Thank you all so much for your continued reviews and support! It means so much to me that people enjoy my work on one of the things I would be nothing without. Well, two: writing and The Addams Family. I am sick and I may not be able to update so often, but I try as hard as I can. Again, thank you very much and I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let's see, where did we leave off? Ah, yes…

Morticia took a sip of her tea and gave a coy smile to Ophelia, the woman whom she once dared consider a sister. "Ophelia, dear." She greeted her. "How are you?"

Ophelia was stunned. She could not believe her eyes. How was it possible? She practically banished her to Paris. Ophelia had made damn sure that she never had to worry about seeing her sister's sickeningly beautiful face ever, ever again. Yet here she was, sipping tea and talking with her husband. Oh, hell no. "How the hell…" She swallowed, hard. She had to be careful. "How did you get here? I… thought you were in Paris?"

Morticia raises her porcelain teacup. "Oh, come now, dear. You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, now. Did you?" She sipped her tea. Ms. Frump had said this jokingly, but there is a hint of truth in every joke. This hint, happened to be a declaration of war.

Gomez smoked his cigar, and Morticia could not help but steal a glance at the husband, once her's. God, he was breathtaking. When he preformed this simple action, time and all in its unforgiving orbit seemed to stop for Morticia. She watched him take a puff of the expensive thing, smoke flowing out of it, dispersing into the air. However, for what had appeared to be a nonchalant, effortless movement, was in a beautiful, slow motion in Morticia's eyes. She remembered the way he would do that at the table, in Morticia's planthouse, waiting for Tully to arrive, whilst playing chess with Thing. Thing. Another character Morticia had completely forgotten about. Where could he be? Certainly, Ophelia had not let him stay. Had she? Or had she done something worse?

Morticia kept her cool and waited for a response from her devious elder sister, with the maturity level of a flea. No, wait, Morticia thought. I do not wish to insult the fleas. I'm sure both their intelligence and maturity level are far superior.

Ophelia walked into the living room, her living room, slowly. "No, nothing stops you." She said, upbeat. "Hell, probably not even a semi-truck." Ophelia mumbled.

"Hmm?" Morticia asked.

"What?" Ophelia decided it best to pretend that everything was normal, but when her sister and husband were together, nothing ever was. She hoped Gomez didn't remember and this was all just some sort of ploy. Then again, wasn't it, one was or another?

Ophelia walked over to Gomez and embraced him. "I'm home, darling." She announced, as if her presence was not already known.

Morticia fought the urge to throw up on the spot when Ophelia sat on Gomez's knee, arms around his neck. She could not even clench her teeth but she wanted to scream. Especially when Gomez kissed her.

Morticia hated how miserable Gomez was, but greatly appreciated that he was not happy without her. She had to laugh at Ophelia, as when Gomez kissed her, she smirked. But, Morticia was the one who still had the power.

When Morticia was kissed by her husband, she melted into him, desperate for more. They lost all sense of propriety, they all but made love in front of anyone and everyone. The president of the United States of America could be mere feet away but if Gomez's lips found that spot on her neck… to heaven with George Bush and to hell with Gomez. It was where she wanted to be, they would dance within the flames of each other's hearts, souls and bodies. The fire was hot, and would consume Morticia whole.

Gomez loved her with all his being, his passion for her consumed his heart, and just in the way he looked at her. That adoring gaze, that smirk, those eyes...

It was said once that a picture says a thousand words, and when Gomez looked at her, that statement proved to be true. Those impassioned words of love and terms of endearment were not at all foreign, they were beautiful. Cara mia, mon amour, eres divina…

But indeed, when Gomez kissed Ophelia, their love appeared forced. It appeared disingenuous, flashy, feigned.

Thank God. Morticia's mind screamed.

"So, Morticia?" Gomez secured his wife on his lap and immediately turned his gaze back to the enchantress next to him. "How long will you be staying with us?"

Ophelia raised her eyebrows, worried but trying not to show it. Unfortunately, Ophelia was unlike her stoic sister in the sense that she, herself was not. Fortunately, Gomez was not even paying attention to her facial expressions. "Staying?"

Mortician nodded. "Yes, Ophelia. I do hope you don't mind, I've brought a couple of bags. I hadn't really planned on it but nineteen years is a long time- "

"Twenty." Ophelia corrected.

"Not yet." Morticia winked. She was almost done with her cup of tea. "And to answer your question, Gomez," She looked at him. "I was planning on staying in Mockrage for a month."

Gomez looked delighted, but Ophelia looked toward the window, as if jumping out sounded really good right now.

"I hope you aren't expecting to be staying with- "

Ophelia was cut off by Gomez. "Wonderful!" Gomez was so happy, he even embraced Ophelia… intentionally. "As you know, Jeeves has set up a guestroom for you. Stay as long as you'd like, Morticia. Our house is your house."

Morticia nodded. She hated watching Ophelia sit on her husband's lap. She hated hearing the phrase, our house. Our house. Who did Ophelia think she was? It sickened Morticia to her very core to hear Gomez refer to this hellhole as his… as theirs.

"Thank you." Morticia managed to say.

"There's no need. We've missed you." Gomez replied, enthralled with her beauty. Stop it. Stop it, old man. Look at Ophelia. Look at-

Thankfully, Gomez was done with the coaching for now, as the door opened.

In walked the children, but they looked nothing like the children Morticia had once called her's.

A girl whom looked much like Wednesday, only her hair was a sickening shade of blonde, was the first to walk in. She bared a striking resemblance to Ophelia. To her mother. But her eyes… were Morticia's eyes.

Morticia smiled. That is one thing, Ophelia, you will never take away from my daughter. Her beautiful dark eyes… my eyes. She thought to herself.

The girl wore a short, silk, yellow dress that was sleeveless and had a thin, white belt around it. The girl wore white flats, her nails were painted white and she wore her hair in a French braid, pushed over her right shoulder.

The boy was pudgy, and thankfully still had his light brown hair. Only it wasn't spiky, and this saddened his moth- aunt. This saddened his aunt immensely. He wore a nice, clean white shirt and new, blue, spotless jeans. He wore white socks, brown, recently-purchased sneakers and… a gold Rolex watch! Morticia grimaced internally. He was eight. Years. Old.

The children stared at their aunt, confused. They had never seen someone like her. But perhaps that was due to the fact that there was no one like her. Morticia looked straight out of a gothic painting. Bewitching, and admittedly, frightening.

Morticia, poised and elegant, sat, upright, saying nothing.

Peter decided to break the silence. "Father, you're holding mother." He observed, then laughed. "What's the occasion?"

Gomez was about to laugh but after a cold glance from his wife, he thought it best not to.

Ophelia cleared her throat, getting up and walking over to her children. "Kids, this is your…" She sighed. "This is your aunt Morticia."

Wendy said nothing, just kept staring.

It broke Morticia to know her offspring did not recognize her. But she had to remind herself that they were not her offspring at the present. They were Ophelia's. And right now, she was their aunt, whom they had never laid eyes upon.

"Aunt?" Peter was confused.

Wendy, knowing but not telling, cast a glance at Peter and shared a look with her father. The look was of two people who knew a secret, a secret less on the spectrum of where one hid the Christmas presents, and more on the spectrum of where one his the recently murdered corpse.

Peter nodded and Gomez simply smoked the fine cigar. He never did seem to run out of those, no matter what reality he was forced into.

"I didn't know we had an aunt." Wendy instantly remarked. The words seemed scripted, in her mind. But in actuality, sounded innocent enough. Much like herself.

Morticia was a bit disheartened, however she understood. It was better, she assumed, that she start with a blank slate than a broken one.

"Yea, me neither." Peter added.

Morticia stood up and folded her hands, looking down at the children. "Hello, children. It's wonderful to finally meet you."

Ophelia grabbed their shoulders and held them back, as if they were going to hug her. And would that be so bad? To Ophelia, yes, it would.

"Yea…" Wendy seemed not to care for this woman, even though she barely knew her. Perhaps it was not that for lack of caring, but rather for lack of knowing, or knowing too much. "Well, it was nice meeting you."

"Wait, can't we-" Peter was cut off by his older sister.

"We have homework to do." Wendy explained. "Sorry, Aunt Morticia." She grabbed Peter's arm but Ophelia had them stay put.

"Wait, stay here for a moment."

Peter nodded while his sister reluctantly agreed.

Ophelia, whilst giving her sister side-eye, decided to kick Morticia's beaten heart, and walked right up to Gomez. She pulled him off of the couch and he stood up, confused.

"Have my couch rights been taken?" Gomez raised an eyebrow. He was treated like a house pet, and the answer, yes, would not surprise him in the slightest.

Peter laughed but Ophelia, keeping tight reins on her family, cast him a watch it glance and watch it he did.

"No, silly." Ophelia had not been this upbeat since Gomez slipped the ring on her finger.

And those were memories Gomez had tried to block out for twenty years.

Ophelia continued, much to her sickened and annoyed sister's dismay. "We're going out on a date."

Gomez wanted to shrivel up and die- No you don't, old man. No, you, don't. You just don't think it wise to go out because you know what godforsaken restaurant she'll- because Morticia is here. It would be very disrespectful to just leave her hear alone with Jeeves and my children. There you go. "Ophelia, I don't believe that's too wise."

Offended, Ophelia spoke. "Pardon?"

Gomez took her hands. "Ophelia, we cannot just leave Morticia hear alone with our butler and our children."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "Mmm. Really? News to me."

"What?" Gomez asked, as politely as he could.

Remember, you have an audience. Ophelia reminded herself. "You said it yourself. Our house is her house."

Gomez saw what she was doing, and didn't like it. And usually, he would let this whole thing go. But with Morticia here… "Precisely. When was the last time you left Lana and the girls- "

"Linda." Ophelia corrected, sourly.

"Linda and the girls," Gomez continued. "Alone with the kids and Jeeves?"

Ophelia was taken aback, but maintained her composure. Then, she did something that shocked everyone in the room. "That was an insult to my…" Ophelia squeezed Morticia's shoulders, making Morticia want to vomit. "dear sister, Gomez. She is a lot different than Linda and the girls."

Gomez pressed a hand to his forehead, and noticed how uncomfortable Morticia looked, able to read her statuesque movement and stoic face rather well. He gave a small smile, out of Ophelia's view. His big eyes screamed, fuck- shoot me. Was all Gomez thought. I'm ready to die. He grimaced, exaggeration not typically being his M.O.

Morticia knew what her sister was doing. She understood she was playing a game. And no way was she about to be on the losing end. One-upping her, instantly, she said, "Oh, it's quite alright, Ophelia." Morticia moved out of her sister's tight grip and towards the children.

Gomez couldn't help but watch the sway of her hips as she walked by. God, he just… needed fresh air. Yes, perhaps going out would do him some good after all. No, he still didn't wish to leave Morticia. Here. He didn't wish to leave Morticia here. By herself. Without him or anyone else. Company. He didn't want… his head was spinning.

"Gomez," Morticia looked at him. "I can sit for the children while Jeeves cleans. It's really the least I can do for all of the trouble that Grimm put him through."

Gomez was about to object but Ophelia raised a hand and spoke first. "Who the hell is-" She caught herself. "Who's Grimm?"

Gomez took the cigar out of his mouth. "Her snake." He answered.

Tired, the children, unnoticed, sat on the stairs.

Ophelia raised her eyebrow at him. "Mmm." She nodded, disgusted and turned her attention back to her sister. "Well, that is very kind of you, Morticia. However, you've never had kids." She knew that jab was more like a stab with the world's largest kitchen knife.

Morticia would be damned if she was going to be left to bleed out. "Are you implying that I couldn't handle it? I mean, you've never had a job but you seem to be fitting right in to the position of pastel-floral-white-picket-fence mother." She paused, her eyes shifting from her to a bemused and bewitched Gomez. "And wife."

Ophelia hid her offense. "No. Not at all. If you think you can handle it?"

"Don't be preposterous, dear." Morticia replied. "I know I can."

Ophelia nodded. "Well, alright, then." She adjusted her blazer. "Come on, Gomez." She handed her husband his jacket.

Gomez still appeared reluctant. He turned to Morticia, and put out his cigar. "Morticia, really. I don't want to put out- put you out." Gomez caught himself. "I really don't want to put you out."

"What a shame." Morticia could not hide the flirtation in her already alluring voice.

Ophelia's blood was reaching its boiling point. "No, he certainly doesn't."

Well, at least not with you. Morticia wanted to say. But, she held her tongue in that regard. "Oh, I believe it." She winked at Gomez. "I've offered to help, you wouldn't be putting me out at all."

"If you'd like to go anywhere," Gomez began. "I want- I wouldn't want to tie you up." Gomez wanted to kill himself.

Morticia raised an eyebrow. "Really?" She questioned.

Ophelia's eyes enlarged, knowing what her sister was implying. "No! Not at all, Morticia. You said the word and we stay."

Morticia nodded exactly once. "Go."

Ophelia nodded and practically dragged Gomez out.

Morticia locked the door behind the pair and walked towards the children on the stairs. "Well, when I was your age, I hated sitting on the stairs and not doing anything."

The children exchanged a look, as if asking one how the other felt about this.

"And," Morticia added. "I didn't have anyone to play with."

"What about mother?" Peter asked, curious.

Morticia was happy that at least one of them was trying to converse with her. She sat on the second to bottom step, below the children. "Oh, we were into… different things."

Peter cocked his head to the side, questioningly. "What kind of things were you into?" He asked.

Morticia's eyes shifted. "Well…"

Gomez and Ophelia sat at the restaurant all the wealthy and elite of Briarwood, Massachusetts ate at. The classy, brightly lit restaurant with stain glass windows, white tablecloths and yellow napkins. The entire place looked like an enchanted fairy garden. This place, was nonother than Sunset Paradise.

Gomez read the menu which he had read one hundred times before, and still, could not find anything edible. One would think after his umpteenth time coming to Sunset Paradise, he would have found one thing he liked, but no. He found no trace of 'food' he deemed edible.

Still, he had to eat, so he thought he might ask for the special.

While waiting for the order and having to keep up appearances, Ophelia put out her hand, and Gomez, still looking at the menu, took it.

"Still looking?" Ophelia inquired.

Gomez shook his head. "Not anymore, Ophelia."

Ophelia nodded. "Good. I'm getting the House Salad, how about you?"

Gomez wondered why on earth she tried to make the most basic of dinners sound like the most fascinating thing since Area 51. "I'm going to ask for the special."

Ophelia rolled her eyes, a smile on her face so if people were looking, they thought she was laughing and not unraveling. "Gomez," Her voice became quiet. "Again? This is Sunset Paradise. They do not have squid, darling. They never will have squid. This isn't…" Ophelia tried to think of a colourful phrase to turn, but she was never able to. "A place that serves squid."

Gomez half-nodded. "Perhaps they just might have come to their senses and started serving squid."

Ophelia gave a small piff, as a sarcastic chuckle. "Yea, the day hell freezes over." She replied.

Gomez shrugged and decided to talk about the one thing that made his day. "So, your sister is back."

"She is." Ophelia nodded, hesitantly. "And so am I." She quickly added.

Gomez looked confused. "Umm, from where?"

Ophelia seemed hurt. "My shopping trip, darling." She reminded him.

It was Gomez's turn to chuckle. "That was hours ago."

"So, it isn't important?" Ophelia humphed. "Morticia came back hours ago too, if you wish to get technical."

Gomez sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't."

"You know what else is coming up?" Ophelia had a dreamy look in her eyes.

Gomez was getting that sick feeling again. "Hmm?"

"Our anniversary." Ophelia smiled, her words having been said in a sing-song-sort-of voice.

"Oh. That's…" He tried to form a word. "Impressive."

The thin, blonde waitress, probably no more than twenty years old, walked to Mr. and Mrs. Addams' table. "Hello, I hope your having a lovely time at Sunset Paradise." Ugh, her statement was much too perky.

"Thank you, we are." Ophelia squeezed Gomez's hand.

The waitress smiled. "Well, I'm Rose. I'll be taking your order today." She brought out her black notepad, and Gomez was glad it was not pink, glittering and/or shimmering. "What can I get you?"

Gomez gestured to Ophelia, in a gentlemanly manner.

Ophelia noticed this Rose wink at her husband and did not know whether to reprimand her or give her a tip. She saw too much of herself in the flirtatious girl. Still, she was pissed and decided to do both when Rose least expected it. "Yes, I'll take the Whore-" She had to correct herself. "House Salad." Ophelia said. "And a refill on my ice water."

Rose wrote the order on her notepad. "Mmm-hmm." She turned to Gomez. "And for you, sir?"

Gomez responded quickly. "I was wondering what your special was?"

"Funny you should ask." Rose laughed. "We're trying it out but it doesn't seem to be doing too well." She paused, and made a whisper hand motion. "But, I think it's really good."

Gomez pondered this, wondering what is was. "Really? What is it?"

Ophelia's eyes enlarged at Rose's words.

"Squid."

For the past three hours, Morticia had been playing with the children.

At first, it started off small. Morticia had explained to the children that she had a fascination with beheading dolls. So, they took an American Girl doll that Wendy never played with. Morticia heated up a large kitchen knife, expertly -as she had no guillotine, to her unsurprised dismay- and taught the children how to chop the head clean off. They were stand-offish at the beginning, but Peter soon jumped right into it, although Wendy was still a bit closed-off.

After that, Morticia lit a couple of matches and they played with fire for the first time. Well, Peter did, at least. Wendy was as usual, reluctant but got into it quickly.

They snuck around the house, worried Jeeves would have Morticia's head if he knew what she was doing, and they even met Grimm, who was very happy about the attention that didn't involve a pompous British man's aggression.

At dinner, Jeeves prepared homemade mac n' cheese as apparently Kraft was too low for the children.

Morticia grimaced. Mac n' cheese, of all the world's sickening concoctions. God, these poor children. Hell, poor her. She had to eat it up, just like everybody else, not having the proper ingredients for anything she needed. It took all she could do to not vomit.

Finally, three hours had passed, and it began to rain outside, but it was that warm weather with wet rain that conflicted one's conscious. Do they wish to go outside in their perception of good bad weather? Or stay in due to their perception of bad good weather?

Morticia watched the children watch Sponge Bob on the couch and decided it best to fix their faces, which looked much to perky to be real.

She cleared her throat. "Children? Why don't you go outside and play? Now, I understand that I've only just come into your lives, but you look like society's version of happy and it's worrying me." Morticia said, honestly.

Peter looked up at Morticia, then outside. "Aunt Morticia, it's raining."

Wendy sighed. "I believe she understands that, Peter."

Peter nodded, understanding. "Oh."

Morticia spoke. "Yes, I do. I played in the rain all of the time as a child."

Wendy was now more worried than ever.

Peter, on the other hand, was fascinated.

"Children, for some reason, you have a playground in your backyard. But, I'm going to ask you to make the most of it." Morticia said.

"So, you want us to play, outside… in the rain?" Wendy's tone made this suggestion seem strange.

"Yes. In fact, when I was a child, and a storm was coming, I used to take a weather rod with my father and we would hold it in the sky to…" She paused, realizing the children were lost beyond belief. "Never mind."

Peter eyed Wendy, pleading.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let's go."

The children then ran through the screen door in the very large family room, and into the large garden backyard.

Morticia smiled inside and called to them, "Make sure to stay away from low places!"

A half an hour later, Ophelia and Gomez arrived home.

Ophelia was the first in the door. "I'm home!" She called.

Gomez dragged behind her and closed the door. "And so am I." He stated, not feeling the need to announce it to presumably an empty first floor.

They walked into the family room, to find… nobody.

"Morticia!" Gomez called.

Ophelia heard laughter coming from outside and both she and her husband walked out.

Gomez smiled at the sight before him. His children were climbing a tree, while Morticia sat at their umbrella-patio, reading The Shining.

Gomez lightly tapped her on the shoulder.

Morticia looked up and saw him. "Gomez, how was your date?"

Gomez sighed. "It was…" Before he could formulate a response, Ophelia was dragging the children into the house.

Morticia looked over to the scene, then to Gomez. "Did I do something wrong?"

Gomez put a hand atop hers. "No, of course not." Anxious, he walked back into the house, Morticia following him.

Ophelia was in the kitchen with her family, leaning against the counter. "What were you thinking?" She asked them.

"We were just having fun." Peter replied.

Ophelia crossed her arms. "Explain to me how pneumonia is fun?"

Morticia would not have believed what she was hearing had Ophelia not been the one to ask the question. "Ophelia, there is no reason to be angry. I told them how much fun I used to have in the rain when I was a child."

Ophelia was going to say more, but Gomez spoke, a hand on Morticia's shoulder. "Darling, the kids need to be exposed to more than just the sun."

I will. Not. Lose. Were the only words running through Ophelia's mind when she swallowed her pride and sent the children to go change their clothes.

Ophelia smiled, hiding her unforgiving annoyance, at her husband and sister. "I'm going to go change into my evening clothes." She kissed Gomez before walking out of the kitchen.

Gomez looked, sympathetically at Morticia.

"Thank you." Morticia said.

"No need to thank me, Morticia. You were right." Gomez replied, and soon walked out of the kitchen, just as Ophelia had.

Long after dinner, the family was all getting ready for bed, and soon they were.

Morticia, now as comfortable as she could be, turned the living room lights off and had the room lit by instead a single candle.

In her long nightgown, which extended down past her ankles, that was low-cut, formfitting, silk and most importantly, black, Morticia lied on the couch. Then, she began to pick up where she left off in The Shining.

Charles then materialized to bid his daughter goodnight. He hugged her.

Morticia set her book down and sighed.

"Are you going to be okay, darling?" Charles asked. "I can sleep in the guestroom with you, you know. I have no problem with-"

"I'll be fine, father." Morticia assured him.

Charles nodded. "Alright, dear." He yawned. "We'll talk more in the morning, Morticia." He kissed her forehead. "I'll be in the attic if you need anything."

Morticia gave a graceful, silent yawn. "You'll find me if you do."

Charles began to walk up the stairs. "Rest in peace."

"Father?"

"Lovely night terrors." Charles, tired, bid her.

"Father?"

"I love you." Charles said.

Morticia tried again. "Father?"

"Yes, what is it?" Charles asked.

"You don't have to walk."

Charles realized this, then. "Oh," He laughed. "Guess I don't."

"I love you." Morticia said.

She then stayed on the couch, even after her father left. She couldn't sleep. It was so hard, nay impossible for her to sleep when she was not in Gomez's arms. The way they effortlessly wrapped around her body. The way his hands could perfectly trace every curve, every inch of her. The way he would rub her back and sing to her. Quite the transition, that… to Stephen King on the couch in an infected living room with the worst disease known to mankind… Ophelia.

She heard footsteps, then, descending the stairs and turn to see the silhouette of a man. A tall, strong man… she knew it was Gomez in a second.

He stepped closer to her light, and she saw that he wore black pajama bottoms, his red, silk robe and black slippers.

"Morticia?'

Morticia turned to her side and sat up. "Gomez, it's late." She said. "Shouldn't you be…" not with your wife, she could not bare to say that. Morticia swallowed, hard. "In bed?"

Gomez shook his head. "No, Morticia. I couldn't go to sleep without bidding you goodnight." He bent and kissed her hand.

Morticia raised an eyebrow. "You're still in the habit of kissing the hands of ladies, I see."

"You're more than a lady." Gomez responded. Think of something, quick, old man, think. You fool! How will you get yourself out of this one? "You're family." He said.

Morticia held back every tear she wished to fall and merely nodded. "Goodnight, Gomez."

"Goodnight, Morticia." Gomez began to walk up the stairs, but something stopped him. He turned back to her. "And I am very happy you're back." He then finished his ascent up the long flight of stairs… made to be white all those twenty years ago.

Then, quiet as a mouse, Morticia walked up the stairs, herself.

Unbeknownced to Morticia, she was indeed being watched. And the pompous British man may have very well been just that. But to a certain someone, he was much more.

Morticia walked into Peter's bedroom.

It was white, with a brown, hardwood floor. He had a blue boarder and blue bedsheets with cloud designs on them. His dresser was brown, and he had a walk-in closet.

Wendy was sitting in a white, wooden rocking chair. She wore a lilac, silk nightgown, down to her ankles. It had spaghetti straps and white lace lining the top and bottom. Her hair was down and thoroughly brushed through. Her slippers matched her nightgown.

She was reading to Peter, Cinderella, and he wore a white, long sleeved pajama shirt with matching pajama bottoms.

Upon seeing Morticia, Wendy jumped and shoved the story under Peter's bed, and Peter got under his covers.

Wendy hopped up out of the chair. "I was just leaving."

Morticia, not questioning her further, stopped her. "I just came in to apologize for everything that went on today. You children did not deserve to be chastised the way you were."

Wendy nodded. "Apology accepted." She muttered before leaving.

Morticia tucked Peter in, then, and he smiled.

"For what it's worth, I had a great time chopping of Cassie's head."

"As did I." Morticia responded.

Peter looked up at his aunt. "You're strange."

Morticia gave a small smile, and waited for Peter to say more.

He did. "I like you."

Morticia, before exiting, replied that she liked him too.

And as she walked to her guestroom, all she could think about was how much she missed her boy. And this, this new aunt/nephew relationship she was forced into was indeed a start. As his once mother, now aunt, he liked her. And she would have to settle for that right now.

She turned off her lights and did not bother to study the décor around her. She saw a king-sized bed, and she crashed down on the sheets, exhausted.

She got under the covers, and got into a sleeping position, much like that of a corpse. Then, she imagined Gomez, signing to her and holding her, and soon it was so real, it faded into her dreams. And dream she tried to, all through that lonely, first night.