A/N: The Addams Family; I don't own it. Them. Whatever.
-

It's not too late to call this off.

But it was. I could already hear the dull roar of talk, laughter, and the occasional shriek from downstairs. The house was packed with the strangest denizens of five states, all come to gossip and commit minor felonies.

I can plead sickness.

I hadn't been sick since I was eight.

It won't be as bad as my imagination.

That one was true- it would probably be worse.

I sighed, finished doing the clasp on my necklace, and examined my reflection in the mirror. At least no-one would be able to complain about what I was wearing; the sleeveless sundress was safely black, as were the matching sandals. Acknowledging the season might cause a bit of a stir, but- well, it would be worse to end up drenched in sweat at my own engagement party.

As for the locket, Mother had given it to me only minutes before. Apparently it was one of those heirlooms meant to be passed from mother to daughter. I'd thanked her, admiring the ruby on the front of the oval pendant, and promised to wear it. She'd been curiously silent about the lock of hair inside, which appeared to be an odd greenish shade, but it didn't seem cursed…

Clipping back one side of my hair with a vole-skull barrette, I took a deep breath and started for the door. There was no point in delaying the inevitable any longer.

And sure enough, before I'd even reached the stairs, what appeared to be a flowering hedge clad in white gauze collided with me.

"Hello, Aunt Ophelia."

The hedge shook, releasing a shower of petals onto the floor. A moment later the flowers parted, revealing a pale face with slightly protruding blue eyes.

"Oh, Wednesday, dear," the woman said in an airy voice, "I was just coming to find you. Everyone's passing distressed, wondering where you are!"

As we descended the stairs, I tried to make conversation. "Your flowers are still growing," I said, indicating the blooms sprouting from beneath her blonde hair.

"Yes, yes, they're doing quite well. In fact, my latest beau- oh, you'll just have to meet my Desmond; he's the most wonderful, romantic, dashing man ever to tread this mortal coil! Anyway, Desmond was saying that this new kind of fertilizer has done wonders for them, and I must agree-"

Aunt Ophelia was like a set of chattering novelty teeth- once wound up, she'd keep going forever. As she conversed with herself, I scanned the crowd, trying to assess the danger level.

Nobody in the room stood out as particularly unusual at first glance- normal abnormality. And for the first thirteen years of my life, this was how I'd always seen my family. The two-headed woman in the corner wasn't a monster or a freak; she was just Aunt Hilda, who could be counted on to give me candy. What appeared to be a giant, upside-down mop was my cousin, a playboy who liked to sit in the chimney. Yes, every gathering with the family looked like a funeral, but I couldn't tell the difference between a funeral and any other event.

Then middle school happened, and I'd developed a mental checklist of Things That Weren't Normal. Other people didn't have a cemetery in the backyard. Other people didn't wear black all the time. Other people didn't have three-armed cousins, or names like "Amnesia," or pet octopi. I learned to see the difference between normal and…well, us.

Most of the time, I didn't care. But this was different.

Sure enough, there were Flora and Fauna Amore, Cousin Itt (with Margaret and little Whatt in tow), Granny Frump, and the usual contingent of black-clad, obscure relatives.

I sighed. It wasn't for the Beinekes; they knew what to expect. But from my family, I'd never hear the end of it.

"Ah, there you are, sweetheart!"

Mother glided over as we reached the bottom of the stairs and took my hand from the still-babbling Ophelia. Then she turned back to the crowd.

"Here's our bride-to-be, everyone," she called- and disappeared among the flood of relatives that pressed forward. Suddenly I was being hugged, kissed, congratulated, and generally talked at from every direction.

"I haven't seen you since you were-"

"We always knew you'd be the next to-"

"…can't believe you're all grown up!"

"Mrss erfrfr erkrr!"

I fought my way through the crowd, mumbling as politely as I could that yes, it had been a long time, and of course the wedding was on Halloween, and no, that sabre wound didn't look gangrenous. For a moment, the world seemed like one continuous mass of dark or muted colors that had no end.

And then I was through, trying to catch my breath on the other side. Judging by the quiet buzz of chat behind me, the crowd had separated back into satellite groups the minute I got free. That figured.

Glancing around the room, I spotted the instigator of this mess. There she stood, cool and serene, talking to an unfamiliar couple in a safely distant corner. I started towards my mother, fuming the whole way.

True to form, she looked up just as I reached the little group.

"My dear, why aren't you circulating? Some of the family have come across oceans, you know, and they haven't seen you since-"

"I know," I interrupted. "I've just been personally informed by every guest here, at once, how long it's been since he, she, or it last saw me."

The concerned expression on her face would have netted an Oscar then and there. "Oh, no; are you getting overwhelmed already? The evening's just beginning."

"I'm not overwhelmed, I'm just…"

I trailed off, staring at the woman Mother had been talking to. She looked about 40, and completely unexceptional in a blue chiffon dress- which meant she stood out like a sore thumb here. But more intriguing was the little boy she was frantically trying to shut up.

"Bertie, be quiet and let the lady talk," she whispered. The dark-haired boy, who couldn't have been more than six years old, wasn't having it.

"But Mommy," he said, pointing at me, "that's my-"

"…cousin Wednesday, yes, and she's getting married soon," the woman finished. She turned her slightly wild gaze on Mother in what looked like a silent appeal for help.

"Mother," I began slowly, "who's this?"

I remember every time I've seen my mother look less than composed. The instances can be counted on one hand, so it always comes as a shock.

The combination of sadness and…well, almost pure rage that crept over her face now made number four.

"Wednesday, dear," she said in a careful monotone, "surely you remember your brother, Pubert?"

Oh.

Of course, I remembered him. Things like a four-year-old disowning his parents tend to stick in your mind. The day Aunt Muriel and Uncle Joe came to pick him up was Mother's Composure Lapse Number Two on my list; he hadn't even said goodbye. Just announced that we were all weird and he hated us and didn't want to live here anymore.

We didn't talk about him after that. And yet, here he stood in a neat Oxford shirt and crisply ironed khakis, looking up at me with nothing but polite interest.

"Are you my sister?" he asked. Three pairs of eyes honed in on me, and I realized there was no good way to answer him.

"You don't want me to be," I finally replied.

"Mommy says you're my cousin."

"And I guess Mommy would know."

"I had a sister once, but she looked different from you."

Aunt Muriel cut in, sparing me from having to answer. "Now, Bertie, it's been two years since you saw cousin Wednesday."

And here we went again with the age comments. Had someone sent out a script?

Something, anything, get me out of this situation.

The universe decided to have one of its perversely obliging moments. A foghorn sounded, loud and low, throughout the room. Lurch- where's he been hiding?- started for the entrance hall, but I ran to stop him.

"Thank you, Lurch; I'll get it."

Not waiting for or expecting a response, I smoothed my hair and dress and opened the door. My future in-laws had never been my favorite people in the world- to put it mildly. But standing on the porch with faintly bemused expressions, they looked like guardian angels in that moment.

And standing between them, the man who made everything right.

"Come in," I said, not even bothering with a smile. They'd know it was false, and I didn't feel like bending over backwards just to insult their intelligence.

As they stepped inside, I grabbed Lucas' shoulder to hold him back. He turned around and smiled.

"You look amazing, Di; I missed you so-mmf!"

I could have stood there the whole night kissing him, and let the party go to hell. But family came first. When we broke apart, I slipped my arm through his and dug my nails into his sleeve.

"You are not leaving my side."

"Nervous? You're nervous?"

"No. I just want to stand by the one person in the room who's seen me within the last year."

To his credit, my fiancé didn't comment as we walked into the crowded ballroom.

-
A/N: For those of you who haven't seen "Addams Family Values," Pubert is not an OC. He's the third Addams child, who was born in AFV and hasn't been used in any Addams Family incarnation since. I believe one of the later (and worse) movies had Wednesday mentioning that there used to be a third sibling that got eaten. Anyway, in the spirit of mixing movies, musical, and TV show, I decided to bring him back.