A/N: This story take place shortly before Pubert's first birthday.
Aftenstjerne requested a story where Gomez and Morticia have a fight, so this is it. It wasn't easy.
Also, please note that this fic is unbetated because my beta is on well deserved summer vacations, so please forgive any mistakes. I tried my best.
Chapter 1
If there was a word to perfectly describe her marriage, Morticia Addams would always answer that it was, surely and indisputably, perfect.
At least, that's was it always was to her, that's what it always has been.
Perfect.
Idyllic.
Throughout their nearly twenty years long marriage there was seldom a time where she would question this assertion. Her marriage - her life with her mad Castiliian felt idyllic. It didn't mean they didn't have disagreements, but Morticia always prided herself with the way they handled their differences.
She had decided, very early in their marriage, that open and honest communication will be at the core of their relationship. There was, after all, no other way for that marriage to work since they had barely known each other when they had decided on that sudden dive into matrimony. They knew nothing about each other except their names and irrevocable certainty that they wanted to spend the rest of their miserable ever after together.
The unquestionable bliss of their miserable ever after required, however, a lot of work.
Besides unbridled love and dedication, honesty was at the core of the success of their marriage.
Until recently, that is.
She realized the idyllic went downhill the moment Fester Addams found his way back into their lives. He caused ripples in what until then, had been relatively smooth sailing. Well, truth be told he was always there - as a shadow, as guilt, as a regret and it often broke her heart to see her husband so hunted by his misdeeds but… as horrible as it might sound, she got used to it. She got used to Gomez's periods of melancholy and handled it as best as she could - she listened to him, tried to console him, distract him - he was always willing to be distracted. And life went on, with Fester Addams fading in the background.
And then he returned.
Fester Addams has returned and with him came ripples that tore into what had always been idyllic and sacred.
Perhaps, she shouldn't delve into it so much. It all ended up well, after all. They've got their home back, they've got Fester back - twice now.
What a pity it didn't work out with Debbie, she would have made a fine Addams indeed, she thought fondly.
Yes, it all ended up well. Everything was back to normal.
And yet, for the first time in her life, she felt exhausted.
She felt exhausted by the constant burden of responsibility placed upon her. She realized that she really couldn't remember the time where there wasn't someone depending on her.
Her mother was never any support, not really. Well, that's not exactly true, Morticia more than appreciated her mother's contribution into raising their children, she was doing a wonderful job and the children absolutely adored their Grandmama. And why shouldn't they? Hester dedicated every moment into making sure her grandchildren grew up to be despicable little devils and Morticia was always very grateful for that.
Her mother's style of parenting was always very relaxed, to put it mildly, she basically let both Ophelia and Morticia grow up on their own devices - free spirits, as her mother put it, and Morticia always loved that approach as a child. Her mother allowed them to make any decisions they wanted, no matter how daft and irresponsible. She allowed them to learn life by their own mistakes, she never told them what to do and how to do it. Besides ,nothing was ever serious enough to warrant Hester's concern - because remember darling, you can always walk away first, she used to tell them.
Except, walking away wasn't always an option, there were things in life that simply required a more complex approach than merely walking away, and Morticia would often long for her mother to offer her some sage advice instead of trivializing every situation.
But her mother didn't seem to have a care in the world, nor had her sister.
Her sister lived in her own little world.
And her husband -
"I love this nightgown," Gomez murmured into her neck as he came to stand behind the chair she was sitting on."Is it new?"
"Yes," she replied flatly, picking her hairbrush from the dressing table.
"You look absolutely… delicious," he whispered, peppering her neck with small, delicious kisses.
Her husband was back to his old self.
As if nothing happened.
As if mere days ago he didn't plunge into utter misery and almost died in despair.
It was amazing, really, the ease he could just bounce in and out from such states. It seemed that there was no middle ground when it came to Gomez Addams, he was either manically ecstatic, in love with everything in life or plunging into the darkest recess of his soul.
It never really bothered her, that lack of capacity in him to deal with difficulties in life. She understood what he needed, what he needed from her especially - to be his support system, his strength and his anchor, and she gladly provided it.
She always thought they were finely balanced like that even if, on surface level, one would think they didn't match at all. That they were too different to make it work.
Her, usually quiet and reserved, and this Castillian bon vivant. Even she didn't expect to fall in love with this Spaniard so madly and irrevocably as she did. And she'd lie if she said she didn't adore the way he loved her - reverently, obsessively and completely.
There was a certain delightful madness about him she found as fascinating as she found it scary. However, this delightful madness was what prevented him from assessing the situations calmly and objectively.
It was the scary part that was problematic and she realized she was guilty for indulging it for too long. They should have discussed it years ago.
They should have dealt with it years ago.
"Darling, I'm exhausted," she rebuked him gently, pushing his face away gently, and returned to the task of brushing her hair.
"I understand, my darling," he nodded, kissing the crown of her head."You do so much, no wonder you're tired."
But he didn't understand. He didn't understand that this tiredness he referred to didn't come from being a mother to three children. It came from the fact that if their world came crashing down upon them again, she'd have no one to turn for support. She'd have to deal not only with what life would decide to throw at them but also with the fact that her husband would most likely fall apart again.
He didn't understand how scary - how truly terrifying it was to see him like this and know that she was unable to help. That he wouldn't allow her to help.
Where would they be, though, if Fester really was an imposter? What if he didn't come back home? If he decided to build his life with Debbie and away from them? How would Gomez deal with that? It was absurd that the happiness of her marriage and even her family seemed to suddenly depend on one man.
It wasn't Fester's fault, though, she realized. It wasn't Fester's fault that his brother was gnawed by his guilt and placed his brother's personal happiness on the list of his top priorities.
"How is Fester doing?" She asked suddenly, catching her husband's gaze in the mirror.
Gomez smiled at her.
"He still feels very guilty that he put the family in danger," he admitted, slowly undoing his grey, silk robe and put it gently over the rim of the velvet chair near the window.
"But I told him not to worry about it. It's over, no need for him to beat himself up about it."
Morticia nodded wordlessly and placed her hairbrush back neatly on the vanity table as she watched her husband pull the duvet down and slipped into bed.
"And what about you?" She asked then and watched his face immediately crease with confusion.
"What about me?"
"We haven't really talked about what happened," she pointed out, finally turning towards him.
"I feel bad for him, Tish," he admitted, leaning heavily against the pillows."I really want him to find someone special. I want him to be happy."
"I know," she responded crisply, not quite sure how to steer their conversation to where she wanted it.
Gomez frowned, unsure what to make of her tone and his gaze rested on her worryingly. She seemed tired, indeed, he noticed.
"Come to bed, Cara," he urged her gently.
She nodded and made her way towards the bed but stopped the moment she reached the bed post and rested her slim hand upon the meticulously polished, mahogany bed post.
"Gomez, I want to talk…," she paused and drew her lips in between her teeth briefly before finally looking at him."I want to talk about what happened."
"Okay," he nodded, his tone already acquiring a cautious, apprehensive note.
"I want to talk about how you've reacted to the whole thing," she clarified, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He swallowed audibly. He didn't like the distance she created between them, it felt wrong - foreboding.
"It worries me," she said gently.
"No need to worry, cara mia," he interrupted her promptly, shifting on the bed closer to her so he could place a gentle kiss on her mouth."It's over."
He felt her shake her head and place her fingers over his lips.
"It still worries me," she pressed carefully."It worries me that you fell into such despair so easily. It scared me to see you like that."
"I know, my darling," he nodded, and wrapped his hand around her fingers, placing a loving kiss on her digits, but she could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn't exactly understand what she meant.
"No," she whispered slowly, extracting her hand from his."I don't think you do, Gomez."
The feeling of an impending loss was so acute he suddenly didn't know how to breathe.
"Is it about Fester?" He asked, apprehensive."I will speak to him, I can - "
"Fester is not the problem, Gomez," she contradicted gently but firmly still."You are."
He felt silent, staring at her in disbelief, chastised and ashamed.
"It's over," he whispered, lowering his gaze, he couldn't bear seeing her disapproval."It all ended well, why are we going back to it?"
"All is well, Gomez," she nodded. "For how long?"
He didn't answer, he felt like the Earth was opening under him, wanting to swallow him whole and his happiness with him.
"Until another difficulty arises," his wife continued firmly." And you will plunge into the endless recesses of misery again?"
Why was she saying this? Why was she voicing what, for years, simmered between them unspoken even though it was the truth. But he couldn't stand her saying it outloud.
"I needed you," she said quietly but she could as well shout at him. Her words seemed to rip through his very soul."Our son was ill and what did you do?"
"Tish - "
"You gave up," she interjected firmly, putting her finger under his chin and lift his head, waiting for him to look at her. "You gave up," she repeated, even though the beaten look in his eyes made her almost back away."When I needed you most."
"I'm sorry," he breathed out miserably.
"I don't need your apologies," she retorted."Your apologies don't fix anything."
"What do you want me to do?"
She bit her lips into a thin line and exhaled tiredly.
"I have three children, darling, I don't need another one," she replied pointedly."I need a husband. I need someone to be there for me too."
Oh, God, he wanted her to stop. It was unbearable, her words, her chastisement, oh he wanted to die. He wanted to stop existing entirely.
"You can't fall apart every time there's a difficulty in your life, Gomez," Morticia continued insistently."You have to learn to deal with them, without leaving me to deal with everything because you are unable to cope."
"Stop it -" he begged, closing his eyes and swallowed heavily."Please, stop it -"
But she didn't.
"Last year we've lost the house and I lost you with it," she pointed out."And I allowed that to pass because I know how difficult and devastating it was for you... I understood that."
She could see the tears glistening in his eyes and her heart almost broke at the sight because to cause him such pain felt unbearable. She felt almost an overwhelming urge to take it all back and almost told him it wasn't really him, she was simply tired, she didn't mean it.
Except she did mean it. And what good would it bring to back away now?
"But it can't always be me, do you understand?" She forced herself to continue, her voice weary."It's just… it's too much."
He felt hot tears brimming in his eyes. How could she tell him such awful things?
Her words seemed so vicious and unfair, to claim that he wasn't there for her, when she was the sole purpose of his existence.
Didn't she know that? Didn't he show her over the years, every single day how much she meant to him and now she was claiming it was not enough?
He was not enough?
He turned away from her.
He felt suddenly angry, he felt betrayed and humiliated.
And for the first time in his entire life, he wanted to be away from her. Away from her accusations and disapproval.
Away from feeling like a failure.
Again.