Wednesday and Friday left the hives behind, starting the uphill trek back to the quad in the center of Nevermore. Friday waved goodbye effusively, to which Eugene and Lenore responded in equal measure. In the short time she had been with them, the younger Addams had managed to charm the beekeeper and his lupine helper.
Wednesday would be lying if she didn't admit that of her three dimensional counterparts Friday was perhaps equal parts the one that fascinated and disturbed her the most.
Woe was very much like her, perhaps the most of the three. She was certainly the one who was closest to being the way Wednesday was just before her arrival at Nevermore two years earlier. Coldness, tight control of her emotions and expressions, a disdain for social expectations, and an obvious affinity for violence as a tool for problem-solving. Not that Wednesday had lost those qualities in the last two years, but she had certainly evolved and diversified her approach to interacting with the rest of the world.
Needler was an interesting case. Wednesday had always had some interest in engineering and the sciences, but her affinity for them lay in very specific niches (torture devices, mostly). Needler was a reflection of how her personality could have developed had her interests leaned more towards that scientific aspect, leaving aside knowledge related to more esoteric or supernatural fields. That said, she couldn't help but think that even Needler's "science" bordered on the fine line between the world of logic and the Addamses' own insane lunacy. Her stories about resurrecting frogs ready to be dissected at her school or her developing project to create a serum to transmute genes from her pet octopus Socrates into a human subject pointed in that direction.
But apart from that inflamed passion for science and an obvious greater ability to interact socially, Needler was also very similar to Wednesday and Woe. Serene, monotonous, fond of the macabre, with a certain sadistic side (especially in relation to her brother).
And then there was Friday.
The color. Seeing a version of herself wearing a color as vivid as pink would never fail to be a shock, ever. No matter how much the little girl in question argued that it was the color of blood diluted by tears (a poetic image that at least Wednesday could respect).
But then there was the question of her personality... Friday shared the same tastes as the others. It might not appear so to the naked eye, but the affinity for the macabre and the dark was still there. She may not be as overtly sadistic, but a girl who found maximum enjoyment in mutilating her toys and raising venomous animals was an Addams through and through. But she was bright, bubbly, charming, friendly. She smiled easily and showed affection without trouble.
And she found that disturbing. Not because of the fact that Friday was outgoing and affectionate. Contrary to what one might think, those traits were common in many members of her family. Gomez Addams was perhaps the greatest example.
No, she found it disturbing because despite everything Friday reminded her very much of a certain little girl before the loss of her little pet scorpion.
At six years of age, Wednesday did not wear pink and was not as effusive as Friday, having always been more inclined to a reserved personality and of few words. But she had been friendly and open to building relationships with her peers in her early years of public education. And she did so with a smile. At young ages, many children had not yet been fully molded by the fearful conformity of their parents, and their tolerance for the macabre and the weird had allowed little Wednesday to have something resembling... well, maybe not friends per se. But friendly acquaintances.
True, many of those early pseudo-friendships didn't last (in retrospect, the spider piñata was too advanced a level for non-Addams children), but Wednesday had faced her reality with joy, love for her family (she still let her mother hug her back then) and... a certain optimism for the future.
And then the world bared its teeth and its cruelty and took Nero with it. Innocent little Nero, who had never hurt a fly (crickets, on the other hand...).
Joy withered, love became a poison to be kept away (because to love implied the risk of losing what was loved and that pain was... not pleasant, like playing with hot irons was) and any desire for friendship disappeared as did her tears and most of her smiles of a non-sadistic variety. Only the firm and absolute resolve of retribution remained.
Filling the underwear of Nero's killers with black widow eggs about to hatch had been cathartic.
It was also her first expulsion from an educational institution.
Looking at Friday brought back those memories. Wednesday was sure she would never have been as open and colorful as her young dimensional variant, but she couldn't help but wonder... What if Nero hadn't died? What if just one of those children on her birthday hadn't run away in terror and offered true friendship? What would she be like then, without loss and with friends?
It would have been you and it wouldn't have been you, she told herself, And in some reality out there that's the case. A happy Wednesday Addams with a smile for her friends. And maybe you wouldn't have been expelled from your first school, or your first high school, and you would never have set foot in Nevermore and...
That train of thought was cut off short, abruptly.
No Nevermore.
No Enid.
Unacceptable.
Wednesday sighed, letting out the tension that had suddenly formed in her body at that last thought.
She noticed a small hand taking hers.
She looked down beside her and could see Friday taking her hand as they walked, smiling at Wednesday.
"You looked like a storm cloud was forming on your face," said the little girl.
Two years ago, Wednesday would have jerked her hand away roughly, or scowled, or pinned a glare full of murderous promise on anyone who had dared to touch her. But even two years ago, Friday's smile –open, sincere, achingly similar to that of her she-wolf– would have stopped her.
Eugene's words came to her mind when minutes before she tried to disprove his absurd time travel theory while Friday listened to Lenore's explanations about the honey extraction.
"Well, you can't blame me," the beekeeper had said, "She looks like you and has your Addamsity, but look how friendly and cheerful she is... that's pure Enid. A future daughter of yours could be very well like that."
She once told her mother that she would never fall in love. Or that she would never start a family. The former she had already broken without any regrets. The latter...
Wednesday said nothing, but gently squeezed Friday's hand, holding it a little tighter.
The little girl smiled at her again as the two continued their walk.
§§§
When the older Addams and the younger Addams arrived at the quad, Wednesday noticed right away that something significant had happened.
Needler was seated at the table where they had eaten breakfast, with Enid and Ajax sitting on both sides of the young mad doctor, with Thing on her lap. Enid had draped an arm over the scientist Addams' shoulders, like a partial hug.
Woe was standing in front of them, staring intently but with nothing like her typical anger radiating from her gaze.
Somewhat more surprising was the presence of Bianca, a few steps behind Woe, observing the scene with what appeared to be some apprehension. It was the siren who was the first to notice Wednesday and Friday's arrival, her eyes widening as she laid her eyes on the latter.
"Oh my God. There's another one. And it's pink!" said Bianca, stifling a giggle.
The others present turned their attention to the new arrivals. Wednesday and Enid exchanged a glance. Wordlessly, something very much like a quick and silent conversation ensued between the two.
What happened?
I'll tell you later.
Wednesday nodded imperceptibly, before turning her attention to the siren.
"Barclay, I see you've already met my cousins."
"Ah, about that...," Enid interrupted, "I'm afraid they've already found out the whole thing. Well, at least for these two..."
Wednesday frowned slightly.
"Not even twenty-four hours? Anyway, I suppose given our affinity for chaos I shouldn't be surprised," she said, then settling her gaze on Woe, who scowled back, "I see there's been no trouble locating her, Enid, though I can't help but wonder what happened to your clothes."
"Why, Miss Enid, your sneakers have exploded," Friday said with a gasp as she noticed the werewolf's bare feet.
"Well, you see..." began Enid as she rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment.
But it was Woe who spoke, "Sinclair aggressively disciplined a wretched worm who planned to take unpleasant liberties with Barclay and who resorted to insult and assault against me," Woe looked at Enid with an indecipherable expression, "Your paramour is a magnificent beast, you should be proud."
"Uh...thanks Woe," mumbled Enid.
Meanwhile, Friday had approached Bianca. The siren couldn't keep an incredulous smile from her lips. A mini-Wednesday Addams wearing pink? Seeing was believing.
"Hi," greeted Friday, "I like your eyes, they're very pretty."
Well, she didn't expect that. Seemingly sincere kindness in a first contact with an Addams. No doubt this was a surreal experience.
"Why, thank you," Bianca replied.
"Can I keep them if you die?" asked Friday.
Wait, what.
"Friday!" called Wednesday, "Don't imitate Needler."
"I confess I was considering asking a similar question," said Needler in a quiet voice.
Bianca shook her head, "Well, if I still had any doubts this proves it. Even the sweetest Wednesday is still a Wednesday," she said, "Kudos for the cousin story, it might have worked, although you should have set it up a little better."
"You of all people shouldn't go around criticizing personal cover-ups, Bianca," Wednesday retorted.
"Eh, mine worked," replied the siren before a more serious expression took over her face. The one speaking now was not just Bianca Barclay but the leader of the Nightshades, "But seriously? What do you plan to do, how did this happen?"
"Honestly, we are still in a phase of gathering information. I plan to consult your library further and perhaps see if my visions decide to be useful or not. Someone snuck in and stole a book on interdimensional magic."
"Someone broke into our library?" asked Bianca, indignant.
"I suspect someone outside Nevermore, but familiar with the Academy. What we are also missing are motives, what does that person gain by bringing other versions of me into this reality."
"And in the meantime, I'll play the bloodhound," said Enid, "Literally."
"This afternoon Enid will go to Jericho under the pretext of obtaining spare clothes and food for our guests," explained Wednesday, "There she will search for possible traces that match the recent scents detected in the Nightshades' library."
"That sounds risky, furball," said Bianca looking at Enid.
"No more than dealing with you in the Poe Cup, fishface," Enid retorted with a wolfish grin. Despite the insults, there was no bite in their voices.
"Can we help?" asked Ajax, raising his hand as if it were an intervention in class.
"Maybe. We don't know anything yet, really," said Enid.
"Nothing specific. But keep your eyes open. Be on the lookout in case you see anyone strange prowling around the Academy. And don't confront them alone," Wednesday said.
Bianca and Ajax nodded.
Uncertainty, thought Wednesday, That's our real enemy right now.
She exchanged one last glance with Enid, knowing the risk the lycanthrope might face alone in a few hours. But she had to trust her she-wolf.
Wednesday had to.
Meanwhile, her three counterparts exchanged glances of their own with each other.
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