The moment of truth. Well one of them anyway. Please Read and Review!

Disclaimed: I don't own anything.

Enjoy!

Part Seven: Turning Point

She'd decided to call him and cancel. No, wait. Nevermind. Yes, dammit, she'd decided to call. Wednesday paced in her room, one way toward the phone, and the other away from it. She was like a pendulum, counting down the hours until his eminent arrival for a dinner date, no less. She'd called earlier, goaded into it by her mother, and invited him over around 7 for dinner. It was now 5:30 and she was seriously toying with the idea of cancelling.

One half of her brain screamed, "STUPID! You know what he is! What are you thinking?" While the other half whispered, "but…"

Even in her own mind, her defense against logic was pathetically feeble. She couldn't even latch on to her previous excuse – figuring out the mystery. She'd figured it out. True, she hadn't heard it from him, but still, it wasn't like she needed him to confirm it. "Then why?" She asked herself, "Why do I still want him to come?"

She felt a strange warming of her cheeks and moved to check her reflection in the mirror. Was she, perhaps, coming down with something? She'd never been sick before. But there she was, staring into her reflection, gazing with horror as a slight blush reddened her cheeks at the thought of Joel.

"Stupid," she said aloud.

Meanwhile, Joel was thinking just about the same thing. He hadn't been inside the Addams' mansion since he was 13. He felt excitement that was quickly doused with fear as he contemplated what the Addams clan would think of him now.

Judging by Pugsley's reaction to him, Joel figured it wouldn't take the Addams' much time to realize what happened to him and what he'd become. He tried to imagine their reaction to that. Morticia, hmm, well, Joel imagined Morticia would probably be very pleased to meet a vampire. He laughed; she was delightfully dark. Gomez, hmm, Joel imagined that he'd likely be pleased to meet a vampire too – unless of course that vampire was at his house on a date with his daughter. Joel shuddered. Ok, that might be rough.

Interestingly, the Addams Joel was most worried about winning over was Wednesday. He knew they had a connection, and given how clever Wednesday was, he was pretty sure she'd figured out by now what he'd become. The fact that she'd invited him over despite that, well – he could only guess at what that might mean. He hoped it meant she felt for him as he did for her, but with Wednesday, it could mean anything. He tried to subdue hope and squash fear so that when he knocked on the Addams' door, his face looked untroubled by either.

He rang the bell and was soon staring up into the familiar face of Lurch. He smiled, "Hey there, Lurch."

Lurch backed into the door and beckoned, "Follow me," in his gravelly voice. Joel wasn't wearing a hat, but he passed over his motorcycle helmet to Lurch for safekeeping. He didn't really need the helmet for safety – his reflexes made him an excellent driver, but the tinting on the helmet and his assortment of leather riding clothes – gloves, jacket, pants, and boots – kept the sun off of him if he ever ventured out before true dusk and kept him from getting scorched. For tonight, he'd dispensed with the leather gear and opted for a lighter ensemble of black jeans, black long sleeve tee-shirt and charcoal grey blazer. He ran his fingers through his hair as they walked to the parlor, hoping to dispel any remnants of helmet-hair he might still have.

She was waiting for him in the parlor.

Morticia stood impassively, her arms crossed around her chest and her weight leaned slightly onto one hip. She stared deeply into Joel's eyes as he stepped into the room.

He stared back, awed by her presence. She was beautiful, not in the way of Lilith, who was all light – hiding the darkness of her true self. Instead, Morticia was all darkness, but her inner light shone through her piercing eyes and an impassive face, making her look like the sun behind an eclipse.

She neither moved, nor spoke. She only stared.

Joel found himself caught in that stare. Her eyes were so deep, so knowledgeable. They cut right to the essence of things, right to center of a man. Immediately he knew that this woman had lived – really lived. She'd experienced great joy, great loss, great love, towering bliss and unendurable agony. Joel felt his insides writhe in desire. He could only imagine what such an existence might taste like. His mouth watered, and he fought back a low moan as his body craved the sights and sounds and feelings of Morticia's life, and the rich, multifaceted taste they'd create on his tongue. His muscles tensed, wanting to grasp her thin form in his arms, and his sense began to range out, searching for danger and planning his attack.

Joel felt his eyes start to warm, and he was suddenly jolted back to his senses.

He dropped his head in shame, hiding his reddening eyes from Morticia. He clenched his fists behind his back, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, calming his body and taking back control over his urges. When he was sure he was calm, he raised his eyes to Morticia's again.

Her expression softened slightly as she held his gaze again. A tiny, warm smiled appeared on her ruby lips. She uncrossed her arms and said, "Joel. Welcome."

She approached him, and, embracing him very softly, she added, "Such control. You have such control for one so young."

She stepped back. Dropping his head again, Joel spoke in a deadened monotone, "I may no longer be a man, but I will not consent to live as a beast."

Morticia laid one hand under Joel's chin, and, raising his eyes to hers again, she said, "And so you will not." She dropped her hand and gestured to the rest of the parlor, "Please, come in. You are very welcome. Wednesday will be down shortly. And I do believe Mr. Addams is around here somewhere. Gomez?" she called.

Shaking off the close call of his encounter with Mrs. Addams, Joel scanned the familiar parlor, wandering aimlessly between the statue of the samurai warrior, the two-headed turtle, the giant taxidermy bear, and the piranha tank. As he moved, Joel wondered if Mrs. Addams meeting him alone in the parlor had been some type of a test. He shuddered at what might have happened and then again at the thought that she'd put herself in that kind of danger for her daughter's sake… But then again, a small voice in Joel's head added, perhaps the test was for your sake.

Joel shook himself from his pondering and melancholy and tried to focus on the matter at hand. Mr. Addams had just entered the parlor in his half-reckless half-dignified manner.

"Ah, Joel, old chap, it's good to see you. How've you been?" Gomez asked.

"Oh, I'm fine. It's good to see you too, Mr. Addams. Been a long time." Joel answered, conventionally. He was slightly uncomfortable in the presence of Wednesday's father – as any well-intentioned young man should be.

Gomez turned to his wife, "Querida, do you mind if I steal away young Joel here for a few moments while we wait for Wednesday and the boys to come down for dinner? I want to show him my new foils." Gomez smiled his equally charming and wicked smile, and Morticia rolled her eyes as if to say, "if you must."

Instead she said aloud, "As you wish, dear, but don't tarry. The children will be along shortly."

"Excellent!" Gomez exclaimed. He clapped Joel on the shoulder and ushered him into the library, saying, "You'll love this, my boy.

Dinner with the Addams' family is a rowdy affair. Pugsley and Pubert attempt to shave off each other's eyebrows by throwing steak knives across the table at one another. Mama got into a heated discussion with Gomez about who had been the greatest serial killer in history. Gomez argued passionately for Jack the Ripper, while Mama reminisced about the time she met Charles Manson. Joel and Wednesday ate quietly, sitting across from each other between the knife throwing brothers and the arguing pair. Morticia sat at the head of the table.

Every so often, Joel would lift his head out of Mama's Arsenic and Apricot Compote Soup to find Wednesday staring at him. She would quickly turn her head away or return to her own soup. Joel smiled to himself.

She hadn't said much since he'd arrived. After his chat and spar with Mr. Addams, Joel had returned to the parlor with a few minor scratches and a smile of his face. Gomez returned similarly, with fewer scratches perhaps, but smiling. Leave it to men to settle matters over physical exertion and armed confrontation.

Wednesday had been waiting in the parlor, almost the spitting image of her mother with her arms crossed across her chest and her weight leaned slightly onto one hip. She was dressed in a black tank top, black skirt, and a silver belt around her tiny waist. Her hair fell around her shoulders in thick, chunky layers – free of their traditional braids – and thick, side-swept bangs nearly obscured her left eye. As he stared, she brushed the hair out of her face – unused to having it in her way – and said, "Welcome."

Joel smiled, a bit too much perhaps, but he found Wednesday's coldness endearing and he couldn't help himself. "Thank you," he replied, simply.

As dinner ended, the family retired to the sitting room, but Wednesday silently exited into the conservatory. Taking the hint, Joel followed.

He found her sitting on a bench on the edge of the conservatory. The bench was meant to face inward, so one could sit up against the glass and look into the center of the room, at all the flowering plants. However, Wednesday sat, cross-legged, backwards, staring out the glass window into the darkness. Joel sat down next to her, his back to the window, his legs stretched out in front of him.

They sat in companionable silence for several moments.

Finally, Joel spoke, "Wednesday, why… why did you invite me…?" his voice trailed off as he lost his nerve to ask the question that had been haunting him.

Wednesday peeled her eyes away from the darkness and looked at Joel. Her eyes seemed liquid, soft and inviting, and maybe a little scared. She whispered, "I don't know."

She turned away quickly, focusing on the shapeless darkness outside.

After a moment, she spoke, her eyes still averted, "Why did you come…" She turned her face back to Joel's in a rapid movement. More passionate than before, she asked again, "Why did you come back, I mean?" Her eyes were searching, intense. There was the same edge of fear that Joel had seen in her eyes earlier. She wasn't afraid of him anymore, he saw, it wasn't that kind of fear. This was a fear of herself, of her own feelings. Seeing that, he understood the reason for her question. She wasn't trying to ferret out secrets of his past; she wanted to know his feelings, his plans for the future.

So he answered honestly, "I care about you Wednesday." That's putting it lightly, he thought to himself. "I've never cared about anything more in my life," he continued, and then smiled sardonically, "and I'm on my second one." Afraid that she would get up and leave or cut him off or tell him to get out, he hurried on. "I don't know what it means and I don't know how to be with you when I'm… I'm so… well, when I'm what I am… but I just know that when I'm away from you nothing else seems to matter. Life doesn't matter." Joel dropped his head in his hands, waiting for Wednesday to rebuke him for his vulnerability or to get up and leave him, disgusted.

She didn't move. In fact, she didn't move for what seemed like hours. Finally, her face to the window, she said softly, "I am finding it uncomfortable," she said the word grudgingly as if admitting a great weakness, "to be away from you, as well."

Joel lifted his head slowly, as if unsure of what he'd just heard. He stared intently at the side of Wednesday's face, waiting for her to turn, but she never did. Finally, he cracked a small smile and leaned back against the glass again. Joel mused about how the biggest revelations seem to pass in the most unremarkable ways.

They passed the evening hours thusly, sitting in silence, each engrossed in his or her own thoughts, enjoying each other's company and the feeling of ease that accompanied each other's presence.

Outside, an owl hooted a final melancholy note before it was grabbed out of the sky by a crushing white hand. Perched high in a tree, the predator looked down upon the sprawling Addams estate, his eyes focused on the pale moon face of the girl in the window.

Waiting.