Enid Sinclair had seen many strange, unpleasant, terrifying, mind-blowing and disturbing things over the past two years.
Fighting a Hyde and earning scars she was finally proud of, helping solve crimes, avoiding fainting when Wednesday showed her an autopsy photo (a personal accomplishment she was particularly happy about), single-handedly tracking down a stalker who always seemed to be ten steps ahead of everyone else, the duel of Wednesday with an unwanted werewolf suitor…
Although it took her a while to consciously accept it, from the day she met her roommate and now current girlfriend Enid knew her life had opened up to a realm of the bizarre and spooky. And she wouldn't trade it for anything.
But the scene she was able to witness now, as she sat on her bed ignoring the smell of the bags containing what would have been their dinner, definitively took the cake.
Three Wednesdays, in front of her.
The werewolf was still trying to adjust to the idea... she could see the similarities and the differences and the effect it caused in her head and senses when she observed them was disconcerting. The ages, the faces, the attitudes... it was like seeing distorted reflections of the same person. Enid knew her Wednesday almost like the back of her hand and could see that even she was containing her own trepidation under one of her masks of pragmatic stoicism.
There was one thing in which the three of them were absolutely alike and that Enid was pretty sure only she could appreciate: their scent. The aroma of old books, dark manors and cold crypts that always accompanied the Addams, with the occasional metallic fragrance of something sharp and the rust of blood.
All three had it. Even the little one in pink, which raised questions.
Questions that must also have been going through the heads of the two older Wednesdays, who after clarifying what little they knew of the situation to the newcomer had fallen into a nervous silence watching her intensely.
The younger Wednesday looked back at her two counterparts, her brow slightly scowling in an expression of baffled confusion that Enid found adorable.
“Is there a problem?”, she asked, “You’ve been staring at me for a while.”
The two older Wednesdays looked at each other for a moment. Finally the eldest was the first to reply.
“Your clothes. They are very…”
“Pink”, finished the second Wednesday.
The younger one looked at her pink dress with bewilderment, as if she didn't understand what the problem was.
“So? Is there something wrong with it?”, she asked, with a slight quiver in her voice.
Enid decided to intervene, jumping out of the bed and approaching the youngest Wednesday with a friendly smile on her face.
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with your dress!”, declared the she-wolf, “Pink is a great color. One of my favorites, actually.”
Enid turned to her Wednesday with a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a hint of a wolfish smile, "Truth be told, I'm sure it would look great on you."
“Please, don’t even think about it, you know I’m alergic to color.”
"We both know that with me it doesn't count."
The second Wednesday stepped in again, still staring at the younger one with narrowed eyes, “It is disturbing. And in an uncomfortable way, not a fun one.”
The younger Wednesday returned the piercing glare before shrugging and folding her arms with a serious expression on her face that once again managed to be more adorable than intimidating.
“Well, I don’t see what the problem is with pink. It’s the color of your enemies’ blood diluted by their tears after being crushed under your heel.”
And after saying that, she smiled warmly.
The other two Wednesdays stared at her, this time with appreciative surprise. A hint of respect seemed to appear on their faces, especially that of the second one.
Enid just looked at the little girl with an indescribable expression, before finally settling her face into an affectionate smile.
"Gosh Weds... Let her wear whatever color she wants. She's one of you, no doubt."
Little Wednesday's smile widened at Enid's words, lighting up the room.
For her part, the second Wednesday had directed a quizzical look at the lycanthrope, "Weds…?" she muttered.
At that moment, the door handle moved and the door opened slightly ajar. The four girls turned their gazes towards it.
Something pushed it, something small that came skittering in to close the door behind it with a firm push. A dismembered hand, walking on its own accord, who turned and froze at the scene before him
Thing T. Thing had seen more strange things than Enid Sinclair throughout an entire existence in the service of the Addams Family, but nothing prepared the living appendage for what lay before his nonexistent eyes at that moment.
"What… the... hell?" he asked, with a few finger gestures and gentle taps on the floor.
"Thing!" exclaimed the pink-clad Wednesday with an elated look on her face, "You're out of your box!"
"What happened to you?" the second Wednesday asked with a hint of anger as she noticed the stitches on the skin of the walking hand, "Tell me names."
Thing turned to one Wednesday. Then toward the other. Finally, he looked toward his Wednesday (the one he had known since she was a little baby playing with rattles made of rusty nails) and Enid, who was waving nervously.
There was a moment of tense silence, filled with anticipation.
The hand seemed to deflate, as if it had exhaled all its breath in one sigh (metaphorically, of course, he lacked the proper organs to do so).
Thing tapped the floor with a slow, light touch.
“Nope”, he said.
And he proceeded to scamper over to Wednesday's desk, where next to the typewriter was her leather satchel, inside of which the hand jumped deciding that for once he deserved a break.
"I think Thing just asked for a vacation," Enid whispered.
"Mmmf," growled Wednesday softly. She would talk to her slippery companion later.
"Once again, what happened to him?" asked the second Wednesday, "The flesh of our Thing is unblemished."
"Thing has always been that way for as long as I can remember," replied Wednesday.
"I thought it was very funny to watch him walk!" added the youngest, "Our Thing never leaves his box, except to get in the mailbox and play with the mailmen. And he's got a little more forearm. Oh, and green skin."
"Why does your Thing have green skin?" asked Enid.
"Rot."
"Oh," muttered Enid.
"Oh, it's all right, he's fine," replied the little girl as she noticed the she-wolf's discomfort, "Uncle Fester always puts new doses of formaldehyde in him from time to time."
“Anyway I think we should start focusing on how to resolve this situation," interrupted Wednesday, "Although it's getting late, I suggest that we start our research as soon as possible... Enid, you and I will go out now for a quick visit to the Nightshades library."
Through the glass window it could be seen how the cloudy afternoon sky had already given way to a dark and starless night.
The eldest of the three Wednesdays turned to her younger counterparts, "I ask you to please stay here for the time being. Make yourselves comfortable. Thing will take care of you no matter how much he is pretending to have a nervous breakdown."
Light tapping could be heard from inside the leather bag: "Don't worry."
"Oh, wait!" exclaimed Enid, attracting the attention of the others, "We have to do one thing before we go, I've been thinking about it for the last few minutes."
"What's it all about?" asked Wednesday.
"Names!" replied Enid with a smile.
None of the three Wednesdays said anything. They just stared at the bubbly blonde with varying degrees of expectation. Or suspicion in at least one of them. Enid held back a groan.
"I mean your names," the young werewolf explained, "I need a way to distinguish you more easily because having to call you all Wednesday is going to end up being confusing."
The three Wednesdays exchanged glances.
"But Miss Enid," said the youngest, "We are quite distinct from one another, aren't we?"
Enid crouched down coming face to face with the little girl dressed in pink, smiling kindly, "You're right little one, but if I have to call out your name at a distance which of the three of you will answer me?"
"Certainly," said Wednesday watching her girlfriend with a soft gleam in her eye.
"Any ideas?" asked the second Wednesday, "If I am to receive a new moniker it had better not be a ridiculous nickname."
"Well," began Enid as she stood back up, "Since you're the second one I was thinking we could use your middle name, Friday.”
The second Wednesday's eyes widened in an expression of indignant fury. Some kind of aura of barely contained homicidal rage seemed to escape from the young teenager's petite body, causing Enid to take a step back out of pure instinct. The wolf inside her whimpered.
"No," said the second Wednesday. Her tone made it clear that there would be no discussion about it.
"I reckon you'd better think of another alternative, Enid," Wednesday added, trying to suppress the urge to hug her she-wolf.
"I don't mind being Friday," said the youngest, instantly calming the tense atmosphere.
The second Wednesday seemed to relax, directing an inexcrutable stare at her pink counterpart, "Woeful," she said.
The youngest responded by sticking out her tongue.
Before the second Wednesday could retort in any potentially aggressive fashion, Enid clapped her hands together loudly.
"That's it!"
"Have you thought of anything for her?" asked Wednesday, who had been subtly moving into a position that would have allowed her to intervene if the situation got out of hand.
Enid pointed to the second Wednesday with a triumphant gesture.
"That will be your name! You shall be Woe!"
"Woe," hissed the teenager, "Barely a step above a throwaway, circumstantial, unimaginative cheap nickname."
She closed her eyes and sighed before opening them again and nodding her head affirmatively to Enid.
"But I suppose it has to be suitable given the circumstances. I'll be Woe."
"Yay!" exclaimed the newly named Friday, "Now we're Friday and Woe!"
And she proceeded to hug Woe with all her might. The latter seemed to freeze like a body undergoing rigor mortis, with an expression of disgusted indignation on her face.
"Unhand me right now, you colorful little monstrosity."
"No. You like the suffering," Friday replied, giggling.
Enid cooed. Wednesday sighed.
She had the impression that everything would get more complicated before it became clearer.
NOTES:
A dramatis personae of the three Wednesdays:
Wednesday Friday Addams, or just Wednesday. A post-canon AU version of the Wednesday from the first season of her titular 2022 series, played by Jenna Ortega. The version of the character in this story is 18 years old, is in a relationship with Enid and I've tried to portray an evolution in her character: she's still the same as always, but slightly more open with the very few people she trusts and loves (or tolerates). Nothing exaggerated, just a version of Wednesday more honest with herself and a little more comfortable with the world (although she still thinks the vast majority of the world is idiotic).
'Woe', the Wednesday Addams of the 90's movies played by Christina Ricci. This version of the character is also from a post-canon AU, set about a year later after the conclusion of Addams Family Values. Despite being younger, this Wednesday is potentially more malicious or aggressive than her older counterpart. She has a greater facility for resorting to violence and direct threats, represses her emotions more firmly, and is less likely to hide her homicidal tendencies. She is not incapable of bonding with others or feeling affection (in her own way), but she is more reserved.
'Friday' is the Wednesday Addams from the 1973 Hanna-Barbera-produced Addams Family animated series. She made her first appearance in a crossover with Scooby-Doo along with the rest of her family. Notorious for being probably the lightest version of the character: friendly, cheerful, nice and dressed in pink. She retains macabre interests, such as playing with voodoo dolls, keeping venomous spiders as pets, etc. The version in this fic is slightly AU, being presented as a normal human being and not a living cartoon. I've also emphasized her macabre side/hobbies a bit more.
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