his latest project.

"I know she's right," Morticia agreed impatiently. "When did I say she's not right?"

"Then tell him, sooner better than later," he insisted.

"Not yet."

"What other options do you have?" he asked, taking the half-used pencil out of his mouth. "You need the money, there's no other way do get them and Gomez will marry you in a heartbeat."

"Exactly," Elena agreed.

"It's embarrassing, ok?" Morticia admitted finally. "It's beyond mortifying."

Elena's body language seemed to instantly soften at her confession and she sat on the sofa next to Morticia, folding her hands neatly on her laps.

"Honey," she said in her most placating tone and Morticia resisted an urge to wince. She really disliked when she called her that. She should tell her so, she wasn't sure why she hasn't told her yet. It was annoying. Also, she hated honey, like every other sane person. "I know, it's not ideal but ... hell, what else can you do?"

"Wait! How about a loan?" Michael suddenly proposed before Morticia had a chance to even shrug.

"No bank is going to lend me such an amount of money, Michael."

"Not a bank, Tish, Gomez."

She frowned, unsure what he meant.

"Gomez?"

"Yeah, you can ask him to lend you the money," he explained.

"Never," she all but snorted at the idea.

Michael frowned in confusion.

"Why not?"

"I can't ask him for money," she replied.

"Of course you can, it's small change for him," he pointed out.

"Let me rephrase it," she smiled wryly. "I don't want to ask him for money. I don't want to ask anyone for money. No one would even dream of making such preposterous inheritance conditions if I were a male," she pointed out angrily." It's unfair and it's humiliating."

"Hey, come on, I know it sucks," Elena tried to placate. "But getting angry and being unreasonably stubborn won't help."

It didn't just suck, Morticia thought bitterly. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, she just couldn't help it. The unfairness of the situation was to her absolutely revolting. She's done nothing to deserve being placed in such humiliating circumstances.

She didn't want a prince charming to come and save her because it was her bloody money, and she was barred from accessing it by some utterly ridiculous conditions. It didn't matter than Gomez would marry her in a second, she knew that if she asked him, he would lend her the money, hell...he would probably give her the money, that wasn't the point. The point was that it was a ridiculous, hurtful and utterly undignified situation, there was nothing romantic about it, nothing at all.

There was also the fact that both Dorothy and Jared were making very open remarks about arranging for her marriage, with Francois in mind. Planning for her marriage, planning for future business dealings with the Chalons as if Morticia's life was a valuable commodity for them to use as they saw fit. That served as the proverbial straw.

Morticia mostly ignored their comments but they made her angry. Angry enough to stop caring whether someone was going to see her with Gomez. She knew she was taking the risk and it was stupid and careless. But it was fun too, there was something undeniably enticing in blatantly tempting fate. That, and she also enjoyed spending time with him outside of the safe walls of his home. So much so that she absolutely could not imagine taking a step back in this relationship, she didn't want to even.

She could see neither merit nor reason in her current way of thinking. She didn't care if there were any.

More and more she felt as if she was outside her own life, where she could do nothing to control it. All she could do was wait and see the events unfold and so taking bold steps in her relationship with Gomez was perhaps the only illusion that she was indeed still in control. Feeble illusion but something to hold on to nevertheless.

"You're wasting your time being upset about circumstances you can't change," Elena tried to reason. "And Gomez adores you, he'd give you the world if you'd only ask."

"Besides, when you're married, his money will be your money as well," Michael pointed out and was immediately rewarded with a double glare." What? It's true."

"Michael, really... what kind of thinking is that?" Elena asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Are you telling me you'd not accept money from your own husband?"

"He's not my husband," Morticia insisted.

"But if he were?"

"But he's not."

"Are you deliberately being obtuse not to answer the question?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, hold on, how are you okay with accepting money from your brother-in-law but not your own husband?"

"Michael, Gomez's not my husband,"

"Hypothetically then," he said and she almost laughed at the terminology.

"Jared and I..." she paused." We have... an agreement if you will."

"Hugh? What agreement?"

"We've both agreed from the very beginning that all and any money he spends on me, I'll pay him back once I can access my inheritance," she admitted." Including half of the costs of my mother's medical bills."

Her friends looked at her incredulously but she merely shrugged because the fact was that she preferred it this way. Although, Jared still was of an opinion that she should be eternally grateful for his generosity.

"Shit, really?"

"Did you really think he gallantly agreed to support his little, half-orphaned sister-in-law out of the goodness of his heart?" She asked sardonically.

"Well...yeah," Elena admitted.

Morticia laughed gently, even though there was little amusing about the whole situation.

"So why the hell did he cut your allowances then?" Michael asked." For the sheer fun of making your life difficult?"

"That sounds about right," she smiled mirthlessly and let out a weary sigh. "Anyway," she said in a tone that indicated a definite change of subject. "Any news from the Paris College of Arts?" she asked Michel but before he even had a chance to open his mouth Elena laughed loudly.

"Oh, Tish, come on," she snorted and made a face." If he got the reply already, we would all know about it within fifteen seconds," she pointed out sarcastically and Morticia couldn't help but smile at how accurate her statement was.

"Twenty-five," Michael quipped.

"The whole damn world would know."

Eudora sighed contentedly as she sat in the conservatory, slowly sipping her henbane tea, listening to the decisive snaps of the garden shears and the soft thud of the rosebuds as they hit the wooden floor.

"It all looks so wonderfully dreary, Morticia," she praised, looking around the room with a warm smile. "I swear, it's now my favourite place in the house."

"Ah, thank you, Mrs Addams," Morticia smiled back, pleased with the compliment.

"You sure have a green thumb."

Morticia laughed and looked at her, prickled from the rose thorns, thumb.

"I don't know about the green thumb but I certainly have a red one," she joked, eliciting a soft laugh from the older woman.

Eudora looked at Morticia affectionately.

"How is your mother, my dear?" she asked cautiously. "I hope she's feeling better."

"Well, her infection is clearing," Morticia answered. It was surprising really, but Eudora Addams was practically the only person she felt comfortable discussing her mother illness with. She didn't know exactly why, perhaps because Eudora never pushed her, or more accurately knew exactly when to push and when to let go. She expressed her concern but Morticia didn't feel as if she was feeling sorry for her or, even worse, pity. Sometimes, she wished Gomez would learn this particular skill from his mother.

"So, is everything finalized for her transfer to that Swiss clinic?"

Morticia winced and shook her head.

"Hardly," she replied. "They have sent us so much paperwork, it's insane. We have to give consent to every single treatment they have planned, family medical history and, of course, financial statements."

"Financial statements?"

She nodded.

"They will not start the treatment without making sure we can fully cover the costs."

"Is it so dear?"

"It's a private institution," she explained. "They do not get any government funding."

Eudora nodded and grunted thoughtfully.

"It's quite generous of your brother-in-law to pay for it," she commented.

"Oh, he won't be the one paying for it," Morticia replied before she could stop herself and almost winced the moment the words left her mouth.

"He won't?" Eudora repeated in surprise.

"We've agreed," Morticia explained, deliberately using the pronoun 'we'." That I will be paying for this treatment," she said slowly, choosing her wording carefully.

"Oh," Eudora frowned in confusion. She could have sworn that Fester told her that Morticia was unable to access her inheritance so either that changed or there was something Morticia was not telling them. She will have to speak to Fester about it later because somehow, she doubted that Morticia would lie to them about her inheritance. "Have you and Gomez already planned where are you going to live in Lausanne?" Eudora asked instead and almost laughed when Morticia dropped her shears in her startle.

"Pardon?" she asked as if she was sure she had misheard the question and bent down, picking the garden instrument form the floor.

"Because I have a very good friend who happens to live in Switzerland, she might help you find the nice place to stay," Eudora explained.

Morticia blinked, utterly taken aback by the question.

"Have...ehm...has Gomez spoken to about moving to Switzerland?"

"Why, of course," Eudora smiled, slightly surprised that the younger woman looked so stunned.

"And...you'd be okay if he, if we - "

"Why wouldn't I be?" Eudora frowned." Indeed, I would be quite disturbed if he wasn't moving with you."

"Really?"

"Naturally," Eudora replied but then her face creased with confusion." You don't want Gomez to come with you?" she asked bluntly.

"I do," Morticia assured immediately." I do very much."

"Then what's the problem?"

Morticia shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with discussing the subject of Gomez Addams with his mother on such an intimate level.

Eudora always made an effort to stay away from her sons' personal lives, well at least outwardly. Just because she didn't interfere, didn't mean she wasn't aware of what was going on, far from it.

"Gomez loves you, Morticia," she assured, because of that she did not have a single doubt. "I might have had my doubts about him but he loves you, of that I'm sure."

Morticia gave another gentle, almost unnoticeable shrug, and smiled somewhat uncomfortably.

"I know he loves me," she said.

"My dear, if he's done something to upset you and you need me to wipe the floors with him just say a word," she proposed and was pleased when it elicited an amused laugh from Morticia.

"No...he, we're fine, no need to wipe the floors," she smiled.

"Something worries you, though, "Eudora deduced, regarding Morticia contemplatively. "About Gomez," she clarified.

Morticia turned her gaze towards the older woman, abruptly, surprised by her insight. Has Gomez discussed their relationship with his mother? If so, she wasn't sure how she felt about that, but then she discussed it with her friends as well. She didn't particularly like the idea of discussing it with Eudora, because although she could certainly provide valuable insight, she didn't want to bring any painful memories of her husband's past infidelities.

"Are you worried whether the rotten apple didn't fall far from the tree?" she asked and almost laughed out loud Morticia's eyes widened with surprise.

"Do I have it written somewhere on me or are you just terribly perceptive?" Morticia tried to joke but then instantly turned serious as she started to play absently with the green leaves of the decapitated rose. "It worries me," she admitted.

Eudora pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly.

"He has a lot from his father," she admitted." The looks, the charm, the same appetite for life."

"Did you know?" Morticia asked tentatively." Before you married him, did you know...how he was?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Of course I knew, it was hard not to," she smiled mirthlessly." He didn't make a secret of his lifestyle."

Morticia nodded but didn't comment. She didn't know what could she say to that, except it was painfully clear to her that she was following in the same footsteps all those women before her. Her mother, Eudora, Ophelia and now also her. So pathetic, all of them.

"I'm not going to tell you, you have not reasons to be worried," Eudora's calm voice reached her, interrupting her musings. "His past choices really speak for themselves," she admitted. "I can only tell you that I have never seen my son looking at any women the way he looks at you. Never seen him lose his sleep over anyone before. He changed with you, that much is certain and he would never hurt you, not deliberately."

Not deliberately, she mused silently.

"Do you regret it?" she asked simply.

Do you regret meeting him, do you regret falling in love, do you regret your broken heart?

"I have two wonderful sons," Eudora replied softly." I don't regret having them, they make everything worth it."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," the older woman smiled woefully. "You want to know if knowing what I know now, would I still marry their father? Would I still go for it?"

Morticia nodded and watched the older woman swallow heavily.

"No," Eudora replied firmly. "If I knew the pain he would bring me, I would never have married him, because love...you see, it's not that he didn't love me. He did, I knew that but," she faltered, her voice suddenly hoarse." Sometimes love is just not enough."

Morticia swallowed heavily and fell into a contemplative silence. She didn't know what to do with that confession, if anything. She wished, she realized, for Eudora to tell her to go for it, that despite all the heartbreak, it was all worth it. She wished the older woman would lie to her, so later there would be someone to blame other than herself. It was stupid, ridiculous kind of thinking but she wanted to be absolved from making a decision. She didn't want to take responsibility if this relationship turned into heartbreak. On the other hand, was there any decision to be made, really? She was far too much invested in him, she loved him too much, she was a fool in love. They both were.

Will it always be like that? Would she always float in between this overwhelming need to be with him and the constant fear that it's not going to last?

She heard the door to the conservatory open swiftly and she really didn't have to turn around to see who was there because she would recognize his presence anywhere in the world.

She turned and already found herself in his arms and almost unwittingly rested her hands on his broad chest.

God, it always felt so good to be in his arms.

"Hey," he greeted and leaned closer to place a gentle kiss on her lips." I've got something for you."

"For me?" she drew her eyebrow gently in confusion.

"A gift," he explained.

"Gomez, you don't need to get me anything - "

"Oh, Morticia, "Eudora laughed. "Have I taught you nothing at all these past few months?"

"I thought, we agreed to disagree on that," Morticia smiled at her.

"Well, I sure haven't raised a mannerless ogre," she announced, pointing to herself. "A woman like yourself should be spoiled senselessly with gits."

"Wise words mama, as always," Gomez grinned and handed Morticia a medium-sized black, rectangle, velvet jewellery box." Open it," he encouraged, grinning at her with eagerness.

Morticia smiled back and opened it slowly. Gomez watched her eyes widen and a small gasp escaped her when she saw the content of the box.

"Do you like it?" he asked unnecessarily because her eyes practically shone with pleasure.

"It's magnificent," she said in awe as she looked at a black drop-shaped diamond necklace with matching earrings and a bracelet." It's so beautiful, thank you," she smiled and wrapped her arm around his neck while holding the box with the other. " I should say you shouldn't have but I just love them too much," she admitted before placing a firm kiss to his smiling lips.

"Only the best for you, cara," he replied, pulling her closer to himself." However, it's not exactly without an occasion," he confessed.

She frowned.

"It's not?"

"Nope," he shook his head and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the mischievous gleam in his eyes but before she could question him further Fester entered the conservatory, a bottle of champagne in his hands, followed by Thing and Lurch, carrying a silver tray with crystal glasses.

"What's this about?" she asked warily.

"You haven't told her yet?" Fester asked, already half-way through undoing the cork.

"I was about to," it was Eudora who spoke, extending her hand and Thing promptly handed her a yellow, ornamented envelope." This came for you today."

"Oh no," Morticia gasped, almost dropping the jewellery box if Gomez wasn't there to catch it, as she covered her mouth with the palm of her hand. "I failed, didn't I? All these are comfort gifts?" she asked in a feeble attempt at a joke but Gomez thought she looked like she was about to faint.

Eudora shook her head and laughed.

"Open it," she encouraged the younger woman and laughed when Morticia took it with shaking hands and almost dropped it.

Her hands were still trembling when she slid her vermilion nail under the wax seal but faltered and didn't make any further move to remove the letter from the envelope.

She turned to Gomez, her lips forming a thin line.

"You read it," she handed him the envelope and immediately covered her face with her hands.

He put the jewellery on the black, iron table next to his mother and took the envelope, with an amused smile, before removing the letter, agonizingly slowly.

"Gommeeezz," Morticia growled impatiently.

"To Miss Morticia Frump," he read slowly and paused looking at her, just for the hell of it, until she swatted him on his chest and he laughed.

"Do you want her to get a heart attack, Gomez?" Fester teased good-naturedly." Just read the damn thing before she faints."

"Okay, okay here it goes..." We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted and offered a full scholarship at the Institut de Sorcellerie in Paris - "

"Oh my God," Morticia whispered in disbelief.

"We have no doubt that you will bring to our school an extraordinary amount of talent and interests - "

"This is a dream," she uttered, still shaking her head in disbelief." This isn't real."

"You, and three hundred other students," Gomez continued to read happily, delighted by her reaction."Have been carefully selected from over sixteen thousand applications and we have no doubt that you will benefit greatly from our centuries-old tradition of academic excellence. We are looking forward to welcoming you this Autumn."

"Congratulations, my dear," Eudora grinned and pulled Morticia into a firm hug." I'm so proud of you."

"Aren't we all! Mama found out you got ninety-seven per cent," Gomez said proudly, pulling her closer to himself before adding teasingly and handing her the letter." You overachiever."

"Says a man who finished his law degree at Oxford with a distinction," she retorted with a grin, staring at the letter, still quite unable to process what was written there.

"Who told you that?! "he asked in outrage. "Mama! How could you?" he asked but his mother only graced him with a mean smirk." It was an accident I swear. One moment I was voted most likely never to pass the Barr, the next I'm humiliated in front of the entire year with that blasted distinction, I still don't know how that happened let's speak of it no more," he explained all in one, embarrassed breath. "Besides, it's not about me, we're celebrating your success."

Morticia smiled at him and then turned towards Fester, holding her acceptance letter firmly in her hands. ?Fester stood there, smiling at her happily, beaming proudly.

She wanted to say so much to him, thank him for everything, thank him for being her friend but her throat felt suddenly constricted and she felt such overwhelming gratitude for his presence in her life, for all of their presence, she wasn't even trying to stop her tears.

"Aww damn, Morticia, don't cry - "

She shook her head mutely to stop him from talking and just wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a firm hug. She felt him tense only for a split second before he hugged her closely.

"Thank you," she whispered and at this moment, surrounded with the people that came to mean so much to her she allowed herself to think that maybe, perhaps, possibly everything will be all right.

She deliberately left telling Gomez about her weekend away in Rhode Island until the last possible moment. She was beyond certain that he won't be exactly ecstatic about the news, but she decided it might be a good idea to grace him with the unwelcome information when he was in a good mood - post-coital bliss sounded like a perfect moment.

It wasn't.

"Do you really have to go with them?"

"Well, how could I disrespect a family tradition by not going?" Morticia retorted sarcastically, trying her utmost to untangle her hair after their fervent lovemaking.

"It makes me extremely discontent to think of you in the company of The Bloody Frenchmen for a whole weekend," he admitted moodily, reaching for his cigar.

"His name is Francois," she pointed out, amused. "And you've been very vocal with your discontent, your dissatisfaction is duly noted."

"Not funny, Tish."

"It is a little bit," she smiled at him in hopes to cheer him up but he only grunted unhappily. "Gomez, you're not seriously jealous of Mr Chalon, are you?" she asked and was met with another unhappy grunt, only louder. "Darling," she cooed, placing a comforting kiss on his cheek.

"I don't want you to go," he muttered.

"Well, neither do I but I already promised my sister I would go," she explained again.

"If it's a family weekend why does he has to be there?"

"Jared's mother invited him and his daughter," she explained patiently. "He's doing business with Jared because his father can't take long haul flights anymore. His daughter is on her summer holidays so Dorothy proposed they should come with us to Rhode Island" she added. It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth either but she really wasn't interested in vexing him further. "Nothing to be so upset about. Would you rather I haven't told you he would be there?"

"Of course not," he denied immediately." But you can't expect me to be happy about it."

"No," she agreed. "But you can at least try and be reasonable."

"It's a man of whom the whole town is still talking about and your impending engagement," he pointed out.

"You should know better than to listen to silly rumours," she retorted calmly, even though the whole conversation was starting to be progressively exasperating.

He bit her lower lip but didn't reply even though he was sure he was exasperating the hell out of her. Actually, he was exasperating hell out of himself. She had a point but then so had he, yet she was acting as if he was an unreasonable, petulant child.

"I trust you, Tish," he said finally. "But I can't help to feel..." he paused, looking for a word that was not jealousy. He didn't know how to explain it to her. Actually, he sort of did but wasn't sure she would like the explanation. Wasn't sure he liked it either.

He felt insecure.

He felt insecure by her refusal to marry him, even though she had her reason and they were all, admittedly, valid reasons. Still, he longed for stability and security to this relationship that he was sure marriage would provide. He wanted the world to know that they belonged to each other.

There was no way he was telling her that. It was too pathetic for words.

"What?" she asked, her tone much softer but he looked away uncomfortably.

"I just don't want to lose you," he confessed and she was surprised how vulnerable his tone was.

"You mad Castilian," she murmured affectionately, climbing on top of him and placing a soft kiss to his jaw and lips and he immediately wrapped his arms around her lithe waist." Why would you even think that? You needn't be jealous of no one, I love you, and I belong only to you."

"Always?" he mumbled hoarsely; his throat tight.

She nodded, pressing her forehead against his.

"Always."

Fester Addams generally ignored or found significant amusement in his brother's love mishaps. Gomez Addams was the very embodiment of a hot-blooded Castilian; his brother just couldn't hide his emotions so when Gomez was upset, you knew it, hell, the whole damn world knew it.

They were half-way through the paperwork their accountant asked them to sign. Well, at least Fester was. He must admit he was increasingly proud of Tally Alford. Indeed, their accountant never ceased in his quest to cheat the hell out of them and, boy was he creative! It was so much fun to go through the business deals to find the little bits, the phrases or particular wording that if missed would cost them thousands of dollars. They always have great fun playing the game who can spot those little black pearls first.

Except, today Gomez was certainly not in the mood for games because he spent most of his time absently jabbing his pen into the pile of contracts, staring at the wall and he was yet to read a single word from the pile of before him.

Fester knew his brother well enough to know that there was only one reason for his brother's current state of mind.

"Gomez, you're really making a bigger deal of it than it is," he pointed, vastly amused.

"I know," his brother grunted unhappily.

"It's not like she's going away for the weekend alone with the guy."

"I know that as well."

"Then why are you upset with her?"

"I'm not upset with her," Gomez insisted firmly, finally looking at him. "I just don't want her to spend the time with a man who is interested in her romantically, how hard is that to understand?"

"Yes, that's understandable," Fester concurred. "But what are you going to do? She's really beautiful, you have to get used to the fact that men will be interested in her."

"I know that," he all but hissed in reply. "That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"I wouldn't mind...it wouldn't bother me so much if she...if we," he started but faltered because he couldn't stand how pathetic his reasoning was but his brother seemed to get the point anyway.

"Gomez, come on she would never backstab you," he assured in a low drawl. "She loves you. You know marriage is not a guarantee; if people want to cheat, they will. Exhibit A," he added, pointing in the direction of the painting of their father and Gomez follow the sight almost unwittingly.

"She would never do that, I know," he whispered but his brother frowned, taken aback how actually worried Gomez sounded." But I just can't bear that some man could -"

"Boy do I need a lawyer!" the familiar voice reverberated from the direction of the door and they both turned their eyes to see no other than Balthazar Addams, looking very...well, very yesterday. Someone had a hell of a night.

"Don't you ever?" Fester teased, already standing up to greet his cousin.

"Fester, old man, where the hell have you been?" Balthazar asked affectionately, shaking his extended hand. "I haven't seen you in ages"

"I know, it's been a while indeed," Fester smiled.

Balthazar nodded and turned towards Gomez.

"He's still pissed about the same thing as last time?" he frowned, pointing as Gomez's clouded expression." Or is it something new?"

"Something new," Fester replied. "Same woman."

Balthazar touched his forehead with the back of his hand and tilted his head.

"Oh, dear Lucifer," he groaned dramatically.

Gomez rolled his eyes but his face softened ever so slightly and a small smile was tugging on his lips.

"You were saying something about a lawyer?" he reminded his cousin.

Balthazar's head snapped forward and he grinned at him brightly.

"Indeed!" he concurred and went straight for the selection of hard liquor in the corner. He picked up a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler before pouring himself a hearty drink.

"So?" Gomez asked and shook his head when Balthazar offered him a glass.

"Yeah, so... remember that woman I was seeing lately?"

"No."

"Doesn't matter," Balthazar waved his hand in an unconcerned manner." The thing is her husband is suing me for hundred thousand dollars in damages, "he explained and Gomez snorted loudly." Can you imagine? What the hell is becoming of this world? Couldn't he just challenge me to a duel or something? I mean, how was I supposed to know she was married?"

"You didn't know she was married?"

"I knew," he admitted. "But he didn't know that I knew."

"You're an idiot," Gomez laughed.

"Gomez, if you could just see her leeeegs," he commented wistfully."I was powerless against her."

"What's her name?" Fester asked.

"Whose name?"

"The woman's."

"Oh," Balthazar frowned in concentration." Enrica...or Erica."

"Wow, it must be love," Fester commented sarcastically, eliciting an amused laugh from his brother.

"It is!" Balthazar agreed, utterly missing the sarcasm in his voice." Gomez, I need you next Thursday."

"No way," Fester interjected." I need him next Thursday."

"What the hell for?" Balthazar asked, sitting in the chair next to him. "You have him every day, share," he deadpanned.

"I need him to be there for the dinner with Dementia," Fester retorted stubbornly.

"Who's Dementia?"

"The lady of Fester's heart," Gomez teased kindly.

Balthazar swore and leaned back in his chair with an exasperated groan.

"You too, Brutus?" He complained." What in the fuckery fuck is going on? First Gomez loses his head for the raven-haired bird and now you? Is it some viral infection?"

"Just wait until Morticia finds out you called her raven-haired bird and you'll be tweeting a couple of octaves higher," Fester snickered.

Balthazar laughed loudly, tilting his head against the chair.

"She's something, that one," he admitted.

"And the best thing is," Gomez supplied jovially."She really doesn't like you."

"Ah hell," Balthazar said, jabbing his cigar into a crystal ashtray in the middle of their table before pointing accusingly at Gomez. "Look at you, it seems it was only yesterday you were young and free, fooling around with the Amore Twins and -"

"What did you say?" Fester interrupted him sharply, frowning in confusion.

"Nothing," Gomez answered promptly in a dismissive tone." Pay him no mind. He's talking rubbish as usual."

"Rubbish?" Balthazar laughed jovially."I've lost three thousand dollars to you on that bet, you cad."

Fester turned to his brother, his hearts beating madly and his palms suddenly sweaty.

This couldn't be, it just couldn't.

His own brother. No, no, just plain no, it couldn't be, it was a lie. It had to be a lie, a stupid jest, a lie. Lie, lie, lie.

"Is it true?" Fester managed to choke out, his voice barely audible because the sense of betrayal was simply overwhelming. He watched Gomez look away uncomfortably and he knew.

Oh good God, he knew. He felt like vomiting.

"Fester -"

His own brother.

His own brother betrayed him.

His own brother whom he trusted utterly and completely.

"How could you?" He accused, his voice barely a whisper. "How could you do this...how could you, you knew," he said in disbelief and stood up so abruptly the movement caused his chair to fall behind him.

He had to get out of here, he felt like he couldn't breathe.

Oh, gods, why, why, why? All damnation. This couldn't be happening.

But it did, he knew it it because it suddenly made sense. Their disappearance and refusal to have anything to do with him. It was all his fault. His own brother.

"Fester, old man, calm down," Balthazar tried to appease. "It was years ago, no need to -"

"Shut up, Bar," Gomez hissed before standing up next to his brother."Fester, I'm -"

"You traitor," Fester whispered firmly with such a deadly calm it sent a shiver down Gomez's spine. "You're a selfish bastard with no honour."

He practically ran away from the room. He didn't care where, he just wanted to get out of here, from him.

"Fester no, listen to me -" his brother begged and he felt his hand on his shoulder but he just couldn't care.

Gomez deserved nothing from him.

"I'm not going to listen to a word you say, you liar," he slapped his hand away.

"Fester, please."

"Leave me alone, you traitor!"

"Just allow me to explain -" his brother's desperate voice reached him. "Please."

He suddenly stopped in the middle of the stairs and turned abruptly.

"You want to explain? Explain away, " he hissed at him and then, without waiting for his reply, continued." I trusted you, I confined in you, I poured my heart out and you wooed them. You're despicable...I," he faltered and his voice broke, with the sheer disappointment and misery so much that the next words he directed at his brother came out barely above the whisper," I can't even look at you right now."

Gomez watched helplessly as his brother turned and run upstairs.

He thought his heart might shatter.

And then he felt it. Her presence behind him, and the sudden dread washed over him as he turned slowly.

"Tish..." he whispered her name but faltered. An abrupt and violent sense of shame was so powerful he simply didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to explain but the words just wouldn't come and he endured her stare, knowing and accusatory. He saw the judgement forming in her eyes and was unable to stop it.

She held his gaze for few more tormenting moments before turning away from him as she moved purposely towards the stairs where, just seconds ago, Fester disappeared.

His legs could simply not support him anymore and he couldn't help the shadow that crept into his heart.

He closed his eyes, tears prickling at them.

He heard a voice around him, or voices. He wasn't sure.

What did it matter?

Nothing mattered anymore.

He's just lost all that mattered.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you all for reading and a special thanks to those who left comments - you don't even know how much it means to me. :)

I was hoping to post this chapter on Friday 13th but alas, my muse had other plans.

This chapter is sponsored by London Grammar and the song 'Truth is a Beautiful Thing' because I was listening to it on repeat while writing this chapter.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 13

It felt as if the world ceased to exist outside his own consciousness.

All he was aware of was his rapid heartbeat and the blood rushing through his veins, pulsing frantically, panic and relief.

The panic to face his life without her because he was sure he has lost her. He was sure she wouldn't want anything to do with him any more. He lost his brother and he lost the love of his life. All it took was a few moments and his whole existence became empty and devoid of meaning, and his mind couldn't comprehend how to go on, how to face the enormity of it all. How to face their questions, how to explain that, yes, he was such a bastard. Yes, he wooed them. Yes, he was a traitor, a liar and a cheat.

How to beg forgiveness for what seemed unforgivable? How to bear their judgement?

Yet, there was also a strange relief to all this. The relief was the most surprising of all. Although, perhaps it shouldn't. He was, after all, dreading this moment for almost ten years. It was almost more unbearable than the act itself, it was a scar on his heart, a constant fear at the back of his mind that no matter how much he tried wouldn't go away. How could it?

So this was it, it was over. This was what he feared since that blasted night, this is what he ran away from all the way to England. All these years he lived consumed by guilt, undone by woe, burning with uncertainty and yet knowing that he would never ever confess his shameful deed to his brother nor anyone else because he was so ashamed of it. He hated himself for it but he was too much of a coward to confess. How many times has he replayed it in his head? How many times did he wonder why why why, why did he do it? Why did he woo them? And each time the answer was even more horrible than the last.

To hurt him. To show him that he could take them away from him. Even though he knew his brother didn't deserve his spite and his jealousy. Yet, he was jealous, insanely jealous. That jealousy that siped to his mind slowly but with unstoppable force until he could think of nothing else. Until it made him half-crazed. Until it was too late.

The more he thought about it over the years, the more it dawned upon his how petty he was, how pathetic, how shallow and selfish. He remembered with painful clarity what was going through his mind at that time, how insecure he felt next to his brother. Fester, who was so brilliant and devious, how could he ever measure up to him and for an eighteen-year-old Gomez Addams it was easier to blame his brother for who Fester was and Gomez wasn't than to make an effort, to make something of himself. That came later but later was too late.

Gomez closed his eyes in an effort to rid himself from these thoughts, even though it was futile. He knew that; his chest felt tight and his head hurt, the image of her face pierced his heart like a dagger.

God, the way she looked at him! He couldn't stand how disappointed her gaze was. Hurt, disappointed but not surprised, and that was the most unbearable to him. He knew he didn't merely disappoint her, he essentially proved to her what she feared most - that all the rumours she heard about him were true - he was a careless dandy, a Lothario, an unreliable bastard who wouldn't stop at anything to get what he desired.

He lost her. He was sure of that. He had no one to blame but himself. He lost his brother and the woman he loved more than anything in this world.

Morticia wished the way to Fester's room was a bit longer so she could at least attempt to process what had happened. Although let's face it, it was painfully obvious of what Fester was accusing his brother. It was also heartbreakingly obvious that these were not some groundless accusation.

Oh, God, what should she do now? What should she tell Fester? She could not defend Gomez's actions nor would she want to because she still couldn't comprehend the thought that he would betray his brother like that. It was unthinkable. This could not be the man she loves. This was not the same person.

She felt completely at a loss, unable to figure out how to navigate this situation. The situation that had disaster written all over it. She has never seen Fester so heartbroken, this wasn't something Gomez could just apologize for, no matter how much he regretted his actions - and there was no doubt that he regretted it, it was painfully obvious.

The doors were closed but she could hear the violent noise of things being broken and Fester's frantic footsteps.

She knocked, although she wasn't sure he could hear it through all the noise.

He did.

"I've told you I don't want to see you, you bastard!"

She closed her eyes at how heartbroken his voice was.

"It's me," she said but her voice was surprisingly hoarse and it came out barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and leaned slightly forward the door. "Fester, it's me, let me in."

There was a sudden silence and then it seemed to stretch unbearably.

"Fester - "

"Go away," he interjected her sharply but then added in a softer tone."Please. Morticia, I can't … just go away... please."

"No," she replied firmly.

"I don't wanna see you."

"Tough luck," she retorted."Let me in, please."

Silence.

"I can stand here all night if I have to," she promised.

"No you can't," he replied, his voice sounded far away as if he was outside. "You're going to Rhode Island in three hours."

"I will cancel it," she insisted but again was greeted with silence. "Come on, Fester, let me in."

She sighed when he didn't reply.

"Open the door, please," she tried again.

Nothing.

"Fester - "

"It's open."

She blinked and then frowned in surprise before turning the handle gently and, surely enough, the door creaked open without resistance. She went inside the room but Fester was nowhere to be seen.

"Fester?"

"Outside," came the gentle gruff from the direction of the open window.

Morticia swallowed heavily. What on earth was he doing sitting outside the window? Surely, he wasn't about to do anything drastic? She didn't think so but felt a flash of panic nevertheless.

She climbed over the window carefully but, to her relief, Fester didn't look as if he was about to do anything dramatic. He simply sat on the tiny space next to the window sill, his legs dangling outside, staring aimlessly at the vast graveyard where the sun just finished its course and slowly died out behind the horizon.

She sat silently next to him, his face and the collar of his coat were wet with tears and she found herself so heartbroken at his misery, she was suddenly lost for words. She just didn't know what to tell him, how to console him, what could she possibly say anyway? Seemingly by impulse, she reached towards him and wrapped her long fingers around his hand.

He seemed surprised by the gesture and swallowed heavily, staring at their entwined hands for a while.

"That was quite a spectacle down there, wasn't it?" he whispered finally, she thought he sounded tired."What a scoundrel," he added bitterly." Coward."

"He's still your brother, though," she pointed out gently and, unsurprisingly, Fester let out a contemptuous snort.

"Brother's don't betray each other," he replied sharply.

"You're right," she agreed."And I don't mean to sound as if I'm defending him, because I'm not," she assured."He's in the wrong here, undoubtedly, but…," she paused and swallowed heavily." At least let him explain himself."

"What is there to explain here, Morticia?" he asked bitterly."It's painfully obvious what happened," he added and then immediately realized that the woman beside him probably had only a faint idea of what happened - only what she probably managed to deduct from the shouting and insults she has witnessed. "It was almost ten years ago," he supplied and she looked at him curiously."You know Gomez...he was always ladies' men...I...not so much," he explained and let his lips curl into a small smirk."Shocking revelation, right?" he smiled at her and she returned the smile."I didn't care much, to be honest, I had my things, he had his but then one evening at the party I saw them, Flora and Fauna, and…," he faltered and shook his head at the memory."I was a goner, absolutely mesmerized. They were so beautiful, conjoined twins, mad as a hatter, already convicted of a double homicide, subsequently ruled insane by the supreme court and placed in a psychiatric hospital."

"Impressive," Morticia admitted.

"I know," he smiled."I was too shy to approach them, but by some miracle, they approached me," he reminisced." They even knew my name - Fester, Gomez's older brother," he smirked but then his expression became wistful again."It was love at first sight, for all three of us. It was the most glorious night of my life. That night I confessed to Gomez that I wanted to ask them to marry me," he said and fell silent, looking into the vastness of the graveyard. "I thought he would be happy for me."

"He wasn't?"

Fester shook his head.

"He laughed," he whispered.

"He laughed?" Morticia frowned in disbelief and watched Fester nod.

"He called them gold-diggers and me a fool," he recalled."He said I might as well flush all my money down the drain and left."

Morticia frowned, quite unable to believe Gomez would speak to Fester in such a tone. Admittedly, Fester was particularly naive in the matters of the heart but Gomez always handled such things with utmost care for his brother's feelings. She couldn't believe he would say such crass thing to him. Was Gomez from a decade ago so different from the man she fell in love with?

"It doesn't sound like him, I know," he admitted, obviously reading the confusion in her expression."But we didn't get along very well then," he explained."I was busy with my studies and projects and he was helping our father running the business, which included many late nights, if you know what I mean."

"Your father made a blueprint and Gomez followed to the letter?" she supplied in a deadpan.

"Yeah, that's about right," he smirked, despite himself. "I didn't see them again," he said." We went to another party a week later but they weren't there. I found out which hospital they were staying in but they didn't want to see me and I wallowed in misery for months after that, I didn't understand what happened," he paused and shook his head in dismay."I do now, though. He wooed them and discarded them, he made fools out of them."

Morticia didn't reply, she didn't think he expected her anyway, but she tried to process what he's just told her. Gomez's fault was unquestionable here, but then she started to suspect that the twins were not the innocent party in this equation as Fester would like to think but would it do any good to point it out to him? Probably not.

She had no right to judge them.

What was Gomez trying to do, though? Prove his point?

"It's like...he doesn't understand that he can't have fun with other people's feelings," he mused bitterly." That it's not fun, people's feelings are not bloody fun but this is exactly how my father was. He made a decision and everyone else had to deal with it and the stupid thing is… everyone did, everyone put up with him."

"What Gomez's done is horrible," Morticia admitted." But -"

"You're going to tell me he was young and stupid?" he asked sardonically.

"Well," she smiled, despite herself."He was...but he's changed."

"Has he, though?" he snorted."He changed when he met you, Morticia," he pointed out."He changed for you because you wouldn't put up with his bull…with his behaviour," he added, eliciting a small smile from his friend.

"Gomez loves you, Fester," she insisted." People do stupid things...some people more than others."

"That might be true," he turned towards her."But they can't keep making the same mistakes and expect people to forgive them. I am guilty of that as well," he admitted and she regarded him quizzically." I mean I keep defending him because he's my brother but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I shouldn't because the fact is that my father was a great father, up to a certain point, and a great friend but...he was not a good husband. He hurt my mother very deeply and…," he looked at her softly."I hate to think that Gomez could hurt you like that. Not because he wants to but because he cannot help himself.

"Well," she swallowed heavily." I guess that makes two of us."

"You know why I didn't tell Dementia the truth about you and Gomez?" He asked and she shook her head wordlessly." I didn't because...I liked to pretend it was the truth."

"Why?"

"I...I loved how happy you've made him," he admitted."All of us, actually, but Gomez especially. He's changed so much with you, and he loves you so much, Tish, I can see that. I wanted you to marry him, I wanted us to be a family but now...now I fear that maybe that's how my father was as well...you know, at the beginning and then when the novelty of the marriage to my mother wore off, off he was, back to his old ways."

"I can't really answer that," she smiled mirthlessly.

"I know," he said and shrugged."My life was never bad, I realize that," he whispered tentatively." I grew up with an immense amount of privilege and despite everything I had a loving family. I still have...but, you know, since I met you…," he paused and squeezed her hand affectionately." Since I met you it just...became infinitely better."

She looked at him softly, incredibly touched by his words.

"Mine too."

He smiled shyly and then, quite unexpectedly, drew her into an awkward, tentative hug.

"I'm scared that…," he faltered and sighed tiredly."That… the thing is... I really like having you in my life and I can't imagine my life where you're not my friend. I don't want to lose you." Because of him, he added silently. I don't want to lose you because he's going to break your heart, he wanted to add but then he thought she knew what he meant anyway.

"Fester," she said his name softly."You and I, we'll always remain friends, no matter what."

He released her from his embrace and looked at her thoughtfully.

"You say that now but," he looked away briefly." What he's done...it was stupid, selfish and pointless. I suppose I understand why he didn't tell me, back then I would probably be so angry I'd pack my things and run away to...I don't know… to a... Bermuda Triangle for all I cared. If it weren't for you, I probably would."

"Bermuda Triangle?" she asked, raising her eyebrow sceptically.

"Too dramatic?" he asked with a small smile.

"A bit," she admitted, wrinkling her nose gently."Running away wouldn't solve anything."

"I know," he nodded."But we're Castilians. Doing stupid things is in our blood."

"Thankfully I'm here to cool off your Castilian blood," she smirked.

"Cool off?" he snorted, amused."That's what you're doing to my brother, cooling off?" he snickered."Coulda fooled me."

She laughed gently before delivering a playful punch into his arm.

"Feeling better?" she inquired tentatively after a few moments.

He inhaled deeply and licked his lips.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Gonna talk to him?" she asked hopefully and he turned to her with a half-amused, half-annoyed expression.

"Can't I just run off to the Bermuda Triangle instead?" he quipped.

"No," she smiled."I know a certain lady who'd miss you tremendously," she added knowingly before adding softly."I would too."

He smiled at her gratefully.

"Gomez," he whispered, looking at her." He's very lucky to have you."

She smiled back and tilted her head gently.

"I'm lucky to have him too," she replied and immediately realized how much she meant it. Despite everything, despite all the uncertainty that she felt about this relationship, Gomez was a source of immense support for her, probably without realizing it but it helped her tremendously - this mere thought that he was there if she needed him. He didn't take offence when the stress got better of her and she lashed out for him for things that weren't his fault at all and were utterly undeserved, like he knew she didn't mean it and simply needed an outlet. Come to think of it, she really needed to find a new outlet, because she really felt incredibly guilty afterwards.

Fester looked at her softly.

"See? That's why they say love is blind," he supplied, amused.

She laughed but then shook her head in a confident manner.

"What he's done is shameful and nothing can justify it," she stated firmly."But it was ten years ago, he has changed," she insisted."And he regrets it, Fester, I have no doubt about it. It's not going to be easy but you have to talk this through. You are brothers and you love each other dearly, you can get past it," she insisted softly." We are humans, it's human nature to make mistakes, sometimes really bad ones, but people can change... if you hold them to a higher standard, believe in them and...give him a chance, Fester."

He didn't reply, turn his gaze away from her and stayed silent for a while, considering her words. Finally, he looked back at her and nodded at her in agreement.

"You better go," he said."Surely, you don't want to be late for the family weekend?" he supplied and laughed when she rolled her eyes.

"Do you promise not to run off to the Bermuda Triangle?" she questioned, only partially joking.

He smiled and shook his head at her.

"Promise."

She smiled at him and gave his hand one last squeeze before carefully standing up, not to slip and break her neck. She bent over and swung her leg over the window sill, for the first time she was infinitely grateful for not wearing a long dress.

"Morticia."

She stepped inside the room before turning towards him again and regarded him expectantly.

"Thank you."

It felt like the world ended.

The anxiety and panic gripped at his heart so swiftly and so severely it felt as if his very soul had been ripped apart. It was the loss though, the sense of loss that was absolutely heart-shattering.

Fester was right, he was a bastard with no honour. He was a despicable traitor of a brother, a selfish scoundrel.

Gods, what's going to happen now? How will he ever look at him again? What is he going to say, how to explain the unexplainable? He had nothing to say in his defence, nothing. Except that he was sorry, so so sorry, more sorry than he could ever express or put into words. But sorry was not enough, such despicable act wasn't something one could just apologise for.

"Gomez," the concerned voice reached him again.

And again, he ignored it. He didn't deserve the concern. Just leave, leave him alone to perish in this misery. He deserved loneliness.

His head hurt, there was a pressure against his skull and he could hear the pounding of his heart.

His heart hurt too.

"Gomez, come on old chap….fuck...at least look at me."

Gomez blinked and realized the source of the pressure...his own hands were pressed firmly against his ears and temples as if he was trying to block the world out of his head.

He was back on the library, sitting on the vintage, burgundy leather sofa, arms rested on his knees and his head cradled in between his hands. His eyes were wet. He didn't remember walking back to the library.

"Gomez."

He looked up and almost laughed. He has never seen his cousin looking so panicked in his entire life.

"It's over, Bar," he whispered but his voice was strangely calm. Accepting.

"Shut up, you idiot. Nothing's over," Balthazar replied, pressing a glass of brandy into his hands."Drink this."

Gomez looked at the maroon liquid in his hands. He didn't want to drink. No amount of alcohol would help him drown his actions. He felt Balthazar sit next to him and the familiar sharp smell of cigar reached him, it felt almost calming.

Almost.

"I'm sorry," his cousin whispered."I didn't know... I shouldn't have said anything...Gomez, I haven't realized he -"

"Wasn't your fault," Gomez replied and put the glass away. His stomach wouldn't handle it right now anyway. He hid his face in his hands again. "Fuck," he heard himself swear. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what to do.

"Talk to him, explain, it was almost ten years ago, you were just a stupid kid, we both were," Balthazar encouraged."It was just a stupid bet, a bit of fun."

"He's not going to talk to me, not after what I've done."

"Fuck, come on, it's not like the twins were little, innocent darlings we've coerced into something sinister," he pointed out sarcastically.

"I wooed them - "

"Weren't that hard to woo, let's be honest," Balthazar retorted sarcastically. "They thought they could fuck their way into Addams family and it turned out they overestimated, tough luck."

He heard the familiar growl and before he knew it, Kitty jumped on his lap and… licked his face.

Gomez grimaced at the sensation and then smiled mirthlessly.

"Hell, I must have really screwed up if you're feeling sorry for me," he almost chuckled when Kitty fawned his head against Gomez's chest and he obediently patted the cub's mane.

"There's no doubt about that," the velvet voice reached them from behind and he almost jumped out of his skin. The movement startled the cub that immediately jumped off his lap but then seemed to notice his mistress and happily made his way towards her.

Morticia patted him gently but her gaze did not leave Gomez even for a second. She turned towards Balthazar and Gomez could swear his cousin shrunk under her gaze. It would be hilarious if the situation itself wasn't so heartbreakingly dire.

Her gaze, when directed at him, was surprisingly indiscernible and he felt a sudden surge of hope but he was too scared to even grab and hold on to this feeling in case it turned out to be an illusion. It was better, it was safer to just expect the worse. He didn't want to hold on to hope.

"Okay, so I...I'm just... I'm gonna go," his cousin blubbered.

"Good idea," Morticia replied softly but there was unmistakable frost in her voice. She watched Balthazar give Gomez a look that she couldn't quite decipher, somewhere between 'I've got your back', 'good luck" and "it was good knowing you".

She made her way further inside the room and regarded Gomez thoughtfully. She thought he looked very much like he didn't know what to do with himself, his fists clenched and unclenched in a frantic manner but, to his credit, he bore her gaze unflinchingly.

"He's very upset," she finally said, deliberately keeping her voice flat." But he'll come around. You should still speak to him, though. Talk things through."

"Did he…," he started to ask but faltered, watching her intently. He swallowed heavily."He told you."

"Yes."

"Tish, I -"

"You don't need to explain yourself," she interjected him firmly. "I think I've heard quite enough for today."

"Don't look at me like that," he pleaded.

"Like what?"

"Like you're...look, I was eighteen, I was young and stupid and jealous," he retorted defensively.

"And so that makes it ok?"

"No!" He denied vehemently." No, it doesn't but...I'm not the same man, I would never…," he paused and run his hands through his pomaded hair before raising his gaze towards the ceiling as if in silent prayer. He bit his lips and looked back at her, his eyes shining with unshed tears. When he spoke his voice was hoarse." I hate the thought that you might think less of me. What I've done...it's shameful, it's despicable and there wasn't a day in which I wasn't gnawed by guilt and regret but I was too much of a coward to confess to my brother."

"You tell that to Fester, not me," she replied. "You need to fix it, Gomez," she whispered."Go and talk to him. Now, not later. Go now and talk to your brother."

He didn't answer but nodded at her.

"I need to go," she replied curtly and it sounded more harshly than she intended." I'm already running late."

He bowed his head and muttered a curse before running his hands over his face in an exasperated gesture.

"Gomez."

He looked up.

"Don't let this go unresolved," she insisted."No matter how difficult it's going to be, go and talk to him."

"I will," he promised."I'm so sorry, Tish."

"I don't need your apologies," she retorted. "Your brother does."

"I've let you down," he insisted firmly.

"What you've done," she paused and closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head."I don't understand it, I… I don't know how could you have done it to your own brother. I don't know what sort of person one has to be to do something like that."

"Tish -"

"But I also know, you're not that person anymore," she interjected him firmly." I know you're better than that, better than what you've done and I'm not going to hold against you what you've done when you were eighteen," she promised."But you need to talk to him, Gomez. You need to make things right."

His relief at her words was almost palpable, even though his posture was still so tense she was afraid he was going to snap at any moment. Yet, despite the fact that there was no one to blame here but him, her heart longed to comfort him because she couldn't bear to see him so dejected.

God, she was pathetic.

She made her way slowly towards him and drew him into a comforting embrace and felt his arms around her hesitantly.

"Go talk to him, okay?" she whispered into his ear before pressing her lips softly against his temple and felt him relax into her embrace.

"Okay," he swallowed heavily, pressing her body closer. "I'm so sorry, Tish." I'm sorry I disappointed you. I'm sorry I'm not the man you deserve. I'm sorry I couldn't be better.

"I know," she replied softly. "I need to go," she added gently and placed a brief kiss to his lips - a kiss that was simultaneously not enough and almost too much.

"Morticia, wait."

She turned and looked at him expectantly.

"When will I see you?" he asked and winced at how desperate he sounded.

She looked at him tenderly.

"Tuesday," she replied, her lips curling into a small smile." Gomez, I really need to go."

"Okay," he nodded and watched her go but couldn't shake off the feeling that it was still not enough, because there was so much he wanted to tell her, to explain, to make sure she understood.

To make sure he hasn't lost her.

You're not that person anymore.

It was the only thought that prevented him from running away from the door. That, and the fact that he promised Morticia he would talk to his brother and he was never going to break a promise given to her no matter how difficult it was. It was more than a promise, he knew that. She gave him a benefit of a doubt and if Morticia thought he was better than the despicable bastard he was then, then he wasn't about to prove her wrong.

Even though he knew he didn't deserve her kindness, her generosity or her love. He didn't deserve her.

And this - this was probably the most difficult thing he had to do in his entire existence. He dreaded it more than he was prepared to admit. His palms were sweaty, his stomach churned uncomfortably and his heart was pounding in his chest with apprehension. What if his brother will not be willing to talk to him? What then? Should he insist, should he push or walk away, give him time to think it through? Although, did he really wanted Fester to think it through?

No, Morticia was right, there was no point in prolonging the inevitable.

He was going to do whatever it takes to fix this, and if it meant he was going to admit that he was a pathetic, insecure, jealous idiot then so be it.

The door opened before he could sum up his courage to knock.

"You're a pathetic idiot," his brother declared. "You are a coward, a fool and deserve to have your neck snapped in half for what you've done."

He blinked, slightly taken aback.

"I think it would be much easier to have my neck snapped," he replied and swallowed heavily but to his relief, Fester's expression softened, if only just.

Fester moved aside to let Gomez inside the room. In all honesty, he didn't want to talk to him, wasn't interested in his excuses. In his opinion, it was all perfectly clear but he promised Morticia. Now he regretted that promise because he wanted nothing more than punch his treacherous brother in the face.

"Why?" Fester asked finally. "Just answer this: why?"

His brother looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. Not that he blamed him.

"I was jealous of you," he replied slowly as if the words were choking him. "Insanely jealous."

"Of me?!" Fester asked in disbelief. He wanted to laugh. This was preposterous, utterly insane. What Gomez Addams could have been jealous of? His brother has everything, the looks, the charms, his dizzying eloquence, his wit and sense of humour. Everyone loved him and he didn't even have to do anything. What, in the devil, was there to envy him - Fester Addams - who spent months staring at the girl in the library unable to even mumble a quiet hello. He would probably still be there, wasting hours and hours, staring at Dementia without knowing that it was her name if it weren't for the fact that he met Morticia and she introduced them. Morticia, who changed his life in more ways than he could have ever imagined.

"You were everything I was not," he admitted."Brilliant, devious, admired. I was jealous to the point where all that mattered to me was hurting you. Everyone always praised you, whereas all I always heard was that I'm just like my father and they didn't mean his cunning business skills," he confessed and cleared his throat that was suddenly dry. God he hated this, it was so humiliating it felt as if he was about to choke on it." Everyone expected great, horrible things from you," he continued." No one expected much of me. You were the evil genius and I… I was a charming cad and I didn't know how to change that so I blamed you for what I was not. I chose to blame you. It was easier to have someone to blame, other than myself."

"I...I wasn't aware you felt that way," his brother mumbled, utterly taken aback by this revelation."I thought your life ambition ended on being a hopeless dandy like our father."

"It did, in a way," Gomez admitted. "All that time I watched him being loved. Women loved him and admired him, men were jealous of him - his charm and charisma, it impressed me. I thought that if...if I could be like him, if I could make women chase after me...then maybe I was worth chasing, do you understand?"

Fester swallowed heavily, not sure what to say to that.

"Gomez -"

"It's pathetic, I know," Gomez laughed mirthlessly." But this was how I felt at the time. I felt I could never be more than Fester's younger brother and I hated that," he whispered."I hated you and everything that you were. I hated how proud father was of you, even though you argued so much and you told him off and you challenged him on his behaviour. Where I saw a man to be admired and emulated, a great father, a star of every party, a women's man, you...you saw him for what he was beyond that. You saw the pain he caused and I didn't."

"Father adored you," Fester insisted." You were his pride, he showed you around like a prize."

"He loved being loved, he loved being admired," Gomez explained."And I loved him blindly, he was everything to me and he knew that. My admiration was the validation he needed to lead the lifestyle he had. He knew he was hurting her, but he told me all men did it and mother was taking it too personally. That those other women did not mean anything, that she was the woman of his life but it was the nature of a man to cheat because we're not designed for monogamy, he explained. He told me all men would do it if they could, the ones that don't either don't have looks or money or both," he continued bitterly and looked down, swallowing heavily." It wasn't all that hard to convince myself to believe him. Especially when I thought I had nothing but my looks, charm and money."

"He told you all that?" Fester asked in disbelief. What kind of bullshit thinking was it to feed his young son with? Did his father really believe this stupidity he was feeding Gomez with? His father never told him this kind of crap, probably because he knew Fester would rip him apart as he started to see through this perfect father facade pretty early on and it irked him, undeniably, that his younger brother was so blind to all of it. He remembered he called Gomez an imbecile quite frequently.

"I'm sorry, Fester," his brother whispered hoarsely." More sorry than I can ever express. There's no excuse for what I've done. I was a pathetic, insecure fool. You didn't deserve it and I was a jealous idiot, insanely jealous... but I regret it with every fibre of my being, you must believe me."

Fester frowned but felt his heart constrict at the desperation and vulnerability in his brother's voice and instantly resented his father for encouraging such shameful behaviour, for allowing young Gomez to associate his worth with a number of women he could woo. How could he not see it then? He should but he didn't.

Perhaps he didn't want to see it? It was easier to be angry. He knew that whereas as children, they were increasingly close - him, Gomez and Balthazar, the adolescence brought a rift between the brotherly love, with Fester pursuing his interests in chemistry, torture devices and pathology and Gomez... pursuing women. How many times did Fester sneer at his younger brother, accusing him of being the same mindless Lothario as their father and wasn't worth anything more than what he represented, which wasn't much? He didn't mean it of course, or perhaps he didn't mean it as a way of belittling him but because he cared.

He realized Morticia was right, how could Gomez grow up to be anything else if every single one of them has done their utmost to convince him all there was to him was his looks, charm and money. None of them held him to any higher standard or any standard as a matter of fact. How unsurprising then, that he chose to adhere to the label they chose for him, what was expected of him - a good for nothing, mindless Lothario.

And their mother, as loving as she was, why didn't she stop him, didn't say anything? She saw that her husband was moulding Gomez into another version of himself and did nothing. Or perhaps she hurt too much to see or care about what her husband was doing to their son?

How much hurt and self-doubt was his brother hiding under this dandy, devil-may-care attitude?

"I should have taken better care of you," he found himself saying out loud and watched his brother blink and then frown in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he muttered as if not entirely sure he heard him correctly.

"I mean, I'm sorry too, I was a lousy older brother," he admitted." We...all of us...we should have talked about these things earlier, instead we've waited until it all turned into a disaster," he said, and before Gomez could even comprehend this bizarre turn of events, Fester wrapped his arms around him so tightly he could barely breathe. "I'm sorry I was too angry to see your pain."

Gomez could barely breathe but it didn't matter. It didn't matter because what he thought was going to be the most excruciatingly painful day of his life was instead of shaping out to be a completely new stage in this brotherly relationship.

No more secrets.

No more lies.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you all for all the comments, kudos and subscriptions - so glad you're enjoying the story!

Any French dialogues are courtesy of google, so I have no idea if they are correct or not lol, but since in this chapter, they are only a few and far between - who cares?

Chapter 14

One of the things Morticia really appreciated about Anatoly was that he never asked questions. Which was, incidentally, probably quite a sensible approach in his home country anyway. Still, she was certainly grateful that he didn't question why on earth was he forced to wait outside the Addams Mansion for over an hour. Indeed, her driver merely greeted her politely, disregarding her apologies for keeping him waiting and at the same time he seemed to sense that she wasn't in a mood for small talk either. He simply let her know he was planning to go a different way than usual to try to catch up on any time lost.

She didn't want to leave, she didn't feel comfortable leaving this thing between them so raw. She wanted to make sure Gomez and Fester resolved their differences and the fact there was no way of knowing until Tuesday if they will, filled her with apprehension. She worried, she really worried, whether it was such a wise move to leave the two of them to sort it out on their own, even though she knew there was no option for her to stay there. Especially, since by the time she arrived home, she had less than twenty minutes to pack her bag for her weekend. It was a good thing she's already packed it two days ago, not because she was eager to go but so she could spend as much time with Gomez as she could before she left for this basted family weekend...which, of course, did not exactly go as planned.

Thankfully, Tolya came to her aid and explained that there was huge traffic on the way (there weren't any at all), blaming it on people leaving for the weekend and holidays which, she supposed, was plausible deniability. Jared even groaned at the prospect of driving in the traffic.

"Is Charlie not driving with us?" Morticia asked, as she placed her bags neatly in the car, and noticed the absence the car seat - which she still thought was an absolutely ludicrous thing, anyway. Why shouldn't children be allowed to move inside the car, especially when there were over four hours drive ahead of them? Wasn't it obvious they would be bored out of their minds?

Indeed, Charlie hated being strapped to the car seat for long periods of time (and who could blame him?) and created utter mayhem (bless him) and so his parents deliberately chose to drive in the evening, where they were sure they boy would sleep through most of the way. Or so they hoped.

"Ehm, no," her sister replied."Jared and Dorothy will take him so there's just you and me," she added with a tight smile. "We're not taking Kathy with us either, because Dorothy insists that we do not need a nanny for the weekend away," she muttered, obviously she did not agree with her mother-in-law.

Not that Morticia blamed her, at the age of almost two and a half her nephew seemed to have almost inexhaustible energy resources and she could only think of one adult who could match this overwhelming enthusiasm of a toddler. In fact, she was of the opinion that at times Gomez's enthusiasm superseded even that of a two-year-old.

As if on cue, Charlie came running towards her from the door and started jumping in front of her with excitement.

"Daddy will show me swimming, Tishy," he squealed excitedly. Morticia's noticed his yellow polo-shirt was already stained with chocolate - no doubt, courtesy of the boy's grandmother. No one bothered to change his top, though, because everyone knew that by the time they reach the resort Charlie will be all grimy and sticky from all the snacks and drinks he will consume en route.

"Oh my, really?" she gasped in awe obediently and the little boy nodded his head eagerly.

"Like a duck!" he exclaimed and stuck his bum out and wriggled it like a duck.

"Or... a sea monster!" Morticia grinned at him.

"Quack, quack."

"Hmmm, yeah ok," she sighed dejectedly and wrinkled her nose in a mock disappointment and heard Ophelia's soft laughter behind them.

"Come on, munchkin," Dorothy called the little boy." Give your mother and aunt a kiss and off we go."

Charlie squealed with excitement and obediently placed a kiss on Morticia's pale cheek and she ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Remember, if you get bored, kick into your father's seat," she reminded him and smiled as he nodded and grinned cheekily.

"Stop encouraging him," Ophelia scolded half-heartedly, picking her son up."You be a good boy for your dad and grandma, ok?"

Charlie nodded.

"I be insafaba monsta," he declared happily."Tishy said," he explained with a shrug when Ophelia frowned at him in confusion and then she shot her sister an exasperated look, to which Morticia reciprocated with a charming smile.

"You will not be an insufferable monster," Ophelia contradicted her son calmly."You will be sweet and polite so mommy will be proud of you," she insisted, kissing him on the tip of his nose and smiled when he made a face.

"We'll be fine," Jared interjected lightly and smiled indulgently at the boy, taking him from Ophelia's arms."Drive safely, okay?" he said and placed a soft kiss on his wife's lips before nodding to Morticia and promptly made his way towards the car.

A little too promptly, in Morticia's opinion.

"Bye mommy, bye Tishy!" Charlie waved at them from the car window.

"Bye, honey, see you soon," Ophelia replied as they both waved at the little boy and watched the car leave the driveway. "Ready?" she asked her sister.

"As much as I will ever be," Morticia replied, dramatically and her sister gave her a sympathetic smile.

Morticia always found it simultaneously amusing and sad that her sister disapproved of her driving methods. Amusing, because they all acted as if Morticia knocked over every single tree on her way, whereas the fact was that Morticia merely liked driving fast… well okay, she liked driving manically fast but she considered herself an excellent driver. She never had an accident, never knocked over nether trees nor people. She was a really skilled driver and they were all paranoid, simple as that. She was driving since she was eleven, after all.

The sad part was that it was Ophelia who taught her how to drive, during the summer she first came to visit them from Paris. It was Ophelia who insisted that there was no point in driving anything other than fast. Ophelia who taught Morticia how to hot-wire the car.

It was Ophelia to whom Morticia looked up to for so many years, despite her sister's ludicrous habit of wearing daisies on her head twenty-four seven. She looked up to her naturally because her sister was such a talented witch, it was as if magic flowed through her veins - that's what mama used to say. Mama was so proud of Ophelia but Morticia was never jealous, the women in her household didn't evoke her envy, they both inspired her tremendously. Well, at least until Ophelia suddenly moved out, until she left them, fell in love, got married and moved all the to America. After that, there was not much left of the person Morticia once admired. And mama...well, that was another story. Or perhaps another similar story would be a better description.

Who would have thought that Morticia would ever miss seeing those absurd flowers on her sister's head?

Her sister, her mother - two great women defeated by love and Morticia seemed to be next in line. What was more absurd than that?

"I spoke to your course tutor," her sister remarked, interrupting her musings.

"Why?" Morticia frowned and then her lips curled into a small smirk."You think I faked my GPA score?"

"You're such a subtle show-off, Tish," Ophelia laughed gently. "No, actually he was very disappointed with your decision to quit your studies."

"I know, he told me so at least one thousand times," she replied a little wistfully. Quitting her studies wasn't exactly the subject she longed to discuss, even if quitting wasn't her choice but a necessity.

"I thought that maybe you shouldn't give it up," Ophelia said but noticing Morticia's bemused expression she continued: " I mean, we could look for a similar course in Lausanne, they have excellent universities there. Perhaps, they would take into account your previous study, so you wouldn't have to start from scratch again. Your GPA is excellent, so that won't be a problem," she explained.

"Ehm, I don't know, I haven't given it any thought, to be honest," Morticia admitted. Truly, there was enough for her to think about without adding to the pile.

"I just thought that...you know, once mama is settled in that clinic, it would give you something to do," Ophelia explained softly."I don't want you to feel lonely there."

"I won't be lonely," Morticia assured promptly before she could stop herself. Was she insane?!

"You will not be on your own," Ophelia corrected."Obviously your husband will be with you, but not being on your own is not the same as not being lonely. It's going to be a lot of changes for you," she explained kindly."It's good to have some outlet."

Morticia narrowed her eyes, suddenly unsure where the hell was this conversation really going.

"I'll be fine," she assured, somewhat warily, watching her sister carefully.

Ophelia turned towards her and smiled warmly.

"Do you want to stop for a coffee?" she asked suddenly.

"I thought you can't drink coffee," Morticia replied, raising her shapely eyebrow.

"But you can," she pointed out."I can at least sniff at it because I can't stand that decaffeinated crap," she explained, eliciting a soft laugh from Morticia.

"Sure," she agreed with an amused smile.

"I need to tell you something, just don't get upset," Ophelia forewarned not fifteen seconds after Morticia got back to the car with a double espresso for herself and a hot chocolate (revolting) for Ophelia. Pregnancy must make people crazy because she could not comprehend how anyone can drink something that even smelled so sickly sweet.

"I hate when people say that," Morticia muttered, handing Ophelia her hot beverage.

Ophelia wrapped her slim fingers around the coloured paper cup.

"Remember that I love you," she continued." And I have your best interest at heart."

Morticia let out a small mirthless chuckle.

"Oh, ehmmm ..I really don't like where this is going," she replied confidently.

"I'm sure you will see the merit in this situation once you think it through."

Morticia drew her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded thoughtfully.

"Definitely do not like where this is going."

"We have over three hours driving left so plenty of time to think things through...calmly, " Ophelia said and smiled at her weakly." This might sound bad... but it's actually not that bad when you think about it - "

Morticia took a deep, calming breath.

"I have about this much patience left for today," she retorted, holding her thumb and index fingers about a half an inch apart. It was very much the truth. It was more than an emotionally draining day with the whole debacle between Gomez and Fester and she really, really didn't have any energy left for whatever games her sister was playing here.

"Okay, I will just say it," Ophelia nodded."Francois is going to be there."

Morticia blinked and then frowned, taken aback.

"And that's news...how?" she asked slowly.

"Ok, I'm just going to say it," Ophelia muttered again under her nose."The thing is that Dorothy...and she meant well, she really did…"

"Oh god, I'm so sure I don't want to hear this," she muttered more to herself than to her sister.

Ophelia swallowed heavily and inhaled deeply.

"Dorothy told Francois about the inheritance conditions and asked him if he would be interested in marrying you please don't get mad," she told her all in one breath and blinked in surprise when her sister remained silent.

She looked intently at Morticia but her face was utterly blank, only slightly contemplative, as if she was simply considering options on the dinner menu. That was good, calm was good, Ophelia decided and then her little sister let out such an impressive string of profanities, in both English and French, Ophelia could not help but feel duly impressed.

"She meant well," she insisted and winced when her sister covered her eyes with her hand and leaned back against the seat.

Morticia took a deep breath.

Then another.

And another.

No, this is certainly not going to work. She felt so upset, she didn't know what to do with herself. Being confined to limited space in the car did not help.

This couldn't be. Surely, this was some kind of a twisted joke.

"Maybe it's for the best," her sister tried to placate.

Morticia turned towards her sharply and graced her with a vicious glare.

"How is it for the best, Ophelia?" she asked in disbelief. Was she really serious? Unbelievable.

"At least you don't have to tell him," Ophelia replied. "Look, I'm really sorry, she probably thought she was doing you a favour."

"I can't believe the audacity of that woman, I really can't," Morticia retorted. She was so angry, her eyes prickled with tears.

How dare she? How bloody dare she to interfere with her life? Did she really think she could coerce her into marrying Francois, was she truly that daft? What on earth was on their mind, what kind of game was this? Do they think that just because she agreed to that...that arrangement they were in a position to choose a husband for her, or even more ridiculous, to demand or force her to marry Francois? They were all truly demented if they thought she would ever go for it but their obvious confidence was more than worrying and she wasn't about to wait and see what the hell were they planning.

She needed to speak to Gomez, she decided, as humiliating as this whole thing was going to be, she had no choice now.

Generally speaking, Eudora Addams never cared for nor had any interest in reading newspapers. In her opinion, reading news was a waste of her time. After all, if there was anything interesting or urgent or the world was ending, she would surely hear about it anyway.

That being said, there was, of course, one thing every self-respecting citizen should read and it was Sunday's society gossip column - now, that was a thing worth reading! Nothing like a good potion of tittle-tattle to one's morning coffee.

She scanned the pages curiously, periodically either grunting or letting out an amused snort. It was so much fun to read gossip column with a safe knowledge that her husband's name won't be gracing it within the context of some society scandal or other.

It was truly -

"What the hell?" she muttered to herself, bringing the newspaper closer because she was utterly convinced her eyes were deceiving her, but no, there it was in black and white.

With the wedding season in full swing, the society richest are about to become even richer - well, at least some! We have it on good authority that the heir to the French property magnate, Michel Chalon, Francois Chalon is getting married to none other than the exotic-looking beauty - Miss Morticia Frump - the sister-in-law of a well-known businessman, Jared Diamond. Talking about mixing business and pleasure!

Impossible, Eudora decided. Where would they even take such a preposterous gossip from?

No, no this couldn't be, absolutely impossible.

Still, it was better if Gomez would not find out about it, at least not until she figures out what the hell was this about because, sure as hell, her darling son is going to overreact - to put it mildly.

Yet, it just didn't look good, not at all. She promptly tried to connect all the facts and the picture wasn't pretty. Eudora was absolutely certain Fester told her that Morticia had no access to her inheritance until she was twenty-one, so almost a whole year from now, and yet Morticia herself told her she would be the one paying for her mother's treatment even though, if what Fester's told her the truth, she had no means to do so. And now marriage to some rich fellow? It didn't make sense. Surely, she knew if she needed help, money or anything really, she could come to them.

Except.

Except, this was Morticia and Eudora noticed, the younger woman had immense trouble asking and accepting any form of help at all but marriage? No, no way. She was stubborn, yes, but not to the point of being unreasonable. This - this marriage, in her opinion, would be the very epitome of unreasonable.

Nevertheless, God knows her son cannot find out about it until -

"Are you done with the morning paper, mama?"

Eudora's lips curled into an incredulous smile. She chuckled and shook her head before raising her head towards the glass ceiling, as if in silent prayer.

"Good one," she remarked appreciatively." I've always known you had a macabre sense of humour."

"Who has a macabre sense of humour?" Gomez asked as he sat down in the metal chair opposite, smiling at her.

"God," Eudora answered in a deadpan manner and her son chuckled. She thought he looked like he didn't have an ounce of sleep. Did he and Morticia have a spat before she left for that family weekend?

"Sometimes," he agreed."You're done with the paper?" he asked and already made a half-move to reach for it.

"No," she replied a little too sharply and stupidly hugged The Daily Chronicle close to her chest her son looked at her quizzically.

He took his cigar out of his mouth and narrowed his eyes.

"You do realize that this is very suspicious behaviour?" he pointed out, amused but his mother only gave out a non-committal grunt.

Damn it all to hell, like she couldn't just have taken the gossip section out and give him the rest of the paper, what the hell was she thinking, she berated herself silently.

Gomez tilted his head and regarded her curiously.

"Mama, what's going on?" he asked indulgently. "Have you invested into another dodgy company and made it to the news?" he grinned. He still liked to tease her about her investment mishaps.

"Oh, how the hell was I supposed to know that Mars is some blasted confectionery producer and not a space station?" she asked in an outraged tone."They misrepresented themselves!"

"It's in the company profile," he pointed out in a teasing tone.

Eudora snorted contemptuously.

"Who reads those?!"

Gomez laughed and regarded her affectionately.

"Can I have the paper now?"

Eudora instinctively hugged it closer to her chest eliciting a suspicious look from her son.

"All right, but I want you to be reasonable," she forewarned.

"About...stock markets?" he frowned in confusion.

Eudora sighed in defeat. There was really no way around it.

"Okay, page six," she said, handing him the newspaper.

"You want me to read the gossip column?" He asked sardonically."Is our dear Balthazar the main suspect in another scandal?" He asked but Eudora didn't even offer a tiny smile at the dig.

She didn't want him to see it. He would surely overreact... but then she knew he would probably find out one way or another anyway and soon because there was no way this kind of rumour not to reach him. It was better then if he finds out now, where they could discuss it. Calmly. Reasonably.

She almost groaned at her own naivety. Neither calmly nor reasonably went even in the same sentence as Gomez Addams.

"Just...read, the middle of the page," she instructed and watched him as he warily opened the newspaper on the page she requested and scanned the writing.

She expected him to throw a fit, or at least throw a newspaper but he read it calmly and his facial expression barely twitched at the information contained within it.

"No," he shook his head confidently, and calmly still.

"Darling, -"

"This isn't..," he started to say but faltered and shook his head again."No. This is a lie."

"Of course it's a lie," she assured him." If Morticia wanted to leave you, she would certainly tell you that in person," she added and was immediately regarded with a thunderous gaze.

"Thanks," he quipped."That's comforting."

"I mean it's a stupid gossip, that what it is," his mother reassured firmly."You shouldn't pay any attention to it," she added, snatching the newspaper off his hands."Forget about it, for now, you can speak to her on Tuesday. Let's not make a big deal out of this, because it's probably nothing."

"It doesn't make sense," he muttered, more to himself than to Eudora, standing up from his chair so abruptly he almost knocked it over. "It's ridiculous."

Eudora gazed at him with a look that was somewhere tender and helpless.

"Gomez, calm down," she tried to appease when he stood up and started pacing frantically between the various plants in the conservatory."It's just a silly rumour, she would never ..."

"No mama, you don't understand," he interjected fiercely.

"I don't understand?" she laughed in a bemused manner. Who knew more about how it felt when your significant other figured so prominently in a gossip column than Eudora Addams herself?

Gomez shook his head.

"What if she thinks…," he faltered and swallowed heavily, clenching his fists nervously."It's my fault mama, I failed her."

"Stop it," she scoffed." You have to calm down, otherwise, you'll drive yourself insane until Tuesday."

"I can't lose her, mama," he muttered."I can't."

"Gomez, for the love of death, why would she leave you? She adores you," Eudora pointed out but she concluded she could be as well talking to a wall because the frantic pace did not stop even for a split second."Gomez," she raised her voice and he looked at her startled as if he just noticed she was here. "It's just silly gossip."

"It's my fault," he swallowed heavily and before she could so much as blink, he left the conservatory, slamming the door behind him.

Morticia had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised...alright, perhaps pleasantly surprised was an overstatement. Nevertheless, she was certainly relieved to learn that this trip wasn't even half as mortifying as she was expecting. Mostly, she reckoned, owing to the fact that Francios did not mention the thing at all, didn't look at her funny didn't make even a tiny passing comment.

Or perhaps it was because she expected the absolute worse and the reality, as it often does, proved to be gentler that one's imagination.

They have arrived at the resort quite late so they all only met for a late breakfast, at the terrace the next day. He seemed genuinely happy to see her and then promptly introduced her to his, tired and moody, obviously jet-lagged daughter. Her name was Sandrine, a skinny auburn-haired girl with most startling green eyes. Morticia took an instant like to her, particularly since she stuck her tongue out at Jared when he complimented her curly hair, and then glared at him for the rest of the breakfast. She also, very discreetly, spat into Dorothy's latte, shortly after the older woman pointed out that Sandrine should not keep her elbows on the table - bad manners. Morticia decided the little girl was s dream of a child. Perhaps she could rub off some of her adorable attitude on Charlie.

And so they started their Saturday late and it went surprisingly uneventful. She deliberately spent almost all her time with the children and even when Francios joined them (as he did so often) he kept the conversation light and, most importantly, neutral. Except, every so often she noticed him staring at her while she played with the children with such a tender look on his face she really chose not to ponder upon it. She didn't want him to look at her that way. She didn't want any man to look at her like that. Well, except one. But then no one looked at her in the exact same way Gomez looked at her.

Today, after breakfast Morticia promptly volunteered to take the children to the beach again, even though the weather was atrocious - all blue sky, not a single cloud and blinding sun, but she would rather sit in this blazing sun than listen to Dorothy's thinly veiled comments about marriage and dreary realities of the modern world where women forgot their rightful place in society - a woman should be the heart of the home. And what's with all the divorces? Well, at least she refrained from making any allusions in regards to her and Francois but still, Morticia would rather fry herself under this blasted sun than listen to any of that again.

Although, since she opted for a long beach dress, instead of a swimming suit, and her black wide-brimmed straw sun hat, she could hopefully prevent most of the sun reaching her. The only downside of having skin tone so pale was that Morticia burned under the sun incredibly quickly even if she used as much sunscreen as it was humanly possible, so she usually opted for long sleeve beach dressed on such occasions.

She could not comprehend, for the life of her, what was so enticing about swimming under frying sun when midnight swimming combined with some moon bathing was so much more delightful? Even more so when she had a certain handsome Castilian at her side, she thought, and could not prevent her lips curl into a small smile. Gods, what would she give to be curled against him on the sofa in the library, to simply be in the same room as him, she missed him. She still worried about him and Fester but now, after the emotions of the previous day somewhat subdued, the familiar longing was creeping upon her again. She didn't like being away from him and she didn't know how she's going to manage another two days without him.

She really hoped they managed to talk things through. They both promised her they would but she still worried about the final result. Unfortunately, she could not do anything about it until -

"Enjoying yourself?"

She turned, looking up at the unwelcome intrusion and squinted in the bright sun, despite having her sunglasses on.

"I do, actually," she replied. She was at least, she added silently and watched him sit down on the sand next to her, wrapping his arms around his knees. He was dressed in all classic white linen, trousers and shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a straw hat on his head, dark sunglasses covering his eyes. She wondered what Gomez would choose to wear for his beach outfit? She wouldn't be surprised if he chose to swim in a full suit. She smiled inwardly at the thought.

"Your daughter is adorable," she complimented, deliberately choosing the safe(ish) topic of conversation.

"Funny, I mostly hear that she's a spoiled little devil," he retorted jovially.

"Oh, she definitely is," she praised."You must be very proud of her," she added.

He removed his glasses and regarded her quizzically, as if judging if she was jesting with him and, finally realizing that she was perfectly serious, let out a small laugh.

"You're really one of a kind, Morticia," he remarked, with a soft smile.

She looked away, not entirely comfortable with the complement and bit her lips into a thin line. Perhaps it was better to just get away and eat that dreaded spoonful of honey, get it done and over with.

"I know...she's told you," she muttered finally.

He nodded, not even attempting to pretend he didn't know who and what she was referring to.

"Just how mortifying is that for you?" he asked in a gentle tease, and she appreciated he was so casual about it. She was grateful that he understood just how awfully uncomfortable this situation was for her.

"Well, I considered avoiding you for the rest of forever," Morticia admitted and elicited an amused laugh from him.

"Dear Dorothy, you can always count on her to make things awkward," he summed up jovially." The most horrifying thing about her is that...she means well. I'm a hundred per cent sure she's convinced she was doing you a favour."

"That's probably very accurate," she admitted ruefully.

There was a high pitch scream from the direction where the children were playing at the shore, building a sandcastle (or something that was supposed to be a sandcastle) and they both turned towards the sound. Sandrine was sitting in the water, obviously upset.

"Papa! Charlie m'a poussé!"

Francois rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Oh allez, il n'a que deux ans," her father replied dismissively." C'est comme être poussé par une araignée. And you were supposed to speak English."

"Oh, oui papa!" the little girl made a face, already picking herself up from the water."I mean yes, papa. I forgot again," she grinned cutely as her father before jogging over to Morticia, leaving Charlie busy destroying the sand towers Sandrine has just erected."Tantine, do you like my flowers?" she asked, referring to a small bracelet made of tiny wild violets Ophelia braided for her.

Morticia looked at flowery jewellery and wrinkled her nose.

"They're ghastly," she smiled at the little girl."They'd look much better sans les pétales."

Sandrine tilted her head back and giggled happily.

"Vous êtes tellement bizarre," she laughed.

"Sandrine," Francois reprimanded sternly." It's not polite to call people weird."

"Oh, what's polite to call them then when they are weird?" the girl asked curiously, tilting her head gently to the side.

"Eccentric," Morticia supplied in a deadpan manner.

"Oooooh, qui," the girl nodded." You are so much eccentric, tantine," Sandrine said kindly and smiled at her, then promptly run back to where Charlie was now apparently pretending to be a dinosaur destroying the castle and she shrieked in outrage.

"Thanks, now she'll go around, calling people eccentric," he complained."As if she's not in constant trouble, already."

"You're welcome," she grinned at him.

He grinned back but then, after a moment, his expression turned serious.

"Isn't there anything you could do to contest the inheritance conditions?" he asked gently.

Her first instinct was to tell him it was none of his business, but she didn't. It wasn't his fault, after all, none of this.

"We've tried," she replied uncomfortably."The lawyers we've consulted all agreed that although the practice is outdated… it's not illegal. My mother made a deliberate decision, and she wasn't clinically depressed then and of sound mind, so...there's no case. The conditions are legal and binding."

"And that clinic in Switzerland is really the only option?" he prodded gently.

She turned towards him sharply.

"How much did she tell you, exactly?" she asked incredulously.

"A lot," he admitted, wincing uneasily.

"Marvelous," she replied sarcastically, shaking her head in disbelief. Dorothy Diamonds wouldn't know subtlety if it shot her in the foot.

"It's not her fault, the way she is," he said gently but when she looked at him sharply he added:"Your mother, I mean."

"I'm not blaming her," she replied immediately, her tone defensive.

"But you're angry," he pointed out.

She bit her lips into a thin line, hard. She suddenly felt unusually emotional, perhaps because of the whole thing between Fester and Gomez, or perhaps it was a combination of everything that was going on around her but lately, she had immense trouble to contain all the conflicting emotions inside her. Dorothy's meddling did not help. At all.

"I'm not...angry with her because she could not cope with my father's death," she finally whispered."It's just...I don't understand how could she just... gave up. It's like she lived only for him, to be with him and without him … nothing mattered to her without him," she added."I didn't matter."

"Are you angry because she wasn't there for you when you needed her the most?"

"No," she snapped, shaking her head and then bit her lips in silent contemplation."Yes," she admitted."I loved him too and it seems like...her own grief was all that mattered to her. As if no one loved him more than her. I'm angry because I'm paying the price of her insecurities, she put me in the position where I can't do anything but be dependent on other people, it shouldn't be that way. I should be able to just inherit the money my own father left for me without these absurd conditions. She didn't have the right to deny me that no matter how she felt," she swallowed heavily and suddenly realized that she was ridiculously close to tears."And I don't know why am I telling you all this because this is none of your concern anyway."

He smiled gently at her words.

"You have every right to be angry… but there's no one way to grief, Morticia," he explained."Everyone goes through it their own way, however they can. For some, it takes months, for some years but ultimately, you never really get over losing people," he admitted." You go on living but no one will ever be able to fill this emptiness they left behind them. You survive it, because what other alternative is there?"

She shrugged.

"Not survive it?" she supplied mirthlessly.

This time it was his turn to shrug. He turned to where the children were currently throwing sand at one another and stayed silent for a few contemplative minutes

"You know, when my wife died…," he finally said but faltered and swallowed heavily."When my wife died, I realized that most people live in denial," he said and paused as if to let the words sink in, and she looked at him quizzically."We all live in denial of death. We see people dying, we hear of people dying but... for some reason, we never think it will happen to us or to our loved ones. We always think we have time...but we don't. We take people around us for granted, we think they will always be there for us, we waste time being angry or petty or...or both but if there's one thing I've learnt from her death is that... we should always treat our loved ones as if we only had moments left with them," he said and turned towards her." Because that's the truth, really."

"Was it worth the heartbreak?" she asked in a painful whisper."To love so much only to lose her?"

"Every moment," he replied hoarsely. "I would go through it again in a heartbeat...only this time I would make sure to cherish every single minute of our time together, I wouldn't waste so much time. Life is too short for what ifs, for regrets or hesitations... if we have a chance at happiness, however short, we should grab it and cherish it every moment of every day."

Morticia stayed silent, contemplating his words. What would be her answer to that? Was it worth the heartbreak? This love, that made her so raw, so vulnerable and out of control? This insanity.

And yet, she realized with almost painful clarity, there was so much more to this love than that. It was also strong, fervent and passionate and despite creating this utter mayhem of emotions, it was absolutely wonderful to love and be loved so profoundly, it was her peace amidst all the chaos around her. Gomez, with all the insanity he brought into her life, helped her reign the darkness within her, undeniably so. He was what her soul longed for, he was her balance.

Was he worth the heartbreak? What did it matter really? She was beyond the point of fooling herself that she could live her life without Gomez. If she was a foolish witch who loved too much, then so be it. She loved with abandon but so did Gomez. If they perish of heartbreak, they would do so together.

"Morticia," he said her name slowly and she turned to him with a soft look on her face because she was suddenly insanely grateful for his words, for him, despite the situation he, too, was unwittingly thrown into."I will understand if this is awkward and you don't want to answer - "

"I think I'm immune to awkward by now," she supplied wryly, eliciting an amused snort from him

"Alright then, here it comes...you and Mr Addams…," he started tentatively.

She almost groaned. Do people really have no other hobbies but gossiping about her love life?

"You've been listening to rumours?" she asked lightly.

"Yep," he admitted with a somewhat embarrassed chuckle." It was hard not to, I think that's everyone's favourite gossip at the moment," he explained and she snorted humourlessly." Summer holidays are a boring period, everyone's away and Mr Addams's reputation is … well, it's quite something, I must say. You know each other well?"

She smiled at his subtlety. Gentleman to a fault, indeed.

"Fairly well," she replied noncommittally. Well, it was true." We haven't known each other very long. I work for his mother." Also true.

"And you're friends?" he prodded in a tone that indicated it was more of a statement than a question.

She tilted her head at him and removed her sunglasses, her lips curled into a small smirk.

"Is there a hidden question there?"

He let out a self-conscious half-laugh.

"Rhetorical one perhaps," he admitted, his tone gently indulgent."Is there any truth to the rumour about the two of you?"

"Depends what the rumour is," she retorted smartly.

"Touche," he smiled. He bit his bottom lip, pondering how to proceed. "I really like you Morticia, you know that," he continued slowly and watched her nod." I know this is not love, for either of us, at least not yet but I really think we could be really happy together," he admitted but then looked at her knowingly."But not if one of us is in love with someone else. That's not a good recipe for a happy marriage," he supplied wryly.

She dropped her gaze briefly even though there was no accusation in his tone. She looked at him intently for a moment.

"No," she agreed."It certainly isn't."

He nodded at her understandingly.

"I hope I didn't make it uncomfortable for you?"

"What?"

"Talking about Mr Addams with me."

"No," she shook her head. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was… liberating in some way. For the first time, she felt somewhat in control, if anything, at least the things between them have been cleared to a point where she was sure she was not leading him with any false hopes.

He smiled at her gratefully.

"I hope we can remain friends, though," he said tentatively." You are one of the most interesting people I have ever met and I'd like to think about you as my friend, if you'd let me."

She regarded him softly and smiled, touched by his words.

"I would like that," she replied. "You're a good man, Francois," she added honestly." And you deserve someone who will love you truly, madly and... infinitely."

"Very high standards, Miss Frump," he joked.

"Well, marriage is not exactly the area where one should lower their standards, Mr Chalon," she retorted teasingly.

"Very true," he laughed. "Mr Addams... he's a very lucky man...and he seems like quite a character," he admitted." I think I would like to meet him."

She couldn't help but laugh out loud at his words. She could just imagine how well would that go.

"Well, he's also an avid fencer," she supplied, highly amused.

"Really?" he asked and she nodded."Interesting. We could fence for your affections."

"One of you would be fencing in vain," she replied diplomatically, making him laugh.

"I was jesting," he assured, smiling kindly."Although...you certainly are a woman worth fencing for, I'm sure Mr Addams would not hesitate to put a sword through my heart for you."

She narrowed her eyes at him is a silent assessment.

"It's really disconcerting when you make such insightful remarks about people," she stated, her tone only slightly teasing.

He laughed.

"I'm a psychology graduate," he explained with a charming grin.

She laughed.

"Figures."

Life wrote the most twisted scenarios, she decided. She certainly had a difficulty in keeping up with all the twists and turns her own life was gracing her with lately.

That being said, there were some things she had no longer any doubts about. Or rather, those doubts ceased to matter.

She would speak to Gomez first thing when she sees him on Tuesday and she will tell him everything.

No more secrets.

No more taking for granted.

A/N: Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you guys for all your kind words and congratulations to those who guessed that Gomez will do something stupid! ;)

Chapter 15

"Well, well...I see the love is in the air," Dorothy Diamond mused satisfied, half to herself, half to the other two people at the table as she looked through the terrace at the pair having a quiet walk on the beach at sunset. "I've told you, you were panicking for nothing," she added turning to her daughter-in-law.

Ophelia shrugged, caressing her already bulging stomach. Even this early in her pregnancy, the evening heat and humidity didn't do her any favours. The evening air was heavy with the sticky-sweet scent of heat and perspiration. Gods, how she hated being pregnant. She supposed the end result was worth it but Ophelia didn't handle pregnancy well. It was that strange feeling that penetrated her throughout the pregnancy, her body did not feel like her own and she didn't feel like herself. She felt restless.

"This could have blown up in our faces," Ophelia pointed out. "Morticia certainly didn't appreciate it. We could have given her some more time."

"Well, it might have been a little crude," Dorothy admitted, slowly sipping her after-dinner treat of vodka martini. "But time is not a luxury we have in abundance at the moment, dear."

Ophelia gaze dropped briefly to where her hand lay on her stomach.

"I know," she whispered. "I just… I wish she wouldn't have to do that, she shouldn't have to sacrifice - "

"Oh, for God's sake, darling," Jared interrupted her with an exasperated snort." Marrying a millionaire is hardly a sacrifice now, is it? May we all have her problems."

"Well said, dear," Dorothy conquered, stretching gently on her wicker chair."Let me tell you something, in my days, nobody would even dream of such frivolity as marrying for love. And why would they? Everyone had an arranged marriage and nobody complained. Love always came after the marriage. Only fools or peasants marry for love."

"Thanks," Jared laughed, winking at his wife." What an attractive pair of fools we are, aren't we darling?" he asked, placing a soft kiss to her temple and she smiled at him happily in agreement.

"I didn't mean you two and you know it," Dorothy scoffed but smiled at them regardless."What I mean is that it's hardly the conundrum she's making it be. These young people...you feed your heads with those foolhardy notions of love that you find in books without realizing that that's exactly where this kind of love belongs...in books."

Ophelia let out a noncommittal grunt and shrugged gently, not eager to agree or disagree. She understood Morticia's quest for love, she truly did, because no one could ever argue that it was love that made all the difference. And yet, did love guarantee a happy marriage? Of course not, and unlike her sister she had experience Morticia lacked. Oh yes, it was glorious to be in love but was it better than learning to love one's spouse. Better than choosing wisely, based on one's character and life's status that silly notions of passion and romantic love that did nothing but cloud one's reason and common sense. No, romantic love was not a guarantee of a happy marriage, far from it. Although, it certainly guaranteed that any disappointments and disillusions one encountered in marriage hurt twice as much. And Ophelia didn't want her sister to go through the same pain and disappointment she had.

"Besides," her mother-in-law continued thoughtfully. "The sooner we put an end to this business with the Addamses the better. This girl is naive beyond belief, she simply does not understand that she practically invites the whole city to gossip about her when she's out and about with that… that good for nothing Lothario."

"Finally," Jared sighed, leaning against his chair." Someone agrees with me."

Ophelia shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't like her spending time with them any more than you do," she assured. She didn't but the hell was she supposed to do? Forbid her? Her sister wasn't a child, she was a grown woman.

"Told you we should have axed it at the bud," Jared pointed out as if reading her thoughts.

"Now, what good would that do, darling?" she objected.

"Exactly," Dororthy concurred."I've already told you there's nothing more enticing for a young girl than a forbidden fruit and Gomez Addams knows exactly how to wrap women around his little finger."

Ophelia could practically feel her husband's body stiffen.

"Well, he better keeps his bloody fingers to himself," he murmured into his tumbler of whisky." I don't want Francois to think he's getting used goods."

"Darling, really," Ophelia scolded."No need to be so crude."

"I mean it, though," he turned towards her. "This marriage would be of immeasurable benefit to all of us, surely you realize that. French property markets are the pure devil to get into for foreign investors, their bureaucracy is pure hell - the bloody hoops they make one jump before even attempting to buy one measly property is horrendous."

"Yes, I know that," Ophelias replied firmly. "But you could at least pretend you're not putting a price tag on my sister."

"Why would I?" he grinned. "She might be stubborn, recalcitrant little thing but she's not an idiot. She knows I don't give a toss about how she feels about this marriage."

"Romantically put, darling," she retorted."But as you rightly pointed out, Morticia is very stubborn and if she wants to make this whole thing difficult for us, she will."

"Oh, what the hell can she do?" he questioned sardonically. "She knows we need that money by the end of next month, the latest. She's not going to jeopardize her mother's health just to piss me off."

"Language, dear," his mother interjected sternly, shooting his a disapproving look." We didn't send you to the most prestigious schools in this country so you could learn to swear like a common sailor. I'm really tempted to send you off to bed without supper."

Jared only laughed, utterly unconcerned.

"Sorry," he said in a tone that indicated he wasn't sorry at all." Still, she's marrying Francois and I don't give the slightest damn what she thinks of it," he insisted."I put up with her bratty behaviour for long enough. When we come back, I will give her two more weeks to sort out whatever she has for Mrs Addams and I don't want to ever hear of that name ever again."

"Oh, that will go smoothly," Ophelia retorted sarcastically.

Dorothy let out a small, wry laugh and shifted in her chair before leaning closer to Ophelia.

"Not to worry," she smiled furtively."I have already set things in motion to make sure Morticia's association with this man will not get in the way of things."

Ophelia smiled gently.

"His name is Gomez Addams, mother," she retorted, amused."Saying his name out loud with not invite a curse, you know?"

"Ah, no point in tempting fate, is it?" Dorothy quipped, a small smirk gracing her pale pink lips. "Good for nothing Lothario suits him just as well."

Ophelia heard Jared let out rather an ungainly snort and couldn't help but smile as well.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what's on your mind," she said.

"Well, for one, I have made sure notice of the impending wedding would feature in this Sunday's edition of The Daily Chronicle," she announced calmly."In the gossip column, of course, one must be careful not to appear too blatant."

Ophelia practically felt the blood drain from her face. Even Jared groaned next to exasperatedly.

"Mother, what the hell," he hissed, almost spitting his whisky.

"Also," Dorothy continued calmly."After the theatre on Monday, be sure to check Tuesday 's newspapers as well," she added smugly.

Ophelia covered her face with her hands.

"Oh God," she groaned, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Jared practically hissed."If Morticia finds out about it she -"

"What?" his mother challenged."She what? There's nothing she can do and we certainly can't be responsible for gossips the newspapers come up with, now can we?"

"She's not stupid," he insisted."She knows there's only one place this kind of rumours can originate from - your mouth," he pointed out crudely.

"Oh, pish."

"What are we to say if she challenges us on that?" he asked, exasperated that his mother didn't seem to see the seriousness of her meddling. Active encouragement was one thing but this...this bloody thing can only go two ways, really. When it comes to his sister-in-law, he reckons it can only go one way and certainly not in the direction he cared for the things to go.

"Use the rule of three, dear," Dorothy retorted sarcastically.

"What damned rule of three?"

Dorothy shook her head and rolled her eyes before regarding the two people next to her with an annoyed glare.

"Deny, deny, deny," she explained slowly as if the was talking to two mentally challenged children.

"I really hope you know what you're doing," Ophelia said finally. Dorothy really better knew very well what she was doing because what she's just described sounded like a sure recipe for disaster.

Dorothy smiled at her daughter-in-law indulgently.

"Leave it to me," she placated, squeezing Ophelia's hand gently. "I know very well how to handle such things. You are way too soft with Morticia, my dear. There are some choices we have to make for her. It's for her own good, really."

Fester Addams smiled to himself as he stepped through the gate, his hands firmly wrapped around the brown package full of brand new explosives in preparation for Thursday dinner with Dementia that he, incidentally, still did not manage to invite her to because each time he tried the words just got stuck in his throat - literally, because each time he found himself coughing profoundly.

It didn't matter, though, because he was still absolutely over the moon with how their date went. He felt more and more comfortable around Dementia, he loved spending time with her, listening to her talk, finding out all there was to know about her.

She was the one, he had no doubt about it.

When he met her today, his whole body was still fueled by the events of Friday evening. He was no longer mad at Gomez, no - far from it, but there was this inner chaos within him that he didn't know how to harness. He wanted to forgive his brother and yet there was this inner restlessness, subdued anger - whether with Gomez or the situation, he wasn't sure.

The thing was that before he knew it, he found himself confessing to Dementia, all that happened, all that's been said and unsaid between him and his brother. And she listened attentively and didn't say much but she said one thing that struck him like a thunderbolt. She said that he had the right to feel however he wanted to and that forgiveness was a process, just as everything else. It's not about squashing the uncomfortable feelings inside you, it's about learning to forgive. People are people, they will always disappoint us, even the ones we love - or perhaps, the ones we love tend to disappoint us most of all.

He told her he could not imagine a time in which she could ever disappoint him. The words left his mouth before he could even think about them.

She smiled at him shily and then kissed him. It was a soft albeit brief, fleeting kiss but it was enough. He realized then, with such vivid clarity, that whatever he felt, whatever he thought he felt, for the Amore Twins, was not and could not have been the real thing. The real thing - the real love, was this sense of companionship, this inner peace and certainty, being able to share your innermost self with that other person - this was the real love.

It didn't erase Gomez's actions but, somehow, they ceased to matter. Or they mattered less because now he had something than matter to him more than Amore Twins debacle ever could.

Still, he had to somehow invite Dementia for dinner to meet his mother. Would she want to, though? Isn't it too fast?

Perhaps he should ask Gomez to invite her instead...no, that would be weird. Although, if he told her that it was some sort of engagement dinner for him and Morticia, that would be plausible...right?

No, it was so stupid. He had to invite her, but how? What if she's not ready to meet mama? She might take it as a sign he was serious about her and … he frowned at his own preposterous musings. He was serious about her, Lucifer's tail! He built her an explosive device, if that's not a sure sign of commitment then what is?

"There you are, God damn it!" his mother exclaimed the second he stepped through the front door.

He put the heavy box on the floor and regarded her curiously.

"Am I late for something?" he asked in surprise but his mother didn't reply and simply shoved a newspaper into his hands, already opened on her favourite gossip section.

"Read the one in the middle," she practically ordered.

"Sheesh, can I at least get a cup of henbane tea first?" He joked but his mother only frowned at him.

"This isn't a laughing matter," she insisted."Read the damn thing."

"Ugh, okay...with the wedding season blah blah blah...are you serious?" he asked incredulously. "What do I care about who's getting married to whom, I hardly know these people."

"Oh, you do care, trust me."

"Why, the devil, do you want me to...oh…," he frowned and brought the paper closer for inspection.

"Exactly… oh," his mother agreed.

"This is preposterous, who the hell comes up with this idiocy?" he laughed, amused. "Come on," he looked at his mother indulgently, thoroughly entertained by the gossip but his mother only glared at him." Surely, you don't believe this. Still, it's hysterical," he chuckled."I wonder if Morticia even knows about it…"

Eudora frowned and crossed her arms, annoyed that Fester didn't seem to take it seriously enough.

"Who is this Chalon chap?" she asked.

Fester shrugged gently.

"He's a business associate of Morticia's brother-in-law," he explained." They've met a few weeks ago and…," he frowned, struck by a sudden thought.

"And?" his mother prompted.

"And he's the guy that got invited to their family weekend…," he admitted slowly." No, no no no, come on, this doesn't make an ounce of sense," he insisted."Why would she do that, it just…," he shook his head in disbelief."No, it's plain ridiculous."

Eudora swallowed heavily.

"Before you brought her here, you said she was barred from accessing her inheritance," she reminded him.

"Yeah..that's right, so?" he agreed with a confused frown, not quite sure where she was going with this.

"And yet when I asked her the other day about her mother's treatment, she told me she would be paying for it," Eudora revealed pointedly." The question is how, if the earliest time she can access the money is next year?"

Fester blinked and swallowed heavily, his stomach turned uncomfortably.

"There's another way to access the money," he whispered furtively."Her mother put the conditions to the inheritance, one that Morticia has to either wait until she's twenty-one or… ."

"Or?" Eudora prompted impatiently when Fester stayed silent. "Or what?"

He blinked, as if himself startled by what he was about to say.

"Or she can get the money through marriage...in which case the money would legally belong to her husband," he explained, his voice barely above a whisper, even though they were the only ones in the hall.

"I don't like the sound of that," his mother remarked gravely.

Fester smoothed his hand through his bald head, silently contemplating what to do.

"Do you think she'd arranged for this marriage to get the money for her mother's treatment?" Eudora asked, unwittingly voicing his exact thoughts.

He shrugged.

Why would she do that though? If she needed money… surely, surely she knew she could come to them, to any of them. There was nothing they wouldn't do for her, she was like a family, even more so.

Although, he thought, if the sum was substantial, as he had no doubt the cost of her mother's treatment was, she might not feel comfortable approaching them. Oh hell! This was Morticia they were talking about, she would feel absolutely mortified by the mere prospect of asking for money. What a bloody fool he was, never once did he ask her about the cost of the treatment and he should know...oh, what an idiot...he should have asked! She would never ask them, he should have known, he should have asked. Why didn't he ask her? Not once!

It wasn't just the cost of Morticia's mother care, after all. Why did he assume, her brother-in-law would cover all the expenses?

But marriage?

"Did Gomez see it?" he asked instead.

Eudora nodded and, predictably, Fester winced slightly. No doubt, he knew exactly what his brother's reaction to such a piece of information would be.

"He said it was a lie," she recounted."But it worried him, regardless. It worried him a lot, Fester. He said it was his fault, devil knows why?"

"Morticia would never do that to him," he assured."It is a lie."

"What if she thinks that's the only way to get the money?" Eudora asked.

"Then we'll make sure she knows it's not the only way," he replied with an air of finality."Gomez in the library?"

Eudora shook her head.

"Cemetery," she supplied."He's been there for hours."

She didn't have to add at whose grave Fester could find him.

23:47

Almost midnight and she has to be up in six hours yet, with each passing minute, her hopes of getting some kind of a restful sleep faded away, she felt too wide awake. Jared wanted them to go early to avoid the midday heat, which was fine by her because Morticia certainly didn't care of staying in this place longer than necessary. Although, the prospect of sharing a car with Dorothy was not at all appealing yet Charlie insisted on riding with Sandrine who, in turn, would not ride without her father and so Dorothy decided it would be best for her to drive back with 'the girls'. That's how she referred to them: The girls.

On the dark side, Jared looked absolutely mortified about the prospect of driving over four hours (at best) with the two unruly children in the car and so that happy thoughts will have to sustain Morticia throughout the journey.

It wasn't the prospect of sharing the journey with Dorothy that kept her awake, though. It was longing. For him.

This longing that was her constant companion through weeks now but since their weekend together it was becoming unbearable. She could not sleep because her body longed to feel his next to hers. She loved to sleep with his arms around her - possessive, even in his sleep. She missed him so much it felt like physical torture. So there was that but also -

She felt apprehensive about what she had to tell him and his reaction.

How does one even approach such a subject? What should she say? How to put it into words when the mere thought was so humiliating to even comprehend dressing it into words.

She will tell him and then what? Would he marry her? Should she ask or will he offer?

Oh gods, if only there was another way, any other way at all than to face this utter humiliation. She had no idea how will she be even able to force those words out of her lips.

Will he be upset that she kept this a secret for so long? Oh well, he can hardly sit on a high horse after -

She faltered, startled by her own thoughts. Their viciousness and unfairness.

This has nothing to do with what he's done to Fester, she reminded herself. She could not hold it against him nor would she want to. She was stressed and overwhelmed. She felt guilty and apprehensive because she should have told him weeks ago and the more she prolonged telling him the more stressful the prospect seemed. She had to calm the hell down. Stop overthinking.

Stop overthinking - easier said than done.

She will tell him. She's not going to back out. She couldn't back out even if she wanted to. She was running out of time and out of options. However, come to think of it, what options did she ever have in the first place, really? She was simply delaying the inevitable until the last possible moment.

The knock on the door was so faint she was sure she imagined it. But no. There it was again, faint tapping.

She frowned and got off the bed, slipping into her robe. It was hardly a decent hour for visitation of any kind.

"Ophelia?" She said upon seeing her sister dressed in her lilac, silk robe. She looked exhausted."What's wrong?"

"Jared is snoring like a grizzly bear," she explained tiredly."He always does when he drinks too much. May I sleep with you please?"

Morticia bit her lower lip in a sudden amusement and stepped aside to let Ophelia in.

"You know," Ophelia whispered when they both settled in Morticia's double bed."When you were little you used to come to sleep in my bed every night."

"I don't remember that," she replied, smiling at her words nevertheless.

"You were tiny, two or maybe three," Ophelia reminisced fondly." And you never said a thing. All you did was staring at me like a cute, little maniac until I told you to come and then you'd snuggle against me."

"That's such a fallacy," Morticia retorted firmly."I would never do such a thing."

Ophelia laughed quietly.

"It was so uncomfortable," she continued."For such a skinny little bat you took up all the space, sprawled across the bed."

"I don't remember any of it," she chuckled, amused by her sister's sudden reminiscences.

"And you always tried to cut my daisies off," she reminded her.

"That I remember," she laughed gently."Those daisies were atrocious."

"They were beautiful," Ophelia insisted, instinctively running her hand through her, now chin-length, blond hair.

"You always had a twisted sense of beauty," Morticia teased.

"Ha! You're the one to talk," she replied in kind.

"Do you miss it?" Morticia found herself asking.

Ophelia blinked and didn't reply immediately, her eyes lost its amused sparkle and Morticia immediately felt guilty for ruining the pleasant moment between them. She watched Ophelia reach Morticia's black tresses and twirled it around her slim finger thoughtfully.

"I try not to think in those terms," she answered."Tish, what we had is gone and we will never get it back. You can't fool yourself into thinking you can have your old life back, you can't. This is our life now," she explained softly."Even if mama gets better...it can never be what it was."

"No," Morticia agreed softly."But it can be more than it is."

Her sister shook her head sadly.

"I'm really sorry it has to be this way," Ophelia whispered in such a painfully soft voice it was startling."You shouldn't have to do that but…," she swallowed audibly, still absently caressing Morticia's hair." Francois is a good man, and he will take good care of you. You might not see it yet but you will be very happy with him, you will see."

"Ophelia -"

"I want you to be happy, Tishy, I swear."

Morticia watched her sister silently for a few seconds. There was something in her demeanour that was worrying her, some helplessness, anxiety or restlessness, she couldn't tell. It made her worry, though and she realized how focused on herself she was throughout all this. Never once has she considered how Ophelia felt about it, how it was affecting her.

But then, it wasn't Ophelia who was getting the heaviest load of it. She was, she thought bitterly, even though she knew it was her who essentially talked her sister into it. So perhaps, she had no one to blame but herself.

Perhaps Ophelia really was trying to do the best under the circumstances.

"I know," Morticia whispered, tentatively linking her hand with Ophelia's.

She looked at Ophelia's beautiful face - her mother's face, and she almost choked on the guilt that was suddenly overwhelming. She wanted to apologise because she knew what she was about to do was going to cause her sister so much pain. The pain she didn't deserve.

I don't want to hurt you but I can't do what you want me to, I can't sacrifice my life like that. I'm too selfish. I can't, I just can't. I can't make myself do it. I will choose this man over all of you, I will choose Gomez Addams over my family but please try to understand. Because I tried. I really tried.

I tried and I failed.

And I'm sorry.

"Ophelia," she found herself whisper faintly and her sister's blue eyes met hers softly."I really miss your stupid daisies."

Ophelia swallowed heavily and let out a small laugh before wrapping her fingers around Morticia's hand.

There was something intrinsically calming about cemeteries. One could not help, being surrounded by death, to be reflective - albeit, unwelcome past time if your name was Gomez Addams when there were so many regrets mounting in his heart.

How he wished he could have put his current circumstances to the outside forces - fate or God or whatever was out there but he couldn't. Every miserable moment was a byproduct of his reckless, selfish actions. He brought it upon himself and there was no one else to blame, not even the stupid Frenchman.

His mother was right, though. Of course, she was right. Of course, he was overreacting, he was blowing this out of proportions, he was aware of that. Insane. Beyond reason.

It's because that's how he loved Morticia, insanely and beyond reason and he was terrified to lose her.

This bloody thing was so much more than gossip, it seemed to him a fatum, a prelude to a tragedy he was powerless to stop. Didn't know how to stop it.

"Hey, can we have a word?" Fester asked gently, sitting next to him on an old, decayed sofa facing their father's grave.

Gomez didn't even hear him approaching.

"Of course," he agreed but there was a clear note of apprehension in his voice."Is it -"

"No, no that thing is water under the bridge," he assured."I want to talk about... the other thing."

Gomez frowned in confusion.

"Which is?" he asked.

"Page six," Fester answered bluntly but then he was never bothered with subtleties and he wasn't about to start.

"Oh, that thing," Gomez replied morosely, turning his gaze to his father's grave again.

"You don't really think Morticia would marry someone behind your back, do you, Gomez?"

"No," his brother shook his head."It's just...the timing of it all is so...unnerving," he admitted, pressing his fingers into the space between his eyes tiredly. He ought to get some sleep but he doubted that sleep would be gracing him anytime soon. "It just doesn't sound like a gossip, Fester. There's no probably or maybe or possibly, there's 'is'. 'Is' Fester. Is getting married. And yet it doesn't make sense because... why? Even if she wanted to…," he tried to say but the words just wouldn't get past his throat. He was terrified of even voicing it as a speculation." She would have told me, she wouldn't do it behind my back...it's just...no, Morticia would never do it."

Fester nodded in agreement but then grunted uncomfortably.

"Look, there's something you should know," Fester uttered hesitantly. "That maybe...sort of explains this...kind of… but not really. I just figured, that maybe that's what it could be about," he all but blabbered but his brother only looked at him with an utterly confused gaze - from which he gathered he was not making much sense.

"You're not making much sense, Fester."

"Okay, so you see, there's this thing...which I don't know if you're aware of...if Morticia's told you but…," he faltered, scratching his head in an awkward gesture."Because, you know, if she didn't tell you… then I'm sure she had her reasons, but the thing is...from what mama was able to find out," he continued tentatively. "Morticia will be paying for her mother's treatment in Switzerland."

"Okay," Gomez replied slowly."And?"

"Oh, so she didn't tell you," Fester concluded and winced unwittingly.

"Tell me what?" his brother prompted impatiently.

"About...the money...I mean the thing with her inheritance," he explained.

"No," Gomez snorted mirthlessly but there was no surprise in his tone." No, she didn't tell me."

"Okay so...her mother put certain conditions...to her inheritance," Fester explained, ignoring his brother tartly tone." One is that Morticia can't access the money until she's twenty-one years old."

Gomez looked at his in surprise.

"Then... how is she going to pay for her mother's treatment?" he asked warily. Suddenly, he was very sure he's not going to like whatever Fester was so awkwardly trying to tell him.

"She can get access the money before that time," Fester continued." She can get married," he finally said. To his astonishment, his brother snorted in amusement.

"That's ridiculous," he said."Why would anyone put something so humiliatingly preposterous in inheritance conditions, let alone a mother?" he pointed out. Morticia rarely talked about her mother, but the little she told him it was clear that she loved her mother very much. Putting such a clause on her own daughter's inheritance was malicious at the least, something from fairytale stories about vicious, evil step-mothers. "It's absurd."

"This is a very real absurd, though," Fester assured.

Gomez licked is suddenly very dry lips.

"Why didn't she say anything, then?" he asked fervently because the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle were abruptly coming together and he didn't like the picture it presented, not one bit.

"Well, it's probably a lot of money," Fester pointed out tentatively.

"However much she needs," Gomez insisted, biting his lips together so hard he was sure they will bleed."Gods, surely she knows...she has to know that I would give her the world if she asked for it."

Fester smiled sadly.

"Yeah well... except she would never ask for it," he replied knowingly." Because...this is Morticia, she never asks anyone for anything, you know how she is. She will insist on taking care of the things herself until the knife's on her throat - or maybe not even then. She doesn't like asking for help."

Gomez tilted his head back and let out a mirthless laugh.

Gods, wasn't that the truth? How many time did she call him out when he was merely trying to help her? How many time he heard that she doesn't need a knight in shining armour, that she could take care of herself and it killed him each time because all he desired, all he longed for was to love her and take care of her for the rest of forever, he wanted it with every fibre of his being.

"There's nothing wrong with letting people take care of you," he mused under his breath."There's no shame in asking for help. It's just money."

Fester snorted mockingly.

"Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth, Gomez," he pointed out firmly. "It's just money for us, not for her."

"But Fester," he turned to his brother abruptly."Doesn't she know that she's worth thousands of times more than the whole Addams's fortune put together? Why didn't she think she could come to me with this?"

"Gomez, calm down -" he tried to appease but his brother was already frantically pacing the length between the sofa and their father's grave.

"She didn't think she could trust me, Fester," he concluded miserably." She'd rather marry a stranger -"

"You don't know that!" Fester interrupted him sharply."You are assuming a hell of a lot of things."

"What other explanation is there?" he asked desperately.

"We don't know because we know not a damn thing for sure until Morticia comes back and we can ask her," he insisted." Come on now, be reasonable, what do you think her plan is? Marry this guy just to get the money and then what? Divorce him once the deal is done...hey, that's not a bad plan actually…" he mused as if the thought just occurred to him.

"Oh Gods - " Gomez groaned pitifully, covering his face with his hands. "I need to speak to her, I need to explain…"

"And you will," Fester assured, standing in front of Gomez and placed his hand on his brother's shoulders."You will see her on Tuesday. You will talk things through and find out what's this about. No need to get yourself all worked up until then."

"But Fester - "

"No, listen to me," his brother interrupted firmly."Don't do anything reckless and stupid, for once in your life be reasonable. She will certainly not appreciate you making a scene in front of her family."

Gomez looked at him sharply and Fester could see that his brother was involved in a colossal struggle to calm down.

"You will speak to her on Tuesday," he repeated."You will wait and you will speak to her on Tuesday, and you will refrain from doing anything stupid that you will regret later," he insisted and to his relief, his brother took a deep breath and nodded at him in agreement.

"I can't lose her, Fester," he whispered, his voice so heavy with the misery it almost broke Fester's heart to see his brother like this.

"You won't," he assured confidently."Because she loves you."

Another faint nod.

"It's late," Fester added in his calming gruff voice."Go get some sleep, you can't live on coffee, guilt and misery forever - no matter how enticing it sounds."

He barely got any sleep at all. Unsurprisingly so.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror and resisted the urge to wince. His usually olive skin seemed to him almost transparent, stretched over the muscles and bones on his face. Bloodshot, erratic look in his eyes.

God, he was so tired. He wasn't sure if he slept for more than six hours in the last two days. Stress rarely captured him in its reins but when it did, the sleep was first to abandon him.

What sweet words will he bestow on her? How is he going to win her heart? What if he's going to take her away from him?

Calm down, you fool, he scolded himself. Calm the hell down.

But, what if?

What if that bloody Frenchman makes her see that she will be better off with him than with an unreliable cad that was Gomez Addams?

No. She would never do that. She loved him.

She loved him, he was certain of that. She loved him and yet what if love was not enough? What if she thinks his love was not enough? That she can't put her life into his hands, that too much was at stake and hell, if that debacle with Fester didn't prove her right?

No.

He shouldn't think like that, he should not indulge in what-ifs, that was a sure road to insanity.

He should eat something. It was almost dinner time anyway. How time flies when one's miserable, he thought sardonically and reluctantly made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

Did he greet his mother? He couldn't remember.

He sat silently at his usual chair at the top of the table. The one his father used to occupy. How strange that he was the one sitting here and not Fester. Why didn't he? He never asked him.

Should he ask him?

What the hell does it matter?

Oh God, he shouldn't have let her go. He should have explained. He should have told her the truth, no matter how understanding she was about his misdeeds, he should have told her. She deserved to know, she had to know. He needed to make sure she understood perfectly that he would never hurt her, he would rather die than hurt her. He was not the same man, he loved her so much, so so much - how can he ever comprehend life without her?

"Gomez, for pity's sake, eat something," his mother insisted."You will worry yourself sick until tomorrow."

"I can't eat, mama," he responded and pushed his plate away. He couldn't stomach anything until he rid himself of this gnawing uncertainty.

"If you're going to continue with this lunacy, then you should just drive to that damn Rhode Island and talk to her..," his mother said.

"Well, that would be a waste of time," Fester mused between mouthfuls of food."It's Monday evening," he pointed out. "They're not in Rhode Island anymore, they're going to the theatre tonight," he reminded when his brother looked at him in confusion.

"Oh, that's right," Eudora nodded in agreement."What was the play again? It had such a lovely title."

"Conversation with the Devil," Fester supplied, his mouth full with the frog pie.

"That's the one," his mother nodded."I think Constance recommended it as well but I never got myself to go and see it."

"Mama, you're a genius!" Gomez exclaimed and stood up abruptly.

"I am?"

"Oh, what would I do without you?" he kissed her cheek loudly."Thank you!"

"Where the hell are you going?" Fester called out when Gomez made his way to exit the kitchen.

"Theatre, of course," Gomez replied in a matter of fact voice, already halfway up the stairs.

"Thea...no, Gomez are you mad?" Fester protested vehemently, darting from his chair and caught up with him on the stairs.

Gomez stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to his brother.

"I need to talk to her," he explained calmly. So calmly it freaked Fester out even more so.

"Surely it can wait until tomorrow," he said.

"I can barely wait another minute and that's a minute she spends in his company," Gomez insisted.

"Her family will be there, for God's sake," Fester pointed out desperately.

"I will be discreet," he assured.

"You don't even know the meaning of that word!"

"Well then, it's time to expand my vocabulary," he quipped and was out of the kitchen before Fester could so much as blink.

"Mama, do something," he practically hissed.

"What the hell do you want me to do? Lock him in the dungeon?" she asked, nibbling on Gomez's untouched frog pie.

"Yes!"

"He will pick up the lock and crawl his way out as he always does," she replied calmly." I say let's have some henbane tea and watch the mayhem unfold."

He had an unsettling feeling of being watched and it wasn't blatantly curious looks that were currently bestowed upon them by the people in the theatre.

Perhaps, he was imagining things.

He smiled when Morticia laughed heartily as he recounted his daughter's most asinine stunts… to this date, that is. He had no doubt Sandrine's mind was simply filled with most ludicrous ideas because every time he thought he's seen it all, his precious daughter proved to him time and time again that he has seen nothing yet.

"Frogs in a punch bowl," she repeated, amused." Such a classic, she's so precious."

"You only find it funny because you're not the one with parental responsibility here," he insisted, taking a small sip of his champagne.

"That's not true," she denied, smiling at him." I would be so proud of my child if they have done that."

All right, he was absolutely sure that the man across the hall was glaring...what's the expression...daggers, he was certainly glaring daggers at him. Although, he could not think of a single reason why because he was sure he never met the man in his life.

Until a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Question," he said, his tone mildly curious and Morticia tilted her head slightly. "Is Mr Addams dark-haired, dark-eyed, over six-foot-tall by any chance?"

Morticia frowned at the question.

No one. No one was that perceptive.

"Pardon?" she muttered, quite unable to comprehend what he was asking.

"Don't turn," Francois forewarned jovially with a casual smile. "People are watching us."

"It can't be him," she assured, shaking her head in denial. Even Gomez had enough common sense -

"Pencil moustache and a cigar?"

"Oh, God damn it," she hissed, closing her eyes, sudden panic surged through her as she frantically scrambled her brain for any way of how to handle it.

It was him. He was here, in the same theatre, in the same bloody hallway as her. Why? What, on earth, was he doing here? Has something happened between him and Fester? No, it couldn't be that, he wouldn't have come here if it was, he would rather -

"He's a dashing fellow," Francois commented lightly, winking at her."You make a beautiful couple. Does he always glare the hell out of people?"

Morticia glared at him but he only grinned at her obnoxiously.

"I can't believe him, why would he do that? He knows Jared and Ophelia would be here..." she whispered. Has he lost his mind? He must have, she could think of no other reason he would behave so precariously.

"Good Lord, Morticia, isn't it obvious?" he asked, thoroughly amused.

"What's obvious?"

"He's jealous," he retorted confidently.

She snorted gently at his explanation.

"Of what?" she asked before she could even think the question through.

Francios raised his eyebrow and grinned at her charmingly before pointing out to himself.

"I'm certain, since he looks like he wants to rip me apart," he quipped.

"That's ridiculous," she retored. Granted, Gomez was jealous but not to the point of doing something so insanely stupid.

"Hey now, I am rather handsome," he pointed out.

"This isn't funny, Francois," she insisted, drowning her champagne in one gulp.

"Ah, mere inconvenience, I assure you," he smiled at her appeasingly." He doesn't strike me as a fellow who would make a scene or cause a scandal."

"He's a hot-blooded Castillian - "

He blinked, considering her words for a split second.

"- but it's probably best to proceed with caution."

"Stop staring at her, God damn it," Sasha hissed over the rim over her wine glass."People will start to notice, you idiot."

But he couldn't, he couldn't tear his eyes off her.

Oh God, she looked absolutely divine, he could tell even though she stood with her back turned towards him. It didn't matter, he would never mistake those black tresses for anyone else's, the perfect shape of her glorious body was imprinted into his consciousness.

Her black, sleeveless, floor-length gown hugged her delicious curves in such a faithful way it made his mouth dry. She wore her hair loose, gently curled at the ends that reached almost to the enticing curve of her hips. He could almost feel those silky tresses under his fingers.

Gods, he missed her so much.

He was half torn with the desire for her and the rage at the bloody man she was talking to, no doubt Monsieur Chalon, who was talking to her animatedly. He watched her tilt her head and laugh at something he said and he could not resist glaring the hell out of the other man. If he so much as touched her, he would rip him apart.

"Pissing her off my not be the best course of action," Sasha pointed out smiling at him brightly.

"I know, but I would drive myself crazy sitting at home thinking about her with another man," he grunted into his brandy. He almost praised himself for having enough common sense to ask Sasha to come with him because it was only her presence that prevented him from making a scene.

"Good Lord, you really got it bad for this girl," she muttered more to herself than to him."But you can see for yourself - just look, they're simply talking. She's not even standing too close to him."

He only grunted noncommittally and then nodded politely to a passing acquaintance who greeted him from afar but did not decide to approach them. Gomez reckoned he must really look particularly unapproachable because the few people that did approach them to discuss some mindless affairs he had no wish to converse about, made their feeble excuses pretty quickly, wishing them a pleasant evening.

He didn't think he had enough mental energy for a mindless social chit-chat. He was exhausted and irritated and -

"Gomez darling!" the all too familiar voice reverberated behind him and he resisted the urge to wince."What a surprise!"

God damn it! God damn it all to hell, to all that's damned to the deepest levels of bloody hell, whyyyyyy, for all that's unholy?

He suddenly felt like crying.

It was only with an incredible force of will that he managed to plaster a huge grin on his face - that he bloody hoped looked more genuine than it felt, and turned towards the voice.

"Aunt Constance," he greeted jovially, kissing the woman before him on both cheeks before turning towards her companion."Uncle Marvin."

"Good to see you, my boy," his uncle greeted affectionately, shaking his extended hand.

"Ah, is this the lady that's been occupying all your time lately?" Constance asked slyly and without waiting for a reply, turned to Sasha."I'm so thrilled to finally meet you, my dear. I'm Constance Addams, Gomez's aunt," she introduced herself before pointing to her husband."This is my beloved husband, Marvin."

"Sasha Benson," Sasha grinned and obediently shook the older woman's extended hand, trying not to laugh about the fact that Gomez bedside her looked as if he was about to faint. She turned towards Gomez's Uncle."Lovely to meet you."

"Ah, pleasure's all ours," Marvin smiled charmingly, gallantly kissing her hand." Isn't it, my dear?"

"It is, indeed," she agreed."Come come, you two, we'll sit together in our private box. Have you seen the play yet? Oh, it's just divine...we've seen in twice already, absolutely brilliant -"

"Gomez, calm the hell down, she's just talking to him, they're not even holding hands," Sasha whispered insistently elbowing him into his ribs."Watch the damn play."

"I don't care about the damn play," he retorted in the same manner.

"Then start," she practically hissed but smiled brightly when Gomez's aunt turned towards then curiously.

He watched the stupid French guy lean towards Morticia and whisper something in her ear and she then, it almost killed him, when her lips curled into a smile and she whispered something back and the man nodded, still smiling like an idiot.

He can't. He cannot bear it a minute longer.

"Sit. Down," his aunt practically growled and he obeyed, reluctantly."This isn't a good idea, Gomez."

"What's not?" he asked, feigning confusion.

"You've been staring at that young woman for the whole time," she pointed out icily, nodding in the direction of the box where Morticia was still conversing with the bloody Frenchman."Even your father had enough decency not to pursue other women when he had a company."

"I'm not - " he started to deny angrily."I'm not my father, I'm not pursuing any - "

"Listen to me," Constance hissed."That girl is two steps away from being engaged to the gentleman sitting beside her. Don't ruin it for her, don't be a bastard and find other toys to play with."

Gomez turned sharply towards her, his body language practically radiating with anger.

"I need some air, excuse me" he announced and was out of the box before his Aunt could say anything.

She could practically feel his gaze on her.

He was insane. What on earth was he doing, staring at her like that? What was he doing here in the first place?

She knew he would never deliberately put her into trouble but she noticed her sister watch her discreetly, no doubt noticing his furious stares as well.

"You should go talk to him," Francois whispered into her ear.

"Not a good idea," she smiled back, hoping the smile looked more genuine than it felt.

He nodded and laughed quietly.

"If he keeps staring at you this way through the whole duration of the play..." he pointed out, leaving the consequences unspoken.

She dared a brief glance in the direction of the box Gomez was sharing with Sasha and two other people and immediately knew that Francois was right. Even in the dim light of the theatre, it was clear that Gomez looked furious like a devil himself. This man will drive her insane one day, she had no doubt about it.

Morticia grabbed her black clutch bag and excused herself promptly. She had not the slightest doubt that Gomez would follow.

She had every intention of skinning him alive but apparently her body had a mind of its own or she's just lost any common sense she's had left because the moment she saw him leaning against the wall, she was in his arms and her lips were pressed firmly against his.

Oh God, how good it felt to be in his arms again, to feel his body pressed against hers.

"Have you lost your mind, Gomez?" she asked, trying her utmost to sound stern but failed miserably because seeing him so close made her realize that she missed him far more than she realized.

"I have, all thanks to you," he replied pushing her into a secluded corner and immediately re-capturing her lips into his and was infinity glad when she didn't resist at all.

"This isn't funny," she reprimanded against his lips but yielded more into his kisses all the same. Gods, she missed him so much, how did she even manage without those lips for so long? "You'll get us in trouble."

"If I thought it funny, I wouldn't be here," he said between kisses, his voice rasped with anger and jealousy, but most of all with sheer desperation. He looked at her with such an abandon she thought her heart might burst. When he spoke his voice was trembling, "I can't bear the thought that I can lose you, do you understand? I can't lose you, Tish, I can't - I can't let him take you away from me -

She looked at him, startled by the panic in his voice.

"Gomez, calm down," she tried to placate, framing his face between her hands, letting the clutch bag that slid from her hands to the floor with a silent thud. "What are you talking about?"

"What I've done was horrible, I know that," he said despairingly."I regret it more than I can explain. If I could turn back time, I would but I can't and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I know you deserve better than me but I can't lose you...gods I can't, I can't live my life without you. I will die without you, I will die, I swear to you-"

"Oh, my love," she whispered softly, gazing at him with such a profound love he thought his heart might shatter. He moaned when she captured his lips into a tender kiss. "My darling, my mad Castilian," she continued, pressing her forehead against his, caressing his cheek tenderly." Don't you know that no one can ever take me away from you? Don't you know that I could never be with any man but you? Gomez, I -"

"Morticia?"

Her sister's voice reached them and Morticia's eyes widened in alarm but before she could say anything Gomez covered her mouth with his hand and pulled her towards the emergency staircase. He pushed the door open, ushering them inside and closed it swiftly yet soundlessly.

The stairs were dimly lit. Morticia noticed the only light was provided by a lone, unprotected lightbulb that was flicking off periodically. So much for health and safety, she guessed sardonically and leaned against the rough, concrete wall. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her heart that pounded restlessly in her chest.

"It looks amazing on you," she heard him whisper faintly into her ear."I knew it would."

She opened her eyes and saw him touching the black diamond necklace on her neck, the same one he gifted her just days ago. Her lips curled into a soft smile and then she shook her head in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his lips only millimetres from hers."I know I shouldn't have come but I just couldn't bear the thought that…," he swallowed heavily, looking at her as if he was trying to memorize every tiny feature of her face and his hand went to caress her soft tresses."I missed you so much," he admitted hoarsely, placing a tender kiss to her raven tendrils.

"It's always a dangerous precedent to leave you alone with your thoughts, my love," she remarked affectionately, placing her palms on his broad chest. Good Lord, the things this man could talk himself into if left to his own devices. "Why on earth would you even think I wanted to leave you?"

He gazed at her inquisitively with a look she couldn't quite decipher, as if he was searching for a hidden meaning behind her question. She frowned gently unsure what to make of it. The panic in his eyes, the desperation in every gesture was very real, though, and she could not for the life of her imagine what could have put him in such a state. He really was convinced he was going to lose her.

She reckoned it would take her a whole lifetime to figure out how his mind worked.

"You mad, mad Castilian," she muttered tenderly, capturing his lips in a firm kiss. She felt his arm around her waist and the other hand rested in between her shoulder blades, pressing her closer to him and she relished at the utterly glorious feeling of him. Suddenly, the need to be just mindlessly devoured by him against the concrete wall was stronger than reason and her hands reached to his belt buckle. She smirked when she realized how hard he already was for her.

"Tish - " he groaned in a feeble protest but they both knew he didn't possess an ounce of strength to resist her.

"I want you so much, mon cher," she whispered against his lips and felt him harden even more in her hand, if that was even possible. She liked that, the mere thought that she had such an effect on him made her half-crazed with lust. "Mon savage."

"Gods, not here," he pleaded weakly."Your sister -"

"I can't wait," she purred, pressing her hips against his."I need you so much."

He groaned with unbridled desire and attacked her lips in a violent kiss, pressing her firmly against the wall. She felt his frantic hands under her dress, bunching the expensive satin material around her waist.

She knew it was reckless and stupid but she just couldn't stop. There was no reason to it, none whatsoever. She didn't see him for three days and her body, the very core of her soul felt starved for him and she was sure if she had to go on without him five more seconds she would go insane.

She felt him slid her lace panties down her legs before reaching with his fingers between her legs and let out a low moan at the back of his throat. He hooked her leg over his hip and drove into her so sharply she couldn't help but cry out at the exquisite sensation and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Slowly, she felt the reality around them disappear, dissolve, suspended in time until she was aware of nothing but his body moving frantically against hers, his soft lips, his delightful whispers of love and this exquisite pleasure coursing between them.

"Look at me," she demanded, the very same way she did their first time together and he seemed to realize that too. She framed his cheek with her hand and gazed at him tenderly."I love you," she whispered and her lips parted in a silent gasp as he pushed his hips against hers firmly.

"I love you… Morticia...cara mia...my everything…" he whispered in the heights of her release, and his lips found hers in a firm kiss, drowning her cries of pleasure.

She felt him tense against her as his climax hit him and he groaned into the white skin of her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and held him so close they almost felt like one and yet she wished she could hold him even closer, no to merely feel like one but to be one.

To show him that she only belonged to him.

"Mine," she whispered.

That they only belonged to each other.

Her heart was still beating madly in her chest as she slowly made her way back, her lips still tingled from his kisses, her body charged, electrified by his touch. She started to suspect she was slowly losing all her self-control when it came to her mad Castillian. The more she was with him the more she craved him. There was no rationality to any of it, just this overwhelming hunger, this burning need for him and she felt powerless against it.

Thankfully, the hallway was entirely empty as she made her way back to the theatre box. She had no idea how long she was away but it couldn't be that long since the play was still on its first part. Now, where on earth did she leave -

"Where have you been?" a low hiss reverberated behind her.

She stopped in her tracks and momentarily panicked, her heart hammered in her chest but she forced a blank expression on her face - or so she hoped, and slowly turned towards her sister.

"I had to get some fresh air, it's really hot here and I felt rather faint," she explained, her tone as flat as she could humanly exert off herself.

Her sister gave her a look that indicated she didn't believe a single word before she grabbed her hand and practically dragged her to the powder room.

"Have you gone insane, Morticia?" she snapped angrily."Have you absolutely lost your bloody mind?"

Morticia frowned and tilted her head, feigning confusion.

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"What happened to your lipstick?" she asked, pointing at Morticia's bare lips and the pressed Morticia's clutch bag into her hands.

Morticia turned to the mirror took the tissue out of the bag before carefully wiping what was left of her blood-red lipstick.

"I'm certain I do not need to check to see that Mr Addams is also not in his box," Ophelia continued, her breathing frantic with anger." For fuck's sake, Tish, if Jared finds out about it…"

"He won't if you don't tell him," she replied calmly, opening her lipstick and gently reapplied the ruby cosmetic.

"How can you be so stupid?" Ophelia spat." Don't you know that you mean nothing to him? Nothing. You really think you're the first woman that…," she faltered, watching her sister carefully in the mirror. "Oh my God, no," she looked at her with surprising tenderness. "Please don't."

No, Morticia decided, it wasn't tenderness that was lingering in Ophelia's gaze.

"Please, for the love of God, don't fall in love with him."

It was pity.

Morticia didn't reply, deliberately choosing to focus on reapplying her lipstick. Also because what the hell was she supposed to reply to that? Oh, okay, I won't? As if one could simply choose not to fall in love.

"You're making a huge mistake," Ophelia stressed.

"Don't lecture me on mistakes, Ophelia," she retorted tartly, closing her lipstick with a soft click and replacing it in her bag.

"Morticia, I beg you, be reasonable, this is not a man for you."

There were about a hundred sharp, hurtful words she could say to that but she stopped herself. This was neither time or a place.

"Let's go back," she said simply and, before her sister had a chance to protest, left the powder room.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Let me know your thoughts! :)

Chapter Text

A/N: You guys, thank you all your support and comments. I really appreciate it so so much! xxx

Chapter 16

Ophelia could not claim she had the closest relationship with her younger sister, nor could she ever claim she's found being Morticia's legal guardian an easy task. Still, she was surprised she misjudged her sister so severely.

How could she have missed that look in her eyes? It was so obvious, so startingly conspicuous.

And every fibre of her being was screaming to do something - to stop it, put an end to this insanity immediately and irrevocably. She wished, desperately, that Morticia never met them - any of them, and him especially, that bloody Lothario, that selfish bastard, how she wished she could just take her sister away from him but what would that accomplish? Nothing. There will be no reasoning with Morticia - that much was clear to her.

Once upon a time - a lifetime ago it seemed - it was all so very different. Once upon a time, her little sister adored her. Ophelia still remembered how annoying it was at times to have that little bat practically glued to her side, looking at her in complete awe with those huge, dark, almond-shaped eyes. How she asked relentlessly every day to show her how to perform magic spells and make magic potions and read her the 'History of Witchcraft' so many times Ophelia was sure Morticia could still quote passages from it. Ophelia knew that Morticia looked up to her...well, she used to, not anymore. She didn't look up to her for years, not since Ophelia moved away to Paris. She still remembered how she missed that awe-struck look in Morticia's eyes, afterwards.

Maybe it would be all different had she stayed? Maybe none of this would have happened if she stayed...but how could she have stayed? How could she have watched her mother continue to suffer this unbearable loneliness while her father was constantly away and yet Hester Frump kept forgiving, kept waiting, kept worshipping him as if he was some sort of deity. For Hester Frump, he could do no wrong. Ophelia couldn't bear it.

Your father is a restless spirit, her mother used to say, it would be a prison for him to stay in one place I could never do that to him. Or, when you love someone you have to sacrifice, love is not about taking, Ophelia, it's about giving, she would say, one cannot be selfish in the matters of love.

Even though she was the only one who sacrificed and he was the one who was selfish. She was constantly giving and he was constantly taking. And her mother couldn't see it.

Ophelia couldn't stand her mother bearing such mistreatment. She packed her things - the little she had, and moved out within hours after she told her mother those hurtful things. She regretted saying them even though she meant them, even now. It's always unbearable to see one's mother in tears, though.

She didn't explain anything to Morticia then even though Ophelia could see her little sister was taken aback by what was happening, she was hurt and confused and didn't understand why her sister and mother were arguing so much. But Ophelia was too angry to explain anything. She doubted mother explained anything either. It was the time of little explanations.

After that, Ophelia didn't visit for almost a year. She sent vague letters that she was fine, what she was doing and how wonderful it was and to not worry. Letters from her father she ignored. Morticia never wrote to her. Ophelia's tried to establish some sort of regular correspondence with her sister but she struggled to write something meaningful, so she wrote to Morticia about her life in Paris, how absolutely fantastic it was, how amazing, so wondrous. The wonderful people she met - artists, writers, actors. The parties she went to. World of difference from their rural life.

Some things were true, some things she made up but Morticia never answered a single letter so eventually, Ophelia stopped writing. She remembered feeling very hurt but this rejection.

How stupid. Why on earth did she expect a ten-year-old to handle the burden of her decision while offering her no explanations herself? Why did she never write the truth, though? That although she loved Paris she often felt homesick, she missed her mother and her little sister more than anything. That, although she loved all the parties, she would give most of them up for a quiet evening at home, she even missed the atrocious sounds that filled the house when Morticia practised playing her violin. It was all true but she never wrote that.

How Morticia must have felt reading those fibs Ophelia's made up?

Hurt? Disappointed? She probably thought Ophelia felt happier without them. Without her.

They visited her in Paris, once a month and she noticed that even her father seemed to be more at home now. So maybe her moving out has done some good after all. Although, she reckoned it had more to do with his failing health than the need to spend more time with his family. He simply couldn't travel as often any more.

Or perhaps she was being unfair and malevolent towards him. No, that wasn't even a question of perhaps or maybe or possibly, she was angry with him. Very angry. She didn't know how to handle that anger and neither did he. He made an effort to see her regularly, thought - but those were awkward meetings. Short and awkward.

He never judged her, never questioned her decisions. Do what makes you happy, my darling, he told her, that's all we want for the ones we love. His understanding was to her unbearable.

More so when her mother told her, in her frequent letters, that father seemed to pour now all his attention towards Morticia. She thought he was scared to disappoint her as well, he thought his absence drove Ophelia away and he was scared to lose Morticia.

He shouldn't have worried because Morticia worshipped her father with the severity only second to her mother's. On her side, her mother was pleased they were so close, but where her mother saw the beauty of father-daughter bonding, Ophelia saw moulding and shaping that was bestowed upon Morticia by her father. They travelled together to North Africa, the three of them because Ophelia refused to join them. Mother loathed it but endured it, Morticia was in complete awe and father couldn't be more delighted with her enthusiasm. Still, mother was happy because they were together and how she wished Ophelia would come with them next time.

She never did but she made an effort to visit them periodically at home. It didn't go all that well. Oh, things were cordial, pleasant even. Her mother was always happy to see her but Morticia never seemed to share her enthusiasm. She wasn't rude to her but wasn't eager to spend time with Ophelia either. She didn't much care when Ophelia introduced them to Jared either and her, then fiance, was vastly amused by Morticia's sullen disposition. Teenagers, he said.

Once, Ophelia offered to teach Morticia how to drive a car. Her father said it was an excellent idea. Morticia said nothing. Although, she was a fast learner - literally, and it felt great to spend this time together and even Morticia clearly enjoyed it. Until Ophelia asked - stupidly, in retrospect, why was Morticia so angry with her?

You've abandoned me.

Ophelia didn't reply, her heart could barely stand such accusation, especially coming from the person she loved most in the world. She didn't know how to answer so she reacted in anger. She told Morticia that she was just a stupid child and didn't know anything at all. If she was trying to prove her maturity then, she certainly failed.

And then she's done exactly what Morticia accused her of - she abandoned her. She abandoned all of them. She knows that now, she didn't see it as abandonment back then. She was simply living her life.

How many times did they see each other after that? Two? Perhaps three, including her wedding to Jared and when they visited her in States.

It didn't bother her though. Indeed, with her new life, her sister and her parents were at the back of her mind. They led completely different lives now and when the visited her in America, they stuck out like a sore thumb. She remembered how mortifying it was.

Her new friends were very supportive. Oh, you poor thing, no wonder you've decided to move halfway across the world. Why did your sister look like she's going to a funeral, why did she dress as if somebody died? Ophelia, darling, your family is so interesting (weird, interesting always means weird). Her daisies were interesting as well. Oh, but you'd look so much better if we cut them, you should try my hairdresser - he's a magician (he wasn't) a true artist (not even close). At first, she barely recognized herself but Jared loved it. If Jared loved it then she loved it too (or she was determined to love it).

Jared never outwardly told her to change her appearance or her behaviour for that matter. But one could sense such things. Or rather, women sense such things.

He still told her how much he loved how unique she was, one of a kind. Special.

No, that's not true. Not anymore. He never told her that in America. Unique and special belonged to their other life. The one in Paris. Unique and special did not fit into her new life.

Her family didn't fit into her new life. Sometimes she thought she herself barely fit into her new life herself but she learnt to adapt. She learnt her new place, she learnt to belong and she didn't feel unhappy. Sure, it was different but not at all bad. She got used to her new life, mingling among American upper classes, fancy parties, business soirees (they never called them dinners).

Her mother-in-law was an invaluable help to her. True, Dorothy was blunt, painfully practical and had little tolerance for nonsense but she knew how to navigate and meander the world of the richest. Cunning was the word but cunning was what one needed to be to survive here and Dorothy didn't just survive, she thrived. She was an immense help to Ophelia.

She was also a great help when one day Ophelia's found herself being responsible for her mother's care and her little sister whom she no longer knew at all.

It was Dorothy who suggested Morticia should sever all ties with her old life. What's the point to wallow in past? This was her life now and there was no going back. And how true, what was the point to pretend it was ever going to be what it was? By the look of it, their mother would need constant care for the rest of her life. There was no going back.

And so Ophelia didn't even allow Morticia the time to adjust to the new situation. Life has stripped Morticia of everything she knew and loved and Ophelia stripped her of everything she was and forced her to be someone else in a matter of days. It was for Morticia's own good.

Ophelia's tried, she really really tried but no matter what she has done she couldn't connect with her sister, couldn't make her understand, couldn't get their relationship to be any more than courteous, nice or bordering on friendly. She couldn't call it bad, it was good most of the time but the bond they once shared was gone.

Not that Morticia was resentful, she wasn't - at least nor openly. She compromised when she had to, she kept to herself and never caused them any problems one would expect from a teenager. Morticia compromised all right, but only up to a point.

The problem was that her sister had an inbred inability to compromise on things that were against her values - no doubt, proudly inherited from their dear father. Morticia adhered to the same nonsense ideology as their father - normal was an illusion, as long as you are true to yourself, that's all that matters. One can only be happy if one is true to their inner self and live their lives according to their values.

What nonsense. What utter nonsense. But Morticia took this nonsense as if God himself bestowed in upon her on the tablets of stone and she adhered to it religiously.

Even when she compromised, Morticia still managed to defy. She seemed unable to adapt. She refused to conform to the social norms, no matter what was done to subdue her, she always found a way to show them that she would not be subdued.

Or, perhaps, it wasn't even Morticia herself - now it seemed to Ophelia that fate itself was always hell-bent on assuring her sister would not be subdued - by anything or anyone.

She was forbidden to use magic in the house and she never defied them on that, even though Ophelia's fully expected her to. But she didn't. Morticia accepted the restrictions that were forced upon her and found other things to occupy herself with - her studies, her friends. She even abandoned her favourite, floor-length dresses that her mother sewed for her - abandoned but not quite, because all that really changed was the length of said dresses, essentially they remained the same - forever different from the current fashion trends. Forever different, just like Morticia herself. In hindsight, Ophelia was probably preposterously naive to expect of Morticia to simply blend into society standards and expectations. How could she blend in, anyway? Her sister was not a person to blend in. Everything in Morticia, from her looks to the way she carried herself, screamed one thing - different.

Fate, though, didn't stop at that. Fate made sure Morticia somehow got acquainted with the Addamses - the very epitome of different, the very definition of different. Ophelia was obviously a fool to think it would stop at that, and so of course, fate would pair her sister with none other than Gomez Addams.

Gomez bloody Addams.

How fitting. How laughable. How entirely expected.

Ophelia did not have the slightest doubt as to what kind of job was Morticia performing for Mrs Addams. She's met the matriarch of the Addams household only once and briefly at the party, years ago, when her husband was still alive. It took Ophelia mere seconds to see who the woman was because Eudora Addams did not hide her magic aura - she flaunted it.

Yet, Ophelia did not see the need to interfere with Morticia's work, what harm was there if Morticia discreetly indulged in a little magic practice? She was busy and it resulted in fewer arguments with Jared. They weren't by any means friendly, but things were cordial.

Until Gomez Addams entered the picture.

Oh, God, of all the men in this bloody city, it had to be him.

Come to think of it, even that was unsurprising. Who was Gomez Addams if not the very image of their father? The same charm, the same charisma and thirst for life and yet at the same time different from anything and anyone one could ever encounter. Unique.

Different.

But what now? How to handle it? How to make her see reason? It was more than obvious that mere talk would achieve nothing. It was crystal clear that Gomez Addams have had Morticia wrapped around his little finger and she went to him like a moth towards the fire. To burn.

Was Morticia really that naive? That stupid? That selfish? Did she really plan to sacrifice their mother's health for a fling with Gomez Addams? Surely, she understood she was nothing more but a fling to him, a pleasant past-time? Surely, she understood that the man was never going to marry her, never going to commit to her. And yet, despite all that, she got herself involved with him, despite knowing what was at stake. It was unthinkable. How could she just play with their mother's life like that?

She didn't know, she didn't know what to do. Her sister was on the verge of jeopardizing everything and she was at a loss what to do. If she told Jared… no, not yet at least. She needed time to think it through. There has to be a way to make Morticia understand.

"You're still up?" she heard her husband's voice behind her.

She resisted rolling her eyes. What was it with people and their innate need to state the obvious? As if anyone could fall asleep while standing on a balcony.

"I couldn't sleep," she explained."It's so hot, I thought I would stay here for a few minutes. The night air is so pleasant."

Jared grunted noncommittally but joined her on the small balcony, adjacent to their bedroom.

"You should try to get some rest," he pointed out. She could smell the alcohol in his breath, he must have had a drink or two before he came upstairs as was his habit of late. Her husband barely drank on social occasions, he was too well-bred for that. Unfortunately, lately, she couldn't remember the time when he didn't have at least a drink or two before bed.

"I will," she assured with a small smile."But it's nice here."

He tilted his head and regarded her curiously.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

"Plenty" she smiled mirthlessly.

"I wish you wouldn't worry so much," he whispered into her hair, embracing her gently at the waist.

"How can I not worry, Jared?" she asked tensely but rested her head on his shoulder."So much's going on."

"All will be well," he assured."As long as your little sister does what's expected of her," he added, the condescending emphasis on the little sister was not lost to either of them.

She swallowed heavily.

"Aren't we putting too much hope into this marriage?" she asked carefully, deliberately choosing the plural pronoun. She felt him tense practically the very moment the words left her mouth.

"What do you mean?" he asked warily.

"I mean, I understand what being related to Chalons would bring you in terms of business -"

"To me?" he asked sardonically, gazing at her in a bewildered manner."To us, Ophelia. Do you really think I'm doing it all for myself?"

"No, of course not," she shook her head. Well, even to her own ears it sounded fake.

He snorted derisively.

"I thought you understood that in this business one cannot remain stagnant," he remarked slowly. "If I'm not expanding, it's just a matter of time before I'm ousted from the market. If there's opening, I have to grab it. I don't think you realize, how easy it is to go from a millionaire to a pauper in this line of business. If you're not two steps ahead, you're already behind."

"I'm sorry," she whispered and licked her lips slowly."I didn't mean to imply - "

"I'm not upset with you," he interrupted her."I just want you to understand. I just want what's best for you and our children."

"I understand," she assured, instinctively caressing her pregnant stomach.

"Do you?"

"Yes," she replied firmly."But I fear you're forgetting one tiny detail in your business expansion."

"Which is?"

She swallowed and inhaled deeply before looking at him again.

"Even if Morticia marries Francois," the hopes of which were almost nonexistent at this point, she added to herself."What stops her from ending that marriage the moment she gets the money?" she pointed out but he only laughed, as if amused by her words.

"You like to worry just in case, darling," he smiled indulgently."She likes him and she's really fond of that little brat of his. She marries him, the little girl gets used to having her in their lives and Morticia is too soft to break her heart by leaving Francois after the deal is done. Morticia…," he paused briefly as if undecided if he should continue." She likes to feel needed, she likes to take care of people and...well, who is more need of her love than a half-orphaned darling and her widowed father?"

"Thought of everything, haven't you?" she asked sardonically but her husband only shrugged.

"Years in the business teaches you to plan ahead and anticipate," he remarked in a matter of fact tone but then smoothed her hair in a tender gesture."It's really for the best, not only for her but for everyone."

"I don't like the idea of forcing her into marriage."

"Forcing her?" He repeated sarcastically."Nobody's forcing her to do anything -"

"Not leaving her a choice isn't much different from forcing in my opinion,"

"Well, if she has any other ideas I'm all ears," he replied firmly."But she doesn't, she's just being capricious as always and I'm sick and tired of her behaviour."

"It's not her fault that my mother put those inheritance conditions, Jared," she said.

"Of course not," he agreed."But let me tell you something. Your mother has been in this hospital for three years with no progress whatsoever. They can't take her off the medication and they can't start the therapy while she's on it because she's pretty much a vegetable. Hold on let me finish," he added when she shot him a sharp look." It's only because Dr Richard is a good friend of that Swiss doctor that we're even getting this opportunity at all. We don't have another year to wait until she can access the money, we need them now. I want your mother to get better, I truly do."

Ophelia swallowed heavily and dropped her gaze. Jared smiled, pleased with her reaction.

"I know the situation is not ideal but mother is right, it's hardly the conundrum she's making it to be. I'm far from being evil brother-in-law and Morticia is not a poor damsel in distress," he continued."Why shouldn't she contribute to that treatment? Why should I pay for her living expenses in Switzerland? She's not sixteen anymore, she's not a child. It's high time she grew up and took up some responsibility."

Ophelia didn't say anything but nodded at him in agreement.

"You know what bothers me the most?" He asked and without waiting for her replied, continued fervently."How ungrateful she's being. After all that you've done for her, she dares to act like we're trying to ruin her life...that's what's most unbearable to me. I can see how much you care about her, how much you're trying and all she does is biting the hand that feeds her."

"It's not like that," she muttered."It's difficult for her, it was difficult for me too...at the beginning -"

"Of course," he concurred with a soft smile, caressing her cheek."I know how difficult it was for you," he assured."Don't ever think I don't appreciate how much it cost you. But unlike Morticia, you didn't sulk, you didn't focus on what you can't have, you focused on making the best of what you had."

She looked at him then and he could see in her gaze that he got through to her. That she was finally seeing this situation for what it truly was. Still, it wouldn't hurt to butter her up a bit more.

"Darling, I admit that this marriage is important to me, I don't deny it. It's a huge opportunity, I can't even tell you what it will mean to our business to pull this off," he said gently, cupping her face between his hands." But Morticia will not be miserable, far from it. She's young and idealistic but, in time, she will realize we've done what was best of the situation. And you have to stop making excuses for her, you're not doing her any favours by spoiling her. The situation is what it is and she has to step up. We can't always do things for her."

He watched her look away and drew her bottom lip between her teeth, digesting what he's just told her and resisted the urge to smirk.

If there was one thing Jared Diamond learnt in this business -

"You're so right, darling."

Was that carefully measured honesty was always the best policy.

"Of course you're right," she concurred and leaned forward to kiss him softly."I was much too soft with her and it didn't do an ounce of good, I realize that now."

He nodded.

"You're her sister and you love her," he said softly."You only want what's best for her but being too indulgent towards her is not the way. As I said, marrying a millionaire is hardly a tragedy and Francois," he paused to let the message sink in."Francois is a good guy...too good if you ask me," he added with a small smile. "And Morticia is truly lucky to have him. God only knows what that poor bastard sees in her."

Ophelia chuckled and he smiled at her before placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I don't know how I would handle all this without you," his wife whispered."I wish my mind would be so pragmatic."

"Well," he smiled tenderly."I love your mind just the way it is," he assured and kissed her smiling lips softly."Let's go to bed."

There were many things Morticia has expected after her sister confronted her in the theatre but silence on the topic was certainly not one of them.

Indeed, Ophelia did not make any attempts to discuss the subject, didn't even look at her differently, leading Morticia to wonder if perhaps she imagined the whole thing. Not that she was eager to discuss the subject herself, at least not until she spoke to Gomez - something she still dreaded to even think about but was nevertheless determined to see it through. Today. This thought alone was enough for a sleepless night as she tried to think of how to go about it, how to tell him, how to even start this conversation?

Still, it bothered her, this silence, it was worrying at best. She didn't know what to think of Ophelia's quaint behaviour. She didn't look angry and she should be. She didn't even look upset. It looked as if she was pondering how to approach the situation and that was more worrying than anything. What did Ophelia think she could do, though?

It was best, she decided, to focus on one problem at a time. First, she will tell Gomez everything was there to tell and … well, she supposed they will go about everything else from there.

Despite everything, she felt strangely unconcerned about Ophelia finding out about her and Gomez because if anything, she reckoned it was just one more reason to tell Gomez, to see it through. Ophelia would all find out sooner or later, it simply turned out to be sooner.

The drive to the hospital was… well, awkward was one word for it. Ophelia was cordial but barely said a single word to her and focused entirely on a mindless small talk with Tolya as if Morticia was not even there. Which actually made Morticia think she should have asked Gomez to meet her at the hospital instead of at the mansion because she certainly didn't look forward to driving back together with her sister. But then she couldn't have predicted Ophelia would confront her in the theatre.

"Good morning," Doctor Fieldman greeted them jovially as they entered his temporary office."I hope you are both well?"

"Quite well, thank you," Ophelia replied.

Morticia merely smiled.

"Good, good," he said, returning a smile."I'm sorry I haven't got the chance to call you husband back, Mrs Diamond, but I'm pleased to inform you that our accountant let me know that we have received the initial payment and it cleared without any problems."

"Wonderful, that's great to hear," Ophelias retorted enthusiastically.

"Charming fellow, your husband," the doctor remarked pleasantly." It was a real pleasure to meet him last week.," he added and Morticia felt immediately unsettled bt the news.

When, on earth, did Jared meet with him? More to the point, why wasn't she told about it?

"Thank you," Ophelia smiled."I'm kind of fond of him as well," she added, eliciting an amused laugh from the doctor.

"Payment?" Morticia frowned in confusion.

"The money for the first three months of the treatment," Ophelia explained a matter of fact way.

"You didn't tell me -"

"Well, why, it's hardly a problem, is it?" Ophelia smiled at her."We've agreed to make quarterly payments to the clinic. We've covered the first payment to avoid... further delays," she added pointedly."The sooner mama starts her treatment the better, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed," the doctor interjected before Morticia had a chance to reply."Actually, there's someone I want you to meet. Doctor Elodie Roman, she'll handle your mother's psychotherapy sessions."

"I thought you were going to handle her treatment," Morticia remarked warily as they left the office.

"Naturally," he assured with a kind smile."I oversee all my patients but what is essential is tailored, one-to-one approach. Dr Roman is an excellent professional, come, come," he waved at them to follow. "We've decided to take certain liberties and take your mother off her usual medicine, with Dr Richard's approval, that is."

"But -," Ophelia mumbled, alarmed.

"No, no," the Doctor assured, obviously noticing her distress."We've replaced it with the potions I mentioned to you earlier."

"I thought you were not allowed to use them outside of Switzerland," Morticia remarked cautiously.

"That is still the case," he smiled as he opened the terrace door that led to the hospital gardens." But I thought you will appreciate a little demonstration. See for yourself."

Morticia turned to where he pointed with his hand - their mother was sitting in her usual chair in the garden, her back towards them, surrounded by roses in a desperate need of decapitation, and next to her plump red-headed woman in a bright, green dress.

"When is my husband coming? I have been waiting for so long now," the voice said. It was her mother's voice. Her voice, so familiar and yet completely alien. Calm but slower. Yet, Morticia's heart ceased to beat upon hearing the sound and next to her, Ophelia inhaled sharply.

"I'm sure you miss him very much," the woman sitting next to her mother replied, her voice soft but slightly raspy, butterscotch.

"Yes," Hester replied slowly."It's been too long. Much too long."

"Why don't you tell me about him?" the red-head encouraged.

"Oh, he...he travels," came the soft, confused reply. "Travels. So much..."

Morticia licked her lips and was momentarily surprised how dry they were.

"Dr Richards and I decided to take her off her usual medication as a test trial," the doctor explained again.

"Why…," she whispered." Why does she sound do confused?"

"It's the potion we've used," Dr Fieldman answered." We've started with a higher dosage as a precaution, it makes her rather disorientated. That will improve once the treatment progresses."

"Why is she talking like he's still alive?" Ophelia interjected warily. "Doesn't she remember - ?"

"She's most likely repressing it," Dr Fieldman replied. "It's very common, particularly when the memories are very painful."

"Why don't you just tell her then? What's the point in letting her believe he's alive?" she asked sharply.

"But we're not letting her believe," Dr Fieldman denied softly." We encourage her to talk about him but we by no means claim he's alive. You saw that Dr Roman didn't confirm that your father is coming back. She merely pointed out that your mother must miss him and encouraged her to tell her about him. We want her to get used to talking about him, stop repressing memories of him and of what happened."

"Can we speak to her?" Morticia asked, her voice somewhere between apprehension and eagerness.

"Of course," The Doctor nodded."Just... don't mention your father's death. It's too early for that," he advised and watched both women nod at him."Stay here for a moment, let me prepare her," he announced and went over to where the two women were sitting.

Morticia watched, her heart hammering in her chest, her fingers prickling with excitement and apprehension as the Doctor sat gently at the chair opposite her mother and talked to her softly.

Morticia could not understand whatever he was telling her mother because her heart was beating so loud it seemed to drown everything else. To hear her voice, after all that time, was simply indescribable. It felt like nothing she ever experienced and she had trouble dressing all the emotions, that were currently wildly coursing through her, into words.

She felt a pressure on her left hand and turned to see Ophelia squeezing it absently but with undeniable apprehension.

"Oh God," her sister whispered before turning towards her and Morticia noticed Ophelia's eyes glistened with tears."I don't know what to say to her… "

Morticia bit her lips and suddenly felt almost overwhelming need to laugh. How ludicrous, how utterly insane, she realized, that after all that time wishing and praying for a moment like that… here they were, struggling to think of anything to say.

"Your daughters are here to see you," Dr Fieldman's voice reached them and they both turned towards him as he waved at them to approach.

"My daughters?" Their mother replied uncertainly and slowly turned her head to the right where Dr Fieldman pointed.

Her gaze seemed unfocused, as if she looked straight through them and when Morticia let go of Ophelia's hand and approached her slowly, she didn't seem to recognize her. Her heart sank. She tried to fight the disappointment as she crouched down in front of her mother's chair.

"Hello mama," she managed to say softly and there was a flicker of recognition in the older woman's eyes.

"Hester, do you know who this is?" Dr Fieldman prompted.

Hester reached towards Morticia's raven hair and smoothed it hesitantly, frowning. She touched her cheek gently and Morticia could not resist placing a small kiss to her mother's exploring palm. It just felt so good, that touch she longed for so long, to be looked at with recognition and not the empty gaze that seemed to look without seeing.

"So grown up," her mother whispered, shaking her head gently in disbelief but smiled at her - a small, watery smile but a smile nevertheless."My little raven."

The first smile in God only knows how long and Morticia's heart almost shattered, that smile seemed to gnaw at the core of her soul. And there was suddenly so many things she wanted to tell her, so many things to share, but words seemed mundane, somehow inappropriate even. She wrapped her hands around her mother's slim fingers and simply smiled at her. She doubted she could have managed to say anything anyway.

Her mother was still smiling at her when her gaze travelled to the woman behind Morticia.

"Ophelia?" her mother asked and Ophelia nodded faintly before coming closer and crouched next to Morticia. Hester looked at her quizzically, before touching her hair, in the same manner she did with Morticia."Oh...but what happened? What happened to your pretty daisies?"

Ophelia barely knew where she was going but she knew she couldn't stay there a moment longer. She was only vaguely aware of people passing her as she tried to make her prompt way to the car. She didn't know if Morticia followed her, she didn't care if she did. Her vision blurry, obstructed by the hot tears.

Daisies.

Where are her daisies? What happened to her pretty daisies….

Oh God, she didn't think it could hurt more if she didn't recognize her at all. Or slapped her.

Her words tore at her heart with the ferocity of the wolves devouring its prey. They were more than just words, the symbolism behind it, that's what hurt the most.

Because she knew exactly what the question implied. What happened to you?

She wiped her tears furiously and then she noticed him.

She had no doubt it was him, leaning casually against the green Packard, cigar in hand and suddenly her rage found a new target. She simply couldn't believe his audacity. After his despicable behaviour at the theatre, how did he dare he show up here like that?

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed before she even approached him, still trying to blink away the tears.

Gomez frowned, momentarily confused and unable to tell why the angry, hissing voice behind him felt so familiar.

He turned and was immediately met with a thunderous gaze of Ophelia Diamond.

"Mrs Diamond," he greeted cautiously when he noticed her eyes were red with freshly shed tears. Has something happened to their mother? He wondered, and immediately his only concern was to find Morticia."Are you all right?" he asked, alarmed.

"Is this some sick game for you?" she replied fiercely.

He tilted his head and regarded her curiously. Anger, her assessed. These were definitely angry tears, not sorrowful, and his posture relaxed at the realization.

"Whatever are you talking about?" he asked. Well, he had a pretty clear idea what Ophelia was talking about but he certainly wasn't going to admit it.

"You know exactly what," she hissed."Leave my sister alone, you bastard, leave her the hell alone."

Gomez felt annoyance hit him immediately at her words, sister or not she was slightly out of line here.

"Don't you think Morticia is big enough to make her own decisions?" he retorted firmly, he certainly didn't appreciate her tone and was about to make it explicitly clear.

She looked at him in startled disbelief.

"What are you trying to do? Ruin her reputation?" she asked."Is it fun for you? Ruining people's lives?"

"You know nothing about me," he replied calmly, holding her angry gaze steadily."But certainly, let's discuss which one of us is trying to ruin Morticia's life."

Ophelia was so taken aback by his accusation she took a step back as if he physically pushed her but seemed to recover and shot him a thunderous gaze and came closer to him.

"You don't know what you're talking about," she hissed angrily.

"Neither do you," he retorted sternly."Was that announcement in the newspaper your idea or what if that damned husband of yours?"

"Francois is a thousand times better man for her than you - "

"That's not for you to decide, is it?" he retorted sharply.

"You are a shameless cad with no concern for anyone but yourself and -"

They both tensed when they heard her clear her throat behind them.

"Am I… interrupting?" Morticia asked sardonically but there was detectable steel in her voice and she didn't even flinch when her sister turned towards her sharply.

"What is he doing here?" Ophelia asked, clearly enraged.

"Waiting for me I suppose," Morticia replied calmly and came to stand next to Gomez who couldn't help his lips curling into a small smirk and placed his hand possessively on the small of Morticia's back.

Ophelia shook her head and tilted her head back.

"I can't believe you can be so stupid," she remarked viciously. "That's the best you can do? Really? Whoring with a man who next month won't even remember your name?"

Morticia's face expression remained blank at her sister's crudeness and she regarded Ophelia serenely but could practically feel Gomez tense.

"I'll see you later," Morticia replied calmly."No need for Tolya to pick me up," she added in a tone that indicated this conversation or whatever it was was over.

Her sister, however, apparently didn't see it that way.

"Have you really lost your mind?" Ophelia asked again but her tone was softer now, and slightly more desperate."You're nothing to him, you will regret this mistake more than you can imagine. Please, Morticia, stop it before it's too late."

Morticia held her sister gaze unflinchingly but felt an unmistakable wave of anger grip her heart. She understood that Ophelia was still shaken after her mother's words but Morticia certainly had no intention to stand here and silently endure Ophelia's insults neither to Gomez nor to herself for that matter, irrespective of how upset her sister was, she was crossing the line. Morticia turned slowly towards Gomez and slipped her hand into his, curling her finger firmly against his palm because she just noticed how rigid his jaw was and she knew he was about seven seconds away from losing his temper.

"Let's go," she urged him softly and smiled when he looked at her tenderly before, in a quite ostentatious manner, he curled his arm around her and placed a gentle kiss to her temple.

Ophelia bit her lips in annoyance at this blatant show of affection and glared at Morticia.

"You will regret it," she predicted in a slow, tenacious tone."Sooner or later you will regret this and I just hope it won't be too late then because some mistakes may cost you more dearly than others, Morticia."

Ophelia didn't wait for her response. Didn't even spare Gomez one look before turning away from them both and walked promptly to where Tolya was already dutifully standing next to the car.

"That went well," Gomez quipped as they both watched Ophelia's angry, retreating form.

Morticia shrugged.

"It doesn't matter," she retorted and turned towards him, placing a soft kiss to his lips." I thought I've told you I was going to meet you at home."

"Couldn't wait that long," he replied arduously, capturing her soft lips into another kiss eliciting a small, amused laugh from her. He was indeed glad to notice that she didn't mind him meeting her here at all, despite the heated encounter with her sister. She looked to him more radiant than ever. "Everything all right? With your mother?" he asked.

"Oh, darling," she practically beamed at him, wrapping her arms around his neck happily."So much better than all right."

She forced the thought of her mother out of her mind. She was so angry, it felt as if the very core of her soul was on fire. So angry that it was almost all too easy to direct her anger at Addams and Morticia than to contemplate any further the look on her mother's face. Her chest hurt with barely concealed sheer pain and misery.

Ophelia scarcely looked at Anatoly as he obediently opened the door to the silver Buick and she hesitated before entering the car. She grabbed the door frame and turned back to where Morticia and Addams were still standing by the green Packard, except now they were wrapped in a tight embrace in the full view of the passing people, no less.

She felt the hot angry tears fill her eyes again. She allowed the anger to enter her heart fully and took over any heartache that was penetrating her entire being. Anger was better than self-pity. Anger had clarity and purpose.

It was anger that asked, how dare she? How bloody dare she? After all that Ophelia has done for her, Morticia chose to blatantly disrespect her, her own sister, and for what? Stupid, stupid girl. What a fool, what an insolent fool her sister was.

There was seldom any rationality to anger but Ophelia didn't care for rationality. She didn't have any need or want for rationality to talk her out of it.

It was anger that allowed her to see the situation clearly, or so she thought. It allowed her to see the situation the way Jared saw it from the very beginning. And Jared was right all along. And Ophelia was a bloody fool.

It was anger that grounded the feeling of betrayal in her heart.

After all that she had done for Morticia, this was so much worse that biting the hand that fed her. This betrayal, this treachery, this blatant insolence and impertinence of Morticia's actions were too much for her to bear.

"Home, Mrs Diamond?" Tolya asked, warily.

Ophelia pondered only for a split second before a conviction formed in her mind and she turned towards him.

"No," she replied with the calmness that was surprising for her. "Take me to my mother-in-law, please."

They've barely made it through the door when Gomez took her in his arms and attacked her lips arduously. She moaned delightfully and was about to surrender to his caresses when she remembered there were more pressing things at hand.

"Gomez... darling," she mumbled weakly as he proceeded to place urgent kisses to the column of her neck. "Gomez...wait."

He growled unhappily.

"Wait?" he repeated, looking at her incredulously."Surely, you're jesting."

She laughed, despite herself, because he looked like she just told him she wanted to enter a convent.

"I need to speak to you," she clarified.

"Later," he pleaded, his lips only millimetres from hers."I almost went insane without you for so long."

"Now," she insisted. "It's really important."

She saw his eyes lose their amused sparkle as he regarded her worryingly.

"Something wrong?" he asked, concern clearly laced into his voice.

"Ehm… depending on how you look at it, I suppose," she replied uneasily.

"That doesn't sound encouraging," he pointed out.

"Yes, I realize that," she agreed, taking his hand and pulled him towards the library.

Gomez reckoned that if Morticia's posture would tense even a tiny bit more she will surely snap in half. He wondered what on earth could she have possibly to say to him that made her so nervous. Since it was clear that she had no intention of leaving him for the bloody Frenchman or for anyone else for that matter, he really couldn't think -

He frowned and had an almost overwhelming need to slap himself for his own obtuseness. Although, in his defence, he was so happy and relieved that there was nothing of substance in that bloody rumour that he all but forgot about what Fester revealed to him about her inheritance.

Well, in truth he didn't forget at all but it was always a difficult task to focus on anything but those glorious, inviting lips of hers.

They entered the library and he closed the doors firmly behind them and watched her lean against his desk, nervously playing with her crimson nails.

"You seem very nervous," he pointed out gently as he made his way slowly towards her. It was an unnecessary observation.

"I… I need to tell you something," she replied warily, not quite looking at him. "I just...I'm not sure how to...start."

He felt a little guilty seeing her so stressed… but not enough to let her out of her misery and tell her he knew very well what the dreaded conversation was going to be about. He came to stand right in front of her and tilted his head, regarding her with an amused curiosity.

"Tish," he said softly, taking her left hand into both of his and placed a comforting kiss on her knuckles."You know you can tell me anything and everything."

She took a deep, calming breath and nodded at him.

"All right," she said, looking straight into his loving, dark, half-lidded eyes and her lips parted in an attempt to tell him what she so dreaded to tell him but no sound came out and she swallowed nervously. What to say? How to start this? "All right," she repeated again not sure whether to him or to herself and by the half-confused, half-amused look on Gomez's face, neither did her. "All right, you see...there's this…," she faltered and looked away briefly. She inhaled deeply, making slow circular motions with her hands as if it would help her to come up with the right words."This thing I need to tell you about...that...I should have told you about a long time ago…"

"I think you're spending too much time with Fester," he said, amused."You're starting to talk with the same brand of unique eloquence as my brother," he teased kindly and she let out a gentle laugh that sounded half-amused, half-nervous, and bit her lips into a thin line.

"I really don't know how to tell you," she confessed quietly.

"Just tell me," he prompted kindly, genty smoothing her the raven tress of her hair in a comforting caress.

"I don't want you to be - " she faltered again, looking for the right word.

"You're afraid to make me angry?" he guessed in slight disbelief but, to his relief, she shook her head immediately.

"No," she assured. "Disappointed," she finally said, looking straight at him. "I don't want you to be disappointed."

He reached with his hand to caress her cheek and the look of absolute tenderness he regarded her with was enough to shatter her very soul into a million tiny pieces.

"You could never disappoint me, Tish," he assured with surprising confidence but she still looked at him doubtfully. "Perhaps, I can make it easier for you," he announced suddenly and watched her blink, then frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked carefully.

Gomez didn't reply, not immediately, but moved around his desk and opened the drawer before removing a newspaper out of it.

"Does it have anything to do with this?" he asked when he was back, standing right in front of her and handed her the newspaper, already opened exactly on the gossip section. She obviously noticed that because she regarded him quizzically but took the newspaper from his hands.

It took her her mere seconds to locate the right section and her head snapped sharply to look at him in startled disbelief.

"What's this?" she asked incredulously.

"I was hoping you can tell me," he replied firmly, a bit more firmly than he intended.

She scanned the newspaper again and shook her head. She could not believe it, she could not believe the sheer effrontery of that woman because there was no doubt in her mind who was responsible for this. Although come to think of it, she didn't know why was she so surprised, after all, Dorothy Diamond proved to her time and time again that she was nothing if not cunning when she pursued her desired outcome but it still never failed to make Morticia furious.

And Gomez? What must he have thought to read something like this? She looked at him and suddenly his yesterday's behaviour made finally a perfect sense.

"Gomez no...I would never," she insisted immediately, swallowing heavily.

He didn't reply but seemed to relax at her words

"Is this why you - ?" she asked tentatively.

"Not a particularly pleasant thing to read."

"It's a lie," she said firmly, putting the blasted newspaper away on the desk, suddenly beyond guilty that her secret caused him such pain. "Oh darling, I'm so sorry," she whispered softly and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him firmly against her and was glad to feel his arms embrace her waist." It's my fault, I should have told you sooner."

"Then tell me, now," he insisted tensely and waited until she was facing him again."Everything. Not half-truths, no more," he added, looking at her tenderly but there was steel laced to his voice and she knew he would accept nothing but the whole truth from her.

Just as well, she thought, whatever happened, there was no going back now.

"My family wants me to marry him," she admitted slowly, extracting her hands from around his neck as if instinctively wanting to put some visible distance between them but he didn't let her, tightening his hold around her waist and she placed her hand on his chest tentatively.

It was clear to him that she found it immensely difficult, telling him all this but he didn't have the slightest intention to make it easier for her and tell her that he knew about her inheritance conditions. No. No matter how difficult, no matter how humiliating it might be, she had to learn to trust him, to confide in him. If she felt guilty about keeping this from him for so long all the better.

"Why him?" he prompted.

She looked away from him and for few contemplative moments, she was simply staring at his chest, absently clenching and unclenching her fingers around the lapel of his blazer. He didn't rush her, even though his patience started to wear thin, but if need be they would stay here all day and night and he would make sure she told him every little thing there was to tell because he was beyond tired of her secrets. If they were going to spend their life together, as he wholeheartedly intended, she had to understand once and for all that there can be no secrets between them. That they had to trust each other wholly, absolutely and unreservedly.

"You know that Jared's paying for my mother's treatment," she said finally and he nodded. Morticia licked her lips before continuing slowly," This new treatment, in Switzerland, he wants me to contribute...he wants me to pay for it because the costs are substantially higher than the treatment here, the treatment and my accommodation and...all that," she explained and winced slightly because she suddenly realized that it sounded as if she was justifying Jared's decisions and that certainly wasn't her aim." I've told him I would pay for it. I have my inheritance, it's enough to cover the treatment and her care for a few years but …," she swallowed heavily and forced herself to continue even though the words themselves seemed to be choking her."I can't access the money," she whispered.

"Why?" he prompted after she stayed silent for a few long moments and watched her frown, as if angry with his question.

She inhaled deeply and unwittingly tightened the hold on the lapels, it felt worse than she thought, more mortifying than she could have ever imagined. She hated it, she was barely able to look him in the eyes and her own started to fill with angry, humiliating tears.

"My mother put the clause on the inheritance," she found herself saying, silently wondering how she managed to force those words out of her mouth."The clause that prevents me from accessing the money until I'm twenty-one...or married," she finally said, clearing her throat, her voice suddenly hoarse. "And since option number one is out of the question, there was nothing else but...to find someone to…," she practically muttered and looked at him firmly, searching his eyes for any sight of pity and she knew if she found any she would probably get angry and storm out of the house.

And he seemed to know that too because there was no sign of pity in his eyes. There was nothing there to indicate any emotions over what she's just told him. He looked simply as if he was simply digesting the information.

"I need to marry to get the money," she continued, her voice steadier now." Francois...he likes me and he has business connections that would be very valuable to Jared. The way my family see it, it's a perfect union that would benefit both families, Francois's trustworthy and dependable - "

"Unlike me?" Gomez interrupted sardonically.

Morticia shrugged and cleared her throat.

"Your reputation is hardly pristine, Gomez," she pointed out simply." You've had your name attached to most of the social scandals in this city and, for Jared… he would rather die than have his family involved in a scandal or even something slightly out of established social decorum."

"And you agreed to this?" he asked.

"How could I not?" She asked despairingly." How could I have said no? This treatment here is not working...at all, " she explained." All they are able to do is to keep my mother on antidepressants which...because they are so strong, keep her practically unresponsive to any stimulus. The only time they tried to take her off her medication..." she paused, unsure she should or even could continue because the memory of it was still so painfully strong she felt her eyes prickle with hot tears at the mere thought."Without those medications to keep her practically sedated...those people are no match for her, do you understand?" she asked painfully but, from the expression of his face, it was clear that he did not understand what she meant."When they took her off the medication...she tried to kill herself just a few days later, the moment the medication wore off," she revealed and he looked at her, clearly shocked, obviously not expecting it."And they couldn't do anything to prevent it, because… she's just too strong, do you understand? Too powerful. She slipped out of the room without a single person noticing and - "

"Gods, Tish, I'm so sorry," he managed to say, his voice hoarse with emotion, and it sounded partly, not enough even though this is how he felt because it broke his heart at the mere thought of how much pain she had to endure. More so, because she was so utterly alone when facing it all and how he wished he could have been there for her then, even though it was ridiculous because they didn't even know each other then, but it didn't seem to matter. All that mattered to him was to take all her pain away. "Did you really mean to marry him?"

She nodded.

"At the time," she explained.

"And what about us?" He asked and couldn't quite manage to suppress the hurtful tone.

She swallowed uncomfortably but managed not to look away from him.

"I didn't think it would matter to you," she replied slowly but with a surprising bluntness.

He frowned, utterly bewildered by the explanation.

"What?" he really didn't mean to raise his voice but he just couldn't comprehend that she really thought that it wouldn't matter to him. How could it not matter when she was everything to him? It would be easier for him to live without the oxygen than without her.

"I didn't think that... we would last long enough for this to matter to you," she explained." I didn't expect you to…," she faltered and swallowed uncomfortably. "I didn't expect you to be there for me, I didn't expect...this," she whispered, motioning between two of them." And after that I...I didn't want to… to burden you with this, didn't want you to think that you had any obligations towards me just because," she sighed, looking for the right words." Just because we were... together."

He looked away briefly and she could tell her words hurt him but he wanted the truth and well...that was the truth.

"Do you know what is most unbearable to me?" he asked and without waiting for her reply he continued, "It absolutely kills me... that you don't trust me, that you don't feel comfortable confiding in me."

"I do trust you," she assured immediately." I do trust you...I just…I'm really sorry, I should have told you weeks ago but…," she drew her lower lip between her teeth and stayed silent for a moment." I didn't want your pity… I couldn't stand the thought that you... could feel sorry for me, and you… you have some ancient chivalry in you," she smiled mirthlessly." You would feel obliged to help me, to...I don't know...save me -"

"And what would be so wrong with me helping you?"

"Nothing," she remarked breathlessly."And everything."

He closed his eyes and shook his head, gently resting his forehead against hers, sighing deeply. She felt him press a soft kiss to the crown of her head and she smiled at the tender gesture. It felt so comforting she felt like melting into the tender cares.

He framed her face with his hands and looked at her intently.

"Tish, you have to stop that...you have to stop thinking like that. No one can go through life on their own, not even you," he insisted."Why do you think to help you would be a burden?"

"Because it would," she persisted firmly, trying to blink the moisture away from her eyes."Because you should not be responsible for my...for any of this."

Gomez shook his head.

"I love you," he said firmly, caressing her cheek gently." And what that means is that you mean everything to me. Your happiness and wellbeing mean everything to me. What that means is that I want to be the first person you go to when you need help, I want to be the person you confide to, I want to be there for you every minute of every day," he explained passionately. "Taking care of you is never a burden, it can never be a burden because allowing me to be there for you every step of the way is… it's the most wonderful thing you can give me because you... you're the greatest thing that ever happened to me, Tish, do you understand?"

She didn't know what to say to that, for the second time today the words simply failed her and the silence that descended upon them was so acute it seemed even their breathing has ceased.

She could only nod and swallow heavily before she leaned towards him and kissed him, long and hard and the only thought that filled her mind at that moment was that he was so wonderful and loving him was the sweetest of agonies. He was hers - more than anything or anyone will ever be and she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of their lives together.

She felt him shift and he broke the kiss gently, reaching towards his breast pocket and produced a small, white envelope.

"What's this?" she asked when he handed her the envelope.

"The money," he explained." For your mother's treatment. All of it."

Her eyes widened in surprise as she slowly took the envelope from his hands.

"You knew," she remarked confidently.

He shrugged but didn't deny her words.

"Fester's told you?" she guessed.

"It doesn't matter who told me," he replied."I want you to take the money. There's no obligation attached to them."

She smiled gently.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't thank me, it's just money," he replied with a gentle shrug.

"I thought you… "

"That I would jump at the opportunity to marry you?" he smirked.

"Ehm...well...yes," she admitted sheepishly.

"We'll get married when you feel you want to, not because you have to… because you don't have to," he told her and smiled at her tenderly.

How could she have ever doubted him? She didn't remember. At this moment she could not comprehend why did she hesitate for so long, why did she doubt him when he was the most wonderful, the most loving and caring man she's ever met. He was the best, most magical and most wondrous part of her life and she loved him so much she could barely stand it.

"I want to," she found herself saying and there was not a trace of hesitation in her voice. She knew exactly what she wanted. Him, and nothing else. She wanted to show him every day, for the rest of her life how much she loved and appreciated him in her life.

"What?" He asked and blinked stupidly because he just couldn't believe what he's just heard and she laughed gently at his confused expression.

"Get married," she explained with a small smile."I want to marry you."

"Because of -"

"No," she denied immediately." I want to marry you because I love you, and I want to spend the rest of forever being married to you. I want… I want to call you my husband," she said softly." And I promise to cut your heart out if it doesn't work out."

He laughed but looked at her lovingly, tightening his arms around her.

"It will," he assured.

"I know," she smiled and leaned to place a kiss on his smiling lips but he stopped her.

"Hold on."

She frowned and looked at him quizzically.

"What's wrong?"

"I am a man of my word," he replied seriously and took both of her hands in his and she couldn't help but laugh joyfully when he kneeled in front of her on both knees. "I promise to love you truly, madly and infinitely," he declared passionately. "I promise to dedicate my life to you and your happiness. Morticia, cara mia, would you do me the greatest honour and marry me?"

She grinned at him happily.

"Yes," she replied breathlessly."Yes, Mr Addams, of course, I will marry you."

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed. :)

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you so much for all your comments, kudos and subscriptions - I'm beyond grateful for your support!

Chapter 17

They had every intention to celebrate their engagement in the most delightful of ways but their lips barely joined in a ferocious kiss when the doors to the library opened sharply and none other than Eudora Addams barged in, holding two shovels at each side, a wide smile gracing her face.

"Come on you two," she encouraged excitedly."Those rings are not going to dig themselves out."

"Mama," Gomez moaned exasperated, tilting his head back in a dramatic manner. "You've been eavesdropping again."

Eudora waved her hand dismissively, almost dropping the shovel.

"Stop wasting time with mindless talk," his mother reprimanded."We have a wedding to prepare," she said with a huge grin on her face.

Gomez and Morticia looked at each other, frowning gently before turning back to Eudora and watching the older woman intently.

"Today?" they both asked.

"Why wait?" Eudora replied instead, leaning casually against the two shovels and watch Gomez and Morticia turn towards each other, pondering the idea.

"All I want is to be married to you," Gomez spoke softly, gazing lovingly into her dark eyes. "The sooner the better, but if you want a big wedding - "

She immediately shook her head.

"Let's do it, darling," she interjected and smiled at him happily, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Today?" he confirmed, his voice elevated at the mere prospect.

"As soon as possible," she assured."Today...now."

Gomez tightened his embrace around her and smiled, immensely pleased with her words.

"This is going to be the shortest engagement in the Addams family history," he quipped and beamed at her before claiming her lips in a loving kiss."Thing!" he called his loyal servant and within seconds the hand appeared at the desk next to them."Go and find Fester," he requested and turned towards his fiance, soon-to-be wife with a wide smile." Tell him he's needed as the best man."

The drive to her mother-in-law's felt, simultaneously, entirely too long and far too short. All that time Ophelia battled with the merit of this idea because she knew Dorothy's approach was often very clinical and she wasn't sure that clinical was what this nightmare of a situation needed on top of everything.

Ophelia opened her bag and took out her compact mirror. God, she looked like a hot mess. Her mascara wasn't too smudged but it was far from pristine. her eyes were red and puffy and that, combined with her half-ruined make-up, made her look even more miserable than she felt.

And yet, what an absurd thing to worry about when there were so many more pressing matters at hand.

Dorothy's butler made an impressive show of not noticing her harassed look as he led her to the back garden when her mother-in-law was enjoying solitary lunch in the shade of the terrace.

"Ophelia," she greeted her happily, standing up from her wicker chair but her smile withered away the moment she took a good look at her."Oh dear, what's the matter? Is your mother - ?"

"No, no," Ophelia shook her head immediately."Mother's well, it's not...she's fine," she assured haphazardly.

Dorothy nodded but didn't otherwise reply as she led her to the chair opposite hers.

"Stuart," she addressed the butler."Please arrange for some lemon balm tea for my daughter-in-law."

"Yes, Mrs Diamond," the butler bowed slightly and left, leaving the two women alone.

"What happened?" Dorothy asked, settling down on her chair.

Ophelia bit her lips into a thin line in a frustrated gesture and her eyes filled, again, with angry tears. There was so much to tell she was suddenly unsure where to start.

"I tried to talk to her," she finally said."To reason with her but…," she faltered and looked at her mother-in-law pleadingly."It's like she's lost her mind."

Dorothy frowned at this bizarre string of utterance.

"Your mother?"

"No," Ophelia shook her head impatiently."Morticia."

The older women snorted somewhat ungainly and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She did not understand, for the life of her, why was Ophelia so greatly concerned about that girl. She swore to God that wench was nothing but trouble.

Dorothy sighed and leaned back in her chair, more relaxed in the knowledge that this apparent crisis was nothing more than another of Morticia's act of unreasonable stubbornness. Still, she will not have her expecting daughter-in-law brought to tears like that. Surely, Morticia understood what delicate condition Ophelia was in and yet, selfishly, chose to upset her sister with her preposterous behaviour. Unthinkable.

"Now what did that silly girl come up with this time?" she asked, her lips curling into a sardonic smile.

Ophelia shook her head in a desperate exasperation.

"She...and that...that bloody man," she started angrily.

The smile evaporated from Dorothy's lips the moment the words left Ophelia's lips.

"She didn't," she insisted. "She wouldn't -"

"I saw them," Ophelia retorted in an angry whisper."He was at the theatre and I caught them...I saw her coming back... and confronted her and she didn't deny and … oh God," she recalled in a jagged tone, bit her bottom and looked away briefly, taking a calming breath before continuing:"Today I saw him on a car park at the hospital, at the hospital, do you understand? Waiting for her and they - oh, mother, what should we do? He has her wrapped around his little finger and she refuses to listen - " she stopped abruptly, noticing the butler coming back with her tea and they both waited patiently until he set up the tea on the table and poured her a cup.

"Thank you, Stuart, that will be all," Dorothy said, offering the butler a tight smile. "Does Jared know yet?" she asked promptly, the moment they were alone again.

Ophelia looked at her as if Dorothy took a leave of her senses.

"Of course not," she assured."How will I tell him, mother? He's so keen on this whole marriage, his business, how will I tell him there will be no marriage because - "

"Now, now let's not be hasty," Dorothy interjected calmly.

"What do you mean?" Ophelia asked incredulously. "She's not going to marry Francios, I'm sure of it. She prefers to be a whore to that despicable cad."

Dorothy grunted thoughtfully and rested her chin between her thumb and forefinger, pondering what to do. The situation was unfortunate but hardly unexpected. It was after all a prerogative of a young age to be a victim of one's passions and indeed, throughout her own life, Dorothy had seen countless scandals swept under the carpet. Still, she had hoped Morticia had a good sense of being discreet with her affair but that, apparently and surprisingly, was not the case and it was worrisome - to put it mildly.

"What did she say?" Dorothy asked calmly but there was a detectable tone of urgency in her posture.

Ophelia opened her mouth to reply but then she realized that, essentially, Morticia said nothing but there was a steel resolve in her sister's behaviour that told Ophelia that whatever this thing between Morticia and Addams, Morticia was determined to put everything on the line for it.

"She didn't say anything," she admitted." She… she's eerily calm about the whole thing," she continued slowly, only realising this fact as she spoke. "I think…I think she's in love with him," she revealed but her mother-in-law only nodded and pondered on the information for a few minutes.

"Your tea is getting cold," Dorothy said finally.

Ophelia blinked and frowned, taken aback.

"My tea?" she repeated incredulously."My tea is the least of the problem here."

"You need to calm down," Dorothy insisted and watched her daughter-in-law laugh sardonically but obediently lift the porcelain cup to her lips and took a small sip."Obviously, we were too lenient with Morticia, but I hoped she had more sense than that."

"It's not - "Ophelia started to defend but Dorothy raised her palm to stop whatever excuse was about to leave her lips.

"Let's leave this story for my son because we both know Morticia made a deliberate decision here," she said firmly."She deliberately chose to defy us but we shall not let this little indiscretion to get in the way of things."

"How?" Ophelia asked in disbelief.

"I will speak to Jared - "

Ophelia shook her head at her frantically.

"He will - "

"Leave it to me," the older woman assured."You are far too much emotionally invested in this, he will see how it upset you and will get mad, whereas I...I will present the situation to him as clinically as possible."

Ophelia nodded absently.

"But then what?" she asked."What can we do?"

"I will speak with her," Dorothy replied."Me and Jared."

Ophelia almost snorted indignantly at the ridiculousness of the idea.

"I really can't see how is that going to help," she admitted." Why, if there's any way to talk some sense into her -"

"It's a delicate matter," Dorothy insisted."We have to act carefully...but firmly, and swiftly. Morticia is a young, beautiful woman and Addams spent all his life doing only one thing - chasing after beautiful women and, no doubt, he's a master of his craft. Let's not fool ourselves. This relationship is already condemned to fail miserably but, as it is, we do not have the luxury of time to just wait for it to go to hell and we certainly cannot afford such scandal as it is underway."

Ophelia nodded, somewhat impatiently. All of it was true but it wasn't anything they didn't already know and it didn't help to solve the current crisis. Talking to Morticia? What would it achieve? It sounded overly simplistic and she realized, she expected Dorothy to come up with some miraculous solution. She expected her to take the matter out of her hands and just resolve it in her usual discreet and efficient manner. Somehow. Anyhow. Dorothy was right though, what other move was there?

"I wish we could just...take her away from him," she mused aloud, her tone frantic."I wish there was a way for us to… to even force this marriage to Francois on her. Anything...anything but not that bloody Lothario."

Dorothy smiled humorously at her words.

"That would certainly be helpful," she retorted slowly, somewhat amused."But we don't have the luxury of indulging in what-could-we-do-if, either," she continued, caressing the soft skin under her chin with her forefinger contemplatively."And it would be a mistake to alienate Morticia any further by being too forceful or aggressive. We need to show her that we only worry about her and her well-being."

"We do," Ophelia pointed out firmly.

"Of course," Dorothy immediately placated, smiling softly."We are her family, and we only want what's best for her," she continued and Ophelia nodded faintly. "But you need to let me take care of this, my dear," she insisted, leaning forward and took Ophelia's hand into hers."I won't have you get so upset. It's time you focused on what's best for you and your children. I'm really sorry that your sister can't seem to appreciate how much you love and care for her but you can't spend all your life feeling responsible for her. It's time she stepped-up as well."

Ophelia snorted gently.

"It's what Jared said as well," she admitted with a small woeful smile. "I feel...I feel like I failed her," she continued, swallowing heavily."I didn't look after her as I should. I didn't know how, and I should have listened to you when you offered to…," she faltered and shrugged helplessly." And now it's too late."

Dorothy returned her smile and looked at her kindly.

"You are such a kind and loving soul, Ophelia," she praised, patting Ophelia's hands."I hate to see you so upset. All because your sister turned out to be an ungrateful fool."

Ophelia looked at her softly, grateful for her words even though somewhere inside she probably knew that Dorothy was buttering her up, buying her acquiescence for whatever actions she was planning to take but Ophelia didn't want to think about that. All she wanted was to hear someone say that she was doing the right thing, she was merely looking out for Morticia and if Morticia couldn't see the damage she was doing then yes, yes, of course, they had every right to save her from herself.

It was their duty to save her.

To save her from this disaster that Gomez Addams was so inclined to bestow upon all of them.

"Do you really think you can talk some sense into her?"

Dorothy smiled warmly and reached to tuck Ophelia's blond her behind her ear in a soft, motherly gesture and it suddenly dawned on Ophelia how grateful she was for her. Dorothy - who was more help to her than her own mother ever was, she thought unfairly. Dorothy never failed her, never disappointed her despite her somewhat forceful and intrusive nature. And then, what exactly one gained by being soft and indulgent?

She was too soft and indulgent and now she had a prospective scandal on her hands. She could already imagine the utter mayhem of gossips, the utter pandemonium of whispers behind their backs, the blatant, knowing looks. Her sister - a whore to none other but Gomez Addams. It was unbearable.

But Morticia didn't care. She didn't care about the scandal she would cause. Didn't even ponder on its implications or how would it affect the rest of them. All that bloody Lothario had to do was to bend his finger and she came running like a fool.

"Why don't you stay here with me for a couple of days?" she heard Dorothy propose."Away from all this drama. I will tell Katie to bring Charlie over as well. Stay here and...let me take care of it."

"Yes," she replied compliantly."Yes, I think that would be best."

Not for the first time, Father Harry Scullion silently wondered whose bright idea to build a presbytery in such close proximity to the spooky mansion up the hill. Naturally, he never expected his service to God and His Church would be lovely thorns and -

Wait, wait ... hold on, hold on where did that come from?

He never expected his service to God and His Church to be a bed of roses. Yes, that's more like it. He never expected his service to God and His Church to be a bed of roses and, sure enough, his eccentric neighbours made sure, time and time again, that it was the bed of nails he faced. Literally.

Three years since he first got acquainted with the Addamses, he still wasn't sure what to think of them. He was perpetually balancing rather precariously between really liking them and being absolutely terrified of them. Although the family was certainly eccentric and had an undeniable love for all things the rest of society, and indeed himself, would consider dangerously macabre, he had to admit that they were also, undeniably, the nicest and most helpful neighbours in the area. True enough, they never attended any Sunday service but always generously donated for the various charity causes organized by the church - just as to any other charity of whatever denomination that was brave enough to approach them.

As it was, Father Scullion was particularly fond of the matriarch of the family, Mrs Addams, who often invited him for tea (or at least he hoped to God Almighty and All His Saints it was a tea because he refused to even ponder what that woman was exactly brewing in that huge cauldron - and no no no, he won't ever be tempted to check). They had a common passion for horses. Why, with him being raised in the countryside of Northern Ireland - the love for horses was in his blood. He often attended horse racing with Eudora (all humans have weaknesses and only God can judge him), was generally on good terms with her older son but because Fester Addams and his fondness for the pyrotechnics of all kinds scared the hell out of him, he tried to avoid him as much as possible. He couldn't decide what to think about Gomez Addams - except that he was in desperate need of a guiding hand and divine help from Heavens and Harry - a good, committed priest that he was - attempted to be the aforementioned guiding hand. He was determined to turn Gomez Addams to the straight path, but judging by the Sunday paper gossip section (that he doesn't read) he was doing a very poor job indeed.

The strangest thing about Addams was that Harry always got the impression that Gomez found his attempts to save his soul amusing and entertaining but at the same time he never ridiculed neither him nor his faith and Harry learnt to respect that. Indeed, Gomez Addams seemed well-versed in a philosophical history of God and Harry enjoyed their verbal spats, despite the fact that the young priest couldn't often decide if Gomez's opinions were sound, blasphemous, barbarous or whether he simply had too much fun on his account.

Still, despite youngest Addams' questionable morals and his reputation of being a mindless dandy, he was certainly well-read and well-educated. As much as Harry never cared for Shakespeare, when Gomez talked about his plays (usually over brandy and cigar) with such a passion, attaching various socio-political theories to his works, the priest found himself wanting to know everything there was about the English poet.

Gomez Addams was certainly an interesting person to know but that didn't change the fact that his soul was in desperate need of saving.

That being said -

"Getting married?" he asked, scratching his sandy blond hair in confusion.

"Yes, dear, getting married," Mrs Addams rolled her eyes in an exasperated manner. The priest was so stunned at the news, she had to repeat her request three times and he still looked at her as if he was explaining him quantum theory.

"Today?"

Oh, for the love of -

"Did I stutter?" she glared at the young man.

"But..."

"They've got engaged an hour ago," she explained. Again."And want to get married today."

"Today?" Harry asked again in disbelief, starting to feel like an idiot but he just couldn't comprehend what the woman was telling him. Gomez Addams? Getting married? Impossible.

"Didn't they teach you to speak in full sentences in that seminar of yours?" she asked rudely, crossing her arms against her middle.

"But…"

"Because you're awfully monosyllabic today," she taunted sardonically."They're digging the rings out as we speak, so you better get ready," Eudora insisted impatiently."We don't have a whole day."

Digging the rings out? Did she just say...where on earth were they -

He blinked.

He won't ask. He better not ask. Sure as hell he didn't even want to know.

"Mrs Addams that's insane, I can't possibly -"

Eudora growled in exasperation.

"Now you listen to me, you insufferable brat," the older woman glared at him."By the time this day is over, I will have a daughter-in-law and you will help...like a good neighbour."

"But Mrs Addams, you do not even belong to my diocese," the priest continued his protestations. "I can't possibly-"

"What's that?" Eudora asked, her face creasing in confusion.

"I mean, you're not even Catholic...are you?"

"Oooohhhh...sure," the matriarch of the Addams family blatantly lied in a deadpan manner without missing a beat, pushing the increasingly confused priest inside the house so he can grab whatever he needed to conduct the wedding ceremony."We can all be Catholics if that's what it takes to get them married."

Somehow, Father Scullion found himself resigned, dutifully packing his Bible and Holy water into his bag.

"Who's insane enough to marry him?" he asked partly to himself, partly to the woman behind him.

"It's not our job to question the bride-to-be's mental state," Eudora answered, patiently waiting for the priest to collect his things. She watched his back stiffen and he turned towards her slowly, gazing at her somewhat incredulously.

"No...ehm...it actually is," he countered."I can't marry a person if - "

"Oh, for the love of hell," the older woman groaned in exasperation."She's as sane as you or me. Let's go."

He loved his job, he loved his job, he loved his job.

The Lord doesn't test us with more than we can bear and what doesn't kill you...no no, he will not go there, not with these people.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," the young priest declared dejectedly for the umptieth time that it took to walk from his residence to the Addams mansion.

There was an amused chuckle next to him.

"You're fretting like a terrified schoolgirl, Father."

Harry didn't get a chance to reply so absolutely stunned he was when the gate growled at them and opened even before they approached it. Has it always done that?

Eudora led them to the east of the Addams estate where the vast cemetery was spread against the skyline of the city.

"Here's the priest that's going to marry you," Eudora declared, addressing the two people standing next to...oh good Lord was that an open grave?!

"Splendid!" exclaimed Gomez, shovel in his hand. "Mama, you're a true gem. How are you, my dear Father?" Gomez asked jovially and Harry noticed both the bride and the groom were begrimed in the soil - no doubt from digging their rings...good God what trial was this? Was God, in His infinite wisdom, testing him by this peculiar circumstances?

"Been better," the priest muttered dejectedly before turning towards Morticia with a kind smile."Hello, my dear, my name is Father Harry Scullion."

"Morticia Frump," she replied with a charming smile.

"I take it you're the unfortunate bride," he supplied kindly.

"Oh, you're too sweet," she retorted."I am, indeed."

The priest leaned towards her.

"My child," he whispered furtively and Morticia couldn't help but smile because the man looked perhaps a few years older than Gomez."Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Oh yes," she confirmed, looking lovingly at Gomez.

"Because if he's coerced you in any way- "

"Come on, old chap, you know me better than that," Gomez grinned caddishly.

"It's Father Old Chap to you," Harry retorted sternly.

Despite their ardent desire to be wedded as soon as possible, the couple decided that a shower and a change of clothes were certainly in order since the action of acquiring Morticia's engagement ring and their wedding bands proved to be quite an arduous activity.

It was certainly worth it, though, because her engagement ring was absolutely splendid, she decided as she gazed at the large ruby engagement ring resting heavily on her finger.

Morticia called Elena and informed her about her impromptu wedding to which her dear friend responded by screaming manically into the phone and hung up. Morticia reckoned they should expect her any minute now.

After over an hour of digging out her engagement ring (courtesy of the dearly departed Aunt Plague - as Eudora insisted and, indeed, the ruby stone was simply exquisite) and then their wedding rings from Gomez's great grandparents, her dress was in dire need of cleaning but she certainly wasn't going to wait that long, so she called Michael and calmly informed him that she needed a dress for tonight because she was getting married and she sort of ruined her own dress while digging the rings out.

Michael practically squealed with happiness, the somberly asked who was the groom and upon hearing the annoyed answer squealed joyfully again but then proceeded to complain ardently that he barely started on her wedding dress and there was no way it could be ready in hours and they could not possibly get married without Morticia wearing the wedding dress he designed for her.

Morticia told him not to ever complain again that she didn't invite him to her wedding and promptly hung up.

Hence while Gomez and Morticia busied themselves preparing for the ceremony (in separate rooms - upon their annoyance but Eudora's insistence), Eudora was tasked with keeping company to Father Scullion as they waited for the couple to get ready and for Thing to locate and bring Fester over.

This could be a really long afternoon, the priest thought gloomily, nursing a very welcomed glass of brandy. Well, at least he was sure the bride was marrying Gomez willingly although why, only God knows. Harry also thought that her name sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn't, for the life of his, remember where could he have encountered it. He certainly never met the woman before...he would remember. She was too unique looking to forget her.

Well, he reckoned a little snooping around wouldn't hurt, and Eudora was always a willing gossiper and well, they had to pass the time anyway.

"I cannot believe you talked me into it," he muttered again into his glass.

"Oh, relax," Eudora smirked.

"This is highly unprecedented," he muttered stubbornly.

"Pish-tosh," she scoffed."These are two people getting married, surely the Church would not object to that."

The priest crumbled noncommittally.

"In any case," Eudora continued."Simply remind them whose donations keep your pretty church in that pristine condition," she suggested meanly and smirked when the good priest blushed at her words.

"I can't get rid of the feeling that the name of the bride seems somewhat familiar," he mused with faux casualness, swirling the burgundy liquid gently in its glass entrapment.

"Ah," Eudora smiled knowingly. "We've been reading the gossip column, haven't we?"

"Certainly not - " he huffed indignantly.

"Father Snoopy -"

"I'm appalled by the mere suggestion," he insisted before adding in a deadpan manner."Gossiping is beneath me."

"Of course it is," she agreed in a deadpan manner but decided not to indulge the priest any further. At least not until the two people upstairs were properly married.

Fate seemed to be on her side as the sound of the doorbell reverberated through the mansion.

"I'll get it Lurch!" she bellowed and turned to the priest."Excuse me."

Elena was so busy looking around the bizarre surrounding that encompassed even more bizarre-looking mansion, that she missed the sound of the door opening until she turned back and was faced with a black-haired, middle-aged woman.

"Oh, hello," she said, surprised." I'm - "

"Elena," the woman replied."Morticia's friend."

Elena frowned, somewhat disconcerted.

"Ehm, yes," she confirmed slowly.

"Come in, come in," the woman urged her inside."I'm Eudora Addams, Gomez's mother," she introduced herself."That's a truly lovely outfit," she praised and she lead their guest to the parlour.

Elena looked at herself and laughed embarrassingly. She was still wearing her cooking apron, now splattered with blood and the stains left by the internal organs of various kinds.

"Oh dear, sorry for the festive attire," she apologised."Morticia caught me in the middle of trying out a new recipe: mashed potato-filled cow's intestines with fried onion and grilled bacon served with blood pudding."

"Dear God," the priest's muttered to himself as his face twisted in disgust.

"Sounds divine," the voice behind them commented jovially and they all turned to see a dashing-looking Gomez, dressed in an all- dark grey tuxedo and crisp white shirt."Can't wait to try it. And I think your outfit looks quite splendid. All that blood and guts are very becoming."

"Oh, I agree," his mother nodded.

Elena smiled wildly and just nodded because she had no idea what to make of any of it, and frankly speaking, she felt a bit overwhelmed.

"Well, you'll be the unlucky taster as usual," she grinned at Gomez but then notice the various weapons displays on the walls."Wow... this house is...quite something," she admitted, curiously surveying her roundings. She turned around and was immediately faced with a giant of a man who, she could swear, came out of nowhere and was now offering her refreshments."Wow," she managed to say, absently taking a tall glass of steaming green liquid from the silver tray and drowning it in one gulp.

"This is Lurch - our butler," Gomez introduced.

The giant grunted at her politely.

"Charmed - " she mumbled before turning to Gomez but pointing her finger at the butler."He looks like...he's a...is he like... ehm... no longer exactly... alive?"

"Still undecided, bless him," Gomez replied fondly.

"Oh, okay, sure...it's quite a decision, can't rush it, right?" she nodded, somewhat absently and then suddenly beamed at Gomez. "I can't believe you're getting married," she squealed in delight." I have never seen Morticia make a spontaneous decision in her life and bloody hell if this is not the unholy mother of spontaneous ideas oh... pardon me, Father," she winced, just noticing the priest standing next to a fireplace and was not making his way towards them.

The priest just shook his head and waved his head in a dismissive manner.

"I quite agree with you on this one," he smiled at her."Are you a friend of the bride?"

"Best friend," she clarified." Elena Maugeri," she introduced herself with a charming smile.

"Father Harry Scullion," he replied."Italian?"

"From my father's side, yes," she nodded."My mother's Irish."

"Small world," the priest smiled."I'm from Northern Ireland myself."

"Small world, indeed," Elena muttered, quite unable to take her eyes off his dashing smile.

"Morticia is upstairs," Gomez said to her. "Third door on the right."

"Hugh?"

"Morticia, your friend," Gomez repeated, grinning at her knowingly." She's expecting you...or should I tell her you're otherwise occupied?" he teased and watched the profound blush hit her pale skin and her jaw practically drop and she turned towards him sharply.

"I'm not...what even…honestly," she blubbered, already making her way out of the parlour and away from the knowing glances and blatant smirks of Gomez and his mother until she reached half-way in the hallway and stopped, suddenly realizing she did not have the slightest idea where was she supposed to go.

Until the trio of amused voices reached her in unison.

"Third door on the right."

Gomez reckoned Elena could not run those stairs faster if she could and he could not wait to tell Morticia that her best friend had a crush on a priest. So precious.

He turned towards the priest, watching his green eyes glint with amusement.

"You rascal," he teased.

Father Harry Scullion looked at him and snorted contemptuously.

"I have no idea what you mean," he deadpanned.

She wished her parents could be here with her, she's never longed for their presence so profoundly as she did now, when she was about to marry the love of her life and how she wished her parents could share it with her. Ophelia… well, no point to think about it now.

Morticia sighed wistfully but couldn't stop the smile forming on her lips as she sat patiently in front of a dresser, wrapped in a huge towel, waiting for Elena to brush her freshly washed and dried hair and listening to her friend's complain that Morticia still had some particles of damp soil in her hair, even though they washed her hair three times already.

"What the hell were you doing, digging graves?" Elena complained, tapping the comb against the hand towel to get rid of the soil that clung to the comb.

"Well yes, as a matter of fact, I was," Morticia replied, holding the towel closer to herself.

"Ha ha," she smirked." I can't believe you're going to get married today, you're insane."

"You always said the spontaneous ideas were the essence of life," she smiled at her friend in the mirror. She truly couldn't care less what anyone thought, though. Nobody could make her change her mind in a million years. She knew, in the core of her being, that Gomez was the love of her life and she will never love any other man. She couldn't care less about lavish weddings or expensive wedding dresses - none of that mattered to her, all she wanted was to be married to him.

Elena let out a jovial laugh.

"Touche," she admitted." Morticia Addams - told you it had a nice ring to it," she teased kindly before letting out a huge sight. "He's way too hot to be a priest," Elena complained suddenly and Morticia couldn't help but raise her shapely eyebrow in surprise.

"I quite agree," she admitted cheekily.

"Hey!" Elena scolded half-heartedly."You should pretend not to notice the hot priest on your wedding day, you wanton," she teased."But Gooood, there is something enticing about a man in a soutane."

Morticia wrinkled her nose.

"I beg to differ," she laughed.

"A forbidden fruit," Elena insisted, growling appreciatively.

"Go bathe in holy water, you shrew," Morticia deadpanned eliciting a loud laugh from her friend.

There was an urgent knock on the door and a second later, Michael stepped in, almost overshadowed by the various boxes and bags in his hands.

"What took you so long?" Elena growled at him.

"I went shopping," he explained apologetically, placing a soft kiss on Morticia's cheek."I'm gonna make you gorgeous for your wedding day."

"I was born gorgeous," she smirked."What were you shopping for?"

"Well, I thought you'd appreciate some ...ehm, romantic lingerie for your wedding night," he winked at her and laughed when she swatted him in the chest. "And who does bridal lingerie better than Queen De Montparnasse?"

"Who?" the two women asked in unison.

"Oh for the love of - " he groaned exasperatedly before throwing the ivory box to Morticia's laps.

No one could ever claim that Fester Addams was an expert in the art of romance but he was pretty sure the relationship of his brother and Morticia must be the most insane love affair in the history. There he was, having a nice, bitter coffee with Dementia, telling her all about the latest developments in the subject of Gomez and Morticia - the gossip newspaper and Gomez's frantic reaction, and Dementia sucked in every word as if it was some movie drama, and the next thing he knew Thing showed up out of nowhere, announcing that Gomez and Morticia were getting married...today… as in - they were digging their rings out as they spoke.

He looked at Dementia, half-confused, half-embarrassed and asked her if she wanted to come with him for this impromptu wedding.

She did.

She all but dragged him all the way to the mansion and he was so stunned it hadn't even occurred to him to ask how on earth she even knew the way.

They arrived home in no time but everyone was already waiting, so he didn't even have a chance to change into something more wedding appropriate.

"It's so wonderful to finally meet you, my dear," his mother beamed at Dementia."I thought he will never bring you over to meet me."

"Tell me about it," Dementia moaned good-naturedly."Thank heavens for spontaneous weddings."

Fester only rolled his eyes but couldn't find it in him to be even slightly annoyed but the exchange because Morticia - dressed in a long black dress, holding her bridal bouquet of freshly cut rose thorns, beamed at him happily and next to her his brother - happier than he has ever seen him in his life.

It felt to him surreal, this whole ceremony, he longed to catalogue every minute of it, every gesture, every feeling and he couldn't take his eyes off her beautiful face and how absolutely blissfully happy she looked, gazing at him tenderly with the love so profoundly reflected in her eyes he felt his heart constrict under her gaze.

"Dearly beloved, Gomez and Morticia," the priest started officially but smiled kindly at the couple. If Gomez Addams was so intent to marry in a Catholic tradition, Father Harry Scullion was going to milk it for what it's worth and so he continued in a soft melodic voice." You have come together here before a minister of the Church, and in the presence of the community so that your intention to enter into marriage may be strengthened by the Lord with a sacred seal, and your love enriched with his blessing, so that you may have the strength to be faithful to each other forever and to assume all the responsibilities of married life. And so, in the presence of the Church, I ask you to state your intention. Have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?"

The couple looked at each other lovingly before replying in unison.

"We have."

"Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honour each other for as long as you both shall live?"

"We do."

"Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?"

They frowned gently and looked at each other in slight bemusement and then they both simply shrugged and then coughed and mumbled something that more or less the priest decided to accept as consent.

Sort of.

"Since it is your intention to enter into the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church," the priest declared." Gomez, you go first, just repeat after me: I, Gomez Addams, take thee, Morticia Frump to be my lawfully wedded wife…"

Gomez took the wedding band Thing handed him and turned towards Morticia. His heart was racing so fast he could barely hear what the priest was saying, all he could think about that this divine creature before him was going to be his wife, she will belong to him, she will be his to worship for the rest of his life. He slowly slid the gold band on her left ring finger - it fitted perfectly.

"I, Gomez Addams, take thee, Morticia Frump," he whispered with a noticeable tremor in his voice because his throat was too constrained with the whole array of blissful emotions to voice the words any louder and he cleared his throat before continuing, "To be my lawfully wedded wife," Gomez repeated and watched Morticia swallow heavily and look up, blinking rapidly and when she looked back at Gomez her eyes were glistening with tears. He was so focused on her he could barely comprehend what the priest told him to repeat but he found himself whispering the words with surprising confidence," I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life."

Father Scullion smiled and turned towards Morticia, handing her the wedding band and told her the first part of her marriage voes she was supposed to repeat.

"I, Morticia Frump, take thee, Gomez Addams, to be my lawfully wedded husband," she said, her voice trembling and barely above a whisper as she slid the wedding ring on Gomez's finger."I promise to-," she whispered but, annoyingly, her voice broke and she blinked furiously to get rid of the tears that were now clouding her vision but her chest was so constricted with such profound love for this mad Castillian before her she could barely say a word.

Fortunately, the priest seemed to realize that without her telling him and promptly came to her aid.

"Morticia, do you take Gomez to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honour him all the days of your life? He asked and smiled at the bride when she looked at him gratefully.

"I do," she whispered hoarsely and before the priest could say another word she wrapped her arms around Gomez's neck and kissed him firmly.

"What God joins together, let no one put asunder." the priest declared promptly because the whole room erupted in cheers and the newly wedded couple before him seemed to be aware of nothing but each other. "I present to you Mr and Mrs Addams."

"Awww, El, don't cry," Michael teased, elbowing her gently.

"Shut up, I'm not crying," she replied, wiping her wet cheeks."You're crying."

After the celebratory drinks, toasting for the love and happiness of the newlyweds, Elena insisted they all go out to celebrate the happy occasion. The festive activities that ensued lasted until the early hours of the morning and even Father Scullion was convinced to join.

There was not a single person in the club who did not raise a bewildered eyebrow at the priest dancing vivaciously with none other but Eudora Addams at his side and Morticia wasn't sure who was more plastered at the end of the night, but sure enough, her newly acquired mother-in-law knew how to hold her liquor, not unlike the dear priest.

Unsurprisingly, Lurch, with his vivacious personality and superior dancing skills, was the biggest hit of the night and when Gomez and Morticia bid their goodnight, leaving everyone to continue the celebrations without them, Lurch only managed to wave at them, so occupied was he with quite a sizeable circle of women surrounding him.

When the newly wedded couple arrived back at the house, the mansion felt eerily quiet. Not that they were complaining, they were more than happy to have the house to themselves for the night.

"Who would have thought mama was such a party animal," Morticia commented playfully as they entered the house, eliciting an amused laugh from her handsome Castillian.

"She's full of surprises," he admitted, wrapping her arms around her."Although, I wonder who'll have a bigger hangover, later on, mama or our good old Father Scullion," he snickered."They took quite enthusiastically to the celebration."

"Hmmmm," she murmured agreeably and nuzzled his cheek playfully."I believe we still have some celebrations to attend to, mon cher," she purred suggestively and laughed when he growled against her lips and all but dragged her up the stairs.

He stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs and she almost bumped into him as he turned towards her, his eyes gleaming.

"Let's dance," he murmured against her lips.

She laughed in amused disbelief.

"But darling, we've danced all night," she pointed out, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Ah, but when was the last time we've waltzed?"

"Here?" she asked pointing out at the two of them. "At the top of the staircase?"

He shook his head and grinned at her before leading them to the room at the top of the stairs and opened the doors.

"Here," he whispered, letting her in first.

It was dark inside, save for the moonlight seeping through the ornamental windows. There were tables and chairs snugged in the corners, draped with the white clothes, the faint scent of dust lingered in the air.

"I didn't realize you have a ballroom," she remarked, looking around the vast room in awe.

"We have a ballroom, Mrs Addams," he corrected her and lifted her hands to his lips and she smiled at him happily.

"Mrs Addams," she repeated, tasting the words on her tongue."It still feels unreal."

"I know," he whispered, taking her into his arms.

"It's magnificent," she admitted, looking around the room."There's no music, though."

He looked at her, clearly baffled.

"But can't you hear it?"

She shook her head, smiling at his antics.

"Oh, but I do," he insisted." I do hear music every time I see you."

She felt her heart constrict at such unabashedly romantic statement and she doubted she'll ever stop feeling embarrassed about them but she loved hearing them, she absolutely adored them and would gladly drink every sweet word of his lips every day for the rest of their forever.

She didn't have words to reply to him. She drew him close and captured his lips into a loving kiss.

She didn't remember how they got to the bedroom. Did she walk or did he carry her? She only remembered how he made her feel, his touch, his lips, the delightful strings of Spanish endearments, his sharp intake of breath when he freed her off her dress.

"Cara mia," he whispered passionately, pressing her body against his and attacked her neck in a myriad of arduous kisses, eliciting a soft moan out of her.

She expected the same heat, the same need and passion as it always penetrated her entire being when they were together but, somehow, it felt different because among the torrents of passion there was also this undeniable sense of peace.

She felt content. Safe. Complete.

He let out a soft grunt when she pushed him onto the bed and straddled him, attacking his lips is a loving kiss. She was absolutely undone by the emotions in his eyes, the devotion in his soft kisses and caresses as they took possession of each other.

"Mine," he whispered hoarsely again and again as he moved inside her in sharp, forceful motions, letting her moans of pleasure surround him and fill him."I love you, God, I love you so much."

"I'm almost afraid to go to sleep," he admitted quietly, caressing her naked back as she lay contently in his arms in the early hours of the morning. "Afraid, it's all but a dream and you'd be gone when I wake up."

"Does it feel like a dream?" she asked against his lips before capturing them in a loving kiss.

"Better. So much better and more wondrous than any dream could ever be," he smiled at her and lifted her left hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto her wedding ring.

"If it's a dream, I wish to never wake up, I never want to wake up again without you at my side," she confessed, caressing his face lovingly.

"You will never have to," he promised."I swear my beautiful wife will be the first and the last thing I will see every single day for the rest of forever."

"Excellent idea," she smiled at him and then bit her lip gently."I love you so much," she whispered, slipping her fingers into his hair and kissed him softly.

"I love you, querida," he murmured against her lips."And you belong to me now," he smiled at her wolfishly.

"I already belonged to you," she pointed out.

"Ah, but now it's different," he insisted, pulling her even closer to himself."Now it's legally witnessed, signed and stamped. You, Mrs Addams, are mine," he grinned at her and sealed his words with a firm kiss on her smiling lips.

"Yours," she promised in a breathless whisper. "Always."

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful feedback for the last chapter, really glad you've all enjoyed it. :)

Chapter 18

It wasn't that Morticia had any particular ideas as to how her first day a married woman would start - except, of course, she could have had some particularly beguiling, educated guesses but, nevertheless, being jumped at by a forty pounds of a lion cub was not even on her list of top one thousand.

"Kitty," she moaned tiredly, startled from her sleep."Are you insane? What on earth are you doing? Get off me," she scolded gently but Kitty only let out an adorable little roar and proceeded to try to squeeze himself between her and Gomez, making Morticia laugh."What came over you, you fluffy devil?"

"You're in his spot," Gomez murmured sleepily into her bare arm.

Morticia frowned as if unsure she heard correctly. She was -

"Excuse me?" she asked, entirely too amused.

"That's his spot, he - " he faltered and blinked furiously as if suddenly realizing what he just said.

"Gomez... darling," she cooed at him softly and was immediately rewarded with an annoyed glare from her husband, which only made her laugh.

"Don't Gomez darling me like that - it's not what you think... that fluffy beast - he scratches my door and whines all night if I don't let him in," he scattered his explanation but in vain for his wife only gazed at him with a complete glee in her eyes at the information.

"Do you really?" Morticia murmured softly to the cub, caressing his soft mane."Do you like to snuggle with Gomez?"

"I knew I should have got you an octopus," Gomez groaned in defeat.

"And I knew you secretly adored him," she teased, casting a knowing side glance in his direction as she petted the lion.

"In a stew with side pickles maybe," he deadpanned, reaching for his cigar and next to him Morticia laughed with amusement.

"I shall not reveal it to anyone, I promise," she grinned at him."It will be our little secret."

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"I won't tell a soul - "

"Vulture - why didn't I get a vulture?"

" - that my husband likes to cuddle with our pet lion."

He almost choked on his cigar.

"You shall pay dearly for this, Mrs Addams," he announced, eliciting another laugh out of her, before - to his wife's outraged gasp - he nudged the lion off Morticia and the pet jumped off the bed, roaring at him in annoyance."Kitty, scram," he huffed at him and got out of the bed, completely naked and prodded the lion out of the room with his foot.

"Gomez, don't kick him," she scolded, propping herself on her forearms."He's just a baby."

"I did not kick him," he protested, closing the door and approached the bed." I nudged him," he insisted, sneaking his hand under the covers." And now…"

She squealed in surprise when she felt his hand wrap firmly around her ankle before she was unceremoniously pulled towards him and before she could say anything he's already climbed on top of her.

"Now, let's have a proper good morning," he murmured suggestively and captured her smiling lips into a ferocious kiss.

Ophelia bit her lower lips apprehensively as she replaced the phone receiver in its place. She could tell that her husband did not exactly believe her excuse for staying over at his mother's house - even though it wasn't exactly a lie.

Jared came over yesterday's evening after Dorothy called him to let him know that Ophelia will be staying with her for a few days. Ophelia told him about the morning in the hospital, about what her mother told her and how upsetting it was. Her husband was understanding and sympathetic but she couldn't shake off the feeling that he knew she wasn't telling him everything. That it wasn't her mother alone that was the cause of her upset.

Or perhaps, it was her own guilt playing up because she hated to lie to him but she was so anxious to tell him. She knew that this marriage - this marriage that now had no chances of happening - could have been a huge business opportunity for Jared, to prove himself, to show that there was more to him than simply managing the inherited business. This could have been his very own venture, his very own success and not something he merely took over after his father stepped down from managing the company.

How was she going to break it to him that this dream was over? It was over before it was fully formed because her sister betrayed her. She betrayed all of them.

And there was no option not to tell him because he would find out soon enough. There was no doubt about it since Morticia was obviously inclined to make a spectacle of herself and this affair with Addams.

And now, now Jared informed her that her sister didn't come home for the night and Ophelia had no doubt where and with whom Morticia was. She didn't mention anything to him anything, though. She told him the only thing that immediately came to her mind - it was summer holiday and Morticia was an adult but yes, of course, she will speak with her. Yes, he was right that it didn't do any good to her reputation.

It was unthinkable, the sheer audacity of her actions. It truly appeared as if her sister completely lost her mind and Ophelia was at a loss as to what to do. She hoped that whatever plan Dorothy had will work, although she really doubted there was anything else to do here but damage control.

God, what a disaster.

She took a deep breath and pinched her cheeks before making her way to the patio where her son and her mother-in-law were currently busy colouring pictures.

"Black," Charlie exclaimed, pointing at the green crayon.

"That's not black, munchkin," Dorothy replied softly." It's green, look, it's green like the grass in granny's garden."

"Black."

"Don't bother," Ophelia smiled as she sat on the chair next opposite."Every colour is black now."

"He does that on purpose?" Dorothy asked and watched Ophelia shrug and then nod in confirmation."That's odd because last week he knew all his colours and now everything is black."

"Tishy loves black," Charlie grinned at her."Look, mama, black," he said, pointing at the bright yellow crayon.

"It's lovely, sweetie," she smiled at the boy before her expression turned serious. "Jared told me she didn't spend the night at home."

Dorothy raised her eyebrow is a gentle acknowledgement and pursed her lips in slight annoyance.

"Did he say anything else?" she asked with unspoken 'does he suspect where she spent the night' hang between them.

"No," Ophelia replied, smoothing her son's blond hair and smiled indulgently when he grunted at her and messed them up all over again."But it won't take long before someone sees them and informs him about it."

Dorothy nodded in agreement.

"No doubt about that," she mused morosely.

"The whole city is going to know that my sister is having an affair with Gomez Addams," Ophelia said in a painful whisper. "And they will not delay sharing this with Francois, I'm sure."

"Gomez is fun," Charlie blurted suddenly, still busy filling the space on the paper with all the colours in his possession.

Both women frowned in surprise at his words.

"What's that, munchkin?" Dorothy asked softly.

"Gomez is fun," Charlie repeated happily."I like Gomez."

"Oh, is he really?" Dorothy causally inquired further."When did you see him?"

"We go zoo with Gomez," Charlie explained and then looked at his grandmother furtively before leaning over and whispering to her ear:" We go big slide," he grinned sneakily.

When the newlyweds have finally made it downstairs for lunch, the kitchen table was occupied by three very hungover people. Indeed, Fester, Elena and Michael looked like something just chewed and spit them out, each holding their heads hidden firmly in between their hands while Eudora hummed happily to herself moving briskly next to the stove, obviously in the midst of preparing lunch - not a care in the world and certainly not a sign of hangover here.

"Why, darling," Gomez beloved happily to his wife, earning himself looks of pure loath from the three occupants at the kitchen table."Look at this merry bunch, aren't they adorable?"

"I hate you," Elena murmured.

"I think they've had a tad too much to drink," Eudora commented casually, pouring the content of the bowl onto a sizzling pan, stirring it gently.

Everyone looked at her incredulously.

"Mama, I don't think all of us combined drank even half of what you and Father Scullion drank together," Fester pointed out.

"Oh well, then you obviously still have much to learn, younglings."

"Where is Father Scullion, anyway?" Morticia asked as she took a seat at the chair Gomez held out for her. "And Dementia?"

"Oh, he had a morning mass at six o'clock," Eudora explained."Dementia's at work, she starts at eight."

"Didn't they sleep at all?"

"No, by the time we put them all to beds it was almost five anyway," she informed her newly acquired daughter-in-law."So I made a coffee and we had a nice chat...by the way," she added, turning towards Fester."Care to explain why is your cousin Balthazar supposedly dead?"

Fester immediately shrank in his chair.

"Oh, that - " he mumbled in embarrassment and didn't quite miss the way Gomez and Morticia smirked at him.

"Yes, that," his mother confirmed sternly."Not to mention that apparently, those two," she pointed to Gomez and Morticia."Were engaged for months ever since they've met at the funeral of our dear Balthazar?"

"Ugh...you didn't tell her the truth, did you?" he asked, clearly mortified at the prospect.

"Of course I did," she insisted and didn't even bat an eyelid when her eldest son flopped dramatically over the kitchen table.

"I'm so dead -" he moaned miserably.

"What possessed you to tell her such fibs?" she asked."And you two should not have participated in his little charade," she accused, pointing her finger at the newlywed couple.

"Come on, mama, it's just a few harmless facts alterations," Gomez defended his brother with a cheerful smile on his face. "All in a good faith."

Morticia turned towards her husband with an amused expression on her face.

"I would just love to see you performing in court," she remarked, propping her chin on the pillow of her hand."Harmless facts alterations?"

"Well, we were engaged, in the end," he pointed out.

"For three hours."

"Three and a half," he corrected. "A dream of an engagement," he reflected before placing a quick kiss to her smiling lips.

"I had a dream the white bear carpet roared at me," Michael mumbled tiredly.

"Oh, that's just Bruno," Gomez supplied."He's always grumpy."

"Rotten attitude," Eudora agreed, placing the food on everyone's plates.

"What's this?" Michael asked in dismay."Worms?"

"Why, of course," Eudora confirmed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world." Urechis unicinctus - highly nutritious, high in protein, excellent for the hangover and other after party aliments. Very popular in Korean and Chinese cuisine and also facetiously called a 'penis worm'. Enjoy!"

Morticia couldn't help but smile when Michael poked his food with a fork and twitched as if was about to bite him.

"Can't believe I've ever complained about my mother's cooking," he muttered in disbelief.

"See, it's all about perspective," Elena smirked at him before biting into her food."Hmmm…"

"Are you for real?"

Elena chewed her food thoughtfully, apparently perked up by her friend's obvious dismay.

"Try it, it's delicious," she suggested with a mean smirk, when Michael turned a curious shade of green, before turning towards Eudora."What did you add to give it this nutty, slightly bitter flavour? I love it."

"Arsenic," Eudora replied."Excellent in soups as well and as a stimulant - it will perk you all up in no time."

"Mrs Addams, you must give me the recipe."

"Of course, I have a whole recipe book," the older woman remarked happily before furrowing her brows slightly."You will need to ask Morticia where it is, though, because I don't remember where the hell did I put it."

"The recipe?" Michael hissed."Where the hell do you even buy the ingredients for this tragedy of culinary experience?"

"Oh," Elena frowned and turned towards Morticia."Where do you buy those stuff from?"

"Mrs Addams grows most of the herbs in the conservatory and the -"

Eudora cleared her throat and clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"Enough with Mrs Addams, Mrs Addams," she admonished firmly but there was clear amusement laced in her voice. "You are Mrs Addams now and I am, from now on, to be referred to as... Mama Addams."

"Awww, that's so sweet," Elena murmured softly before turning towards Morticia."So...Mrs Addams," she remarked pointedly between bites of her food and, somehow, Morticia knew what was coming before her friend managed to utter another word."How is married sex? Is it as bad as legends say?"

There was no doubt in his mind that Ophelia wasn't telling him the whole truth. He didn't think she exactly lied to him but she was definitely hiding something. Something that had to do with that little witch spending the night God knows where and he couldn't exactly ask where the hell she's been all night because the damned wench was yet to come home.

He was sure she was doing this deliberately for the sole purpose of vexing him since she knew he wouldn't be pleased with such behaviour. Especially since gossip spread in this city like wildfire. Gods, if they could only get this damn engagement out of the way, or better yet, the whole blasted wedding. He would gladly even cover the whole costs just to have this insufferable girl out off his back.

He could not, for the life of his, understand why was she being such a pain. How could their parents have raised two people that were different literally like night and day was beyond him? Poor Francios had no idea what he was signing into but then, he warned him, didn't he?

He still didn't know what did that poor bastard saw in Morticia but whatever it was he seemed to really like her. Even more surprising was the fact that Morticia seemed to like him as well. Jared observed them discreetly the whole evening in the theatre and he could tell there was obvious chemistry between them. If all goes well, ideally those two would be officially engaged by the time Francois and his little brat were due to return home next week.

Everything was finally working out as it should be.

Conveniently so, with his wife and son staying over at his mother's, he could safely dismiss the staff for a couple of days and enjoy the house all to himself. Not that Jared did not enjoy family life - he did but it was nice to have a break. What he really could do without was his butler and the housekeeper furtively watching his alcohol intake. It annoyed the hell out of him. He was an adult for God's sake and if he wanted to enjoy a drink or two before bed it was his own damn business.

It was also his own damn business if he chose to spend the night out and he despised the knowing looks that Fanny bestowed upon him when he returned early in the morning to change his clothes - clothes that bore the obvious signs of another woman on them. Damn women and their stupid lipsticks. True, they looked enticing on their lips but less so when they ended up on his shirt because there was nothing to be done except disposing of if it immediately because the damn thing would just not come off.

Oh God, those people and their holy outrage - as if he was the only man on the planet engaging with extramarital thirsts every now and then. As if they were holier than thou. At least he was discreet. More discreet than most of his friends and acquaintances. Certainly more discreet that the old Addams ever was. Besides, what his wife didn't know could not hurt her and he was determined for her to never find out.

He was well aware that Fanny wouldn't say anything to Ophelia or to his mother, for that matter, but he was equally sure she shared quite a lot of her suspicions with Morticia - which was another reason he could not stand his sister-in-law. Her and that damned accusing, knowing gaze of hers. It didn't matter that she's never told her sister what she knew, that conscious look in her eyes was to him worse than anything.

"Jared, my boy, good to see you."

Well, here went his hopes of having his lunch in peace but he forced a pleasant smile on his face.

"Howard," he greeted and stood up to shake his hand, briefly noticing that the man should definitely lay off the doughnuts, he started to look more pregnant than his wife.

"Mind if I joined you?" Howards asked and sat down at his table before Jared could think of any excuse.

"It would be my pleasure," he smiled and motioned at the waiter to come over.

They shared a small talk while the waiter took their orders and poured them the red wine into their glasses but Jared knew Howard and he knew this was certainly more than a mere social call.

The man before him was a long time business associate of his father's and liked to play a good meaning uncle with Jared which usually meant criticising Jared's business decisions and giving advice Jared never asked for.

It was infuriating as hell.

"Jared, I've known you all your life and you're like a son to me," Howard said with a kind smile and Jared resisted an urge to flinch. So it was one of those talks again. "So let me get straight to the point, it will do no good for your sister-in-law to spend so much time in the company of Gomez Addams. The whole city is talking about it."

Of course they were, Jared thought in annoyance, suppressing almost overwhelming need to roll his eyes. Howard probably didn't know a damn thing himself and was simply fishing for information.

"It's nothing like that," Jared interjected with all the nonchalance he could muster and leaned back slightly against his chair."She works for his mother, that's all."

Howards raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Indeed?" he asked, drawling the words in a sardonic manner as if he knew something that Jared didn't.

"Why?" he asked casually.

"Because I've just heard some interesting bits," he snickered, biting into his breadsticks and chewed it slowly without offering any more information.

"What bits?" he asked, subduing his growing annoyance.

"Apparently, you sister-in-law was seen in the city yesterday night," he explained slowly, toying with the broken bits of the dry bread."In the company of none other than Gomez Addams himself and they seemed very friendly. Trying to catch two birds with one stone, Jared?" he smirked knowingly."I'm not sure Mr Chalon will appreciate," he continued sardonically."Or is this whole engagement just a story Dorothy cooked up to cover for the fact that your wife's sister was Mr Addams's new playtoy?"

Jared felt his whole body tense at the information and he immediately knew that this was the exact reason why his wife chose to stay over at his mother's. And now the whole city -

Why, that ungrateful wench, what the hell was she doing? She knew damn well what was expected of her, she knew what was at stake and how important the Chalons was for him and she was whoring with that bloody Lothario for the whole city to see -

Oh, of course, he almost laughed out loud. Well, one had to admire the nerve of that woman, the lengths she will go just to piss him off.

"I appreciate your concern, Howard," he replied silkily, taking a sip of his wine and forcing an unconcerned smile on his face."However, there's nothing to worry about."

Howard laughed knowingly.

"And I appreciate a good poker face," he remarked, smiling at him in an amusing manner." But don't you think it simply does not bode well for the future marriage if the bride-to-be takes on such a cavalier attitude with her reputation?"

"Times's changed, my friend," Jared smiled at him indulgently." As I said, nothing to worry about."

"That might be but if I were you, I would have a little talk with the girl all the same," he advised, his tone more sombre now. "I know the young Addams quite well and if you think he will marry her - "

"I would rather kill her myself," Jared interjected tensely.

"Now, now," Howard smiled indulgently which told Jared that his reaction was perhaps more aggressive than he intended to."We all know that Mr Addams is very popular with women but if you think of using your sister-in-law to marry into that family - "

"Are you insane?" he blurted in disbelief.

"All I'm saying is that Addams will not bother to marry her because her reputation was at stake - he doesn't give a damn about that," he pointed out."And it would be a shame to lose the business prospects the Chalons could give you."

Jared shook his head in bewilderment.

"Now let me tell you something, my friend," he retorted tensely."I have no intentions to be related to those kooks in any way. I don't care what rumours people are spreading, there's absolutely nothing between Morticia and that bloody Lothario."

"If you say so."

"I do," he insisted.

"Remember, though," Howards said slowly."That despite what it may seem like, the times haven't changed that much at all. A ruined reputation," he added pointedly, standing up from his chair."Is still a ruined reputation and that goes far deeper than marriage opportunities…," he paused deliberately, letting his point sink in." Enjoy your lunch, my friend."

Their first day as a married couple turned out to be busier than she could have anticipated, she truly did not expect the amount of paperwork that was involved in changing one's marital status but her husband insisted they should take care of straight away. Gomez's accountant slash lawyer, Tully Alford, arrived in the afternoon with their marriage license - which Morticia had not the slightest idea how did he manage to acquire it since apparently, by law, they were supposed to get it at least three days before the wedding, but then she reckoned there was little point to worry about that. There was a whole lot of documents to be signed to change her name on all legal documents as well as Gomez's insistence on adding her name to his bank account - which Morticia found quite a bit awkward. Gomez told her she was being silly - she was his wife after all and why shouldn't she have unrestricted access to the money that was now also legally hers. Which was all fine, except she did not realize exactly just how rich the Addamses were and it felt disconcerting to be suddenly part of such fortune.

"It feels weird," she told him later when Gomez came back from seeing Tully to the gate.

"Only because you're being weird about it, my dear," he smiled at her indulgently and he sat next to her on the sofa next to the fireplace, linking his hand with hers."It's your money too."

"It feels awkward, I can't get used to it," she admitted. "I didn't realize you were that rich."

"So?" he laughed, clearly amused.

"People are going to think I married you for the money," she complained uncharacteristically and her confession elicited another laugh from him.

"Why darling, money is the primary reason those people get married in the first place," he pointed out lightly."You know that. You can't really do anything about what people think, cara," he smiled at her. "I don't understand why does it bother you so much?"

"I don't know either," she admitted with a gentle shrug."I just…"

"What?"

She looked at him tentatively as if unsure she should voice her thoughts. Until he looked at her worryingly and she realized that perhaps he thought she was beginning to regret her decision and she simply could not have that. She wrapped her hands around his and placed a warm kiss to his knuckles and felt him relax under the gentle caress.

"I don't really care what people are going to say," she assured."I'm worried… I can't help to think about how it's going to affect my sister."

He looked at her tenderly and wrapped his arm around her, bringing her closer to himself until she rested her head on his shoulder. He wished she wouldn't have to worry about that - how wonderful would it be if they could have just focus on each other, to just bask in the glorious feeling of being happily in love without thinking how their actions affect other people around them. But alas -

"Can't do anything about that either," he whispered."But your mother will get the treatment and the care she needs, and you have married the man who loves you madly and will spend the rest of his life making your happiness his utmost priority."

He felt her smile and she raised her head to look at him tenderly.

"I wish she could understand that," she smiled at him, framing his face with her hands. "I wish there was a way to make her see how wonderful you are," she whispered caressing his cheek lovingly." How kind and generous. If I could only make her understand that you're the best thing that ever happened to me and I love you so much," she added, kissing him softly." Even though you're so disgustingly rich."

"A terrible flaw," he joked hoarsely, quite unable to tear his eyes off her because this look in her eyes - her love for him, her utter adoration and commitment to this marriage but most of all her trust in him - this trust he worked so hard to earn and she finally gifted him with meant to him more than he could possibly ever comprehend or express in any way. This woman before him meant to him so much more than such a paltry term as love could ever contain. So much more. And he will gladly spend the rest of his life, showing her every day how much she meant to him.

"It does feel awkward," she quipped, deliberately breaking the seriousness of the moment.

"Does it?" he asked, placing a soft kiss to the crown of her head."Then let me make if for you absolutely unbearable..., that money in the bank accounts is... just the money from my investment businesses," he grinned at her."What people don't know, is that... there's a vault down in the dungeon and that's where the real Addams fortune lays."

She looked at him sharply and her eyes immediately illuminated with curiosity.

"Hold on," she gazed at him bemusedly."There's a dungeon...and nobody told me?"

He looked at her incredulously.

"Tish, I took you through the secret passage to my bedroom the first time we -"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him.

"I didn't pay attention to the scenery then!"

He had to bite his cheeks to prevent himself from laughing and the gesture was not lost to his wife who immediately graced him with a glare.

"Do you want to see it?" he proposed instead.

"Do I?" she asked incredulously, fisting her fingers into his black shirt."Take me there at once," she insisted promptly and then blushed when she saw the amused expression on his face and realized how exactly did he choose to interpret her demand."Take your mind out of the gutter, I didn't mean it that way."

"You didn't?" he teased mercilessly."Because I reckon, my dear Mrs Addams, that you'd find being taken in the dungeon quite an experience."

"You're incorrigible, I swear," she laughed, placing her hands on his broad chest and kissed his smiling lips."Although," she added in a deliberately sultry tone, biting his lower lip gently and heard him groan at the back of his throat." Perhaps I should take you up on your...offer."

"You've deliberately destroyed my dress," she accused half-heartedly as they made their way to the bedroom through the passage in the dungeon after they finished...ahem, thoroughly exploring the dungeon.

"It accidentally tore…" he insisted, not even trying to sound apologetic.

"To pieces?"

He only grinned at her.

"We'll go buy you new ones," he said, skillfully navigating his way through the dark corridor. "Although, let me tell you that you look absolutely gorgeous wearing my shirt," he replied instead letting her go first through the long corridor."Watch your head."

"I can't wear your shirts forever, Gomez," she pointed out as she opened the hidden door to their bedroom.

"Let's go shopping then, long dresses...like the ones Michael brought you," he proposed, sneaking his hands around her waist, pressing her back against his chest."I love when you wear those long dresses," he admitted, already placing soft kisses along her arm.

"Do you?" she asked in a faux surprise, turning to smile at him knowingly."I haven't noticed."

"All those enchanting layers...hmmmm...like a precious gift waiting to be opened - all mine," he growled appreciatively against her neck. "The things it does to my imagination. And the fact that nobody else can see this glorious body of yours - just me."

She tilted her head to look at him in a pretend outrage.

"Chauvinist," she quipped.

"I can't help it, cara mia," he admitted sheepishly in between placing soft, luxurious kisses along her jaw bone making it increasingly difficult for her to even remember what they were talking about. "God knows I've tried but you're so divinely exquisite - I hate the thought that some other men can look at you in the way only I'm allowed to look."

She laughed gently before turning in his arms to face him.

"Gomez, you know you really needn't be jealous of no one," she assured him.

"I know," he replied." And I have never been jealous of a woman before in my life, but I know men have only one thing on their mind."

"Hmmm, tell me about it," she retorted with an exaggerated sigh."But if it will please my husband so, I shall always wear my dresses long," she promised.

"God, yes please," he moaned, kissing her firmly."It will please your husband tremendously."

"It will please your wife even more so since I absolutely abhor any dresses shorter than floor-length anyway."

"Let's go then...we'll buy everything you need: dresses and lingerie on the top of the list of priorities," he added cheekily.

"Dresses and lingerie?" she repeated, amusement dancing in her dark eyes.

"Indeed," he nodded eagerly."It's Christmas come early for Gomez Addams."

It probably shouldn't surprise her that her husband knew quite a lot about women's fashion and he was indeed very particular in his choices and she was all too happy to comply for his tastes in fashion were as exquisite as the man himself and he spared no expenses, more than happy to indulge his beautiful wife in every way possible.

He took her to the most expensive and exclusive seamstress in town and somehow it did not surprise either that the woman, Claudia, and her husband were on a first name basis - even though she specialized in women's clothing only. Indeed, the moment Morticia saw the woman and the place itself she was absolutely in love in every piece of clothing displayed.

"And who is this beguiling creature?" Claudia asked curiously, gazing pointedly at Morticia.

"Pardon me, where are my manners?" he laughed in a mild embarrassment, wrapping his arm around Morticia's waist."My dear, this is Claudia Pollard - an absolute textile artist," he grinned before turning back to the woman."And this enchanting creature is my wife, Morticia."

"Your... wife?" the woman exclaimed, blinking at him in surprise.

"My very own," he grinned proudly.

"Well it's an absolute pleasure to meet you, my dear," Claudia smiled and extended her hand towards Morticia.

"Pleasure's all mine," Morticia smiled at the older woman.

"And my congratulations, you make a beautiful couple," Claudia complemented before regarding Gomez with a thunderous gaze."Why, you cad, you never even mentioned you were engaged. Your mother was here just last week and she didn't mention a thing either!"

"Oh, we wanted a small, private wedding," Morticia explained promptly."And the rumours spread so quickly."

"Oh, you don't have t tell me that," Claudia waved her hand and nodded knowingly."It's a miracle nobody found out anyway. So what can I do for you, my dear?"

"Well, I need a few new dresses and Gomez suggested I might like what you have on offer," Morticia admitted looking around. "And I certainly have to agree, your work is truly enchanting."

"Why, thank you very much," she smiled gratefully." Indeed, I take my craft very seriously, everything here is hand-made."

"Oh, that's just wonderful," Morticia replied, clasping her hands together.

Gomez couldn't help but smile as he watched his wife telling Claudia exactly what she wanted and the older woman made careful notes, popping her own suggestions here and there.

"We do have some ready-to-wear models if you'd like to try them," Claudia remarked to Morticia with a kind smile." The rest will be ready within two weeks. I will send it to you directly, of course.

"That's marvellous," Morticia replied so absolutely delighted with the prospect of never having to wear a dress shorter than floor-length ever again she was quite unable to contain the glee. She will make a bonfire from all the knee-length dresses she had to wear all those years.

"I will have to take your measurements, my dear, if you - "

"Thirty-six, twenty-one, thirty-six," Gomez supplied immediately, between the puffs of his cigar and smirked when both women looked at him curiously."What? It is."

Morticia narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Yes but...how do you know that?" she asked but because her husband only grinned at her suggestively she prudently decided not to pursue the subject any further.

Claudia clearly had the same idea and simply noted the measurements and turned towards Gomez.

"And the height about five foot eight?" she asked.

"Five foot ten," Gomez corrected casually, purposely avoiding his wife's bewildered look.

Morticia waited until the woman disappeared to prepare and pack their purchases before turning towards Gomez with an expectant look on her face.

"What?" he asked finally, highly amused.

"You know what," she replied, poking him gently in his ribs."How do you know all that?"

"Cara mia," he murmured, sneaking his arm around her waist, and placed a soft kiss to her neck."I know every inch of this glorious body," he whispered in between kisses." You're so exquisite. The most sublime being on earth."

She smiled at him, even though it still embarrassed her - this open adoration and the fact that he was so open about it even in public but at the same time she loved it too much to even consider stopping him. Ever.

"Tish," he whispered softly."You don't mind that I've told her, do you?"

She looked at him in surprise.

"No darling, of course not. I don't want to hide it," she assured, smiling softly. She wasn't about to shout it from the rooftops but certainly wasn't going to hide it either.

"Here you are, love," Claudia's voice reached them and they both turned to see the woman standing behind them with their purchases neatly wrapped into black, rectangle boxed.

Morticia couldn't help but take a peek.

"They are so beautiful," she sighed."I can't wait to wear them."

"I can't wait to take them off you," her husband quipped cheekily.

He thought it would be somewhat awkward, at least at first, to get used to Morticia being his sister-in-law but that wasn't the case at all. If felt uncannily familiar as if this were their evening routine since forever, that it has always been like this - Gomez and Morticia nestled together on the pink, vintage sofa, Mama in her usual chair by the fireplace and him - Fester - in his favourite, battered armchair.

There was a new rhythm to their family dynamics but then there wasn't because it truly felt as if this is exactly where Morticia belonged - with them - as if all that time there was an empty space and now - now, they finally felt whole.

Suddenly, he caught his brother's worried look and it dawned upon him that he was probably staring at them too long and he smiled at Gomez, a bit embarrassed and shook his head to indicate that he was fine. He was more than fine and to see his brother so utterly and blissfully happy, so content and at peace meant the world to him.

It seemed that nothing could disrupt their tranquillity. Well… except that he was yet to face Dementia and admit to all the lies he was feeding her with all these past months but he decided not to think about it now. There was nothing for him to do but tell her the truth and ask her forgiveness.

"You really should take the master bedroom, though," Eudora insisted."Gomez's room is too small for two people."

"We're quite all right, Mama," Morticia insisted over the cup of henbane tea. "No need to evict yourself from your own bedroom," she added facetiously but Fester could tell that Mama's generosity, however well-meaning, was making Morticia uncomfortable.

"Nonsense," she prodded."You'll be much more comfortable in there and it's too large for me anyway."

"But we will soon be leaving for Switzerland anyway," Morticia replied softly.

"True enough, but you will visit often and, after all, you won't be staying there forever," Eudora pointed out, turning her eyes towards Gomez who was sitting next to his wife with his hand lazily draped over Morticia's shoulders and was absently playing with her raven tresses, twirling them around his fingers.

Gomez immediately took the cue and turned to Morticia.

"There's a huge bathtub in the master bedroom," he revealed and couldn't help but smirk when Morticia's practically froze in mid-movement as the teacup hovering next to her lips.

"All right, idea sold," she quipped."When can we move there?"

"Well, since we have already cleared it from all the boxes - even tomorrow," Eudora smiled at her happily."Besides…"

"Mama…" came Gomez's amused voice but his mother only waved at him in a dismissive manner.

"The master bedroom is right next to - "

"Mamaaa…"

"The nursery," Eudora finished pointedly.

"They've been married for slightly over a day," Fester pointed out, highly amused. "A bit too early to think about grandchildren, Mama."

"Yes, tell her!" Gomez groaned in exasperation, tilting his head back against the sofa and next to him Morticia laughed in amusement.

"Well, no pressure," his mother assured." Although, that nursery will come in handy... hopefully soon," she added under her nose.

"I knew there was a reason you were showing me all those Gomez's baby photos," Morticia smiled at her knowingly.

"Who could resist that cute little moustache?"

Morticia turned towards her husband who was, in turn, glaring at his mother and laughed at his embarrassment.

"It's true, you were so adorable," she admitted, kissing him on a cheek when he growled at them half-heartedly. "Absolutely scrumptious."

"Mama, you've ruined my reputation," he muttered unhappily.

"Oh, I think you've accomplished that task quite successfully on your own, dear," Eudora fired back without missing a bit and before her son could reply she put her empty glass at the coffee table and rose to her feet."Well, it's getting late, so it's goodnight for me."

The chorus of goodnights followed from the three young people in the room.

"I think I'll hit the hay as well," Fester declared before adding morosely."Tough day ahead tomorrow."

Morticia regarded him tenderly.

"It will be fine, you'll see," she assured."Just don't tell any more lies."

"Maybe Gomez can help me," Fester mused hopefully."He has such a way with words."

"Which part of no more lies did you not understand?" Morticia asked sternly but had to bite her cheeks when her husband huffed in outrage.

"Querida, you wound me."

Morticia only smiled at him and caressed his cheek gently with the tips of her fingers which seemed to be enough for her husband to practically melt under her touch as his lips already started their journey along her forearm.

"Aaaand that's my cue to say goodnight," Fester growled half-heartedly and rolled his eyes at his brother. He could swear that the mere fact of getting married seemed to have caused Gomez Addams to lose every bit of self-control he ever possessed when it came to Morticia - not that he had a lot of self-control to begin with but still.

"Goodnight, Fester," Morticia said, smiling at him softly and Gomez murmured something along those lines as well but who could be sure when his face was currently buried in the crook of Morticia's neck.

His brother really needed a hobby.

"God, I love the way you taste," Gomez whispered into her ear before biting into the soft skin just under and Morticia was truly glad they were left alone in the parlour because his cares made her feel lightheaded and she almost dropped her teacup with a saucer if Gomez didn't catch it skillfully without even detaching his lips from her neck.

Their lips joined in a heated kiss and before she knew it she was nestled in between the sofa cushions and his hot body. She was just about to surrender to him when she remembered there was something she wanted to discuss with him first, and now, preferably, before his kisses made her lost track of what she wanted to say.

"Gomez," she murmured gently detaching her lips from his.

"Cara?"

She smiled at him softly and framed his face with her hands.

"I want to see my mother tomorrow," she informed him and he nodded immediately.

"I'll take you," he promised."We can go straight after breakfast."

"Yes, but I was wondering if you...if you'd like to come with me… you know...to meet her," she offered tentatively and watched his eyes illuminate with pleasure.

"I'd love to," he assured.

"It's just… this won't be anything spectacular," she warned."She might not even look at you let alone say anything but...but I would like her to meet you."

"I understand," he nodded and smiled at her gently."It will mean a lot to me to meet her."

She kissed him softly but he felt her body tense after a moment and he wasn't at all surprised when she broke the kiss again and looked at him intently.

"My sister might be there as well," she told him slowly.

"Tish, it's fine," he assured and placed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"Are you sure?" she insisted."Because her tongue can be razor-sharp when she's angry."

"Hmmm, I noticed," he murmured." It seems to run in the family?" he asked cheekily.

"Hey," she reprimanded half-heartedly but had a good grace to blush."I'm serious, though, you don't need to come if you don't want to see her."

"I want to come," he assured."I'm sure deep inside she's a lovely girl."

"She can be a really sweet person," she remarked insistently but her dark eyes shone with amusement.

"I believe you," he replied in a tone that suggested exactly the opposite.

"An angel."

"Mhmmmm a doll," he deadpanned.

"Pity you can't stand each other."

"I will be an absolute gentleman to her forever and always," he promised before grinning at her caddishly."If you let me tell her that I'm her new brother-in-law."

She laughed out loud, tilting her head back.

"Absolutely not," she shook her head.

"Come on."

"Forget it," she laughed again before claiming his lips in a quick kiss."You devil."

Gomez raised his eyebrow and grinned at her suggestively but then his face softened and he looked at her tenderly.

"I can't believe how lucky I am," he whispered in breathless awe ."I can't believe that this is my life now - with you."

"Oh, my love," she uttered against his lips."There will never be enough words to convey just how blissfully happy you make me."

"Cara mia."

"Mon savage," she whispered lovingly before claiming his lips again in a ferocious kiss.

"Gods, your French - " he moaned ardently, involuntarily pressing his hips again hers.

"Mmmmm, let's go upstairs," she murmured suggestively as her husband busied himself with scattering soft kisses along her collarbone." I have some nightgowns you might want to see and then perhaps...help me... undress."

He lifted his head to gaze at her and the mere look in her eyes was quite enough for him to forget how to breathe.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

A/N: Happy New Year! Hope you guys had a great holiday season and, as always, thank you very much for your continuous support!

Chapter 19

Despite the fact that it has been barely two absolutely delightful days since his wedding, Gomez Addams already decided that he utterly loved being married. He loved the fact that there were no more constraints of time imposed upon them and they could enjoy being together unreservedly. It was an indescribable bliss to be able to wake up next to this woman, to create and share their new marriage routines - such as sharing their morning shower together, now that was definitely going to be one of his favourites!

He still couldn't believe how lucky he was to have this exquisite creature in his life - to be able to call her his wife. What an absolute blessing she was to him.

He loved finding out all the little things about her that living together now afforded him - such as the fact that she brushed her hair before bed exactly hundred times, her feet were always cold, she preferred bath to showers and she liked to have her morning coffee in bed - and he loved every single one of those things about her.

"How about this one?" Morticia asked, picking the simple black dress from the wardrobe and turned towards him, pressing the material of her dress to her naked form. She felt almost ridiculously vain - feeling so excited about clothes but her dresses were so black and long and absolutely exquisite that she couldn't, for the life of her, decide which one she wanted to wear first.

"You'll look like a goddess in all of them," her husband replied fervently, tapping at his cigar and let the ash fall carelessly on the floor.

She smiled at him indulgently, admiring him for a moment. He was lying on the bed, propped against the headboard, the towel wrapped lazily around his hips looking like he didn't have a care in the world, content to just lie there and watch her ponder upon the choice of dress for the day - that is, blatantly ogling her. Not that she minded...at all.

"You're not helping, darling," she pointed out.

"I like what you're wearing now best," he decided, grinning at her caddishly.

She tilted her head and regarded him with a mock-scorn.

"I'm afraid going naked is not an option."

"I'm sorry but I'm enjoying the view way too much to be of any help," he admitted.

"Hmmm, I guess it's true what they say…" she mused to herself.

"What?"

"That appetite grows with eating," she quipped, smiling at him coquettishly and he laughed heartily.

"Guilty as charged," he concurred. It was very accurate for it was indeed very apparent that marriage was not going to curb Gomez's carnal appetites in the slightest - not when he was married to this goddess. "But is it my fault you're so delicious, Cara?"

"You do have an excuse for everything, don't you?" she asked facetiously as she approached him slowly, her dress still firmly in her hands, and straddled his thighs, leaning forward to capture his lips in a slow kiss. "Although... you're quite delectable yourself."

"Aha, how about we explore that?" he groaned appreciatively against her lips but she laughed gently and clicked her tongue in denial.

"Mmmmm, later," she promised."I don't want us to be late."

He grunted in affirmation, albeit reluctantly. They were due to meet Dr Fieldman at nine a.m. and he knew she was feeling rather apprehensive at the prospect of meeting her sister there - or rather she was probably worried about Ophelia meeting Gomez, considering how well it went last time.

"Later then…" he agreed hoarsely but couldn't resist running the tips of his fingers against her lower back in a feather-like touch and smirked when he heard her inhale sharply. "Although, I don't know what do you expect of me, prancing around naked like that..."

"Prancing?" she repeated in a mock affront but didn't resist when he started placing soft kisses along her collar bone. "I'm hardly prancing, I was merely choosing my outfit for the day."

"Naked -"

"I can't wear clothes while I'm waiting for my body oil to dry," she insisted.

"Hmmmm, I love this scent," he grunted appreciatively against her skin."Buy the whole barrel of it."

"That's the only way it comes," she smiled and curled her finger under his chin, gently lifting it so he could face her and placed a small kiss on his full lips."Later, darling...later. Let's take care of the things at hand and then...we can spend all night," she purred in between kisses."In the dungeon - "

He grinned at her.

"Told you you'll like it."

"Yes...and it so happens that I fancy showing you later just... how much I like it," she whispered in that slow, sultry bedroom voice of hers and could feel him harden against her even more as he moaned ardently.

"God, Tish, do you think I'm made of stone?" he groaned, pressing her hips against his groin to make his point clear."You make my blood boil."

"Merely giving you something to look forward to...mon savage," she said playfully, eliciting another groan from him.

"There's no way I can wait that long," he retorted hoarsely, taking the dress off her hands and threw it carelessly at the foot of the bed before attacking her neck in a myriad of hot kisses.

"No?" she asked, finally surrendering to his caresses."Well, then I guess we can have...a little foretaste...of things to… come."

Morticia Addams reckoned that the only way they could be on time at the hospital was to leave her husband to dress and prepare in solitude because… well….because it was barely seven o'clock in the morning and they already had sex four times. Admittedly, Morticia seemed to have barely any more self-control than her beloved husband but then how could she have any self-control whatsoever when she was married to this devilishly handsome Castilian? He was too delicious to resist.

Nevertheless, they had previous engagements this morning, therefore, being more prudent of the two, young Mrs Addams decided it was a sensible thing to leave her husband alone to dress while she went to check about breakfast.

She was half-way down the stairs when the sound of a doorbell reverberated through the mansion and she frowned in surprise. Seven o'clock in the morning was hardly a decent time for visitation, in her opinion.

"You better sit down because when I tell you what that son of yours has done this time - oh…hello - "

Morticia tilted her head curiously at the woman before her who was now looking around as if to check if she was at the right mansion.

"Hello," Morticia replied softly. She thought she looked vaguely familiar but she could not, for the life of her, remember where she might have seen her before. "Can I help you?"

"Ehm...well…" the woman mumbled, still looking around and, finally deciding she was indeed at the right place, she regarded Morticia curiously."I'm sorry, who are you?" she asked bluntly.

"I am Mrs Addams," Morticia replied with only a ghost of a smirk when the older woman blinked in surprise.

"No," she decided."You're not Mrs Addams, I know Mrs Addams and she looks nothing like you...is this some kind of a joke?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Morticia retorted, amused. She could swear she met the woman before somewhere. She was tall, slightly taller than Morticia, her eyelashes were covered so thickly with black mascara, they looked almost too heavy and her medium length, gently curled hair had so much hair-spray-created volume on them, Morticia wondered how the woman's neck hasn't snapped yet under all that weight. She couldn't be called beautiful or even exactly pretty but there was something undeniably striking about her. She looked stern - as if permanently annoyed and her voice was no-nonsense sharp - even when she was confused as she obviously was at the moment.

The woman opened her plump lips but no sound came and she faltered briefly, watching Morticia with a curious mixture of recognition, suspicion and disbelief.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Morticia asked again.

"Well, yes...I suppose. My name is - "

"Constance, dear, what a surprise," Eudora greeted jovially, coming to stand behind Morticia, still dressed in her morning attire, her barely touched cup of coffee in her hand because it was barely seven o'clock in the morning and they were yet to have breakfast - which Lurch insisted on preparing because he found some new, fancy breakfast idea in the recent issue of The Good Housekeeping.

Morticia moved aside to let the guest in, still scrambling her brain where could she have encountered the woman - Constance, apparently.

"Morticia, this is my sister-in-law, Constance," Eudora introduced and turned towards the other woman, who still regarded Morticia intently - or suspiciously, Morticia wasn't sure."Morticia is - "

"You're the woman from the theatre," Constance interjected confidently, pointing at Morticia with her index finger, recognition finally dawning on her and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Morticia's face creased in a gentle frown and then she narrowed her eyes, in the same manner, the woman before her just did.

"Am I?" she asked, clearly amused.

"What's going on here?" Constance asked looking interchangeably from Eudora to Morticia and back to Eudora again.

"What do you mean?" Eudora asked in a tone so utterly perplexed Morticia was duly impressed and bit her cheeks to stop the smile that was threatening to emerge.

"Aunt Constance!" the familiar jovial voice reached them from the top of the stairs."Long-time no see," Gomez deadpanned as he descended the stairs, already impeccably dressed, to join them and tried not to laugh when his Aunt regarded them all with an annoyed look.

"What, in the devil, is going on here?" Constance exclaimed after a good minute of stunned silence.

"Oh, nothing much," Gomez retorted simply with a gentle shrug of his shoulder."Fester blown up the attic again, I got married and Mama's henbane is blooming beautifully this summer. Same ol' same ol' really and how are you?"

Unsurprisingly, he was graced with an annoyed glare from Constance Addams who looked all but ready to whack him with her purse.

"Gomez Addams," she hissed."I know that she," she said pointing at Morticia who was looking more and more amused by the minute. "Is the very same woman you were staring at like a demented fool all night at the theatre and she happens to be engaged to the young Chalon, so you tell me right now. What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On?

"She's not engaged to any bloody Frenchman," Gomez retorted in annoyance."She's married to me. And I wasn't staring at her like a demented fool, I was -"

"You were, actually," Morticia confirmed softly and smiled at him when he turned towards her with a gentle frown."But you were the most handsome demented fool in the history of humanity," she assured, gazing at him lovingly.

"Cara," he smiled at her before placing a soft kiss to her temple.

His Aunt frowned and blinked, utterly taken aback. Her gaze travelled to the woman next to Gomez and then to Eudora - who merely sipped her coffee as if nothing out of the ordinary was taking place at all.

"Did you have your breakfast, yet?" she asked suddenly."Lurch is preparing for us some novelty and you're welcome to join us."

"Hold on, what - yes, of course I had my breakfast, it's not...who cares about breakfast," she replied, utterly confused, before turning back to Gomez." What… so you mean to say that this woman...and you...but not the one from the theatre…then who the hell was the other...," she stammered and then straightened pursing her lips in annoyance before regarding the trio with a purposeful look."We are all going to the kitchen now and have breakfast - "

"I thought you didn't care about breakfast?" Gomez interjected jovially, earning himself another thunderous look.

"We are all going to have breakfast," she insisted again."And you will all explain to me what, in all that's damned, is going on in here."

Constance Addams heard many weird stories in her life, she read the trashiest, the most preposterous of romance novels ever produced but this...this - whatever this was - was definitely in the top ten most ridiculous things she ever heard of. The couple in question barely said two words to her, leaving the tale to Eudora who was all too eager to recount every little detail of this mind-bogglingly complicated love affair.

Constance listened attentively and her lips parted so many times, intent on producing a question or comment or anything really, she was sure she looked to them like a permanently surprised fish. Finally, she curled her plump fingers around her coffee cup and pursed her lips, nodding thoughtfully before turning towards Gomez.

"Well, at least that explains why you were behaving like an absolute lunatic the other night," she remarked. "A jealous maniac - just like your grandfather."

Gomez grunted in annoyance but Morticia smiled at the description and cast a side glance at her husband.

"I happen to find it truly endearing," she remarked softly.

"Just as well," Constance replied, raising her eyebrow pointedly." Because that will never change," she remarked sardonically."We must give an announcement in the papers, though. You can't keep this a secret - this simply won't do."

"We don't want to keep it a secret," Morticia assured."We will give an announcement but I need to speak to my sister first and she… my family is not exactly fond of Gomez," Morticia explained tentatively.

"Ditto," Gonez murmured moodily next to her.

"Why, the devil?" Constance asked in outrage." He's rich, handsome and at the age of fifteen, he already was acquitted of a double homicide. He's a hopeless layabout and a shiftless dreamer - what's not to like?" she defended heartily and Gomez couldn't help but grin proudly at this string of praises."Of course, there's this embarrassing fact of his First Class Law Degree from Oxford but who's without a fault?"

"I think Morticia meant his less than the spectacular reputation of a cad and womanizer," Eudora supplied, smiling meanly at her son but her sister-in-law only snorted derisively.

"Oh, please," she muttered, rolling her eyes for a good measure."Men are what they are, only most of them are more discreet than this one here," she added nodding at Gomez.

"Hey!" Gomez protested but his Aunt looked at him sharply.

"What?" she asked sharply.

"These were mutually agreed upon no-strings-attached, consensual relationships -"

"Tramp," his Aunt muttered into her coffee cup and took a small sip before regarding Morticia thoughtfully." I reckon it's less so about Gomez's reputation and more about the business prospects your brother-in-law surely realizes your marriage to Chalon would grant him on the French market - which, let me tell you, is a pure hell to get into for foreign investors in the current political climate."

"Yes," Morticia agreed reluctantly."That too."

Constance pursed her lips again.

"There might be quite a scandal out of it," she mused before addressing the couple." Which is why we should give the marriage announcement as soon as possible."

"Not before I speak to my sister," Morticia insisted firmly."I don't want any further rift nor a scandal. I want it to be dealt within the family...and this may take some time," she admitted reluctantly."It's a delicate situation."

"Pardon me for saying it, but marrying in secret is not exactly an ideal way to deescalate a situation," Constance pointed out and Morticia was trying very hard to glare at her newly-met Aunt."I think the marriage announcement, as soon as possible, is the least we should do. Perhaps it would ease your sister's worry about this marriage."

"I doubt it," Morticia retorted."It's not just about Gomez. My brother-in-law doesn't want to be associated with…," she paused and frowned gently, searching for the right word."With a...ahmm...well with…-"

"Kooks?" Constance supplied snidely and Morticia grimaced slightly at the description but nodded in agreement."Ha! Let me tell you something, my dear - weird is relative," she said and Morticia couldn't help but smile at her fondly. Her father would absolutely love her new family." They gossip about us, they call us kooks but nothing bounds people like money and in this world weird is just a question of money. We're kooks until they want to do business with us and then, suddenly, we're no longer kooks, we're delightfully eccentric."

"That may be so," Morticia agreed reluctantly."However, surely you will agree with me, that there's a whole world of difference between doing business with people whose lifestyles one does not necessarily approve of and being related to them - especially when it comes to my brother-in-law" she pointed out.

"Well, that's true," the older woman replied, tapping her pensively."Still, there were much worse scandals swept under the carpet in this city alone, so rest assured - you handle your family and I shall handle the scandal."

"How?"

"Oh," Eudora interjected jovially."Constance had five husbands and they all died in suspicious circumstances so naturally, people think she killed them all and everyone is scared of her. I think they even call her Black Widow or something along those lines."

"And they never proved anything," Constance supplied proudly.

"You're such an inspiration," Morticia sighed in awe, placing her palm over her heart.

"Why, thank you," the older woman smiled."As I always say, if there's one thing this world needs more of is widows and orphans."

"How true," Morticia nodded, not missing the fact that next to her her husband grunted and shifted uncomfortably.

"Constance always refuses to change her last name after the wedding," Eudora informed her daughter-in-law before turning to Constance."Do you remember how outraged dear Marvin was about that?"

"Hmm," she nodded affectionately."Until I asked him what was the point for me to take his name when he'll be dead soon and I will be a widow."

"And yet that was twelve years ago," Eudora smirked, leaning against her chair.

Constance shrugged but sighed affectionately.

"Hard to kill - just the way I like them."

Dr Bruno Fieldman barely raised his head from the file he was currently reading when he heard a soft knock to his office door. He grunted a half-hearted 'come in' but his face brightened when he noticed the tall, slim silhouette of Morticia Frump enter the room, followed by a dark-haired gentleman who did not look even remotely familiar.

"Good morning, Doctor," Morticia greeted with a warm smile.

"Miss Frump, very good morning indeed," he replied, standing up from behind his desk to greet her.

"Actually, there's been a slight change in my marital status," she quipped lightly pointing at the mane behind her."This is my husband -"

"Ah, yes! Congratulations, I quite forgot your dear sister certainly mentioned you were getting married," the Doctor interjected kindly and extended his hand towards Gomez." Dr Bruno Feldman. A pleasure to meet you, Mr Chalon."

Gomez shook his hand but could help but grimace at the mistake and he could practically feel Morticia tense next to him.

"It's Gomez Addams, actually," he corrected, forcing a softer tone to his voice.

"Oh," Dr Fieldman remarked in confusion."You must forgive me, I was pretty sure Mrs Diamond said your name was Chalon...or perhaps I'm just getting old, I meet so many people on a daily basis, you see...you must forgive me."

"Of course, no hard feelings," Gomez assured with a slightly forced but still charming smile.

"I was wondering why I haven't heard from Mrs Diamond these past two days," the Doctor remarked lightly.

"My sister didn't call?"Morticia asked, before she could stop herself. She couldn't quite prevent the worrying note creeping into her tone which didn't go unnoticed by the Doctor.

"Well, I suppose it was a bit too much excitement for her since our last meeting and of course your wedding," he observed knowingly."I reckon it's a good idea if she takes some time to rest," he added appeasingly noticing Morticia's troubled expression." But please, please sit down," he pointed at the two leather chair opposite his desk.

"How is my mother today?"Morticia asked softly, eager to take her mind off her sister and also desperate to change the subject in case Dr Fieldman felt the need to discuss her recent nuptials in more detail.

"Well, I'm quite pleased with how she reacts to the initial treatment," Doctor Fieldman replied."I got her blood test's results this morning, actually. Her body is not rejecting the potions we've used, so that's very encouraging. Of course, the quicker we can start the proper treatment the better."

"My accountant, Tully Alford, will contact you in regards to arranging the finances," Gomez informed."Whatever funds you need after, you can contact him directly. He will take care of it."

"Yes, that's good - fantastic in fact, I shall have my assistant to see to it," Doctor replied."Have you decided yet on the date when would you like to start the treatment?"

"Yes," Morticia answered, sharing a brief look with her husband."We aim to have everything finalised by the end of the month."

"That's perfectly fine," Dr Feldman nodded."I have arranged for the specialised nurse to come over to assist your mother with the move to Lausanne. Rosemary has been working with us for almost a decade, she has plenty of experience and I trust her completely. She will be one of the nurses assigned to your mother once she's settled in the clinic - so once she's here, we can start preparation for the journey."

Morticia nodded solemnly in acknowledgement.

"Can we see my mother now?"she asked.

"Certainly," Dr Fieldman nodded again."She's on her morning stroll at the moment, I believe, but you're welcome to wait in her room."

Nothing annoyed him more than a non-smoking policy. What a ridiculous state of affairs, more so when the nurse-in-charge had the nerve to inform him that smoking cigars cause cancer and lung diseases - as if that wasn't the whole point of smoking in the first place! The very reason he started smoking at the age of five was, after all, to make sure there was no risk of him dying of an embarrassing things like an old age -and what an embarrassment would it be to have it engraved on his tombstone - 'died peacefully in his bed' - the very thought was terrifying.

But alas! Apparently, the whole damn hospital had a non-smoking policy.

Unbelievable. Absolutely appalling.

He could certainly use a cigar - if a non-smoking policy was annoying as hell then -

"Your sister certainly has a lot of nerve," he finally grumbled unhappily, leaning further in the light-brown armchair and crossing his legs in an abrupt manner.

Morticia barely turned away from the window.

"I was wondering if you're going to mention it," she smiled gently, casting him a side glance.

"I would expect you to be more annoyed than this."

"Darling, if I allowed myself to get annoyed every time something like this happened, I would do nothing else but get annoyed," she retorted calmly.

"I'm annoyed for both of us then."

"And you're marvellous at the task," she deadpanned in an attempt to lighten the mood and by the sound of his amused snort it worked - well, kind of. "Do you think…," she started to ask but suddenly faltered, as if unsure how to dress her thoughts.

"What?" he prompted softly and watch her shrug before finally turning towards him.

"I'm not sure if it isn't too fast - this move to Switzerland and all."

"Too fast?" he asked, his handsome face creasing with confusion.

"You see, on the one hand, I want to get this treatment started," she remarked slowly."On the other... I would like the dust to settle first."

Gomez regarded her tenderly and stood up, making his way towards her.

"But perhaps, it's better this way," he pointed out, embracing her lithe waist."We'll be away, it will give them space and time to… digest it and come to terms with everything."

"Hmmm, perhaps, "she mused unconvincingly, resting her palms on his broad chest."It's just so unlike Ophelia not to at least call and check up on mother. What if something happened - what is she fell ill or - "

"Tish, come one, she knows where you are," he interrupted her gently."You didn't disappear from the face of the earth, and they know the phone number - somebody would have called if there was an emergency."

"I suppose…" she agreed reluctantly.

"Stop worrying," he placated, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead, eliciting a small smile from her. "Everything is going to be fine."

She was about to lean for another kiss when there was a gentle commotion outside the door and a second later the nurse entered the room, leading her mother gently behind her.

Morticia disengaged genty from her husband and smiled at the two women before her.

"Hester, you have guests," the nurse informed her mother gently in her soft Latino accent, after casting Morticia a polite smile in greeting.

Hester looked up and Morticia swallowed heavily when her mother regarded her with a confused look, but then breathed a clear sigh of relief when her features softened and the recognition settled in her blue eyes.

"Morticia," she greeted softly and Morticia felt her heart skip a beat. It still felt absolutely surreal to be able to talk to her mother at all.

"Hello, Mama," Morticia smiled at her and drew her in a gentle embrace.

"You're going to be alright on your own, yes?" the nurse asked, motioning gently towards Hester.

"Yes, thank you," Morticia nodded, taking her mother's hand into her own and the nurse smiled at her before leaving the three of them alone in the room. "Did you have a nice walk?" she asked, leading her mother to her usual armchair.

"Yes," Hester replied slowly, as if choosing the words was a task in itself."Quite nice."

Gomez watched the older woman before him, immediately deciding that whomever Morticia got her looks from it certainly wasn't her mother. Hester Frump looked exactly like an older version of Ophelia. Or perhaps Ophelia looked like a younger version of her mother would be a more correct assessment.

He observed silently as Morticia helped her mother sit in the armchair with such care and tenderness he felt his heart constrict at the sight because it just hit him with the full force how selfish he's been - all that time when he pressed her into making a commitment to him... and this - this is what she had to deal with all that time. He didn't realize just how sick her mother was and looking at her now, it was still hard to believe that it was the heartbreak that put her in such a state.

Hester Frump looked awfully thin - frail, illness-induced thinness that made her look incredibly fragile - as if she could break at any moment. Her blond hair was arranged into two loose braids, framing her thin face, her eyes - that seemed almost too large - were gazing at her daughter softly. She didn't seem to notice Gomez at all.

This is what Morticia had to deal with, this is what she looked at every day, what she was so afraid of and yet still she chose to commit to him, still married him - the enormity of this realization fell on him like a ton of bricks and he suddenly didn't know what to do with himself.

"Mama, there is someone I want you to meet," Morticia said gently, extending her hand gently towards Gomez and he moved closer to her but her mother only smiled at her noncommittally as if not exactly registering her words."Mama, this is Gomez, my husband."

Hester Frump turned her eyes to where Morticia was pointing and narrowed her gaze as in an effort to properly see him.

"Oh... I'm so sorry... I don't seem to remember you," she said slowly after a while.

"No, Mama," Morticia interjected gently, squeezing her mother's hand comfortingly."You've never met him before."

"Oh… oh, I see," she nodded and turned towards Gomez again."You must forgive me... my mind is not...is not very clear."

"Not at all," Gomez replied kindly, gallantly pressing a kiss to her bony hand."I'm delighted to have finally met you, Mrs Frump."

Hester smiled gently, nodding at him and then narrowed her eyes in concentration.

"I'm sorry... I have forgotten your name," she said suddenly, fidgeting uneasily.

"Gomez," he said gently."Gomez Addams."

She nodded faintly in acknowledgement and beckoned to Morticia to lean closer.

"I would like to have some tea, dear," she requested.

"Tea?"Morticia repeated, momentarily confused by the request.

Her mother nodded.

"And some biscuits...please."

Morticia blinked and shared a quick glance at her husband before smiling at her mother.

"Of course," she replied, trying her utmost to fight the disappointment entering her heart."Give me a minute, I will get it for you."

He supposed midday was a bit too early for a drink, even for him, but oh what the hell. There was no one in the house but him, no one to witness this ungentlemanly misdeed.

He reckoned he should meet with Francios and explain - cut this rumours short before it gets out of hand, the sooner the better before the man listens to one too many rumours about his future bride and her acquaintance with Gomez Addams.

Would she really involve herself in a romance with that damn Casanova? If so, he really gave too much credit. He might dislike her and her stubborn attitude but he thought she had more brains than that.

Except - she bloody had more brains than that. She might exasperate the hell out of him, but Morticia wasn't stupid and Jared knew she would never involve herself with any damn Lothario, let alone a womanizer of a calibre of Gomez Addams, so what the hell was she playing at?

Unless... she thought she found a perfect excuse to get out of the prospective marriage with Chalon.

Jared snorted gently to himself, pouring the drink carefully into the crystal tumbler.

That cunning little wench. Create a scandal to get away from an unwanted marriage and who would be more suitable for such a scandal than Gomez Addams? All because she knew how important this marriage was to Jared.

Although he had to admit he had only himself to blame for that, he was perhaps a bit too eager about this whole engagement but well...who could have predicted that his sister-in-law would go to such lengths just to spite him.

"Isn't it a little early for a drink, dear?"

Damn. He didn't even hear her enter the house.

"Well, there's five o'clock somewhere," he replied sardonically.

"Getting drunk in the middle of the day is hardly amusing," his mother scolded firmly, coming to stand next to him.

"A gentleman is never drunk," Jared smirked at her before pressing a customary kiss to her cheek in greeting."And he's never quite sober."

"One of your father's questionable wisdom, no doubt," his mother supplied dryly, dropping her red purse on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa, her manner, Jared noticed, somewhere between tense and annoyed.

"He still lives by it," he pointed out."I would offer you a drink but I'm sure drinking so early is beneath you so tell me, what brings you here? Did my lovely wife send you to check on my alcohol intake?"

"Hardly," Dorothy replied, raising her eyebrow at him knowingly."She seemed inclined on pretending to be oblivious."

"As a good wife should," he supplied with a small smile before raising his glass to his lips and taking a small sip of the amber liquor."Is she still hiding at your place or decided to come home?"

"Hiding?" His mother repeated incredulously without missing a beat."She's not hiding, she's resting. You and Morticia are so focused on yourselves, you're forgetting all about her," she accused.

Jared regarded her sardonically before resting the bottle of whisky at the bar.

"Don't go overboard with all that love, care and compassion - it doesn't suit you," he retorted sarcastically.

"What the hell is the matter with you, lately?" she asked sharply.

"Well, that's more like it," he smirked.

"You have a family and a new baby on the way and this," she pointed to his full tumbler." Will not help."

"I beg to differ," he retorted languidly, settling himself comfortably on one of the cream-coloured armchairs."I find it very helpful."

"Anyway," his mother grunted gently obviously deciding that pursuing the current subject will get her exactly nowhere."This isn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Ah, I can only guess what the subject of this conversation is going to be about," he replied with an indulgent smile."Does it have the name of Gomez Addams in it?"

"So you've heard," she retorted warily."Who's told you?"

"Dear Howard came to me with a piece of well-meaning advice."

"That fool!"

"Fool or not, he has a point or two."

"Yes, well," his mother admitted reluctantly." It's a delicate situation."

"So you keep saying."

"Listen to me," Dorothy retorted sternly."She's just a young woman who's been put under a lot of pressure -"

"Oh please, you can't be serious," he drawled, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Try, for once, to be more empathetic towards her."

"Surely, you're jesting?"

"I'm deadly serious," she insisted." When she comes home, I don't want you to lash out on her. I want her to understand the grave error of her ways not to ground her in the assumption that she made the right choice in choosing that man over us - her family, do you understand?"

Her son only grunted in acknowledgement but it was enough for her to see that he recognized the wisdom behind her words. However reluctantly.

"I can't be too nice to her, though, she will never believe it for a second," he pointed out sardonically.

"Obviously," Dorothy rolled her eyes in annoyance."In fact, it's best if you let me do the talking."

Morticia didn't know what she expected and she really didn't know why did she feel so disappointed. She knew not to get her hopes up for anything spectacular, she even warned her husband about it and yet she allowed herself to hope and got disappointed. It annoyed her that she felt that way at all. It's just… she was so so blissfully happy and she wanted her mother to be happy for her, she wanted her to like Gomez but it seemed as if she barely registered his presence at all and for some unexplained reason it hurt.

She knew she should not allow herself to feel that way. She knew that this was still more than what she had for all those years of her mother's illness but...it was hard not to feel disappointed. She longed, desperately, for things to be finally normal. She didn't want arguments, illnesses or scandals to constantly spoil her happiness but alas - she had little hopes for that.

On the other hand, becoming bitter about it won't help her either.

"Tish, are you sure you're okay?" her husband asked gently - again, as they entered the house.

She knew he was worried as she stayed mostly silent and contemplative on their ride home. Nevertheless, he let her have her space to think, which she was grateful for. He only asked her if she was all right and she assured him she was fine but then spent the ride home mostly silent and staring out of the window. She couldn't help it.

She nodded gently but then bit her lower lip and shrugged gently.

"I'm sorry it couldn't be more than it was," she said suddenly and swallowed heavily.

"Tish, Cara... it's fine," he assured, curling his fingers gently at the back of her neck and brought her forward for a tender kiss. "She can't help it. Don't let it bother you."

"I know but I thought...well, it doesn't matter, it was foolish," she admitted, shrugging helplessly again."She can't help what she is and I don't know what on earth was I expecting - I just…," she paused, swallowing heavily and looked at him with such a desperate gaze, he could almost feel it burning marks on his heart."I just want her to get better, Gomez. I want her to be in my life again - happy."

"She will," he assured her tenderly, wishing desperately that there was any way in the world he could make this better. He couldn't stand her being sad and he wished there was a way where she would not have to deal with all this. She was way too young to have all this burden placed on her shoulders and he couldn't help but feel angry at her family. Angry that they caused her constant worry one way or another. "I love you," he whispered. It was the only thing that came to his mind but it seemed to work nevertheless because his wife smiled at him happily.

"I love you too," she replied softly, pressing her forehead against his."So much," she added, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.

"Hey, how about you go have a relaxing bath, hmm?" he proposed."While I call Tully, arrange everything with him and then perhaps we can see about that move to the master bedroom?"

She smiled and nodded at him, grateful that her husband had this uncanny ability to just recognize when she needed her own space.

"You're the best husband a woman can have."

"Hmmm, feel free to reward me later," he quipped cheekily, glad to finally elicit an amused laugh out of her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Gomez asked his brother when he found Fester in the library, pouring over the paperwork - something he usually steered clear from whenever he could.

"Ehmm...delaying the inevitable and ignoring the reality around me?" Fester replied forlornly.

"Excuse me but that's my job," Gomez deadpanned but Fester only grunted at him. "Come on old man," Gomez smiled at him encouragingly."It won't be as bad as you think."

"I don't know what to tell her," he admitted, propping his chin on the pillows of his hands dejectedly.

"The truth."

"Which one?"

"The one in which you're adorable, a well-meaning liar who wanted to impress her so he invented a string of harmless fibs," Gomez supplied candidly."Just apologize and promise not to lie again."

"That sounds overly simplistic," Fester decided."And sort of...anticlimactic."

"Do you want me to come with you as moral support?" Gomez proposed, spreading himself on the sofa languidly and linked his arms behind his head.

"You can't, it's Thursday," Fester pointed out.

Gomez frowned and raised his eyebrows in bemusement.

"So?"

"You promised to help Bar," Fester reminded him.

"Ah hell, I forgot about that," he groaned, tilting his head back dramatically."Maybe I should let his sorry arse rot in jail for a few weeks…"

"You're so thoughtful, darling," the amused voice reached them from the direction of the door. "I think it's a brilliant idea."

Gomez turned in surprise. Apparently, his wife decided to forgone the relaxing bath idea but he was pleased to notice she no longer looked sad either.

"See? My wife approves," he grinned caddishly, sitting properly on the sofa so Morticia could sit next to him.

"Aha...she would," Fester smirked knowingly.

Morticia only smiled at him, not even bothering to deny his subtle accusation. They all knew she had no fondness whatsoever for their cousin and she certainly did not find it necessary to prove them wrong.

"What are you still doing here?" she asked Fester."Aren't you supposed to be crawling at someone's feet, begging for forgiveness?"

"It's only three o'clock and I was thinking of acquiring a gift beforehand," he mumbled in embarrassment.

"Well, a gift won't hurt," she admitted kindly."But I'm sure she would be more appreciative of a sincere apology."

"Can't I apologise with some expensive gift?" he asked hopefully.

"No, Fester, you can't," she smiled at him."Apologies and a gift might work better if you insist on buying anything."

"She probably won't even speak to me," he complained dejectedly.

"Your chances certainly decrease as the time passes," Morticia pointed out firmly. "Go on, shoo, you've made your bed, now lie in it. I need to speak to my husband privately anyway and you need to go and beg for forgiveness."

"Is this a euphemism?" her husband inquired hopefully before his brother had a chance to reply, earning himself a swat in the chest from Morticia.

"No," she denied but looked at him indulgently."An actual conversation shall be conducted," she insisted and couldn't help but smile when he grunted unhappily.

"Will carnal pleasures be involved at any point during the aforementioned conversation?" he deadpanned and tried very hard not to grin when his question elicited an outraged inhale of breath from his wife.

"Behave yourself, you wanton," she scolded, pinching his tight.

"Why?" he asked cheekily."We're married," he added, smiling widely when his wife covered his lips with her hand to prevent him from any more talking.

"Gomez, you really need another hobby," Fester remarked teasingly already standing up to give them the requested privacy. He could only stand so much of their sexual banter before turning into an embarrassed pile of mush. "I think I'll go with Mama and Lurch to the market. I can buy Dementia some maggot cheese."

"A maggot cheese as a pre-apology pre-crawling gift?" Morticia asked, clearly bemused.

"Well, who doesn't love a maggot cheese?"

Morticia raised her hand gently as if to stop him and opened her mouth to suggest perhaps some more appropriate gift but then...oh what the hell, no gift is going to help here anyway.

"Well, you better hurry then," Morticia said with her hand still firmly placed over Gomez's mouth."I think they are about to leave now," she informed him and watched him nod at her.

"I'll see you later," he waved at them and promptly disappeared from the parlour, prudently closing the door behind him.

The moment the door closed with a soft click Morticia turned towards Gomez and removed her hand from his mouth, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Your mother should have washed your mouth with soap," she chastised.

"That would be utterly futile undertaking, cara," he retorted and immediately captured her smiling lips into a loving kiss." So," he continued knowingly."What is it that you need to tell me and why do I have a feeling that I'm definitely not going to like it?"

"How perceptive of you, mon cher," she smiled, purposely sliding onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"French, huh?" he teased, tightening his hold on her hips and already in the process of devouring the lace-cladded flesh of her forearm. "Must be really bad...you vixen…"

"Hmmmm," she murmured with pleasure when his lips reached the column of her neck." Darling, I want to go see my sister."

He blinked in mild confusion. That's it? That's what she was uneasy about?

"Of course, we can go tomorrow," he murmured against her skin and slowly straightened to look at her. He thought she looked as if she was already preparing herself for him to be difficult and felt a slight annoyance at her behaviour. Surely, she didn't think he would ever object to her seeing her own family?

"Actually, I was thinking it would be best if I go on my own," she said gently." I want to get it out of the way and I don't want her to find out about this from someone else," she explained."And Constance is right, it's just a matter of time before the whole city knows."

"I don't like the idea of you facing them alone," he admitted tensely." We're in this marriage together and we should tell them together."

She smiled at him and raised her shapely eyebrow as if amused by the idea.

"Can you bear being in the company of my dear brother-in-law without wringing his neck, breaking his hands, dismembering or causing him any other grievous bodily harm?"

Gomez opened his mouth to reply but no words came and he narrowed his eyes in concentration, thinking of the most suitable response.

"I can…try," came his slow reply.

"Hmmmm, I'm sure you can," she agreed in a tone that suggested the exact opposite.

"It doesn't look good if you go alone," he insisted and exhaled audibly when she raised her eyebrow at him quizzically."It looks like I don't care...like I'm leaving you alone to bear the consequences," he explained tensely.

She looked at him startled - truthfully, such an idea didn't even cross her mind.

"I know you care," she whispered."But...it's a bit more complicated than announcing our marriage. I don't want to create unnecessary drama."

He looked at her sceptically.

"Have you met your sister?" he teased and she couldn't help but smile."You're really worried about her?"

"I am," she admitted."It's not like her to not to at least call and check on our mother. I just want to make sure she's all right."

He nodded understandingly.

"How long will you be there?"

"I'll try to be back by dinner time," she promised.

"Take Lurch with you," he proposed.

"He's taking Mama to the market. Besides, there's no sense for him to wait hours for me," she insisted. "I'll be fine on my own."

"I would feel more comfortable if I came with you," he insisted.

"Yes, I know...my knight in shining armour," she teased gently, wrapping her arms more firmly around his neck and placed a soft kiss to his lips."But I would rather not add any extra wood to the fire," she supplied gently. "My sister is upset as it is, I don't want to… I simply want to talk to her - calmly, explain...and I can't do that with you there, her temper and your temper is not a good mix," she explained." She's pregnant and I don't want to stress her more than necessary. I want to speak to my nephew as well," she admitted." He will be confused when I'm not there anymore and I don't want him to ever think that...I don't know, that I've abandoned him."

"Tish," he said tenderly."He's only two-years-old, he won't understand."

"He will," she insisted before adding slowly: "I want him to hear it from me, not...I don't want them to turn him against me by telling him things that are not true, do you understand?"

He nodded, even though he thought she was expecting far too much from the child. Charlie was just a little boy and the situation itself was far too complicated for him to understand. Still, if it made Morticia feel better or at least less guilty, he reckoned there was no harm in that.

But then a thought occurred to him and he gazed at her uneasily.

"Tish, your family… you do realize that they might not let you see him for some time?" he pointed out awkwardly."They won't be happy about...us."

She nodded and swallowed uncomfortably.

"I know," she whispered."I can't do anything about it, though...I just want him to know that…I want him to understand…," she faltered and smiled at him humourlessly."I know...it's foolish kind of thinking."

"It's not foolish," he denied softly."But you can't expect too much from a little child," he pointed out gently.

She didn't reply, instead, she leaned into him and rested her head on his broad shoulders.

"I know but ...it occurred to me that my sister may never forgive me," she mused out loud. There was not a trace of woe in her tone, she was simply stating the fact, a reality to be accepted.

"No Tish, your sister loves you," he assured with a surprising conviction before placing a comforting kiss to the crown of her head."She wants the best for you...it's just, you have different ideas of what that best is. She'll come around, you'll see."

"You sound very certain," she retorted softly.

"Well, I've learnt a thing or two about forgiveness these past few days," he replied pointedly."It might take some time, but if she cares about your happiness, she'll come around."

"I truly hope so," she smiled at him."What time do you need to be in court?"

"We're not meeting in court," he explained."We're meeting with the other side to negotiate some reasonable settlement because Bar will die of embarrassment if that case will ever hit the court."

"He will?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I meant it as a hyperbole just to express how absolutely mortifying it would be for him," he explained, grinning at her crestfallen expression.

"Oh," she grunted in disappointment.

The moment this conversation was out of the way and whatever the outcome, Morticia decided to really and truly burn any dress in her possession that was not floor length. She hated those knee-length dresses more than she could articulate - or rather not the dresses themselves but what they represented - Jared's way to subdue her, to subjugate everything that she was.

She decided to wear one this last time, in order to avoid unnecessary wardrobe-related conflict that would undoubtedly ensue if she decided to wear one of the dresses she bought yesterday. No, that would be too blatant and she wanted to tread carefully.

She actually wished Gomez was with her, even though, it would probably wouldn't do any good but she had to acknowledge the fact that she felt apprehensive. Apprehensive enough to know that it was only because of the fact that she was so worried about Ophelia that she was still here at all. The need to just drive back home was almost overwhelming.

Home.

How quickly the old mansion claimed its place in her heart as home in the way that this house with its immaculate, pristine cleanliness never could. Now, with her husband and her new family back at the mansion, she felt more alien here than ever before.

She wondered briefly how bad would it actually be to let the things just take their course - let them find out from the newspaper announcement and go from there. She could just abandon this whole plan and return home. Let them do whatever they want. Let them seethe and wallow in their anger. She didn't owe them any explanations.

She knew she wasn't going to that but the thought was comforting nevertheless.

She looked at her engagement ring and the wedding band, contemplating her next move. She thought over and over again how to approach this conversation but, for some reason, all the ideas deserted her the moment she parked the car on the driveway in front of the house.

What now? If Ophelia was indeed well what should she tell her and how? How to make her understand? What if her sister was too angry to listen?

If Ophelia feared for her reputation then, surely, the knowledge that Gomez was committed to her - that they were indeed married should calm but then, she wasn't naive enough to think, even for a second, that her reputation was the biggest problem here. She knew both of them counted on her marriage to Francois - Jared especially and the prospective business outcomes that would be practically guaranteed to follow.

On the other hand, what arguments did they have now? She was married, that's done. They could not contest it. The money for the treatment was secured without her even touching upon her inheritance. What excuse did they have now? None. They may disapprove of her marriage all they want but to publically disapprove of her marriage would be equal to admitting that all they cared about was marrying her off to Francois and they were not going to do that. Or at least she didn't think they would.

Granted, this wasn't the marriage they wanted but...well, they could not reasonably expect her to just bend to their will because they wanted a business deal - because that's what her would-be marriage to Francois was - a business deal. This was her life, though, she wasn't a puppet they could just pull the string on and she was bound to do their bidding. She had every right to make whatever decision she wanted about her own life.

She took a deep breath and looked again and her wedding band. She could not bear to take it off, even for a short time. Besides, she had to tell them or they would find out from the announcement in the papers, which, come to think of it, would be sufficient payback - but she wasn't interested in paybacks. She wasn't vengeful. Truly, all she wanted was for them to understand her decision. Understand and accept it. Ophelia she cared about the most because Jared and Dorothy could go to hell for all she cared.

The house was strangely quiet, considering it was mid-afternoon and Charlie should be around making his usual mayhem but the house seemed completely silent - as if deserted. She could not help but feel that there was something ominous in this silence and felt her stomach churn with worry.

She had to find Ophelia and make sure she was all right. She knew her sister was upset with her but surely it couldn't make her ill or harm the baby.

She slowly made her way towards the parlour but it, too, seemed to be empty -

"Well, look who's finally found her way home," Jared's sardonic voice reached her just seconds after she stepped into the room.

Such tone would usually grate on her nerves but now felt oddly comforting. He wouldn't sound like this if her sister was ill and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

She turned towards him with a blank expression on her face. Her gaze immediately travelled towards his left hand, noticing the empty tumbler. Oh, wonderful, nothing better than talking to Jared after he had a drink - and judging by his state, it wasn't his first liquor of the day. He was sitting in the armchair nearest to the empty fireplace, his body language relaxed almost languid - but it was alcohol-induced tranquillity, there was nothing truly content about his mannerism - quite the opposite, he actually seemed on edge.

"If it's not my dearest sister-in-law," he continued sarcastically leaning back against the armchair. "What do we own the honour of gracing our humble layers?"

She briefly bit her lips into a thin line and swallowed the tart reply as she made her way further into the room. She casually dropped her house keys into the crystal bowl in the middle of the coffee table - she won't be needing those anymore. The sharp sound of the metal connecting with the crystal seemed to fill the space around them and the uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. She didn't want to deal with that fool now. She just wanted to speak with her sister.

"Where's Ophelia?" she asked in an even tone forgoing the greeting.

"Aw, how nice of you to finally ask about your sister," he mocked silkily."Since you don't seem to give a single fuck about her well-being lately. Tell me, where the hell have you been for the past two days?"

"That," she replied slowly."Is none of your concern."

"It is very much our concern," the familiar voice retorted behind her and Morticia's heart immediately flooded with concern. Somehow, the presence of Dorothy Diamond, in the middle of the week no less, never spelt anything positive. She turned and watched the older woman join them in the parlour. "What on earth came over you - upsetting your sister like that and then disappearing for two days without a word? She was beside herself with worry, it took hours to calm her down."

"Is she all right?" Morticia asked immediately."Where is she?"

"Of course she's not all right," Dorothy almost spat."She's worried sick about you."

"I'll talk to her-"

"You'll do no such thing."

Morticia frowned, taken aback.

"She's my sister, you can't just forbid me talking to her," she said in disbelief. Perhaps it was the fact that Morticia had to spend so much time with her lately, but the mere sight of Dorothy was aggravating her.

"I will not have you argue with her again," Dorothy insisted, coming closer.

"I did not argue with her," Morticia replied calmly but couldn't quite prevent the defensive tone. It took all her strength not to take an involuntary step back. She did not like the sudden feeling of being cornered by those two and their accusations.

"Your sister is expecting a baby," Dorothy continued as if she didn't hear her."And all you think about is yourself. What were you thinking, Morticia - we've told you, we've warned you about that bloody Lothario. How could you do this to us?"

"You know nothing about him," she defended, despite herself."And I have done nothing to you."

Jared snorted derisively, letting out a spiteful laugh, tilting his head back.

"Good God, I don't know what's worse your constant defiance or your sheer stupidity - do you really think you're any different from the whores who shared his bed before you?" he asked crudely. "Are you really that stupid?"

"I have no intention to justify my decisions to either of you," she retorted firmly."I want to speak to Ophelia."

"And what, pray tell, would you like to tell her?" Dorothy asked."That you've decided to betray your family, to betray her - despite all she's done for you - to become nothing more than a common harlot to Gomez Addams? What you've done," she snapped."Was to slap your whole family as well as your mother's well-being in the face."

"Whatever I want to speak to her about is between me and Ophelia," she insisted, trying her best to stay calm."And I certainly do not have to stand here and listen to your insults. Please tell my sister if she wants to talk to me...well," she paused and allowed her lips to curl into a small smile."She knows where to find me," she added purposely and made a move back towards the door.

She barely had a chance to make few steps when she felt Jared's strong grip on her arm and he spun her towards him abruptly.

"Let go of me," she said firmly, glaring at him viciously.

"Jared - "

"Listen to me, you ungrateful wench," he hissed and threw his tumbler on the floor and noticed his mother flinch as the crystal broke against the impact peppering the floor with its glass remnants."Enough of this nonsense with Addams, do you understand?"

"Oh, poor Jared," Morticia said in a slow, condescending tone."I'm afraid that ship has already sailed."

He frowned, unsure of the meaning behind her words.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," she replied calmly and then added in a deliberate tone."All the rumours you've heard about me and Gomez Addams...are true, every single one of them. I'm afraid you will have to look for other business opportunities because I have no intentions of marrying Mr Chalon."

"Jared don't - " Dorothy gasped sharply when Jared struck Morticia across her face and then gasped again, involuntarily placing her hand against her chest, when Morticia barely winced and retaliated immediately, the sharp sound of her hand connecting with Jared's cheek seemed to fill the entire space around them.

Jared took a step back, whether from the surprising strength of her strike or because of how utterly taken aback he was by her action.

"Don't you dare to touch me again, you drunken fool," Morticia challenged calmly but with the evident steel in her voice and saw Jared's face muscles contract in fury.

"What the hell are you trying to do here, Morticia?" he asked angrily." Don't you have an ounce of common sense behind that thick skull of yours? Are you really so fucking stupid that you will throw away everything for a few weeks of fun?" he continued with barely contained fury."Do you really think you matter to him because you let him fuck you? Do you think he'll lift a finger for a little whore like you?"

"Jared, stop it," his mother pleaded and Morticia vaguely noticed that her voice was unusually soft, unsure - as if she realized she was losing control over this encounter - if she ever had any." Both of you stop this, this is not the way."

"No, not this time, mother," he said silkily and swiftly grabbed Morticia's hair into a tight fist. He was only faintly aware of his mother's gasp behind him."I've told you, explicitly, to stay away from than bloody Lothario. Was I not explicit enough, Morticia?"

"You can go to hell," she retorted, trying not to grimace at the smell of alcohol coming from him."Take your hands off me."

"I wish your father could see you now," he told her with disdain." How proud would he be that his precious little girl decided to become nothing but a whore to that damn playboy?" he asked pointedly. He wanted to provoke her. Her calmness infuriated him more than anything and judging by how her dark eyes flashed with fury it just did the trick.

"Do you really want to discuss who's the bigger whore in this equation?" She retorted coldly. "What would my father say about the fact that his daughter is married to a man who constantly cheats -"she flinched as he grabbed her hair tighter, pulling at them sharply.

"Shut your damn mouth," his spat threateningly and then struck her again so hard she felt instantly disoriented, her vision blurry, the pulsing sensation near her temple spread rapidly towards her cheekbone before being replaced by sharp pain.

"Jared, stop it - " his mother cried out and he felt her tug firmly on his arm but he snatched his arm away and looked at Morticia.

"You will not ruin it for me, do you understand?" he replied."I will not let you ruin this and if this is what it will take for you to finally learn your place then so be it," he remarked calmly even though his chest was still heaving with anger. He stared at the woman before him - her nose was bleeding and the was a bruise already forming on her left cheekbone but the damn wench still dared to stare at him defiantly, mockingly.

He wanted to hurt her, he realized. He wanted to wipe that look of her face once and for all.

Morticia used the back of her palm to wipe the blood slowly trickling from her nose and looked serenely at the crimson smudges.

"I believe I've already ruined it," she said mockingly."You are nothing and this just proves it," she added.

"Shut up," he hissed."Don't push me, Morticia or I swear to God you're going to regret it."

She tilted her head to the side and regarded him sardonically.

"Oh yes, I'm sure it makes you feel manly and powerful, doesn't it?" she goaded him."What's more powerful than to hit a woman, you bloody coward. go on, show your mother what she's raised -"

He struck her again, harder this time - hard enough for her to grunt in pain, her legs gave away and she instinctively pressed her hand to her bruised cheek but he grabbed her both hands and pressed his nails into the insides of her wrists until the grimace of pain crossed her face.

"You really don't know when to shut up, do you?" He asked as he pushed her roughly against the wall, pressing her both hands against her chest so she couldn't move and heard her exhale sharply at the impact. He pressed his fingers deeper into the soft flesh and smirked, this time she couldn't help but wince. He was hurting her and yet he bloody, mocking gaze never left his.

"Take your hands off me," she hissed at him and tried to jerk her hand away from his grip but he was holding her so tightly she could barely flex her fingers.

"Make me," he retorted threateningly.

"Stop it!" He heard her mother furious voice."Both of you. Jared, leave her alone!"

But he couldn't stop it. Not when he could see the blatant mockery and disrespect in those eyes. Not when she wanted to destroy everything that mattered to him. And that bloody look. Who the hell did she think she was, staring at him like this? He took her under his roof, he gave her home, he paid for her mother's damn medical treatment and her bloody school and she gave him nothing but defiance. Damn wench wouldn't know respect if it slapped her in the face.

Insolent woman.

Why was she doing this? Why was she provoking him? Had she no sense at all? If she only stopped looking at him that way - he could not stand that look, he hated that look more than he hated her. That look that conveyed all the mockery, the blatant disrespect she always had for him - despite all that he's done for her. He wondered if she would still stare at him so definitely if he showed her just how little she meant?

He struck her again and it caused her to almost slide to the floor against the wall, his own palm was stinging but he couldn't help but marvel how good it felt to cause her pain. He grabbed her, pressing his fingers into her shoulder forcefully until he heard her hiss in pain and fisted his hand into the material of her dress, pulling her up roughly to her feet.

He spared a brief thought how difficult it will be to get her blood out before he pushed Morticia forcefully on one of the cream-coloured sofas. It will probably make more sense to replace it. Cream sofas was a stupid choice anyway.

Ah, look at her now - leaning against the arm-rest, her pale hand over her bleeding nose - not so defiant now, are we? He will beat that defiance out of her, he will teach her respect, once and for all.

Her eyes met his again, her dark eyes shone with such an unbridled hatred it made him falter for a second but then he watched her lean forward and spit the blood straight on the bright carpet.

Damn insolent woman.

If she can't learn to respect him, then she will learn to fear him. If she can't see what's good for her, then she will learn it the hard way. She will learn to think twice before disobeying him again.

He felt her knees pushing against his stomach, and her fists against his chest as she tried to fend him off but she couldn't. Of course she couldn't, stupid wench. He was too strong for her. Didn't she know that? What an idiot.

It's all her fault. She made him do it.

Why didn't she listen? Why did she have to be so damn defiant, why did she have to ruin everything, he thought as he delivered his strikes, another on her face, her arms and shoulders and ribs until she could do nothing but shield herself helplessly with her arms against his wrath and his hands were getting sore but he didn't stop - he couldn't stop. And it felt good - to finally see her so powerless and at his mercy, this knowledge - that he could kill her if he wanted to, it felt good, he felt in control and he hoped she knew that too. He wanted her to fear him, he wanted to finally break her - literally and figuratively.

She will never dare to look at him with this blatant insolence again.

He could vaguely hear her muffled cries of pain and his mother's desperate pleadings as she tried to pull him off Morticia but it all seemed to him far away, otherworldly. As if he were outside of it all. Nothing mattered to him.

Nothing mattered except hurting her.

There was no reasoning with Morticia anyway. She didn't want to understand. All she wanted was to defy him at all cost. Just to spite him. But no more.

This was the only way. She would never give up otherwise. She would never break. She would never learn. It was her fault it had to be this way, her own damn fault. If she couldn't learn to respect him then he will demand it from her.

He was getting tired and finally, his mother managed to push him away and only then it fully registered.

The smudges of blood on the cream-coloured sofa.

His hands - swollen and bloody, his own blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins. The frantic rise and falls of his chest. His mother panicked voice - was she crying? Or maybe it was Morticia. It was so faint he could not tell whom the voice belonged to. Honestly, he couldn't care even if he wanted to.

"What have you done?"

Oh, it was his mother then. Why was his cheek stinging so much?

"Oh God - " his mother's voice again, it was muffled by the blood surging through his veins.

He felt suddenly thirsty.

He needed a drink.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you all so much for the feedback on the last chapter!

If this chapter is a bit chaotic and hard to follow - it's supposed to be like that, I wanted it to have a stream of consciousness (-ish) sort of narrative. Although, I hope it flows into a cohesive whole as such.

Still, if there's something unclear, please let me know.

Chapter 20

How awfully undignified human body can be.

Embarrassing, almost downright humiliating.

She really couldn't help but grimace in disgust as she watched her lean over helplessly and her lithe body convulsed again with uncontrollable retching - all blood and vomit and - oh God, she had to turn away from the sight because her own stomach started to churn. She didn't want to look at her anyway.

"It's alright, just let it all out," the nurse spoke to her softly, holding her raven hair away from her face and a disposable bowl close.

Dorothy didn't want to look at her. She didn't want to be here at all.

She didn't want to see the dried blood on her face and hair. She didn't want to see her bruised face. She didn't want to think about the fact that it was her own son who was responsible for this, that for the first time in her life Dorothy Diamond didn't know what to do.

Good Lord, when will she stop this unbearable retching?

"Do you feel faint?" the nurse spoke again but Dorothy didn't hear Morticia's reply, maybe she just nodded or shook her head.

The whole situation seemed to her surreal. It just couldn't be. The man who's done this to Morticia couldn't be the same man she called her son, the man she'd raised and loved. No, her son wasn't this abusive animal. Only a monster could do such a thing, only a monster could behave like he did - vicious, angry, out of control. Jared wasn't any of those things.

The monster, she knew, was hidden in the amber liquid.

"She needs to be seen by a doctor," Dorothy insisted impatiently."We've been here for over an hour."

"All the doctors are tending to other patients," the nurse explained kindly as if she was talking to a child and it immediately grated on Dorothy's nerves. "Someone will see her soon."

"Fine," she grunted harshly and her hand went to the silk scarf on her neck - only to realize it wasn't there. Dorothy swallowed heavily.

It wasn't there because it was ruined. She simply panicked seeing so much blood and there was nothing else at hand to give her to stop the bleeding so she gave Morticia her silk scarf - a gift from her daughter-in-law, paradoxically. It soaked the blood too quickly to be of any use anyway.

Her gaze turned to Morticia again and her expression softened, if only just. She didn't want Morticia to get hurt. She didn't want this to happen to her.

All she wanted was for Morticia to understand that she was making a mistake - not...not this. She never wanted this and it scared her how terrifyingly violent and out of control Jared was. Deaf to her pleas...this wasn't her son. He never behaved like this.

Admittedly, he always had a temper but...God, but not like this.

It was unthinkable how absolutely scared she was of him during those few terrifying moments. Afraid of her own son. Her own child.

Unthinkable.

Why did that stupid girl had to provoke him? Dorothy was sure, she was sure that if only Morticia was more reasonable things would never turn so disastrously out of control. This girl seemed to bring the worst out of Jared, there was no other explanation. Everyone would lose their temper if they had to deal with such a headstrong person as Morticia and well...alcohol never helped. Still, alcohol was never a problem until Morticia appeared permanently in their lives with her...her odd ways, her constant stubbornness and unwavering defiance.

All this could be avoided if she had an ounce of common sense. If she at least tried to see and understand that they all had her best interests at heart.

Everyone knew that when in Rome, do as the Romans do - everyone except Morticia. Granted, with her unearthly paleness, there was only so much she could do to fit in but did she never even tried to fit in? Dorothy didn't think so. No! Actually she was dead sure Morticia has done everything in her power to not fit in because even her attempts at compromise seemed more like an act of defiance - subtle, yes, but defiance, still.

She defied one too many times.

Good God, even a fool would know not to provoke a man when he was drunk.

Jared would never hurt her if he wasn't so drunk. He was a good husband and a good, caring, doting father. He was never abusive with anyone - at least not physically.

The foolish girl brought it upon herself.

God, what a mess.

A mess...God damn it, she had to get back to the house and try to clean that blood off the carpet and the sofa before anyone sees it - before Ophelia sees it to be exact. No, her daughter-in-law cannot find out about this... but how? What will Ophelia do when she sees her sister like this? When she finds out that her Jared didn't even bother to take her to the hospital because her son barely grunted 'I don't give a damn' and left the house. Dorothy was left to sort out this mess on her own.

She decided not to dwell on that. Not to dwell on the fact that he's left her with this girl - barely conscious - oh...she just remembered Morticia vomited on the carpet as well, and it will need to be cleaned. God damn it all to hell. Her and her bloody Lothario.

And what now? How to handle this? If Morticia reported this to the police...oh Jesus, the damage it would do if people found out - and they would find out, such thing could not go unnoticed.

There was no way to fix this situation, Dorothy knew that. All she could do now was to lessen the damage. It was perhaps unfair but she simply could not afford her son being connected to...how did they call it nowadays? Domestic violence. In her days there was not even a description for such a thing. It happened, of course it happened, but it happened behind closed doors - when people had the decency to be discreet about their private matters.

"Are you happy now?" Dorothy asked the moment the nurse left them alone in the room, her tone jaded."Is this what you wanted?"

Morticia frowned, barely registering what the woman was saying. She leaned slowly against the hospital bed she was sitting on, squinting against the light that was too bright and brought her knees closer to her chest - for some reason the position eased her nausea - if only a little. Her stomach hurt.

"Just leave," she replied, closing her eyes tiredly, thankful that the nurse cleaned off the dried blood off her face - at least as much as she could between Morticia's sick spells. It still hurt like hell but at least stopped feeling like her skin was coated in a dried shell of blood.

"What are you going to do now?" Dorothy prodded but Morticia ignored her.

She didn't want to talk to anyone, let alone this woman. She was so tired and the painkillers the nurse gave her were starting to make her groggy. No, it couldn't be the painkillers. She vomited them after all. But she felt tired, light-headed and nauseous.

"You must think about your sister. You must think about Ophelia."

What was this demented woman raving about? Why can't she just leave?

"Can you just go away, please?" she retorted, putting as much force into her tone as she could muster - which, in the end, wasn't much because her voice came out barely above a whisper. It hurt to talk because she cut her lips against her teeth when Jared hit her and they only now stopped bleeding. Her stomach felt sore...everything felt sore, her head hurt and the last thing she wanted was to be in the company of this blasted woman.

"My son is not a bad man," she carried on as if she didn't hear her.

Morticia opened her eyes and looked at her sardonically.

"You must be very proud, then," she muttered her reply, closing her eyes again. Why do the lights in hospitals must be so bright, it was annoying.

"You've done it deliberately, didn't you?" she accused suddenly and Morticia turned to her with a completely bewildered expression.

"Are you completely insane?"

"Insane?" Dorothy repeated."From the moment you've arrived in this country you've done everything you could to make your sister's life difficult."

Her lips parted and she exhaled in disbelief. What, in everything that's damned, was this woman talking about?

"That's not true," she managed to reply but, again, it barely came out above the whisper.

"Do you want to destroy her marriage as well now?" Dorothy pressed."They have a child and they're expecting a baby and all you've ever done was to make sure there's always a rift between them. You have no concern for anything or anyone but yourself."

Morticia swallowed heavily and tried her best to repress the angry tears that were threatening to appear. She would rather die than cry in front of this woman. What was she trying to do? Why was she saying those things? They were lies, mean hurtful lies and yet Morticia could feel her chest constrict at the sheer spitefulness behind them.

"What do you think to do now? Report this to the police? Do you have any idea what would it do to Ophelia?" she asked frantically and without waiting for Morticia's reply she continued."She's under enough stress as it is and you want to add a failed marriage to it as well? Do you want your nephew to grow up in a broken home?"

"It's hardly my fault that your son is a woman beating coward," she pointed out coldly, trying not to wince at the sharp pain in her temple.

"My son has never raised a hand against a woman before," Dorothy shot back.

"Oh, so it is my fault now?" she replied, sardonically. The woman was demented, plain and simple.

"Whose fault is it then, Morticia?" she asked pointedly."They were perfectly happy until you came around and started destroying everything with your constant fights with Jared."

"That's not true," she insisted firmly."You know perfectly well that's not how it was."

"Oh, wasn't it? Perhaps, you should try to see farther than the tip of your own nose," she insisted."All that time you acted like a victim in the circumstances that were hardly the end of the world and your sister was trying to do everything she could to make a home for you - but you didn't want a home. You wanted to act like a spoiled little girl, crying for the moon," she insisted viciously, pleased to notice how rigid Morticia's jaw became and there were tears brimming in her eyes. Good. They were getting somewhere."Do you know how many times your sister was in tears because of you and your fights with her husband? How it broke her heart that you couldn't even try to fit it, at least tried to be happy? Of course, you didn't, because nothing ever mattered to you but yourself."

Morticia clenched her teeth so hard it almost hurt. She wanted to deny this but her chest felt so constricted she was sure the words would not come out or worse - she would cry. She had to say something - anything - to stop her talking. Stop saying those hurtful lies.

But she couldn't. And she couldn't look away from the accusing glare either.

"So at least this once," Dorothy continued." This one time think about someone else but yourself. Think about your sister and nephew before you do something so selfishly stupid as reporting this to the police. And make no mistake here - we wouldn't be here - in this situation if it weren't for you."

"Get out," she hated how shakey her voice was. She heated that her words upset her so much when she knew it wasn't true. It wasn't. She never wanted to hurt her sister, she loved Ophelia and she loved Charlie more than she could put into words. She would never -

"I can go if you want me to," Dorothy remarked, calmly this time."But it won't change the facts."

Morticia didn't reply but didn't even flinch under Dorothy's accusing gaze either, even though her dark eyes shone with unshed tears.

Dorothy supposed she should feel a little guilty to use this situation like this but then, she couldn't afford guilty. She could not afford her son being connected with domestic abuse. She would rather deal with the scandal of Morticia marrying that Castilian bastard - because, in the midst of it all, she certainly did not fail to notice the wedding band ostentatiously gracing Morticia's left hand or the obscenely large ruby engagement ring.

Unbelievable. The sheer audacity of this girl.

"Do you think marriage means anything to that man?" she asked sardonically, for good measure, gazing pointedly at Morticia's left hand."It didn't mean anything to his father and it means even less to him but you've made your bed, Morticia," she added cruelly before picking her shoulder bag from the chair nearer the window."Let's hope you can afford to lie in it."

Gomez Addams tried very hard not to smirk as he watched his dear cousin hit his head repeatedly into a highly polished bar counter, moaning dramatically for a good measure.

From Gomez's point of view, the meeting with the plaintiff went quite smoothly...or, well, as smoothly as such meeting could go. All in all, after it turned out that it wasn't the first case of the man's wife extramarital affair they were able to negotiate a reasonable settlement.

"Sixty thousand, Gomez?" Balthazar complained ardently. Again."How the hell is that a better settlement?"

"Better than a hundred thousand," Gomez quipped, grinning at his cousin and leaned against the bar counter, propping his head on the pillow of his hand."That, let me remind you, you could not afford without informing your father about this pathetic predicament."

"Sixty thousand will clean my account for the rest of the month," Balthazar insisted, bringing his glass full of whiskey to his lips.

"Ah, the next drink is on me, then," Gomez smiled."Since you're a pauper now."

"You should be a comedian," Balthazar deadpanned, glaring at Gomez.

"I've told you so many times to get into investing business," Gomez pointed out."It's fun and would give you financial independence so you wouldn't have to rely on your father giving you pocket money every month."

"And I've repeatedly told you that I don't want to get into any business. I was born into privilege," Balthazar defended hotly."At least one of us should be a typical spoiled, entitled, rich cunt leaving off his father's money," he insisted, making Gomez snort in amusement."Ah, fuck it. At least it's over."

"That's the spirit."

"So," his cousin grunted, ready to change the subject." How are things with the Iron Maiden?"

"Iron Maiden?" Gomez asked, clearly confused.

"The Raven Haired Bird," Balthazar clarified.

Gomez grimaced.

"You really have to stop calling her that," he retorted."She might take more kindly to you if you stop behaving like such an arse."

Balthazar inhaled sharply in mock outrage.

"Hey, it's not my fault the lady is utterly unreceptive to the fine art of flirting,"

"Your kind of flirting, you mean," Gomez replied with a mean laugh.

"Yeah, well, you can't please everyone," Balthazar replied in a dismissive manner."And my flirting is an art in itself," he insisted firmly before his expression lost its amused sparkle."So...everything turned out well with...you know...the thing."

Gomez took a deep breath and nodded.

"Water under the bridge," he answered curtly."We've talked things through. It's...we're good."

"Good," Balthazar nodded."That's good, 'cos... it was…," he paused looking for some sophisticated description."Fucking intense."

"To put it mildly," Gomez admitted.

"So things between you and... Morticia... are all good?"

Gomez couldn't help a wide grin spreading on his face.

"Better than good," he replied, lifting his left hand and laughed heartily when Balthazar spluttered his drink over the table.

"Fuck, you didn't!" he exclaimed, ignoring the disapproving glares from the patrons around them.

"I did," he assured.

"I always knew you had a death wish," Balthazar quipped in faux exasperation."She scares the hell out of me," he admitted. "When she glares at me, it seems like...I don't know… like she can snatch souls or something."

Gomez laughed gregariously, tilting his head back - not that he disagreed with that description because his cousin was actually spot on.

"See, I'm going to tell her you said that," Gomez decided."She really might actually warm up to you."

Emergency departments were always busy as a rule but this amount of busy was usually reserved for weekend nights, not damn Thursday afternoons. She tried to remember the last time she ate and realized she had nothing since her midmorning break of coffee and cake. Come to think of it, she should lie down all those cakes and doughnuts the nurses were keeping in the staff room, they didn't do her waistline any favours.

Well, one more mini doughnut certainly wouldn't hurt, Dr Irene Covey thought as she passed the nursing station on her way to see her next patient, and promptly popped the sweet treat into her mouth, wiping the powdered sugar off her fingers into her black trousers.

She clicked her tongue inadvertently and exhaled in a jaded manner. This was her third case of domestic abuse since this morning. Words cannot convey how she hated those situations.

The cases of domestic abuses were one of the most upsetting she's ever encountered. It was so heart-breaking to deal with the fact that the people one was supposed to be the closest to were so often the abusers.

Dr Covey glanced at the medical notes and immediately faltered at the familiar name on the page. Good Lord -

No… no, it couldn't be. It didn't make sense. She knew that girl and her family, she knew those people so well, she was certain there must be some mistake.

It must be some mistake, her mind insisted, even though she knew there were really slim chances of encountering two people with such a unique name as hers and the date of birth was unfortunately too accurate to be a coincidence.

She knocked gently and entered the room.

The girl on the hospital bed looked up and almost immediately her posture slumped in resignation as the recognition dawned on her.

"Morticia," Dr Covey greeted gently, trying her best to keep her as even as she thought it was humanly possible.

"Mrs Covey," came Morticia's feeble reply."I didn't know you...I forgot you work here - " what a ridiculous thing to say but she didn't know what to say. Except that she felt it unfortunate that it would be Michael's mother to see her because now everyone would know. And the fact that she didn't want them to know was ridiculous as well.

"Small world," Michael's mother replied somberly, washing her hands in a small sink on the opposite wall before approaching the bed. She cupped Morticia's cheek and carefully examined the extensive bruises on her face."Follow my finger please," she requested and nodded when Morticia followed the request."Did you faint at any point?"

"No, I don't think so," Morticia replied, glad that the conversation was so...well, clinical.

"You don't think so?"

She didn't think so but then she barely remembered how did she get to the hospital.

"I might have...maybe, briefly," she admitted. "I don't remember fainting."

Dr Covey nodded somberly and pressed her fingers gently to Morticia skull.

"Did you hit your head?" she asked when the girl winced at the pressure.

"Ehm, no...I didn't... he…," she replied softly and paused, moving her hand in a circular motion, suddenly uncomfortable and extremely reluctant to talk about it. She frowned and looked away from Michael's mother knowing gaze."I was... hit," there, that was better, more impersonal somehow.

"Can you undress?" Dr Covery requested softly and didn't miss the way Morticia shifted uncomfortably."I need to examine you," she explained.

"Yes, I understand…," Morticia nodded."It's just -"

"There's nothing to be ashamed about, Morticia," she insisted and Morticia was almost shocked at the fire in her voice."This is not your fault, none of it, do you understand?"

She nodded but didn't make a move. She felt incredibly vulnerable and she hated it, hated that she was constantly on the verge of tears and had to fight to suppress the moisture behind her eyelids.

Don't cry, she told herself, don't you dare to cry. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth in an effort to keep herself together, to contain this utter chaos around her.

As long as she won't cry, this...this thing was manageable. She can get through this, she can. She won't let it break her. It was just another thing to survive, nothing else.

She took a deep breath and reached behind her neck to unbutton the dress and pulled it down slowly. She couldn't help but wince at the sight - there were purple bruises on her arms, the red half-moon marks from there he pressed his nails into her skin. It was unfortunate that her skin was so pale, she thought, the bruises contrasted so vividly against the light complexion.

"Do your ribs hurt when you cough?" Michael's mother asked, pressing her finger into Morticia's ribs.

"No," she grunted."No more than the rest."

"Bruised then, but it won't hurt to check for any fractures. I will order a scan for you, just to make sure, "she commented. It was never easy to perform examinations on the victims of domestic abuse but this...this was somehow much harder than she could have expected. It was hard not to take this personally when this young woman, whom she's known for years was sitting here, her body bruised beyond belief, trying so obviously not to fall apart. It was hard to think of her as a patient and not to remember that this was the same girl she had over for dinners, who was such a good friend to her son, who praised Irene's pathetic attempts at cooking, with whom she so often binge-watched a horror movie marathon in the television. "Who did this to you?" she asked, suddenly so angry she could barely contain it and immediately felt her tense."Boyfriend?" she asked.

"No," Morticia replied immediately before she could stop herself, her voice surprisingly sharp, but didn't elaborate any further.

"Jared?" Dr Covey guessed, even though she could not even think that he would do such a thing to her.

"No," she insisted firmly without missing a beat. She didn't know why. The response seemed automatic.

"How did you get to the hospital?" she asked, not missing the fact that Morticia fidgeted uncomfortably at the question.

"Jared's mother brought me," she admitted reluctantly.

Dr Covey didn't comment but the acute silence that seemed to fill the entire room spoke volumes.

"Do you want me to call your sister?" she asked finally.

"No," Morticia retorted frantically, shaking her head. "No, I...no, I don't want to call her."

"Okay, all right, calm down...I won't call her," she assured."But I want to keep you here overnight, so is there anyone I can call to get you your things? Michael perhaps?"

"Is it necessary?" Morticia asked instead."I don't want to stay here," she didn't want to stay here a minute longer than necessary even though she was aware she felt too faint to walk on her own.

"I need to check for any internal bleeding and at least make sure you don't have a concussion," Dr Covey explained gently. "I can't let you go home on your own, Morticia," she pointed out patiently."So is there anyone I can call?"

Morticia sighed tiredly. God, she didn't know what to do…where did Gomez say his meeting was? She couldn't remember. He was probably on his way home, anyway. What time was it?

She looked at her bruised arms and suddenly a thought occurred to her.

"How bad does it look, Mrs Covey?" she found herself asking and the woman looked at her quizzically.

"Pardon?"

"My face," she clarified."I didn't see...how - how bad does it look?"

The slight grimaced passed through the older woman's face before she compressed her lips into a thin line, contemplating briefly how to respond.

"Bad," she admitted finally. "And it will look worse later," she warned."The swelling is still quite mild considering…," she paused and moved towards the chest of drawers pulling a plastic bag from it, before squashing the content in her hands."Here," she handed the bag to Morticia."It's an ice pack."

"Thank you," she replied, pressing it against the left side of her face and silently considered what to do. She wanted her husband to be here and she also dreaded it at the same time. She didn't want to be seen like this...by anyone.

Dr Covey was telling her something but she couldn't focus enough to listen.

She felt so tired.

God, if she could turn back time and never go to that damned place. Or at least if she left before things got out of hand, she wouldn't have to deal with this.

No, oh God, why was she thinking like this? Why was she letting this poison seep into her consciousness? This wasn't her fault. None of it was her fault. It wasn't. She will not allow herself to think like this.

Except... that maybe, if she didn't provoke him -

Shut up. Just be silent. Get out of my head.

"Can I call Michael?" she heard the older woman ask.

Morticia blinked and looked at her intently.

Maybe. She can ask Michael to go to the house and explain - somehow. She didn't think she could face any of them herself, she could not explain. She -

"Yes," she found herself saying."I think that would be best."

Her head hurt. A pounding, pulsing pain that seemed to drawn everything else.

She wished there was a way to deem those blasted lights. It made her headache worse and she didn't like being here alone, the place made her anxious. It was too bright, too unfamiliar.

Or maybe it wasn't the place but the situation itself?

But then why bother thinking about it when it was just another nuisance?

Nuisance. Like Dorothy's words. Or Dorothy herself.

Is that what that woman thought of her? That she was a spoiled child crying for the moon?

That she was really that petty and ungrateful?

Did they all think that of her? Even her sister?

All she wanted was to live her life on her terms - to be allowed to be who she was, not to be forced to be someone else.

There was a soft knock on the door that indicated that her moment of solitude was no longer and she was simultaneously grateful and disappointed by the interruption. She wanted to be alone but then being alone with her thoughts was probably not the best idea at the moment.

Her lips curled into a feeble smile when she saw her friend enter the room hesitantly.

"I guess baking powder is really not going to cut it this time," she whispered and swallowed heavily.

"Jesus Christ, Tish," Michael whispered hoarsely and came over to the bed slowly."How...Jesus...fuck," he swore and draw her gently into a hug."I don't know what...I'm gonna fucking kill him."

"Michael -"

"What?" he snapped angrily." You gonna tell me he was drunk and apologised?"

She shrugged helplessly. She didn't know what to say anyway.

"You can't let him get away with this, Tish,"

"I don't want him to get away with it," she snapped. She didn't. She was angry...God so angry she could barely contain it, so angry she wanted to cry. She was angry that he was able to do this to her, that she couldn't defend herself because he was too strong for her. She felt abused, humiliated and utterly helpless and she hated it more than she could put into words. She hated Jared more than she ever thought she was capable of hating anyone. Him and Dorothy for implying that she deserved it, that she brought it upon herself.

More so, she hated the fact that perhaps on some level they had a point. It felt as she brought it upon herself. If she allowed Gomez to come with her, none of this would have happened, if she didn't provoke Jared so much, if she wasn't so stubborn, if she was more -

No.

No God damn it, she won't allow the poison of Dorothy words to enter her heart. She did not deserve it. He had no right to raise his hand on her and he should not get away with it.

Why should he?

"I don't want him to get away with it, Michael," she said again."I'm just...so tired," she whispered, her tone so jaded it was startling even to her.

"Don't speak like this," he asked in a constrained whisper, hugging her closer."Don't let him break you - that piece of shit is not going to break you. You'll get through this."

She shook her head gently.

She was tired, though. She was tired of living the life that wasn't hers, she was tired of the constant stress of her mother's illness, of those never ending fights and now...this.

She wasn't selfish. She was never selfish. Why couldn't they understand that this life they wanted her to live was choking her, that she wasn't defiantly unwilling but simply unable to adapt to it because this life they wanted her to lead was to her unbearable? It wasn't a question of adapting to the new circumstances - didn't they realize that if it was that simple she would do it in a blink of an eye? But she couldn't do it. She couldn't because she couldn't just pretend for the rest of her life that she wasn't who she was, she could not live a lie. Yet, they all thought she was being spoiled and difficult when every single day for the past four years she had to push herself every morning just to survive another day.

They didn't see how much effort she put in to all the distractions in her life so she didn't have to think about how unbearably lonely she felt.

None of them considered, even for a second, that the reason she turned down all those marriage proposals was that it would be final. It would mean there was no hope, that this new life was now forever - and she could not bear such a prospect. She could not bear such a prison.

She wasn't selfish. She was trying to survive.

And now, now - when her life was finally the way she longed for it to be - when she was finally happy - that woman dared to imply that it was her own fault. That she deserved it.

Her fault.

No one had any right to punish her for choosing to live her own life - not merely surviving but finally living.

"Motherfucker, I'm gonna kill that rat bastard."

Morticia let out a mirthless laugh despite herself. She didn't even hear the door open.

"You will have to stand in line and wait your turn," she replied. "Don't cry, okay?" she asked when Elena approached her, looking very much like she was exactly two seconds from bursting into tears."I can't handle crying right now."

Her friend nodded, swallowing heavily.

"Okay," she whispered but shook her head angrily."Can I hug you?" she asked, in such a pathetic, small voice that Morticia couldn't help but nod and within seconds she felt her friend's arms wrapped gently around her."Please, tell me Gomez already killed him at least twice."

"Gomez doesn't know yet," she replied softly.

Elena frowned and looked at her quizzically.

"What do you mean he doesn't know?"

"He...his cousin had a court case and Gomez went to try to mediate," she explained."So I went to … I wanted to see Ophelia, but she wasn't at home, just Jared and we've argued and then…," she paused and shook her head impatiently. She suddenly felt too tired, too close to tears to try to explain anything to anyone."Can you get Gomez here for me?" she asked, trying very hard for her voice not to break.

"Sure," Michael nodded immediately."We'll go right away."

"I'll stay with you," Elena insisted.

"No," Morticia shook her head.

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"I want some time alone," Morticia admitted."Please, I need some time...I," she paused and swallowed heavily."I just want my husband."

Elena has never felt so angry in her whole life.

She felt so angry, so mad it hurt to breathe.

She hated how helpless she felt, she hated that there was so little they could do.

She wanted to kill that bastard and to just erase the whole situation and make her friend feel better.

Now. Immediately.

She wanted to take that broken, defeated look away from her face and replace it again with blissful happiness form two day ago.

She wanted to fix it. Somehow. Anyhow. Get that bastard's head on a silver platter and tell her 'here, he's gone, please feel better, please smile, please please please -

"Wait, just…," she swallowed heavily, as they got inside Michael's blue Sedan, and wiped her cheeks furiously.

"El -"

"I'm okay, I'm… just give me a fucking minute okay?"

"Sure, okay," he replied softly, placing a comforting hand on her back.

"Fucking bastard, fucking animal... how could he do that her...Jesus Christ," she said hoarsely."I hope he'll rot in jail, I hope Gomez's gonna kill him -"

"El, calm down," he tried to placate.

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!" she snapped. "Don't fucking tell me to calm down when …," she paused, her voice breaking and then couldn't help the tears. Couldn't help her body convulse in helpless anger."Fuck - "she felt Michael's arms around her.

"She'll get through this," he whispered, for the lack of anything better to say and even to himself his words lacked conviction."We'll help her get through this," he corrected himself."So cry and take the fucking rage out now before we reach the mansion because I don't want Gomez to think she's died or something when he sees you like this," he reprimanded, more harshly than he intended but truth be told, he's barely holding it together himself.

Elena nodded and took a deep breath then another and another before finally punching the side door of the car.

"Son of a bitch," she spat angrily, delivering another punch to the window and immediately hissed and waved her hand frantically."Well...that fucking hurt."

A bath was probably a good idea, anyway, perhaps they could share it. They could get some wine and have a slow, relaxing evening together.

Or he could take her out to dinner first, he even knows a place that she will definitely love.

He noticed, from afar as he entered the gate, that there was no sign of either of the cars at the driveway and then frowned slightly, noticing the two familiar silhouettes waiting in front of the house.

"Hey," Michael greeted warily as Gomez approached them, ubiquitous cigar in his hand.

Gomez nodded at them but was obviously surprised at seeing them.

"You're alright?" he asked in a way of greeting and didn't miss the fact that both of them fidgeted uncomfortably at the question." Morticia's not at home," he informed them curtly but could already feel his stomach contracted with worry.

There was something wrong. He knew it, he suddenly felt it in the core of his being, and he swallowed heavily.

"Yeah, we know," Michael replied carefully." We actually came to get you."

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Look, she's fine...she's not dead or anything," he assured and winced the moment the words left his lips but Gomez looked as if the whole blood just drained from his face."But she's in the hospital."

"Which hospital?" he asked with such a deadly calm, Michael couldn't help but stare at him worryingly.

"The Medical Centre," Elena replied."Jared - "

"Don't," Gomez interjected sharply, lifting his hand to stop her from talking."Don't say his name, don't - just take me to her."

"Okay," Elena nodded."It's just…-"

"What?" he urged impatiently.

"They want to keep her overnight to check for...for concussion and such," she explained slowly."We need to get her some clothes and -"

"Okay," he concurred in a breathless whisper before turning towards Elena."Stay here and wait for my mother, okay? They should be back soon, explain everything to them," he instructed and Elena nodded mutely in agreement. Gomez reached towards his breast pocket and took out the house keys before pressing them firmly into her hands, followed by a roll of hundred dollar bills."Get whatever she might need, okay?"

"Okay," she replied quietly.

Gomez nodded at her before turning towards Michael.

"Let's go."

Gomez was grateful that Michael drove fast and even more grateful that he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with words because Gomez was sure he could not handle words at this point.

Never, in his life, the fear and guilt consumed him so thoroughly and completely.

Guilt and an almost overwhelming sense of failure.

He failed her. He failed her. He allowed her to get hurt. He failed her.

Why did he allow her to go on her own? Stupid fool, why didn't he try to reason with her?

She was his wife - his to protect, to keep safe and he failed her.

It didn't matter that he will rip that bastard apart - he will, no question about that. The matter was that he wasn't there when she needed him. He failed her.

He should have felt something was amiss but he didn't. Why? Why didn't he anticipate? Why did he allow her to go on her own?

He should have known. Why didn't he know?

He heard his name being called and it took all of his will power to tear himself from his desperate musings.

He turned towards the voice and saw Michale eyeing him worriedly.

"Are you okay?"

It took him a moment to register the question. Was he okay?

"No," he replied somberly. No, he was not okay.

"Because you can't...you can't lose it in there," he warned pointing at the door behind him."Gomez… she's barely keeping it together, do you understand? You have to be there for her."

Gomez swallowed heavily but nodded in understanding.

"It looks bad," Michael warned again."Like... really bad, he -" he paused, licking his lips and swallowed heavily."She really needs you. This is about her, not that son of a bitch, okay?"

"I know that," he replied tensely, annoyed. What the hell did Michael think was Gomez going to do? Leave his wife in the hospital just to go and beat the hell out of that bastard? Of course, she was his priority.

"Okay, so... I'll go find my mum," Michael informed and couldn't help but smile briefly when Gomez frowned at him quizzically. It looked almost comical."I mean, she's working here - my mother - she's the doctor who treated Tish, so you can ask her...you know whatever you need to know later."

Gomez nodded and sighed tiredly, licking his suddenly dried lips.

"Thanks," he said.

He pressed the handle and pushed the door open, entering the room slowly and almost stopped dead in his tracks. He faltered as if something physically pushed him.

He could not prepare himself for this, he realized, no amount of warnings could have prepared him for the sight of her bruised face, the vicious marks on her body - so clearly visible under the flimsy hospital gown.

His chest felt so constricted with rage and sorrow and guilt that he could barely draw another breath.

She exhaled audibly upon seeing him enter and was in his arms before she could finish whispering his name. The moment Morticia saw him all the strength that she's been mustering until now seemed to instantly desert her and she couldn't stop the tears. Her relief upon seeing him was so complete, so overwhelming that all she could do was to surrender and the tears, she's been repressing for so long, flew freely as if finally devoid of any contraption.

He was here and she was in his arms and it's all that mattered to her at the moment. She could finally let it go, she didn't have to be strong - he was her strength. He was her safety.

She pressed her bruised face into his chest, her body shaking from the uncontrollable sobs and if felt to her as if she could no longer contain it. It was too much.

"I will kill him for this, I swear," he whispered hoarsely into her hair as she clung to him fiercely but at the same time as if completely devoid of any strength. Impossible contradiction.

"No," she muttered feebly into his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears but she just couldn't stop.

"Don't, Tish," he retorted firmly, more harshly than he intended but then pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head."Don't tell me not to, don't - I swear to God, he'll regret the moment he raised his hand on you."

She shook her head gently. He was misinterpreting her response but she didn't have enough strength to explain.

"Don't leave me," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him a little tighter and he couldn't stand how defeated her voice was."Just hold me."

A/N: Thank you for reading!

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