Sorry for being mia for so long. Can't promise this will be updated regularly, but it will be completed at some point.
Also usual disclaimer warnings.
This was Morticia's least favorite room in the house. It was large, one of the biggest, intended to be the original ballroom until his father had his way with it. And it was bright too, lined with high arched windows overlooking the city.
'Too much sunlight,' she'd said, even after he closed the skylight for good and commissioned heavy curtains.
Naturally, Gomez respected her wishes and they left it to die a slow death ever since. But that was three years ago. Despite Lurch's best efforts, the room was now a corpse of its former self. Half-barren and neglected as if it were an embarrassing mistake. He let Morticia pick out the things she wanted for her own lounge, leaving everything else to wither away under faded plastic tarps.
Gomez paced the length of the balcony, the sharp sting of tobacco dribbling onto his tongue as he bit down on his cigar. He thought he let it all out earlier, he could have sworn he did. But somehow it changed the moment he caught a glimpse of his new...team? Group? He wasn't even sure what to call them.
It was a strange sort of pain. Something dulled yet precise, slowly eating away at every nerve in his body. In all honesty, he'd been ignoring it for hours. But there was no ignoring it now. How could he? Not when he was staring down the results of his inaction.
Now here he was, sweat-drenched and sick to his stomach, relying on these people, some of whom he hardly really knew, to drag him out of this nightmare.
Gomez paused and took a deep breath. It felt stifling despite the cold grey walls. Uncomfortable. Foreign. As if he wasn't supposed to be here. He shrugged out of his jacket, popping open a button to cool down.
A gentle breeze rustled the tarp covering the sofa. One man sat crosslegged atop it, twirling his hair around his fingers while the other hovered next to the fireplace, almost too casually smoking a cigarette.
Gomez's mouth twisted, the acrid taste becoming diluted with time. He probably should be more grateful than anything. Being a lawyer granted him friends from every circle. Friends with favors. Friends with expertise and experience. Friends with even more talented friends, the list went on. He couldn't bear to take this to the police.
So he tried his best to dull the horrible pain and spat the ruined cigar into a dustbin.
"Gentlemen," his voice threatened to betray him, but he maintained his composure.
Both pairs of eyes turned to him as he walked down the stairs.
"Garnet," he nodded. The blonde man discarded his cigarette and met him halfway.
"Gomez Addams," he greeted and Gomez allowed the older man to pull him in for a quick hug. "It's good to see you. I'm sorry, man."
Garnet looked the same as he remembered. The same pale, freckled skin and short stature. Since childhood, really, Fester and he often joked about his youthful appearance despite being the oldest and wisest of the group.
"Thank you," Gomez offered a small smile. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Don't even mention it. Anything you need, I'm here," Garnet said, resting a comforting hand on Gomez's shoulder.
The other man appeared beside him and cleared his throat.
"Mr Addams," he said, offering his hand for a firm shake.
"Ah yes, Roderick. I've heard many good things about you. Thank you for joining me on such short notice."
"Of course," Roderick said. "Happy to lend my services to you."
Gomez gave him a quick glance over, noting the numerous bags on his person. His voice matched his appearance well, low and guttural and utterly to the point. Compared to Garnet, Roderick looked like he was preparing for the military sans the elaborate tattoo running along his right arm.
"Thank you. CSI, I'm sure?"
"In the flesh," he smiled, showing off a row of white teeth.
"Excellent. Now…" he scanned the room, eyeing an abandoned bag left on the coffee table. "There is a third guest…"
"Hi! Yes! Sorry I'm late," said a breathless voice.
Gomez turned to see a small figure jogging into the room.
"I'm sorry, I had to use the restrooms. But It's such a pleasure to meet you for the first time, Mr Addams—"
"Who are you?"
He reared back at the young man, surprised and taken aback by his presence. If this was to be his forensic scientist, Mama knew exactly who to call. And this person was not him.
"Oh. Uhh, this is awkward."
Gomez narrowed his eyes at the young man. Fortunately, he seemed to pick up on his impatience.
"I'm Sampson Philip Jr, sir," said he. "Professor Warrez apologized to your mother that he wasn't able to make it on short notice. So he sent me instead."
Someone behind him, Roderick, he thinks, gives a small snort.
"How old are you, kid?" Asked Garnet.
"Oh, I'm 24 — well, almost! My birthday is a few months from now. But anyway..." the man ruffled through his bag before pulling out a letter, "he also said to give you this, sir."
Gomez snatched the letter out of the poor boy's hand, skimming past what was already said to look over the signature.
This couldn't be right.
He looked Sampson over and winced. Was Joseph not his friend? Did he think so little of him as to bring a student no less? There was something to say about morality when bringing in a child to catch a child predator. Sampson was practically a baby himself. All smooth, dark skin and bright eyes. He looked barely out of college.
Pressure grew at his temple. Gomez resisted the urge to tear the paper in two, and took a quiet breath to calm himself. Time was being wasted right now. He'll call Joseph later.
"I know what you're thinking, but trust me I'm prepared for this!" Sampson sunk to the ground, ruffling through his bag again. "I'm a great student. I brought my certificate along so you could see some of my grades. Not to mention I have my proper referrals, too."
"No please," he interjected. "That won't be necessary. I take it your professor let you know the basics of why you're here?"
"Oh yes, sir. He also said to let you know that the lab is empty only after 10 pm, so I can do my work then."
"Okay," Gomez turned to look at the group at large. He gestured for everyone to sit around the coffee table while he opted to stand.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on short notice. My mother may have gone over the basics, but I'll reiterate. Last night, someone snuck into my home. They injured my wife and son and kidnapped my daughter."
Silence filled the room, so he continued. Gomez sifted through his wallet before producing a small picture of his girls.
"My daughter's birthday a few months ago. I'm sorry I don't have anything more recent. Wednesday's always been camera-shy."
Garnet carefully took the photo from him.
"It's alright. I'll blow it up so we can use it."
Gomez nodded, continuing once more.
"All of you have the expertise that will be essential for finding her — from surveillance to crime scene investigation to forensics. I need you all to help me find this person in exchange for significant compensation."
"I got it," said Roderick, leaning forward on the sofa, notepad in hand. "What do we know so far?"
"Ah, not much. They were wearing a mask, but my wife is sure it was a man. He stood taller than her, so at least 5 foot 9 and strong enough to overpower her."
A knot formed at the back of his throat. Gomez coughed into his handkerchief, actively avoiding Garnet's concerned gaze.
"Go on," Roderick nodded, scribbling down his notes.
"He... he managed to jump three stores to the nursery unnoticed. But that's it."
"If you need to, I can re-interview her and get a proper statement."
Gomez hesitated.
"I'll have to see how she's doing first. I'll need a day or two to make sure she's alright."
"Alright. Well, do you know anyone that might be a possible lead?"
He shook his head.
"The only thing I have so far is that whoever he was must know the house well enough to sneak past the security cameras," he turned to his old friend occupying the armchair. "This is where I'll need you."
"You need me to comb through the security cameras to make sure you didn't miss anything?" Asked Garnet.
"And if you could get into the surrounding CCTV cameras, as well," Gomez nodded. "Lurch is good at many things, but his eyesight is not what it used to be."
"I hear you, bossman."
"Well, since your wife was attacked, is there a chance that she has enemies, sir?"
"No," he said swiftly. Sampson flinched at his harsh tone. "I mean, no," he repeated in a softer voice. "None that I'm aware of. She mentioned that the man acted as if he knew her, but she didn't know him."
"It might have been a mental patient?"
"Or one of your crazy fans, Gomez," Garnet pointed out.
"Alright, that's a start," said Roderick. "Let's stick to this topic for a second. I have an idea."
Gomez nodded and let him continue.
"Gomez. You're a well-known man with many connections?"
"I am."
"Which means you probably have tons of enemies. More than you can even think of that might be jealous of your success. Envious. Desperate to put you out of business..."
"Good point, Roderick," said Garnet. "And it does explain the why part. Some kind of misguided attempt at revenge?"
"Makes sense to me."
Gomez considered this for a moment. While many of his partners ended up on good terms with him, Roderick may be right. He had no idea how these people truly felt about him. So many men and women walked across these grounds potentially with nothing but bad will for him and his family name. Hell, his parents were hunted and slain just outside Gate by spiteful villagers. His cousin, Bal, murdered and dismembered by his fraudulent partner. And his own brother, betrayed by the one he least expected.
He cleared his throat.
"I know of a few. But the rest..."
"Exactly. So we should take a chance and swab every businessman or woman that passed through this house against any DNA we find."
Gomez considered the offer. "That—"
"Illegal," Sampson stood and crossed a defiant arm over his chest, eyeing the taller man cautiously.
Roderick cocked his head, mimicking the boy's stance.
"What?"
"That's illegal," he repeated. "And impossible. How are we supposed to track down every associate Mr Addams spoke to and get their DNA?"
He chuckled.
"Not everyone he talked to, everyone who's been in this house."
"No offense, sir, but that still makes little sense. Plus it's still illegal, of course. We can get caught. And what if—"
"Why do you care about legality?" He bit back. "You're here aren't you?"
"Stop it!" Gomez slammed his hand against the table to punctuate his words. "We don't have time for this!"
He'd never felt so on edge before in his life. Garnet rushed over to guide him over to a chair, but he shrugged him off. It was only then he realized how much his hands were shaking. He balled them into fists, stuffing them inside his pockets.
"I'm sorry. While I appreciate both sentiments," he peered over at the two men for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully, "that option is too impractical to consider right now. But if it comes down to it, I'll allow it."
Roderick shrugged in response. Sampson gave a small nod, but Gomez didn't miss the slight hitch of his breath, nor the way his eyes widened under his glasses. His back stiffened. This call with Joseph will have to happen sooner rather than later.
"Good. Okay. Everyone follow me."
Gomez turned on his heel and left the room. It was like clockwork, his legs taking him down that familiar path to the nursery while his mind raced with a thousand thoughts a minute. The clean air certainly helped, but not by much. Gomez barely even registered the footsteps trodding behind him until they stopped in front of the heavy oak doors.
"This was where it happened," he said to no one in particular.
Stray rays of daylight from the still opened window exposed dark spots dotted along the carpeting. But aside from that, the room looked exactly the same as he recalled. From the slight shift of the rocking chair against the wall to the scruff marks on the windowsill.
"I don't want anyone in this room," he ordered, eyes shifting to Roderick. "Except for you. Let me know when you're finished collecting what you need."
Roderick dropped his tool bag on the floor and moved to stand beside him, looking over the room.
"It's smaller than I expected, but I'll make due. Should take a few hours to go over everything twice. Seven tops."
"I can help. If you need the extra hand, that is. "
All eyes shifted to Sampson.
Gomez frowned.
"You know what you're doing?"
"Uh yes, actually. I have tons of experience from assignments and all that. I also did some on-the-job training over the summer and winter break."
Gomez glanced at Roderick, who shrugged his reply.
"I got some extra gear he could use."
"Okay. Well, you two get started. Roderick, go over everything with him just to make sure. I'll be in the library if any of you need me."
Gomez turned, bounding down the hall with Garnet instep.
"I'll help you move what you need and create a space in the lounge for your work."
"Sure thing."
Gomez left them largely to their own devices. After the daunting task of moving the monitor and recorder across rooms and reconnecting the wires, he took a cursory stop to his office to collect some books before finding himself at the entrance to the library.
He clutched his phone tightly. The number was so familiar to him, he punched it in automatically. And as the ring started, he stepped into the empty room, locking the doors behind him.
"Gomez, I'm sorry…"
Gomez groaned into the receiver. The sound bounced off the walls, vibrating in the still room. "Don't do this to me."
"I was already on shift when your mother called, you know! Look, I have a lot on my plate these days."
Gomez's grip on the hand rest tightened. His eyes narrowed, lips curling in disgust for his, now former, friend. And at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to skewer the coward. Instead, he settled for glaring at the mural lining the ceiling.
"Gomez?"
"Sampson. Tell me about him," his words were sharp.
Joseph sighed.
"He's a good kid. Just keep a close eye on him, though."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well…he's inexperienced but really smart. But he can become distracted and easily lead."
"Oh Joseph, what have you gotten me into…"
"He's a good kid," he insisted. "And an excellent student. He really needs the money for his loans, and I know he'll work hard for it. Trust me on this."
Gomez wanted to laugh. Trust him? After everything he did — or refused to do, in this instance.
"Look, I'm sorry again but I'm doing the best I ca—"
He hung up.
Bastard.
The phone fell onto he hea
The phone fell onto the heavy carpet, but he couldn't be bothered to pick it back up. He couldn't believe it. Gomez chuckled, resting his head in his hands. It seemed Roderick was right in more ways than one. Tears brimmed the back of his eyes, but he couldn't allow them to fall so soon.
There was a noise to his left. Gomez's head whipped up, hand flying to wipe at his eyes.
"Who's there?"
The rustle continued until a small figure scurried in from behind a shelf and hopped onto the desk in front of him.
"Oh. I thought I locked the doors."
Thing lightly tapped him on the knee.
"Right, of course. You do have your ways," Gomez stood. "Hop on"
With Thing on his shoulder, Gomez trudged past rows of shelves to the back of the room. "Today was taxing, to say the least."
Thing agreed and squeezed his shoulder in support. Gomez looked through files and old documents before pulling out several dust-ridden books; Logs. Diaries. Guest books dated back to decades ago. Mite-eaten folders filled to the brim.
"I refuse to sit back and relax while everyone does the work," a plume of dust rose as he brought a book after book back to the large mahogany desk. "My father and I incurred too many enemies to remember. I need names and addresses," he slumped back down on the chair.
Thing gave him thumbs-up and hopped off his shoulder. With nimble fingers, he picked up one of his guest books off the floor and made space at the other end of the table.
"We're beginning from newest to oldest. My father was always bad at organizing. Find a name, see if the deal ended on bad terms, check the date of birth to see if they're close to death or not. If not, we'll mark them down."
Thing gave him another thumbs up.
Just as the sun began to set, there was a knock on the door. Gomez jumped up to unlock it.
"We're just about done."
Gomez glanced back at Thing, who was diligently looking through one of his files. Thing gave him the go-ahead, and Gomez followed Roderick to the front door.
"Bad news is we didn't get a whole lot. We checked the place several times over and even just outside the window to make sure. We got some blood, hair, skin cells off the tree, and a bit of spit, even though I think that's your daughters. The scruff marks we collected just to be on the safe side."
Gomez nodded.
"Any good news?"
"Sampson says he can work with that."
"Right."
The smallness of the cooler Sampson held was disconcerting. He gripped it in one hand, carrying his bags over his shoulder with ease.
"Ready to go, sir. It's still pretty early, so I'll have to wait a while to use the machines, but I'll still head down to store them in the meantime. The results should only take a few days, undisturbed, I'm pretty sure. But don't worry, I'll call you when it's done."
Gomez's brow threaded together in doubt but he forced a small smile and shook the younger man's hand, which he eagerly took.
"Stay safe."
He watched from the window as the younger man walked down the stairs and drove away. Everything should be okay, he thought. He really wanted to think that. But the tension still pulling at his insides wouldn't quite let him.