Gomez fought his exhaustion with more intensity than any previous duel. He was desperate to guard over Morticia's sleeping frame, but with each second that passed his body was succumbing to the much-needed slumber. With his arms wrapped tightly around her figure, his eyelids became heavy. The intoxicating scent of her raven hair possessed the last of his alert senses, coaxing him to surrender to sleep. As soon as his eyes closed, Gomez's mind was dragged into a dream state where the veil between worlds does not exist.

Each step he took was like walking on air. He could not feel the movement of his muscles, but heard the familiar click of his shoes against the hard floor. There was no denying that he was walking from his bedroom down the candlelit hallway, yet there was something foreign about how his home was making him feel. As he reached the top of the stairs, his heart sank from its place in his chest. The house seemed desolate, but not in the way he and Morticia liked it. Morticia. He realized that her absence was what clouded the atmosphere of their home. Before he knew it, he was at the bottom of the stairs, searching for his wife.

Gomez had visited all her regular spots, but found no trace of his beloved querida. Loneliness filled the air, suffocating what little sense of comfort he had left. In a desperate attempt to keep hope, he went to the conservatory, sure his darling would pass through to feed Cleopatra. He waited silently, touching her prized thorns as if somehow, she would feel his caress through their thick flesh. Drowning in confusion, he sighed and laid his head in his hands. The sweet aroma of flowers filled his lungs, begging him to search for their source. Blossoms that smelled so sweet would not belong to Morticia's garden. He followed the scent out of the conservatory and into the living room.

As soon as he reached the doorway to the living room, Gomez was assaulted by the undeniable stench of decay. It was now obvious why the flowers were so overwhelming, they were a poor attempt to cover the sickening smell of death. The room was covered in various blooms, all associated with the loss of a loved one. Gomez felt trapped in the maze of flowers, and tried to move himself to the center of the room only to have his clothes caught by the thorns of white roses. He pulled against their hold, feeling the strain against the delicate threads of his suit. Suddenly he found himself facing the back of an open casket. The picture was beginning to develop in his mind: a wake, where the body was positioned near the foyer with a sea of flowers positioned behind it. Mourners would glide from the door to view the body, saved from the awful stink of rotting flesh by the plethora of fragrant blooms.

Nervously, Gomez made his way around the coffin. His hand reached out to touch the polished wood. Without thinking, he closed his eyes and allowed his hand to guide him to the front of the casket. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, unsure of who he would see laying against the satin. For some odd reason, he believed he would open his eyes to see himself laying dead before him. He squeezed the edge of the casket as he forced his eyes to open.

The sight before him was nothing he would have imagined. His cherished wife laid in front of him, a crown of white roses adorning her ebony tresses.

"Tish?"

He said her name only to confirm that his eyes were truly seeing his beloved wife laying lifeless. Unable to believe what he was seeing, he reached out to touch a curl that laid perfectly on her breast. The silk strands felt the same as they passed between his fingertips. The familiarity gave him a false sense of security, letting his hand raise to her face. As soon as his fingers touched her icy flesh, he drew back in shock.

"No" he let out the soft defeated whisper.

He could not believe that Morticia was dead. To be more specific, he could not believe she would be dead and he would still be alive.

"It can't be." He whispered in despair. Gomez forced himself to observe her figure laying in the satin lined coffin. The white blossoms made a stark contrast to her dark hair. A tear came to his eye as he realized she was wearing her wedding dress, such a beautiful memory became tainted by his growing anguish. There was a slight tinge of blue coloring her alabaster flesh, yet her lips were still scarlet. He became obsessed with her dark lashes resting against her cheek, hoping he would see them flutter before revealing the sapphires that fueled his soul. Tears clouded his vision so horribly, he was forced to look away. As the tears fell, he realized he was staring at her beautiful hands. They laid on top of each other, her long crimson nails plaguing him with memories of her caresses.

His fixation on her hands led him to notice the absence of Morticia's wedding ring. Bare, the pale finger had no sign of its treasured companion. Gomez could not recall the last time his wife's finger was without the large symbol of their precious marriage. There was no logical explanation as to why Morticia would remove her most prized possession, even in death.

As his mind whirled over the surreal situation, he began trying to piece everything together only to find himself lost. He could not remember Morticia dying, nor did he understand why he seemed to be the only one around to mourn for her. In a fit of rage and realization, he began to shout.

"Wake me from this hell!"

In his rage, he began to slap at his face trying to wake himself from the nightmare. When his physical actions had no consequences or feeling, he began to tear apart the flowers while repeating his demand. As he stood surrounded by ruined petals, he turned back towards the casket.

"Tish" he whispered as he rounded the coffin once again. "This cannot be my Morticia!" he shouted.

Without thinking, he pulled her body out of its satin bed of death.

"You cannot have her!" he yelled to the orchestrator of his nightmare. Morticia's limp cold body rested against him as he screamed his declaration over and over again. He tried to carry her towards the stairs, but with each step he took the stairs were moved farther away. Frustrated, Gomez tried to move towards the front door, only to find himself in the conservatory. He was running out of ideas of escape and succumbing to the illusion of the false reality once again.

As he struggled to maintain his control, he glanced down at Morticia. Her limbs and head were reaching for the floor, it made his heart hurt to see her beautiful body twisting in such a painful way despite her inability to suffer. Gomez was finally broken, he set her body down by her prized thorns. Raven hair covered her face as her body met the floor. In his usual adoring fashion, Gomez brushed the tresses from her cold face before placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Querida," he whispered as he bent for her lips as his hand reached for the shears that rested on the counter above them.

As he felt the sharp plunge of his beloved's rose stained shears into his heart, his eyes finally opened to reality.

"Morticia!" he gasped as he reached out for her in their bed, only to find himself alone.