Gomez's incessant pacing was creating a distressed trail on the rug, the color almost completely dissolved from his constant repetitive motion. The library was his sanctuary, nothing within its walls appealed to Ophelia. In the month since their wedding, Ophelia had completely taken over the Addams mansion. Gomez was confined to two main rooms: the library and the master bedroom.

Although the library was his preferred spot, he was glad to have won control of his bedroom. For weeks he had claimed illness, and suffered from endless night terrors. Ophelia could not sleep with his constant disruptions during the night, and finally decided to claim another room as her own. Despite their new sleeping arrangement, Ophelia still constantly tried to bed Gomez. She was almost obsessive with her advances, making him retreat into his safe places for increasingly longer amounts of time.

Lurch was dusting the snake candlesticks on top of the mantle as Gomez mindlessly walked back and forth. He was trying not to be obvious in his concern for Gomez, but with each day there was a heightened madness behind Gomez's hazel eyes.

"I don't understand!"

Gomez's distressed declaration was not directed at the butler, but Lurch seized the opportunity to question him.

"Mr. Addams?"

Gomez didn't acknowledge him; his eyes were focused on his feet. Suppressed words were bubbling to the surface from the depth of his heart, ready to create an emotionally laden rant. Lurch was worried that Gomez was nearing his breaking point. He began to leave, ready to fetch mama, but Gomez's turmoil stopped him. Lurch worried about what would happen if he left him alone, even if for a moment. There had already been multiple instances where either he or Thing had stumbled upon a desperate Gomez, who was ready to do himself in.

"Why was she not there? We were ready! She agreed to run away with me, the plan was set. What happened to her? Something must have detained her, prevented her from meeting me. But what?"

Gomez stopped. In a new fury, he attacked his table of trains, throwing pieces of the track around the room, ignorant of the noise they made as they smashed against the floor.

"That brute! He did this! I'm sure of it! She would not abandon me. He would not let her out of his sight! She was prisoner to his lustful eyes, and then he stole her away! How dare he take her away!? My darling, trapped with that cad in the catacombs of Paris for two weeks. It should have been us! The delightfully macabre setting would have been a pleasant escape for our love, and now they are tainted by his selfish greed!"

Lurch began to pick up the various pieces of track, listening to Gomez's angry speech. Countless times since the night of Morticia's wedding, Lurch had heard some variation of this rant, but never had he been this violent. The rants were never the same, different insults were used to describe Balthazar, and different alternative situations were imagined, but each increased in its aggression. He never used their names, as if they were a curse and his world would end with the utterance. Lurch did catch Gomez whispering Morticia's name on occasion. It was always when he thought he was alone or while he was dreaming, and the longing that cloaked his voice as he delicately pronounced each syllable could break the non-beating hearts of the dead.

Gomez had moved to sit behind his desk, rage slowly melting into despair. He held his head in his hands, veins popping out across his flesh from the unleashed frustration. Silently, his expression changed to that of hopelessness. Lurch could sense the coming of tears in the exhausted language of Gomez's body. They came with unapologetic dominance, unwelcomed by his troubled mind. Lurch quietly offered Gomez a black silk handkerchief, which was denied with a swift wave of the hand. As Gomez wept, Lurch decided it was a safe time to get mama. Just as he reached the door, Gomez's hoarse, breaking voice called for him.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

Lurch contemplated the situation, all his previous suggestions had been tried but were of no use. He could not tell the love-sick man before him that hope was lost, yet he could not deny the complexity of the problem. A simple solution was all he could offer, and hoped that it would appease Gomez for the time being.

"Write to her."

As soon as the grunted words reached Gomez's ears, he looked like a new man.

"Of course! That's it, old man! I'll write to her. She will know the deepest desires of my heart, and soon we will shall be together! Lurch, you are a genius of love!"

Gomez pulled out a fountain pen and paper, an eagerness hurrying even the smallest of mundane tasks. Words began to pour on to the blank canvas before him, expressing all his conflicted emotions. Lurch studied him as he wrote, it was almost as if he was conversing with Morticia instead of committing his thoughts to paper. His expressions changed instantly, he laughed, he cried, at last Gomez was being released from his internal torment. Before he knew it, Lurch was being handed an envelope with the name Miss Morticia Frump engraved on the front.

"Lurch, have this sent to my cousin Balthazar's house immediately."

"Yes, Mr. Addams."

Lurch held the letter firmly, aware of its importance. He glanced at Gomez before he shut the library door, and groaned when he saw him fervently composing a new letter.