A/N: Hi and welcome to Chapter 12. Thank you for all your comments and support!


Chapter 12

Ophelia's first thought was to spend the night at her parents' but she immediately thought better of it, her mother would go into histrionics if she found out that she and Gomez had a fight. Although, let's face it, her mother really should be the last to judge, since the most vivid part of Ophelia's childhood was her parents' spectacular fights. She had lost count of how many antique valuables ended their lives being thrown at her father, it was a miracle James Frump never ended up with some serious injury - not that he wouldn't deserve it, in Ophelia's opinion but, of course, what would people say.

What would people say if Ophelia told them that lately, she barely restrained herself from throwing something at her own husband?

"Here."

She forced a smile and propped her chin on the pillow of her hand and watched Vanessa pour some champagne into her freshly squeezed fruit juice.

"It's nine o'clock in the morning," Ophelia pointed out half-heartedly.

"My mother calls it 'a breakfast smoothie'," her friend informed her smoothly."Except she adds vodka to hers but I can't stomach vodka this early in the morning. So," Vanessa leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table and tilted her head to the side, inviting confessions."You're going to tell me that happened last night?"

Ophelia shrugged and bit her lips in silent contemplation.

That was a damn good question. A question she'd rather not answer, but she could not possibly turn up at her friend's apartment in the middle of the night asking if she can crash in her guest room without offering her some sort of explanation afterwards.

Honestly, it felt so ridiculous, the way Gomez overreacted over Ophelia stating a few simple truths. She wasn't mean, she was honest and he acted as if she mortally offended him. What did she say exactly that wasn't a fact or the truth? Nothing. She was right and he damned well knew that. Was it her fault that Gomez couldn't face up to the truth that he was simply overexaggerating the whole thing?

Ugh… this whole marriage thing was vastly different than she imagined. She couldn't help but constantly compare it to the time when she and Gomez were engaged and how fun it was - the excitement, the mystery of Gomez Addams, and how jealous everyone was that she managed to catch one of the most eligible and most notorious bachelors this city ever produced. She could not see, at the time, anything beyond how charming he was, how rich, how handsome, the heart and soul of every party they went to. Gomez's social circle alone was mind-blowing, from business tycoons to the famous socialites, everyone who was anyone was acquainted with the Addamses, regardless of what they thought of their eccentricities because money didn't whisper, money screamed and swore louder than any prejudice ever could.

And how she loved the excitement, all the buzz that surrounded that time - their engagement, and then wedding preparations. How indulgent he was, that time when she merely mentioned to Gomez the exquisite wedding dresses she had seen in the catalogues her mother ordered from Europe and Gomez suggested she should take her mother and fly to Paris and then to Milan to choose the dress she liked and even paid for every single thing, from plane tickets through the most expensive hotel suites and restaurants, and Ophelia felt like she was living a dream, she felt like a princess, like a movie star and oh, the wedding - her wedding, was the most glorious affair with no expenses spared.

She was simply not prepared for the mundane that came after, his never-ending work commitments, the boredom, the sheer absurdities of her daily life in the Addams Manor.

"Gomez was being a bastard," Ophelia murmured, curtly, taking a dainty sip of her 'breakfast smoothie'.

"Yeah, I managed to figure that part out myself," Vanessa supplied blithely."He must have really got on your nerves."

Ophelia exhaled heavily.

"He can be so fucking childish, I can barely stand it sometimes," she admitted, reluctantly. "He really gets on my nerves."

If Vanessa was surprised at her confession, she didn't show it.

"Just ignore it," she advised, lighting her thin, menthol cigarette."He's a man. You know how sensitive their egos are."

"I try," Ophelia sighed impatiently."But I have little patience for his bullshit. You'd need the patience of a saint to keep up with his mood swings and don't even let me started on the constant fights between him and Harald - those two should live on separate planets, let alone mansions."

"Surely, it can't be that bad," her friend tried to placate but platitudes were not going to cut it this time.

Ophelia was beyond tired of this whole drama. She wanted Gomez to be the way he was before they got married, when she had his undivided attention, when he wasn't so fucking argumentative about every single thing, and most of all she wanted this whole charity auction to be done and over with so she could move out of the Addams Mansion once and for all.

God, she hated it.

She hated it so much her blood was boiling. She hated that old dump, she hated living with her in-laws, she hated that insufferable hand and the useless zombie butler. She hated that she needed to claw her way to Gomez's attention and his time when her happiness was supposed to be his utmost priority. He didn't care that she was bored out of her mind, and was so condescending about it, as if it was some feeble complaint and she should just find something to do. Like fucking what, put a pointy hat on and pretend to be a witch with his senile mother? And why the hell did he have to work so much when the family was so disgustingly rich they could all live a life of leisure for the generations to come but no, they all sacrificed so much time to their business investments as if was a pleasurable hobby, even her mother-in-law dabbed in it occasionally - when she wasn't playing a witch that is, Jesus fucking Christ, what a lunatic that woman turned out to be.

Ophelia hated all that with passion.

And she hated to admit to her friends that her marriage was so depressingly different from what it was supposed to be, from what she imagined it to be and even though she knew Vanessa all her life, Holly as well, admitting to such failure was… humiliating. Especially since Gomez was such a catch, a perfect one - seemingly, he ticked all the boxes - again, seemingly. How was she going to admit that behind this charming, handsome billionaire veneer there was this tornado of untamed emotions? That he seemed so focused on himself, he barely paid her any attention, he seemed to have only two modes lately, either work, work, work or boo-hoo-hoo-my-brother-is-gone and, frankly speaking, Ophelia couldn't care less about either. She didn't even know his brother. Not that she was eager to know him… ever.

"I don't know," Ophelia said, rubbing her face tiredly.

"It will get better when you and Gomez get your own place," Vanessa said comfortingly, but it was so difficult for Ophelia to see how it could be better.

"Maybe," she replied unconvincingly and reached for one of the fresh croissants on the table, blasted carbs but she felt she deserve some indulgence.

Maybe. Maybe things will get better when they move out of the mansion.

Maybe.

Or maybe not. She could perhaps cope with boredom, Harald would soon no longer be a problem either since she and Gomez would be moving to their new mansion, and she would no longer have to bear the company of her mother-in-law and her absurdities but, despite all that, the prospect of living with Gomez on her own was less than spectacular.

She barely recognized the man she fell so madly in love with. Where was the handsome, charming, suave billionaire who loved nothing more than good fun? Was he always so absurdly emotional? So needy? Surely not.

"What do you mean maybe? Of course, it will," Vanessa insisted, frowning at Ophelia's forlorn reply." Come on, I can imagine nothing worse than living with your in-laws. I don't know how can you endure such a lack of privacy, I would go mad. No wonder it affects your marital life."

"See, this is what I kept telling Gomez all that time but he doesn't get it," Ophelia said, buttering her croissant, unable to stop her complaints spewing forth," he acts like I'm being unfair or creating problems. I mean, I know we live in two separate wings but it's just this thought that they're always there, there's no real privacy, I mean we can't even have a disagreement without them knowing about it. I'm two steps away from going mad," she continued angrily."Honestly? It was way more fun when we were engaged, Gomez was way more fun, I swear if I hear one more thing about his brother and what a tragedy it is that he's away I might fucking puke."

"Just tell him to calm the fuck down. What's the deal with that, anyway?" Vanessa rolled her eyes." My brother has been away for five years after a spat with my stepfather. As far as I know, he's having the time of his life in South Africa," she laughed, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her legs against each other." We barely hear from Teddy save for an odd postcard every once in a while."

"That's more or less what I've told Gomez and he went all mad," Ophelia admitted."His brother being away is hardly a tragedy, it's a non-tragedy, in fact, and frankly speaking, I'm not surprised Fraiser doesn't want to live in that madhouse because at times I feel like going to a damn Bermuda Triangle myself. I'm done with putting up with this shit."

She was so fed up with the whole drama of Gomez Addams she could hardly dress it into words.

"Hey, take it easy," Vanessa tried to appease, taken aback by how frustrated her friend seemed to be, but Ophelia shook her head. "He's not all that bad."

"No, I'm serious," Ophelia insisted, taking a cigarette from Vanessa's pack and then changed her mind and put it back, throwing the pack across the table."Gomez's problems are his imagination, he has no damn problems, he makes them up. He can't go on forever moaning about his brother not talking to him, it's ridiculous."

"Well, that's Gomez Addams for you, he was always a bit hot-headed," Vanessa commented lightly."You used to like that about him."

"Well, I hate it now, he needs to calm the fuck down and I'm gonna make this explicitly clear to him," she remarked firmly and then exhaled tiredly, propping her elbows against the table and framed her hand in between her palms."Don't tell Holly about this, I really can't stomach her marital advice at the moment."

"Come on, she's just trying to help," Vanessa pointed out.

"I get that but being married does not automatically make her a marriage counsellor," Ophelia huffed impatiently."My marriage is fine. It simply needs a few… tweaks."

"Do you mean Gomez needs some tweaks?" Vanessa corrected with a small smile.

Ophelia's lips curled into a small smirk.

"Harald is right, Gomez is like a tornado of emotions, it's exhausting."

"Well, the same could be said about you, hon," Vanessa grinned. "I think those were the exact words your dear ex used before you crashed his car."

"Shut up, he deserved it and you know it," Ophelia laughed and slapped her friend on the back of her hand playfully but was happy to notice that the comment made her feel a bit better. Marginally but still."It's a woman's prerogative to be emotional but a man should be… you know - a man. Strong, dependable and all that."

"That's such a bullshit," Vanessa remarked lightly in between puffs of her cigarette."You said Gomez was everything you ever dreamed of."

Ophelia's smile evaporated and sighed heavily.

"I thought he was," she admitted reluctantly."Until I started to live with him and his family of kooks."

"Extremely wealthy kooks," her friend pointed out. "I think the lifestyle that being married to him affords you is worth putting up with his few oddities."

"I'm starting to think that maybe marriage is not for me."

"Oh, now that is some major bullshit," Vanessa shook her head in amused disbelief, popping a piece of watermelon into her mouth."I cannot think of more appropriate employment for any of us than being a hot wife to a hot billionaire. What more do you want?"

Ophelia shrugged.

"I used to dream of being an actress," she remarked, melancholically. "You remember? We were supposed to go to drama school and we never even bothered to apply."

"Come on," Vanessa laughed."That was ages ago, we were children."

"We could still do that," Ophelia insisted."We have all the qualities of movie stars."

"Hmm, you wanted to be Grace Kelly and I dreamed of being Carole Lombard," Vanessa reminisced fondly with a small chuckle."Those were the days."

"I could have been the next Grace Kelly," Ophelia continued dreamily." Instead, here I am, elbow-deep organising some ridiculous charity auction I don't even care about and a husband who's getting on my nerves and don't even let me started on my mother-in-law - "

"You could have been the next Grace Kelly if you hadn't thrown that paperweight at your drama tutor," her friend pointed out, grinning at the memory.

"He had no one to blame but himself," Ophelia insisted.

"Mhmm, too bad we don't know his uncle was a producer."

"Yeah well, I could still do it," she mused fondly."I could get private acting classes or something."

"Are you serious?" Vanessa asked incredulously.

"Why not?"

"Why not?" She raised her eyebrow, taken aback by the question." I can't believe you actually even thinking about it. You're married to an absolutely gorgeous billionaire and you want to go to work?"

"Acting is hardly a job, it's fun and it's glamorous, which is what I am," Ophelia pointed out."I wouldn't be some pathetic second-rate actress with pathetic supporting roles," she assured, suddenly remembering the words that idiot campaign manager said."Go big or go home - and have no doubt, I wouldn't be going home."

"I can't believe you're even considering it, you're mad," Vanessa shook her head.

"I want do to something spectacular with my life, Ness," Ophelia said fervently."I can achieve so much, I can have the life I always dreamed of."

"You do have a life you've always dreamed of," Vanessa pointed out.

Ophelia couldn't help but wince.

"Hardly," she replied curtly.

"And what about your baby-making plan?"

"Oh, fuck that," Ophelia retorted derisively."I wouldn't let Gomez Addams parent my mother's puppy, let alone a child."

"Surely, you don't want to leave him?" Vanessa asked incredulously.

"Jesus Christ, of course not," Ophelia widened her eyes at the mere suggestion."I wouldn't shoot myself in the foot like that. No, divorce is out of the question, but some changes are fucking essential, starting with Gomez calming the fuck down."

"Okay, phew," her friend exhaled in relief."You scared me there for a moment."

"I'm not stupid, hon," Ophelia smiled."But I'm serious about acting school. It's time I took my life into my own hands. I'm gonna do it. I'm going to follow my dreams. After all, my dear husband suggested I organise my own time. He should be delighted I took his advice to heart."

"Hmmm, I'm not sure this is specifically what he had in mind," Vanessa shook her head in disbelief, but her tone was indulgent.

"Well then," Ophelia smiled, lifting her glass to her lips, her mood considerably improved."He should have been more specific."

She took a small sip of the bubbly liquid and revelled in this new sense of purpose, it felt good, electrifying. And, after all, it was a damn time she focused on herself and made her own happiness a priority and if Gomez Addams didn't like it? Well, too bad, he'd have to just deal with it.


She supposed it hasn't yet sunk in, the calamity and madness they were about to embark on. It was the only explanation Morticia could come up with that would justify why she was feeling so positively elevated instead of drowning in dread of what was to come.

She could not stop thinking how absolutely wonderful, how glorious it was to wake up in his arms, to share their morning together. Even such silly things as watching him shave were to her blissfully intimate and wonderful and she could not stop imagining that this would soon be their life - together, she would no longer share him with anyone and that thought alone was enough to make her willing to go through all the pains that will lead them to finally being together and being with him was the only thing she wanted, that's how insanely in love with him she was.

Morticia briefly considered the option of telling Ophelia together but discarded this idea as soon as it came. Not that she wanted to leave Gomez to take the burn of it but she knew that her presence there wouldn't help, at all, it would be like rubbing salt into an open wound. It wouldn't be just painful, it would be humiliating and she wanted to avoid it as much as possible.

Although, was there any way not to make it painful and humiliating for Ophelia? She couldn't imagine how and she wished, desperately, that there was any other way except essentially stabbing her sister in the back but there was really no better or, at least, no less painful way of telling her the truth.

Except for not telling her the truth, they still had that alternative. There was still the option of letting her sister live in the sweet unawareness, blissful ignorance that her husband is in love with another woman. But was that any better than knowing the truth? There was no way to tell. There were no guarantees. The only way was to make a decision and live with its outcomes.

"Where have you been?" The annoyed hiss greeted her the moment she stepped through the door to her apartment.

"Where do you think I've been?" Morticia replied calmly, slowly undoing her cloak."It's freezing out there. Why are you so upset?"

"Your grandmother called three times," Debbie informed her. "She said you're supposed to meet her for breakfast this morning."

"Oh my God, I completely forgot," Morticia winced, already unzipping her party dress to change and promptly made her way towards her bedroom.

"She sounded very worried," Debbie yelled after her, exasperated."You could have at least told me you're not going to come home for the night."

"I would have told you had I known," Morticia replied, reappearing back in the living room in a record time, already dressed in her day dress."Did she call a long time ago?"

"Half an hour, maybe," Debbie replied." You know the quicker you end it the better because at the rate you two are going this secret affair will not stay secret for long."

"You're right, it won't," Morticia replied brazenly, inspecting how decent her makeup looked in the mirror.

"Of course I'm right," Debbie echoed before frowning suddenly and turned towards Morticia."Wait, what do you mean it won't?"

Morticia cleared her throat gently and then, with a final brush of her fingers through her hair, she turned towards her friend. There was no way Debbie was going to react favourably to the news but not telling her really wasn't an option either.

"We have decided that we're no longer going to keep this affair a secret," she informed Debbie in a smooth tone, as if she was merely informing her about dinner plans."We're going to tell Ophelia the truth."

Debbie blinked, for a while seemingly failing to register what Morticia was telling her and her lips opened and closed a few times in silent disbelief. She looked at Morticia for a whole minute to make sure her friend wasn't jesting but the look on her face told her that she wasn't.

She truly wasn't.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" Debbie finally asked." So your sister can snap your neck in half?"

"That's a possibility," Morticia deadpanned.

"You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious."

"That must be the most asinine thing you ever came up with."

"No doubt about that but I'm still going through with it," she agreed, placing her hands at the back of the kitchen chair. Her palms were prickling with apprehension, she felt an almost overwhelming need to grab on to something, anything, as she watched Debbie exhale in an exasperated manner as if Morticia was a particularly unruly and obtuse toddler.

"I'm sorry but were you two completely stoned when you decided upon this moronic idea?" She asked sarcastically.

"Debbie - "

"What do you think is going to happen?" Debbie hissed."Did you even think for one second? Do you think he's going to marry you and you will live happily ever after? Have you completely lost your mind? He will hit the road the moment things get tougher than he can handle."

"He won't," Morticia insisted, trying to stay as calm as humanly possible. She fully expected Debbie's disapproval but her assumptions about Gomez were vexing, to say the least."He loves me."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, listen to yourself, you sound like some smitten Disney princess."

"I have no idea what that is -"

"This isn't a fairytale, Tish, it's real life," Debbie scolded, smacking her open palm against the kitchen counter.

All in all, she was taking the news far better than Morticia predicted.

"I know that," Morticia said, but couldn't help crossing her arms against her middle in a defensive manner.

"You're not getting the damn prince on a damn white horse and a damn castle at the end of it," her friend continued angrily.

Morticia frowned in confusion.

"I really do not grasp the reference," she replied, raising her eyebrow."Why would I even want the prince on a white horse?"

Debbie opened her mouth to reply but no sound came. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples, exhaling slowly.

"What the… has nobody ever read you fairytales when you were little?" She asked, feeling about two seconds away from killing someone. Gomez Addams preferably.

"Why, no, of course not, why would someone subject a child to such cruelty?" Morticia replied, genuinely confused."Why are we even talking about fairytales?"

"I can barely cope with you sometimes - "

"I guess I could agree to a castle…if it's haunted, otherwise, what's the point?" She mused out loud.

"Someone kill me," Debbie muttered to herself, pinching the space in between her eyes.

"Fairytales," Morticia shook her face, making a dismayed face. "Even the name makes me shiver. I will never understand parents who traumatise their children with fairytales, it's just excessively cruel."

"Okay, forget the fairytales, the point I'm trying to make is that you're really shooting yourself in the foot here," Debbie interjected, beyond exasperated.

"Now, that is a reference I can fully appreciate," Morticia admitted.

"It's not funny, Tish,"

"Notice that I'm not laughing."

Debbie closed her eyes and bit her lips into a thin line, before taking a deep, calming breath.

"I'm… going to kill him," she decided firmly."He's turned your brain into a custard, his sentence is death."

"Debbie," Morticia addressed her friend, placing both palms on Debbie's tense shoulders, all traces of amusement gone from her tone."I'm going to go through with this."

Debbie shook her head.

"As your friend, I really can't let you do that," she replied and, again, shook her head firmly."This is your sister's husband we're talking about here. There's no one - no one who will ever approve of this, do you understand?"

"I love him," she told her simply." I am absolutely madly in love with him."

"You will get over it."

"I won't," she insisted, removing her hands from Debbie's shoulders and crossed them against her middle."Not now, not ever."

"Tish, you barely know the guy," Debbie hissed in desperation.

"It doesn't matter."

"It really does," Debbie insisted tensely."It really fucking does. You can't sacrifice everything for a guy you've met three months ago."

"Four months ago," Morticia corrected.

"Have you considered that you might not actually be in love?" Debbie pointed out furiously."Maybe you're simply high on all the sex and you can't tell the difference."

"It's not just sex," Morticia denied insistently.

"Surely, you're not that stupid," Debbie retorted frantically."If you just sit down and use your last remaining brain cell, you will realise how stupid this is. No one will even blink an eye at his infidelity, you will get all the burn, why can't you see it?"

"I know all that," Morticia assured." I know what I'm getting into, and I'm still going through with it."

Debbie merely shook her head in disbelief.

"And what about Ophelia?" She tried. "Do you really think your sister will just take it in a stride? She will snap your neck in half for this."

Morticia swallowed heavily and drew her lips into a thin line.

"I don't want to hurt her," Morticia assured in a subdued tone."I hate hurting her and I wish there was any other way - "

"There is," Debbie interjected frantically."You can break up with him and act as if nothing ever happened."

"I can't let him go, Debbie," she retorted in a desperate whisper." I love him. I can't imagine my life without him."

"Well, I say prepare for the inevitable, because I'm going to rip him into fucking shreds," Debbie retorted angrily."I hate, I absolutely hate that you've seemed to have lost all common sense because of him. You were never like that, you never went after married men."

"That's not what happened," Morticia interjected firmly, getting visibly upset at the accusation."I didn't go after him, I didn't choose this, I didn't choose to fall in love with him, it just happened."

"Sure, that explanation will go very well with Ophelia," Debbie retorted sarcastically. "I'm sure she will be very understanding, why! She might even give you your blessing."

"What other option is there?" Morticia asked in a fervent whisper."He stays married to a woman he doesn't love and we all live a lie together in our miserable ever after?"

"Yes," Debbie replied firmly."That's exactly what you should do. What Ophelia doesn't know can't hurt her."

"But it's a lie," Morticia insisted."Her husband is in love with another woman."

"So what? How is telling her the truth any better?"

Morticia frowned and pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes suddenly prickling with angry tears. She didn't have the answer to that. She didn't know how it was better, maybe it wasn't. Maybe it wasn't a question of better, it was all bad and worse and there was no better way about any of it.

"I don't know," she whispered, clearing her throat when she realize how hoarse her voice was."I don't expect you to approve of this."

"Good, because this is the dumbest thing you ever came up with and I hate -"

They both turned sharply towards the door, interrupted by loud knocking.

"That's probably your Grandmother," Debbie whispered."I forgot to mention she's on her way."

"Fantastic," Morticia muttered, blinking furiously to get rid of the moisture in her eyes before shooting Debbie a pleading look and went to open the door, forcing a gentle smile on her face."Granny."

"Well, I'm glad to see you alive," Patricia Frump greeted offhandedly, shoving the large paper box into Morticia's arms and made her way inside the apartment. "I was worried sick."

"I'm so sorry," Morticia apologised, putting the box with pastries absently on the kitchen table.

"Well, you certainly should be," her Grandmother huffed, taking off her leather winter gloves."You should have at least let Debbie know you're not coming home for the night. Put the tea on, would you, I'm freezing."

"I should have called," Morticia remarked apologetically, dutifully putting the kettle on the stove.

"That goes without saying," the older lady replied, taking a seat at the kitchen table."I thought someone murdered you or something."

"Or something," Debbie muttered, opening the box with pastries, earning herself an annoyed glare from Morticia.

"Well I hope it was worth it," the older lady remarked sternly, turning towards the other woman in the room."Debbie, my dear, how are you?"

"Frustrated," Debbie replied, biting into the Pastel de Nata she just dug out of the box.

"That is an unfortunate state to be in, indeed" the older lady concurred."You have to join us for breakfast. It will make you feel better."

"I would love to, Mrs Frump, but I have an urgent appointment with a certain rich gentleman," Debbie announced, licking her fingers and utterly ignoring the ferocious glare that was directed at her from her dear friend.

"Well, that certainly sounds more enticing than Portuguese pastries," Patricia agreed.

"Debbie," Morticia called after her firmly but Debbie already managed to put her coat on and was halfway through the door.

"Wish me luck!" Debbie said, smiling at the older lady.

"Good luck, dear," Patricia replied dutifully and gave the blond woman a little wave.

"Leave me some of those custard tarts for later, they're delicious!" Debbie called, shutting the door behind her.

Morticia couldn't help but glare at her through the closed door. She hoped Debbie realized how displeased she would be if Gomez Addams ended up in pieces, because she had no doubts that he was the certain rich gentleman she was referring to.

Amazing. This was all going very well. Simply splendid.

"I'm really sorry, Granny," she apologised again, taking out two dessert plates and setting them on the kitchen table."It completely slipped my mind."

"That is worrying in itself," Patricia commented, watching her intently. "This isn't like you at all."

"I've had a lot of things on my mind lately, I'm really sorry I worried you," Morticia remarked and, before her Grandmother could question her about her whereabouts last night, she promptly added, "I finished your book, though."

The look on her Grandmother's face was certainly a fair indication that she was well aware that Morticia was trying to divert her attention but, to Morticia's unbridled relief, she allowed it.

"Oh, so, what did you think?" The older lady prompted enthusiastically.

"Well," she smiled, setting two teacups in front of them and sat down, before pouring them some freshly brewed tea." I think it's actually really well written and subversive."

"Yes, thank you, who cares about that?" Patricia rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively."How were the sex scenes?"

Morticia regarded her with an indulgent look before allowing a small smile on her face.

"I took many many notes," Morticia commented appreciatively." Is this really autobiographical?".

"Why, of course, it is," her Grandmother replied, helping herself to a little Pastel Neta."Who would make all that filth up?"

Morticia let out an amused chuckle.

"I wished I could have known you when you were younger," she remarked appreciatively, taking a sip of her tea.

"Oh, we would have absolutely splendid time together," Patricia laughed but then suddenly winced in pain, causing Morticia to frown with concern.

"Are you alright?" She asked, promptly putting her teacup away.

"Fine," the older lady assured with a ghost of a smile."Would you mind if we moved to the sofa? My hip is killing me today, I really should move to some Mediterranean country, this cold is not doing my bones any favours."

"All that sun would be terribly depressing, though," Morticia pointed out, gently helping Patricia to the sofa.

"I would console myself with some young Mediterranian friend," Patricia replied in a deadpan manner, leaning heavily against the sofa.

"You really should consider a walking stick," Morticia suggested, picking the two saucers with their teacups and setting them on the coffee table.

"After my dead body," Patricia rebuked."I'm not that old."

"You're stubborn for nothing," Morticia smiled and shook her head."It would ease the pressure on your hip."

"Now you're starting to sound like that quak," Patricia frowned, but her tone was teasing, affectionate.

"He's a very good doctor," Morticia insisted, sitting next to her. "You said so yourself."

"He's adequate," she remarked facetiously."And I've already told him what I think of his geriatric recommendations in a very explicit manner, don't make me repeat it to you."

"Duly noted," Morticia smiled.

She tried to force herself and relax, enjoy the time with her grandmother but she felt agitated, on edge, after the conversation, or rather to call it for what it was - an argument, with Debbie. She didn't expect her approval, she really didn't, but neither did she expect such violent opposition and it was suddenly frightfully overwhelming. Especially since Morticia found it so hard to refute Debbie's points. It made her confront how thinly veiled hercown arguments were, that perhaps she was just selfish, in love - yes, madly so, but ultimately she was choosing her own needs over her sister's. And to have this thrown in her face by her best friend hurt more than she was prepared to admit.

"Are you alright, my darling?" Patricia's voice interrupted her ruminations, and she blinked, suddenly startled.

"Of course," she answered, covering her cautious reply with a smile because her Grandmother was watching her a bit too intently. "I just…," she paused, swallowing her own uneasiness."I have a few things on my mind, that's all."

The older lady nodded in understanding.

"Anything I can help with?" She asked, gently wrapping her bony hand around Morticia's, her gaze soft and inviting and Morticia felt an almost overwhelming urge to confess to her.

But how unfair would that be, to put Patricia in such a precarious position? Her Grandmother loved her, and she was an immense source of support to her throughout her life. She filled the space her own mother was unwilling, or unable, to take and despite Morticia's fervent wishes to have her mother take a more active role in her life, she always felt loved. Thanks to the older lady sitting next to her. She had not a single doubt that her grandmother loved her. But she also loved Ophelia, and Morticia couldn't possibly put her in a situation when she'd be torn between the two of them.

And to think, even for the slightest second, how hurt Patricia would be by Morticia's actions, her secrets, her betrayal was more agonising than she anticipated. Her own argument, that she was doing it for love, because that's what it was - love, seemed suddenly very feeble. She wasn't doing this to hurt Ophelia. She didn't want to hurt anyone. She didn't choose to fall in love.

"No, not really," she whispered, resisting the urge to swallow heavily, because her throat felt so constricted she could barely make a sound. She forced another smile on her face, and it felt empty. "I think… I really need some time away, that's all."

"Come," Patricia said softly, drawing her closer until Morticia's head rested gently on her arm. Morticia closed her eyes, forcing the tears away when she felt her lips press against the crown on her head."We should go somewhere together. I'm so fed up with this snow."

"Another extended vacation?" She whispered, letting out a mirthless chuckle.

"Why not," she said, reaching to caress Morticia's raven tresses in an affectionate manner. "How about Indonesia? I've never been there. I can bath in all the sun and drink all the colourful drinks with paper parasols that will rise my blood sugar to dangerous levels and you can get depressed by all the greens and sunny weather and complain about how sticky your sun cream is."

"I'd love that," Morticia deadpanned."Sounds like hell."

Patricia chuckled and pressed another kiss to Morticia's head.

"You started painting again," she noticed, nodding at the canvas next to the window.

"Some," Morticia admitted."I will have to redo it, the light is terrible."

"I think it's very beautiful," Patricia praised. "What's it called?"

Morticia turned slightly towards the unfinished painting - two grey undistinguished figures in a close embrace, so close they were almost blended into one, covered in a soft blanket of blood.

Blood. It was all in there - the love, the passion, and the pain.

The sin of it all.

"The Sixth," she replied.


Gomez Addams decided that he was too much of a spoiled, sheltered, despicable coward to go back to the Addams Manor and face his wife after last night. He didn't want to argue, he didn't want to discuss their fight, and most of all, he didn't want to lie to her again. He didn't want to conjure excuses, offer fake apologies that meant nothing at all, especially with the prospect of what he was about to do.

Although, there was also another side to why he didn't want to go back home and headed straight for his office in the city - he simply didn't want to spoil his mood, and he felt good. He felt almost elated if it wasn't for the fact that the hell was about to break loose on them but even that was not enough to stop the glorious feeling coursing through his very soul.

What a difference it made - to tell her how he felt about her, that he loved her madly and irrevocably. And to know that she loved him too, to hear her say it and to wake up next to her - how could he even describe it? There were no words, no words to sufficiently convey just how good it felt to wake up and see her, to feel her glorious body nestled in his arms. Magical - that's what it was, everything about Morticia felt to him simply otherworldly. And even though he knew that things were far from perfect, that there was so much heartbreak ahead of them, his mind simply couldn't focus on anything else but the fact that they were in love and they'd soon be together.

It felt good. It felt amazing. It felt wonderful and exhilarating.

How could it not when he had the certainty he longed for since he laid his eyes on that beguiling creature on the fateful night of his cousin's funeral - oh, that reminded him, he had an appointment at the police station tomorrow morning to give another statement. The devil, like he didn't have enough on his plate already. He didn't know why they still bothered with this investigation since no Addams in history was ever convicted of any delightfully abhorrent crimes they were guilty of because there was never sufficient evidence to link them to said crimes. They were all Addamses, coming from a long line (a really, really long line) of mad, dark killers and psychopaths - pioneers of crime and gruesome murders and those amateurs thought they could connect him to the murder of Balthazar Addams? Wishful thinking. Or, most likely, they were just bored, Christmas season tended to be a quieter time even in the crime world.

"Well, how splendid to see you in a much better mood today, cousin," Vlad greeted him, joining him at the entrance to the building. "What brings you here on this bitterly cold, Sunday morning?"

"Could have asked you the same question," Gomez said, trying to evade his answer as they walked together towards the elevators.

"Trying to clear the workload so I have more time to spend with my lovely lady, of course," Vlad grinned.

Gomez felt his mood immediately sour and all he could do was merely nodd because his throat was suddenly unbearably dry with apprehension. Here it was, another heartbreak.

He will need to tell Vlad about the affair and he doubted his cousin would ever speak to him again afterwards.

He tried to search for some anger or jealousy that was coursing through his very soul mere hours ago but he found none. There was just sadness and, of course, guilt - and plenty of it, and the reality of what was to come suddenly hit him, harder than he anticipated. This wasn't just the case of telling Ophelia and dealing with the consequences.

"I'm going to take a month-long vacation," his cousin continued, unaware of Gomez's inner turmoil.

They would need to tell Vlad. And then the whole family would find out. They would all be angry, no doubt, but the anger he could easily deal with, it was the heartbreak, the betrayal and disappointment that he dreaded the most.

And how to tell them? How to dress such disloyalty and treachery into words so they would understand? That he was not doing it all out of spite, not this time. It was not mean-spirited. It was not out of jealousy but love. It was all out of love. He was madly in love with Morticia and he never meant to hurt anyone.

"Vlad - "

They both stopped dead in their tracks at the unmistakable sound of something being smashed into pieces in Gomez's office.

"What the hell is that?" Vlad frowned, carefully opening the door and taking a curious peek inside before his lips stretched into an amused smile, as he turned back towards Gomez."Have you been naughty cousin?"

"All my life," he replied, still, quite baffled at his cousin's cheerful demeanour.

What in the world was going on inside his office?

"I say you have been very naughty," Vlad supplied with an amused smirk."You better hope your wife doesn't find out about it."

Gomez frowned, trying to ignore the cool wave of dread that went down his spine. His cousin's merry posture was blocking the door and all he could hear were the ever-increasing crashing sounds.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't think I even have the sufficient vocabulary to describe it," his cousin continued, standing aside to allow Gomez into his own office."See for yourself."

Gomez Addams entered, slowly, only to see his beloved train track smashed into smithereens, and non-other but a very flustered, very angry-looking Debbie Jellinsky standing next to its sad remains, holding a baseball bat.

She suddenly seemed to realize she had a company and turned abruptly towards the two men in the room - both of whom took an immediate, precautionary step back.

Cowards.

"The Green Packard yours?" She asked, breathing heavily, looking straight at Gomez Addams.

How did she even know he owned a Packard, let alone what colour it was?

"It is," Vlad replied immediately, grinning maniacally and Gomez turned towards him abruptly, bestowing on him a thunderous gaze.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Gomez replied in annoyance.

"Nowhere as enticing as here and now," his cousin replied, sporting an obnoxious grin.

"Vlad, scram," Gomez all but hissed. He really could not deal with Debbie Jellinsky with Vlad being present and the only reason he could think of as to why Debbie was trying to annihilate his office was that Morticia must have shared the news with her. And Debbie did not think their plan was a good idea. To put it mildly.

"Have we met somewhere before?" Vlad addressed Debbie, smiling charmingly."You seem very familiar."

Debbie barely spared him one look.

"Fuck off."

"Yes, ma'am," Vlad nodded and saluted her, retreated from the room faster than Gomez had ever seen him move in his life.

"Drink?" Gomez offered, closing the door, making sure his cousin would not be able to even catch a gist of what was being said between him and Debbie - assuming there would be any talking at all and she would not simply murder him on the spot ."You must be quite thirstful after all that hard work of destroying my trains."

"Not as thirstful as I will be after smashing your car and ripping you into shreds," she deadpanned, leisurely waving the baseball bat in her hand.

"That is a lot of work for one afternoon," Gomez nodded, moving towards the small bar in the corner."I best order some lunch. Brandy?"

"Is it some fucking joke for you, you bastard?" She hissed."Gin and tonic, please, I hate brandy."

"Duly noted," he nodded, fixing her the drink before adding gravely," it's not a joke."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing putting this shit into her head?"

"Keep your voice down, please," he requested, tuning his own voice down to a whisper.

"Don't tell me to keep my voice down when you're throwing my best friend to the fucking vultures," she retorted angrily, snatching the drink from his hand and drawing it all in one go.

And then smashed the glass against the wall just behind Gomez and, to his credit, he barely flinched.

"I'm not doing any of such a thing," he replied, trying not to squirm."You got it all wrong."

"Oh, really?" She hissed."Then what's the grand plan here, except for her getting her ass whooped because of you?"

"I love her - "

"Oh fuck off," she threw distastefully."Do you think I was born yesterday?"

He frowned, suddenly annoyed.

"I don't care if you believe me or not -"

"I don't."

"I love her, and I want to marry her," he told her firmly.

Debbie's face darkened at his words and she turned towards the vase next to the window, before swinging the baseball bat at it.

"That… was three hundred years old," Gomez informed her, watching the vase drop to the floor into little pieces.

Debbie turned slowly towards him with a withering look on her face.

"Look at me," she pointed to herself." Do I look like I care about how old it was?"

"No," he replied, trying to resist an almost overwhelming urge to gulp.

"It's trash now, anyway," she retorted curtly."How is marrying her going to change anything, you idiot?" Debbie growled instead."Do you even realize the backlash she's going to face for this?"

He swallowed heavily, biting his lips into a thin line.

"I know," he admitted in a painful whisper."I realize… I know it's not going to be easy -"

"Understatement of a damn century."

He barely dogged her swinging the baseball at him and she managed to hit the portrait of his grandfather instead.

"I'm not going to leave her," he insisted."Ever. We're in this togeth -," he faltered, narrowly avoiding being hit." Can you put that bat away?"

She ignored his words, taking another swing at him but the damn man had seemed to have some otherwordly reflexes.

"Yeah? And what about your family? What about her family? Her sister - your wife," she pointed out, breathing heavily. Damn, she was out of shape. All those hours sitting behind the receptionist's desk and eating doughnuts did not do her any favours.

"Look, I'm not claiming to have all the answers," Gomez retorted impatiently."I know how difficult - how impossible this is but I love her, and I'm going to be there for her no matter what. You can smash whatever the hell you want, it's not going to change anything."

"I could just kill you, you know?" She retorted, advancing at him."It would be easier for everyone."

"Yes, it probably would be," he agreed heavily.

"This is not some damn fling for her, do you understand that?" She hissed, advancing on him."You can't just back away when things get difficult."

"I won't," he insisted, not even budging from his position."She's everything to me."

"Oh, don't give me this mushy crap," she retorted angrily."Just be aware that if you ever leave her, if you make her bear this alone - you're a dead man. And I don't give a damn how she feels about you."

He could not help but smile.

"You're a good friend," he told her but his smile evaporated instantly when he saw her jaw set in annoyance and took another swing at him, this time managing to hit him in the side of his head. "God damn it, cut it out," he hissed, touching the side of his head that was now pulsing painfully."Can we just talk this through?"

"We've finished talking," she replied, her face dangerously close to his."Next time, I will hit you so hard your great-grandchildren will feel it."

He watched her casually drop the bat and make her way towards the bar where she, quite unceremoniously, grabbed the bottle of Morus and leisurely made her way out of his office, barely sparing him one look.

His cousin materialized mere minutes later, quietly surveying the damage.

"You really have a penchant for psycho chicks, cousin," Vlad remarked, entirely too amused by the situation."You need some bandage?"

"I'll live," he grunted, wincing as he touched the injury that was now bleeding, with his handkerchief.

Vlad shook his head in disbelief.

"You really better pray Ophelia does not find out about this," he supplied jovially. "I have a feeling that a baseball bat to the head will be the least of your problems then."

Gomez could not help but let out a mirthless chuckle.

Now that, truly, was the understatement of a damn century.


He praised himself inwardly over the fact that he always had a change the clothes in his office, more so since Debbie made sure his suit was splattered with his own blood now, and he certainly wasn't going to explain that to his father-in-law when he met him this afternoon so they could discuss the accountant issue. There was dry blood on the side of his face as well, but thankfully it didn't look like he needed stitches.

He was also thankful that his cousin did not feel the need to immediately pursue the discussion on what the hell had happened and left Gomez to sort himself out but Gomez had no doubt that the subject will be approached eventually and then, true to his cousin's words, a baseball bat will be the least of his problems.

He had a monstrous headache just thinking about it, or maybe it was from the injury, he couldn't really tell. He didn't really care either and smiled politely when his in-law's butler let him in, informing him instantly that Mr Frump was dealing with some urgent matter and he won't be a minute.

Gomez approached the table with the framed family photos perched next to another. There was the newest addition - his and Ophelia's wedding photo, with their parents next to them. It felt almost ominous to look at it now.

He reached behind, lifting the golden frame and couldn't help the smile that stretched on his lips. It was uncanny that they grew up to look so vastly different from one another because in the photo before him they looked almost like twins, even their hair was styled in the same way - in two braids, the colour, of course, was startlingly different, as well as the ubiquitous daisies in Ophelia's hair. Ophelia's arms were firmly around her little sister, their cheeks pressed together, both grinning to the camera.

Ophelia didn't look older than five or six so Morticia must have been around three.

"Hard to believe it's them, isn't it?" His father-in-law chuckled, materializing next to Gomez."Time flies."

"They look almost like twins here," Gomez remarked fondly.

James Frump nodded, his lips curling into a wistful smile.

"Hmmm, they were inseparable then," he recalled softly." They even insisted on having their hair braided the same way but, of course, Tishy wouldn't ever consider daisies. Ophelia was very disappointed," he chuckled before adding in a dry manner, "happy days, before they started going at each other's throats."

"What happened?" He meant the question to be light and facetious but his father-in-law only shrugged sadly.

"Life, I suppose," he commented flatly, shrugging in a rather helpless manner. He turned towards Gomez and frowned, taking a good look at the gash on the side of his head, the photo immediately forgotten."Good God, my boy, what happened to you?"

"A game of baseball went awry," he supplied dryly.

"Happens," James Frump smiled and nodded in understanding." I'm happy to hear it wasn't one of my daughter's tantrums. She once threw a paperweight at her drama tutor. Brandy?"

"I'll pass, thank you," he declined, putting the frame back on the table."Paperweight?"

"Don't ask me how much it cost me for him not to press charges."

"How old was she?" He couldn't help but laugh.

"Old enough to know better," he supplied lightly, taking out two cigars from his breast pocket and offering one to Gomez.

He graciously accepted, nodding in thanks as they entered James' study.

"Are you sure I can't offer you a drink?" he asked and picked up the mail, placed neatly on the silver tray, and then with a hardly further glance at it, threw it all into the fireplace where the envelopes and their content were consumed by angry flames.

"No, thank you," Gomez replied, looking at his father-in-law curiously, as he went towards the small table and poured himself a generous glass of brandy.

He remembered suddenly that Morticia mentioned, somewhat offhandedly, that her father seemed stressed and appeared to have been drinking more than usual, but he wondered now if perhaps she was actually more concerned than she appeared.

"I think you will be very happy with the Alfords as your accountants," James remarked with a clear note of fondness in his voice." They don't have an honest bone in their body and will try to rob you every chance their get but they don't ask questions and they know all in and outs of the corporate tax law.

"Sounds like just what I need," he smiled, his gaze still intently on his father-in-law. He cleared his throat, hesitating briefly before finally asking, "I hope you don't mind me asking but… is everything alright?"

James Frump frowned in confusion and met his gaze.

"Why do you ask?" He asked instead.

"You seem to be a bit more stressed these days," Gomez pointed out gently."Anything I can help with?"

He watched his father-in-law shrug, then lick his lips and take another hearty drink.

"Do you believe in karma?" He asked, his gaze firmly on Gomez.

Gomez swallowed heavily.

"Sometimes," he managed to reply, not entirely comfortable with the subject. In fact, not comfortable at all.

James nodded, and almost unwittingly started to pace the length of his study.

"I made a mistake," he told him morosely, rubbing the palm of his hand against his cheek tiredly."That whole damn idea with running for the office was a mistake."

"Quit," Gomez offered."That's the Addams way of tackling insurmountable problems."

His father-in-law shook his head and sighed heavily.

"What if quitting is not the solution?" James smiled sadly."What if it's too late to quit?"

"What's the problem?" Gomez asked, suddenly almost desperate for a drink, realizing that whatever was on James's mind was far deeper and more serious that mere campaign problems. He resisted an urge to wince, desperately uneasy in a position of becoming a confessor to anyone's deeds, especially when his own weighed upon him so heavily but what else could he do?

"I didn't expect…," James said hesitantly and faltered, as if unsure if he should continue, looking at Gomez almost pleadingly."I did not foresee the consequences, I did not… expect - "

"Expect what?" Gomez prompted when the older man remained quiet for a long while.

"Once in a while… someone turns out when they shouldn't," James remarked tiredly. "But it's also my stupid fault… if I didn't run for the office…," he sighed tiredly."Sometimes… you make a mistake that just… hunts you for the rest of your life and no matter how much you try to fix it it's just… it's always there and there's nothing you can do, do you understand?"

He did.

Of course, he did, how could he not? Who knew better than Gomez Addams about the sins that gnawed at the soul, leaving him restless and desperate to do anything and everything, just to make this feeling stop, to find anything that would offer absolution. Anything at all. But nothing does. Nothing ever does.

He wanted to tell him that, relish in this new companionship in guilt between them, even though he didn't know what possible sins were heaving at the older man's heart, he wanted him to know that he understood, but he said nothing. His thoughts refused to vocalise.

"Anyway," James cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed by Gomez's lack of reply and desperate to escape the situation." I shouldn't burden you with this, I apologise if I made you uncomfortable," he rushed, forcing a lighter, almost jovial tone to his voice." Why don't we change the scenery? Have you had your lunch? Because I know just the perfect place."


It was way after ten o'clock at night when he finally made it home.

To say that the conversation with his father-in-law left him worried was an understatement, the man really looked like he was two steps from a nervous breakdown, by the time Gomez dropped him at home he was drunk and talking some utter nonsense about fate and karma and how he ruined his daughters' childhoods, even though Gomez was pretty sure neither of the sisters felt that way at all.

Gomez didn't want to worry Morticia, or Ophelia for that matter, but he really felt he should share his observations with both of them because, whatever was bothering their father, it was clear that he was not handling it well at all.

God, he felt exhausted, all he wanted was to fall into a long, dreamless sleep. His head was killing him.

"Gomez, darling," his mother's voice reached him from the direction of the conservatory, practically the moment he stepped through the door."Do you have a moment?"

"For you always," he smiled, placing a small kiss on her cheek, before joining her in the conservatory."Is that henbane tea?" He nodded to the teapot on the metal coffee table, as he waited for his mother to take her seat first, before sitting in the chair opposite.

"It is indeed," she smiled, pouring him a teacup of the green, steaming beverage, before asking lightly, "since when did you become a tea drinker?"

"I didn't," he assured, but couldn't help the soft smile forming on his face."But I do enjoy it, occasionally."

"What happened to your head?" She asked, the concern flooding her voice.

"Nothing to worry about," He dismissed her worries, forcing a careless smile to his face as he took a sip of his tea."A simple misunderstanding, I assure you. This tea is delicious."

"Darling, I worry about you," Eudora told him, honestly.

"Because of the tea?" He asked and laughed when she rolled her eyes at his obtuse response.

"You do seem very absent-minded lately," she pointed out, bowing her head briefly, before proceeding in a cautious tone." I know… this is a difficult time for you," she faltered when he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, realising immediately what she had in mind.

Fester.

"I'm fine, Mama," he lied, swallowing heavily.

"It's not just that, and I hope you don't think I'm prying," she continued hesitantly, wrapping her fingers around the steaming teacup." I couldn't help but notice that… things are a bit tense between you and Ophelia. I was wondering if there's something I could help with? Anything you need to talk about?"

He shrugged, looking away from his mother's worried gaze. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, no matter how much he pretended, his mother was not stupid, she noticed things. It was just a matter of time before she noticed the change in his marriage dynamics.

"Gomez, what is it?" She prompted kindly.

He should say it was nothing, if just to appease her, he should lie and deny and assure her because she had enough worries because of him but he was so suddenly beyond exhausted, tired of pretending. Tired of lying.

"I can't make her happy, Mama," he said breathlessly and he was taken aback by how true the sentence actually was.

He couldn't make her happy. Whether they stayed married or not, he just couldn't make her happy.

"Oh nonsense, darling, why would you say such a thing?"

He shrugged again, almost choked by the prospect of how hurt and disappointed his mother will be. He promised her better, he promised her new life, new chances and he's done nothing but obliterated those promises and she deserved better, and he couldn't give her even that. He blinked furiously, suddenly aware of how wet his eyes were.

"Gomez," he heard his mother's concerned voice."Darling, whatever it is I'm sure you can sort it out. All marriages have their ups and downs, that's life."

"What she wants," he said in a painful whisper. "I cannot give her."

"Of course, you can," she insisted, wrapping her hands around his.

"No," he shook his head."I really tried, Mama, but I can't - "

"Darling, you mustn't do anything rash," she urged desperately." There's so much at stake. Think about the consequences - "

He felt suddenly struck by her words and the meaning behind them and the realization that dawned upon him - a painful, agonising certainty, that she knew.

His mother knew.

"I'm really sorry, Mama," he managed a choked whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"No," she shook her head vigorously, squeezing his hand in a desperate, painful grasp." Gomez, darling, listen to me," she whispered."Please - "

"There you are," Ophelia's voice interrupted them."I thought I heard your voice. Can I speak to you for a minute?"

He merely nodded, his throat so constricted he was sure he wouldn't be able to make a sound.

He wanted to drop on his knees before his mother and apologise, beg for her forgiveness, make her understand. That he was so so sorry but to live without Morticia was unfathomable and impossible, that he loved her more than anything he ever loved in his life and could she please please try to understand how much he tried, he tried and he failed and if he had to live without Morticia he might as well perish now but he was sorry, so so sorry. He wanted to tell her all that but he's done nothing except mutely follow Ophelia to the library.

"Ophelia -"

"How nice of you to finally show up home," Ophelia interrupted him coldly, collecting the documents from the desk into a neat rectangle."Are you done acting like an unruly toddler?"

"Why do you do that?" He asked, suddenly irritated.

"Do what exactly?" She retorted curtly.

"Belittle my concerns," he explained."You don't even try to - "

She snorted derisively.

"What concerns, Gomez?" She huffed impatiently."You have no concerns. You have no problems other than what you create in your head, you are the damn problem," she insisted bluntly." I have a whole charity auction to prepare, I need your support and all you can think about is some spat with Fraiser that happened ten years ago."

"I have no idea about organising charity events," he retorted angrily, irked by her accusations."Spend all the money you need on it, that's all the help I can offer. And it's Fester, not Fraiser."

"Fine, Fester then," she sighed in annoyance."Either way, I think it's time to stop behaving like a child and move on."

"It doesn't work like that," he replied defensively, trying to make her understand. "I ruined his relationship, I broke his heart and he left because of me. I can't just move on."

He wanted to, he longed for nothing more than to find a way to absolve himself, but how could he? How could he just move on after ruining someone's life?

"Why do you have to do this?" She shot back."Why everything is always about you?"

He blinked, utterly taken aback by her words.

"What?"He asked.

"Everything is always about you, it's either your work or your brother, nothing else," she observed bitterly.

"That's not true," he shook his head. "I -"

"We used to have so much fun," she interjected him." You used to have not a care in the world. You were not so…," she sighed," difficult. You feel guilty about your brother, I get it, but you don't have to make everyone else's life difficult because of it. Mine especially."

"What would you prefer me to do?" He asked hoarsely."Pretend it's all well?"

That's all he has done for years. Pretend. And what good did it do? It doesn't stop the heartache, it doesn't make the pain go away, and it doesn't lessen the guilt.

"People have bigger problems," she said instead pointing to herself."And my problem is that I feel neglected. You're never here, you always work and leave me bored as hell. You don't make me feel special, you barely spend any time with me. I have no support from you because all you think about is yourself and your 'problems'."

He knew he had neglected her the past few weeks, he wouldn't deny it, but her words made him feel hurt nevertheless, as if everything he's done, every single effort he ever made for her meant nothing. That no matter how much he tried to be better, to try harder, it was all an illusion. It was all worthless because everything always came down to him being a selfish, self-absorbed bastard and there was no way out of it.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he whispered, his voice broken with guilt.

"I don't want you to feel sorry," she retorted impatiently."I want you to make more effort, pay more attention to me and my needs."

But he couldn't, he thought. If all he's ever done, every effort on his part before he even met Morticia, meant nothing to her then he didn't know what could he possibly do now, when he was madly in love with another woman.

"I used to love crashing trains," he told her suddenly."Did you know that?"

She frowned, and looked at him as if he's just lost his mind. And maybe he had.

"What?" She almost hissed, irritated by his idiotic question.

"I love trains," he remarked simply.

She shook her head and couldn't help but roll her eyes at his childish behaviour.

"Okay, good for you," she retorted brazenly."Explains why you keep acting like a toddler."

"You love to drink champagne with fruit juices," he continued, his tone acquiring a fervent note. "Your favourite colour is pink and you love bubble baths but not the rose-scented ones. You love shopping at Prada."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"What's mine?" He asked instead.

"Your what?" She snapped, annoyed beyond belief.

"Favourite drink," he prompted.

"I don't know," she retorted in an exasperated manner." Whisky probably, or bourbon or brandy, what does it matter? You're talking nonsense."

"Why did you marry me?" He whispered.

"Oh good God," she sighed tiredly." You really love making everything about yourself, don't you?"

"Is there anything you even like about me?" He asked, swallowing heavily." Anything at all?"

She didn't reply, not immediately.

"You're charming," she said finally before adding snidely."When you want to be. And you're fun, also when the mood strikes you."

"I betrayed my brother, Ophelia," he whispered firmly. "And I can never forgive myself."

"Oh, don't exaggerate," she retorted derisively."You were a twat and he overreacted, because every man with a brain would be glad for not marrying a little slut who cheated on him with his own brother. It's time you all get over it, it's becoming exhausting."

He nodded, swallowing heavily.

"I can't get over it," he replied in a breathless whisper."I can't get over ruining my family."

"I tell you what you're ruining," she shot back sharply, looking straight at him."Your marriage. I'm beyond tired of this nonsense, Gomez. You need to sort yourself out, because I don't have neither time nor need for your drama."

He felt as if he had just been slapped. Was that all he's been to her? Fun and nonsense? Maybe that's all he was, indeed.

"You're right," he told her and watched her face crease in surprise at his words." I'm going to go for a walk," he said out loud, more to himself than to her.

Ophelia shook her head and exhaled heavily.

"Where? It's snowing heavily," she scoffed.

"I don't care, I need some air."

"Oh, do whatever you want," she retorted impatiently, making her way towards the door."I'm going to bed."

He stood there, as if frozen, defeated by her words and how true they were. He ruined his brother's life, he ruined his family, and now he was ruining his marriage and what's next? He was about to ruin Morticia's life as well.

"You know, your father is right about you," she threw behind him and he swallowed heavily, half-turning towards her." You just don't care, do you? Nothing matters to you except how you feel."

"That's not true," he defended feebly in a barely audible whisper.

"How would you know?" She challenged derisively."You're never here, you don't pay me any attention because all that matters to you is yourself."

"I wanted to make you happy," he whispered, but his throat felt constricted. "I tried -"

"Try harder, then," she retorted mockingly." Because I'm not happy."

Maybe she was right? Maybe that's all he was, selfish, despicable bastard. If he was the better man he would be able to let Morticia go, he wouldn't be creating mayhem. He would be content to live in this marriage, in this lie but he couldn't because every second away from Morticia felt like death to him and he couldn't face the prospect of living his life without her and that too was selfish.

Selfish and despicable and maybe they all would be just better off without him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

That's all he had to offer. To all of them.

His selfish, worthless, pathetic apologies.


A/N: Thank you for reading! Thoughts and constructive criticism are always appreciated. :)