Beads of sweat formed at her hairline, but she continued to shiver ferociously. Nothing they did could chase the cold away. Silently, Gomez sat beside his sleeping wife. Their marital bed had been transformed into a vessel of death, a simple comfort while they awaited endless gloom. A bottle of hemlock sat on the nightstand beside Gomez, waiting patiently for the moment Morticia's breath stopped so that it could kiss his lips.
"Gomez…" her soft voice broke his reverie.
"Cara Mia," he kissed her hand "How are you feeling?"
With great effort, her hand raised to caress his face. For a moment, he believed all would be well as he became lost in her loving blue eyes. His hope did not last long, the sorrow that poured from her pupils confirmed all his fears.
"Mon Cher," she let her thumb glide over his lips. Tears flooded his eyes, hearing his pet name laden with such sorrow that he believed it would be the last time the words passed her lips. "Death has come for me."
"He cannot have you, Tish. You are still mine, and I will not lose you!" The tears began to fall as he kissed her palm.
"Darling, I want to die as we lived."
Gomez looked at her puzzled, waiting for her to continue.
"In bliss" she finished, a faint smile playing on her blue lips.
"Tish.."
"Please, Mon Cher. Let me surrender my life as our passion makes me fully alive." They sat in silence a moment before Morticia's thinly veiled emotions were exposed. Her lips quivered as she fought the tears, then she began to cry. "Gomez," her voice broke on his name. "I don't know how else I could say goodbye to you."
Tenderly, his lips met hers creating a pool where their tears collided. His touch was as light as a feather as his fingertips glided down her cheeks and neck. She felt different, her skin clammy and frozen, her muscles stiff and weak. He tried to be as gentle as possible as he memorized each curve of his dying wife.
Their usual fiery passion was absent, replaced by the raw expression of a gentle love. Gomez explored her as if his eyes and hands had never known her tempting form. Breathlessly, Morticia watched his face determined to burn the image into her soul.
"Speak to me, mon amour" she pleaded.
Her request broke what little façade he had left. In anguish, he met her gaze.
"I don't know what to say, my dear."
"Darling," her voice was soft. Never had she thought that the day would come where Gomez had no words. "Can you still say you love me? That's all I need."
Years of eloquent love letters laid on the tip of his tongue, and she only wanted to hear three words. Suffocated by heartache, Gomez choked out the words. "I love you more than anything Morticia."
Her long fingers took hold of his shirt and pulled him down to her desperate lips. Even with his heart broken by grief, Gomez could not resist Morticia. In the flurry of caresses, the couple began to succumb to the familiarity of their passion.
Morticia's body was fighting against every pleasurable sensation, weakness incapacitating her already aching muscles. Her breath was shortened by the intensity of her rapidly beating heart, a sign of her body's final grasps at life. Her vision began to blur as she struggled to breathe. For a moment, she felt her soul reaching out for death, begging him to release her from her struggle. As she pleaded for him to take her, death began to disappear.