Author's Note: Thank you for all of the kind support for the first chapter of this fic! It is much appreciated. I already have an idea of where I want this story to go, and my goal is to update as frequently as possible. As promised, here is the second chapter, chock full of Wednesday and Tyler interactions. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
The cell was about average, as far as cells went. It wasn't nearly damp enough, and there was a disappointing lack of cobwebs, but it served its purpose.
Tyler sat in a chair at the back of the room. He wore a straitjacket with thick metal chains binding his chest and arms. His head raised at the sound of the door, and from his bleary expression it was clear that he had been tranquilized. It appeared that Sheriff Galpin wasn't taking any chances.
Wednesday's pulse quickened at the sight of him, which didn't make much sense. Straitjackets and chains were alright, she supposed, but a bit too mild for her taste. She preferred more...painful methods of restraint. After all, it wasn't fun if the subject wasn't screaming—or at least groaning.
"You shouldn't be here," Tyler said huskily.
His eyes were dull and lifeless, rivaling even her own. Looking into them was almost enough to give her chills. Impressive.
"Why didn't you kill me?" she asked.
His head drooped again. "I tried, but your little wolf friend got in my way."
"No, you hesitated." He stared at her blankly, so she continued. "You had a chance to kill me before Enid arrived, but you didn't. I want to know why."
"How should I know?" he said tiredly. "I don't even know what you're talking about."
"I thought not," she replied, "but I have a theory."
"Wednesday—" he began.
"You love me."
Her voice was steady and matter of fact, as if she were stating that the sky was blue, but Tyler jerked abruptly. "What?"
With deft fingers, she flipped to the earmarked page in the diary and held it open for him to see.
"What is this?" he asked, taking in the drawings and scrawling script.
"It's Nathaniel Faulkner's diary. He was renowned for traveling the world and documenting outcast communities. This is his chapter on Hydes." She pointed to a paragraph near the bottom of the page. "Read this."
She was surprised when he obeyed readily—perhaps it was a conditioned response from the Hyde/master relationship.
"The Jekyll," he began. "A Hyde with an established master has no choice but to obey their orders. There is one exception to this, but it is exceedingly rare. When a Hyde is connected strongly with someone—most often in a manner of romantic attraction—they may be able to resist their master's orders and learn to control their abilities with this person's aid. This individual is called the Jekyll, as they are able to bring out the human side of the Hyde."
He fell silent as he finished, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. She tried not to be impatient—being tranquilized tended to slow one's cognitive function, after all.
She had learned that through a great deal of experimentation, most often with Pugsley serving as her faithful test subject.
"So you're saying that you're my...Jekyll?" Tyler said at last.
"Correct."
He shook his head in disbelief. "That's crazy. You're basing all this on—what? Something you think you saw happen in the woods? I was going to kill you, Wednesday, just like I killed all those other people. I'm a monster, ok? Of all people, you'd be the last one I'd expect to try and redeem me."
"If you don't believe me, why don't we test my theory?" she said evenly.
His eyes widened as she took a step towards him. "Wednesday, don't—"
She ignored him, taking several more steps forward. She was within arm's reach of him now.
Tyler turned his head away from her, futilely trying to maximize the distance between them. "Stay away," he said thickly.
She came to stand directly in front of his chair, kneeling so their faces were almost touching. The closeness made her uncomfortable, but she squashed the feeling down mercilessly. This was all for the sake of cracking the case, she reminded herself.
Slowly, Tyler turned to face her, his eyes finding hers as though drawn by a strong magnetic force. They were no longer dull or lifeless—they were terrified. Wednesday's lips twitched in satisfaction. Emotion somehow suited him.
"Go on," she said in a low voice. "Laurel Gates ordered you to kill me, didn't she? What are you waiting for?"
Tyler looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He squirmed in his chair, shaking his head desperately. "Don't do this," he pleaded.
But the Hyde was already taking over—his eyes bulging out of his head, large and bloodshot, and his skin turning gray and leathery. His form morphed and grew until it tore the straitjacket and strained at his chains.
Wednesday remained motionless, not even flinching as the creature's hot breath tickled her face. It smelled deliciously of death and decay.
The Hyde began to growl loudly, struggling against its chains. Its gaze was fixed on something behind her. She looked over her shoulder and found Sheriff Galpin opening the door, gun in hand.
She sent him a withering glare. You gave me your word that you wouldn't interfere. He hesitated, but finally nodded reluctantly and backed out of the room.
The Hyde quieted as soon as he was gone. Its growls grew softer, taking on an almost whimpering quality. Wednesday waited as the creature surveyed her. He could sever her head from her body in a single motion, but he merely sat there, staring at her.
After what seemed like ages but was in fact only a few moments, the transformation began again—glorious in its gruesomeness. It was only Tyler now, sagging limply in his chair and breathing heavily. Apparently the change took a toll on him, or perhaps it was due to the tranquilizer he was under.
She stood and brushed herself off, then picked up one of the larger pieces of shredded straitjacket and covered him with it decently.
"Is that sufficient proof for you?" she asked. "Or shall we do it again?"
"Fine," he panted, "you win. What do you want from me?"
She almost blinked in surprise. What an absurd question. "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to
help you control your powers."
"So you want to help me out of the goodness of your heart? Doesn't seem very characteristic of you." He straightened slightly. "Wait, do you—?" He cut off, looking uncertain.
"Spit it out, Tyler. I despise it when people fail to complete their sentences."
"I guess we both know how I feel, but do you...I mean, do you have feelings for me?"
"No," she replied flatly. "I assure you that you are nothing to me."
She watched the hope in his eyes flicker and die. It was not nearly as satisfying as it should have been.
"Then why?" he asked dully.
"There are few Hydes left in this world. I would be foolish to turn down an opportunity to study one up close. Still, I will not force you into this. If you would rather go to the penitentiary facility, I will leave you alone."
He said nothing for a long moment. "You really think you can help me control it?" he asked at last.
"Faulkner's diary has been right about everything else," she replied.
He drew himself up, looking resolved. "Ok. I'll do it."
She nodded. "I will make the necessary arrangements with your father. Once you're released, pack your bags and be at Nevermore's gate at twelve o'clock sharp."
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Are we going somewhere?"
"The term has ended early thanks to your and Thornhill's murder spree. My family is arriving today to pick me up for our annual sojourn to Transylvania. You will be accompanying us as well."
She walked to the front of the room and pressed the red button. The door swung open to admit her. "Remember," she said over her shoulder, "twelve o'clock sharp."
Sheriff Galpin was waiting for her in the hallway, looking stunned.
"I assume you have no objections?" she asked.
He shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. "I...no," he stammered out at last, "thank you."
"I haven't done anything yet," she said dryly, "and besides, vacationing with my family is more torturous than any maximum-security penitentiary facility I've ever seen. Tyler may just live to regret his decision—assuming he lives at all."
She returned the diary to her black knapsack. "I must be going now. I'll leave the rest to you."
With the police station behind her, she strode down the street, a sense of triumph permeating her every step. There was no enigma Wednesday Addams couldn't solve—not even Tyler Galpin.
Author's Note: I had a great time writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well. I know Wednesday is cold to Tyler, but I think it's in character given her personality and their history together. Plus, she's just really bad at feelings. Don't worry though—she'll warm up eventually. As always, thank you for reading and please leave a review to let me know what you think!
