A/N: I'm writing this mostly because I like grabbing my readers' hearts and twisting them. Best read while listening to any version of the song "Since I Gave My Heart Away" from the movie Geppetto.

Title is from the Christmas carol "Lo, How A Rose E'er Blooming."

Beep.

It wasn't planned, none of it. Not even the pregnancy.

Beep.

Most couples would have been hesitant to have another child with six-year-old twins already at home. But since financial strain hadn't presented even a moment of concern, Wednesday and Lucas were pleasantly surprised by the news.

Beep.

And even more pleasantly surprised by the news that they were going to have a son. Not that there was anything wrong with girls; both parents loved their daughters more than they could say. Still, there was something to be said for variety. They'd picked a name, prepared the nursery, and settled down to wait. As the months passed, there had been intense speculation in the Addams-Beineke household about the new arrival. Which parent would he take after? How would he get along with his big sisters? Would they be good big sisters, period?

In all the wondering, nothing had prepared them for when Wednesday woke up in the middle of the night, two months before the due date, and said, "Something's wrong."

Beep.

Everything from then on was a blur- the drive to the hospital, the delivery, their first moments with the tiny baby boy before he was taken to the neo-natal intensive care unit. After that, the world slowed down to a series of beeps.

Beep.

"Hi, Erik."

The little form shifted against the padded incubator mattress, turning toward his father's voice.

"Your mom wanted to come see you, but she's trying to sort out your middle names."

A small, wet cough.

"She was kind of groggy. Do you know what she let Daddy name you? Erik Gomez Charles Addams-Beineke." Lucas' throat suddenly felt strangely blocked. "That's- that's a big name for such a little guy, huh?"

He slipped his hand through one of the openings in the incubator wall and gently touched Erik's hand. The baby's fingers wrapped around his own with surprising strength- all six of them. In spite of himself, the young father couldn't help laughing a bit.

"You've got some extra fingers there. That would be Mom's fault, for two reasons. She's got the polydactyl genes- six toes on her left foot –and she wouldn't let them do surgery." He thought for a moment. "Actually, I wouldn't have, either. Too much risk for something that's just cosmetic. All twelve of your fingers are perfectly fine."

As if in agreement, Erik's grip tightened.

"You're strong, little guy. That's probably from your mom, too. She can break someone's arm with her bare hands if she's angry enough."

It was hard to believe this baby could break someone's arm. It was hard to believe he was grasping his father's finger with even the strength of a normal newborn. He was thinner than the average baby, something the doctors said was completely normal for children born premature. "Normal" was a word that had come up often in the week since he'd been born. Still, Lucas couldn't see anything normal about his son lying in a plastic box, hooked up to a heart monitor and with small tubes in his nose to help him breathe.

"They say you're almost definitely going to be fine, so don't worry, okay? Soon you'll be home with Mom and Daddy and your big sisters."

It was easy enough to say to Erik; easy enough for doctors to say to him and Wednesday. But hard, in practice, to put his faith in.

Beep.

"What's wrong?"

"Ma'am, please calm down."

"Goddamnit, I will not calm down until you tell me what's wrong with my son!"

The doctor sighed heavily. "He has pneumonia. We're giving him antibiotics and some extra help breathing and he's going to be perfectly fine."

"You can say that for certain?" Wednesday asked. Having been intercepted by one of the more obstinate members of the NICU team just outside the door, she was in the kind of mood to inflict serious injury.

"Well, of course, nothing is 100% certain, Mrs. Beineke-"

"Addams-Beineke."

"Sorry. But I can tell you that Erik's chances of getting better far outweigh the opposite," she finished.

"That's the best you can do?"

"That's the best anyone can do. Don't worry about it, though."

"Easy for you to say," Wednesday replied tightly. "It's not your child."

Beep.

It was December 24th, and Erik Gomez Charles Addams-Beineke was about to leave the NICU for the last time.

Things seemed vaguely unreal, as if time had temporarily stopped. This was what a month and a half of waiting had been leading up to. This was the result of all the doctors' work. Everyone had wept and prayed and spent sleepless nights wondering how it would all end- and now they knew.

Wednesday, who had always prided herself on being difficult to rattle, felt an insistent prickling at the corners of her eyes as she looked at the empty incubator. So many times, she'd gently touched a frail little hand or cheek through the holes, and she never would again. Time and again they'd told her that premature babies had weak lungs, susceptible to all kinds of problems, unable to even breathe on their own for long periods of time. Still, they'd said to have hope, and she had. Through all the fear, she had let herself believe Erik would be alright.

And now there was the plastic haven where he'd spent his first weeks, empty. Waiting for another parent's fear and hope.

"Di?"

If Lucas' voice had startled her, it didn't show. "Yes?"

"They've gotten him all clean and dressed." Judging by the slightly thick sound of his voice, he was holding back tears, too. "It's time."

Numb to the outside world, she followed him to the door. A nurse stood waiting, with a small bundle of blankets in his arms. As the parents approached, his face broke into a smile; he held out the bundle to Wednesday.

"He's all ready to go," the nurse said.

And, as if on cue, the blankets began to stir and make indistinct little noises. Wednesday and Lucas looked down at Erik's face, finally without plastic tubing taped down below his nose. His eyes were open and the same blue as his grandmother's, looking around inquisitively. Except for the extra fingers and a bit less baby fat than most infants, he hardly seemed like the same weak, birdlike newborn who'd entered the NICU a month and a half earlier.

When he smiled, Wednesday stopped trying to hold back and let the tears come. "Hi, Erik," she whispered. "I love you so much."

Lucas slipped an arm around her shoulders and stroked the baby's cheek with one finger. "And so do I."

The drive from the hospital to the renovated Victorian that the Addams-Beinekes called home took a little more than an hour, but that particular day, it felt like no time at all. Everything seemed new, like the couple was seeing through their son's eyes. Sunlight, a butterfly landing on the windshield, a spray of snow from a squirrel on a tree branch over the road- it was like the entire world had been created anew. And Erik made his gibberish opinion known about all of it.

"You're a talker, aren't you?" Lucas said, glancing over at his son when they stopped at a red light.

Wednesday smiled. "Like his uncle Pubert was. Maybe he'll develop a mustache."

"No offense, Di, but I always thought that was kind of weird."

She raised an eyebrow. "And weird things about my family surprise you because…?"

"They don't," he laughed. "Not anymore." The light turned, and they drove on, Wednesday becoming distracted when Erik began to fuss.

Finally, the car pulled into the driveway and Lucas switched off the engine. The house was oddly quiet, with none of the shouts or small explosions he'd come to expect from two half-Addams children. Nell and Mattie had been left in the care of a babysitter, as they usually were when their parents went to the hospital. Despite seeming pretty unflappable, Mandy Stewart was still a non-Addams, and there was every possibility that one zombie newt too many had sent her running. So it was with some trepidation that Lucas climbed the steps, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Mandy sitting on the old, red velvet sofa in the living room. The Christmas tree behind her and all the presents underneath were intact, and nothing seemed to be actively on fire. When she spotted him, the babysitter closed her battered copy of Return of the King and stood.

"Hi, Mr. Beineke. How'd everything go?" she asked, rubbing the bridge of her nose under her glasses. Lucas, for reasons he didn't entirely understand, burst out laughing.

"It…we…fine," he managed. "He's…with Wednesday."

Right on cue, the front door slammed and his wife walked into the room. Erik had started to cry; she bounced him gently in her arms, whispering to him under her breath. Mandy set the book down and rushed over.

"Oh my god, is that him? He's so bitty!" she gushed. It was a measure of Wednesday's sheer joy that she didn't glare at the teenager. Instead, she gave Mandy a rare smile.

"Well, he was born two months early, so that's to be expected."

Suddenly, what sounded like a small herd of elephants could be heard overhead racing towards the stairs. The footsteps grew nearer without diminishing in speed or volume, but voices could be heard as they approached the living room.

"Erik's home!"

"I wanna see him first!"

"Stop shoving!"

"You stop shoving!"

"Hey, that's my stiletto! You took that out of my room!"

Two identical brunette girls burst into the living room. Well, one of them burst into the living room, skidding to a halt just before she collided with Lucas. The other slowed down in the hallway and walked in at a safer pace. Lucas grinned at them.

"Where were you two?" he said, crouching down slightly and gathering them both into a hug. "I expected you to be waiting to pounce the minute we got in the door."

"Babies are fragile," Mattie said, looking up at him with solemn brown eyes.

"And we want him to live long enough to play with us," Nell added.

Lucas stared at them in mock appraisal. "Can you be very calm and quiet?" he asked. Nell rolled her eyes; Mattie looked affronted.

"How old do you think we are, Dad?" Nell asked. "Of course we can."

He glanced up at Wednesday, who paused in her conversation with Mandy to regard her daughters. "What do you think, Di? Can they see him up close?"

She pretended to think it over, making a show of uncertainty before saying, as if it was being dragged out of her, "Well…alright."

Sitting down in her favorite leather wingback chair, she gestured for the girls to come closer. They stared at Erik, who met their gazes with curiosity. Slowly, Mattie reached out and touched the little, six-fingered hand sticking out of the blankets. Erik hesitated for a moment, then gripped her finger tightly. Nell gently stroked his thin, black hair.

"Merry Christmas, Erik," Wednesday said quietly.

A/N: And happy winter holiday of choice to everyone.

(Nell has always been a twin. What are you talking about? Shhhhhhh. Don't question it.)