Chapter Text
The sky, a tapestry of gray, hung low over the funeral procession. The air was thick with solemnity, as if the city itself were mourning. But this was not a city given to mourning. It was a city that thrived on order and silence.
Wednesday Addams stood apart from the huddled, black-clad figures. She watched the casket being lowered into the ground. Her father, Gomez Addams, was a technician who knew too much and said too little, until he stumbled upon a truth that was meant to remain buried beneath layers of lies.
“They say he was a traitor,” Wednesday mused silently. “But the only betrayal was their fear of truth. My father sought the light in a world cloaked in shadows.”
“As they bury you, Father, they think they bury the truth with you. But some truths have a way of clawing back from their grave,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the somber drone of the state-issued eulogist.
In the distance, beyond the city walls, lay the wastelands—a barren expanse that held more secrets than the government would ever admit. It was out there, in that desolation, where her father’s forbidden knowledge had originated. And it was out there, Wednesday vowed, that she would find the answers to the questions that now burned in her heart.
As the first handful of dirt hit the coffin, a subtle smile played upon Wednesday’s lips. It was not a smile of joy, but of resolve. The government had taken her father, but they would not take the truth. Not if she had anything to say about it.
The funeral soon drew to its inevitable close. Wednesday observed her mother, Morticia Addams, gliding among the mourners with a grace that defied the occasion. Morticia conversed in hushed tones with various officials and sympathizers. Her poise was unshakeable, her sorrow, if it existed, hidden behind a veil of stoic beauty. Yet, Wednesday knew better than to mistake her mother’s calm exterior for indifference. The Addams felt deeply, even if they hardly showed it.
Feeling a growing sense of suffocation amidst the crowd of false mourners and government sycophants, Wednesday decided to retreat. She needed to be alone, to process the turmoil within her, to plan her next steps in a world that had just become infinitely more dangerous. She turned away, her steps leading her back toward the concrete reality of their apartment complex.
As she navigated the sea of black umbrellas and somber faces, her path unexpectedly collided with Enid Sinclair, a classmate who seemed almost out of place in this world of gray. Enid was like a splash of color in a monochrome painting. She was an oddity in their school, known for her relentless optimism. A trait that was as rare as it was dangerous in their society.
“Wednesday,” Enid’s voice was soft, laced with a genuine warmth that felt alien in the cold air. “I… I’m sorry about your father. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve this.”
For a moment, Wednesday was caught off guard. Sincerity was a rare commodity, and from Enid, it seemed to carry a weight that was both comforting and unsettling. She studied Enid’s face, searching for any trace of deceit or hidden agenda, but found none.
“Thank you, Enid,” Wednesday replied, her voice steady but distant. “He was a good man. And now, he’s a dead one. The government doesn’t care for goodness.”
Enid’s eyes flickered with a mix of sadness and something else—was it fear? Understanding? “I know,” she said quietly “It’s just… it’s so wrong. What they do, what they hide. Your father… he deserved better. You deserve better.”
Wednesday’s gaze hardened. “Deserving has little to do with what we receive. But thank you, Enid. For your words. They are… unexpected.”
A brief silence fell between them, a chasm filled with unspoken thoughts and shared fears. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, Enid gave a small smile and stepped back.
“I’ll see you at school, Wednesday. Take care of yourself,” she said, before turning away and disappearing into the crowd.
Wednesday watched her leave, a myriad of thoughts racing throughout her mind. Enid’s words, simple and heartfelt, had struck a chord. In a world where apathy was the norm, Enid was a beacon in the dark. It was a dangerous trait, but perhaps, in these dangerous times, it was exactly what they needed.
With a deep breath, Wednesday continued her walk back to the apartment complex. Her mind was now swirling not only with thoughts of vengeance and truth, but with Enid, and hope.
All thoughts, however, were banished from her mind the second her apartment complex came into view. She lived on the first floor, her front door facing the street. Normally the sight of her shut front door would bring comfort to her. The one place where she could retreat and be sure that no one was watching her.
There was one problem. The door was wide open.
Wednesday sped up, her brisk walk becoming a quick jog as she made her way to her door. Forced entry was apparent. The doorknob was missing, and the lock was bashed in. She supposed she should be grateful that the entire thing wasn’t thrown off of its hinges, as that would be more expensive to replace, but her worry was about the personal items that she had been storing in her apartment. Namely her father’s work that she had so carefully taken from her mother and hidden.
She had hidden it hurriedly in a filing cabinet, buried beneath piles of taxes and paperwork and other unimportant documents. Any hope of it still being there was dashed as she walked further into her apartment. Everything had been ransacked. The kitchen cabinets and drawers were thrown open haphazardly. Broken plates were on the ground, their pieces scattered across the floor. The couch cushions had been thrown off. The coffee table, which had a hidden compartment that only she knew about where she kept research of her own, was opened. And of course, her research was gone.
Wednesday made her way into her office. Loose papers were covering the floor. The filing cabinet was open, each one of the drawers emptied, their contents littering the ground around her. She knelt down and skimmed the different papers, trying to see if any part of her father’s research was left. But all of it was gone. She turned her attention to her desk upon noticing there was a light coming from its direction.
Her laptop was turned on and her browser history was open, along with multiple files. Her schoolwork had been a special point of interest to whoever had broken in. All of her old assignments and documents were opened and scrolled through. As well as her messages and emails.
It didn’t take a genius to find out who had done this. Her research gone, as well as her father’s? Her emails and assignments open on her laptop? It was clearly the work of the government, trying to see if she fit the bill as a “traitor” along with her father. Tying up loose ends, most likely.
With that came a wave of realization that she would most likely be next if she stepped out of line. The government was paranoid as they were tyrannical. If she was in possession of the research, even if she hadn’t read it, that automatically made her a target.
Wednesday clenched her jaw as she went through and closed all of the open files and emails, trying to plan out what her best move would be from here. In a situation like this, she had to assume the worst. Either she stayed in line and prayed they would leave her alone, or she came up with something else.
She could always leave. That was always an option. But she hadn’t had the opportunity to read her father’s research before the funeral. She had no clue what was waiting outside of the walls she had lived in her entire life. It could be anything between some sort of lush forest full of life or a barren wasteland devoid of anything but dirt.
Her best bet right now was to wait it out. If there was even a pinch of belief that the government was coming after her, she’d make a run for it. But right now, she was vastly unprepared to go anywhere near the walls or what lurked outside of them. There was no indication of whether the government was keeping something out or keeping all of the citizens in, and for what reason they were doing so.
So, she would go to university tomorrow. Act as though everything was fine. She’d start her research again from scratch and try to figure out what it was her father had learned that had incriminated him enough to deserve death. And once she had her hands on that information, she would spread it and run. It would take time, and it would be a lengthy process. But she was willing to commit. For her father, and for every other innocent soul who had been wrongfully destroyed by the leaders of their civilization.
Wednesday’s fingers flew over her laptop keyboard, her eyes scanning through digital archives of the city’s history. She was searching for any anomalies, any hints that might explain the drastic measures the government had taken against her father. The university’s extensive database was a labyrinth of information, but Wednesday was determined to find a thread that would lead her to the truth.
The lecture hall was slowly filling up, the buzz of students’ conversations blending into a monotonous hum. Wednesday was so immersed in her research that she failed to notice Enid standing in front of her, an unusual nervous energy about her.
“Wednesday?” Enid’s voice finally pierced through her concentration.
Wednesday looked up, slightly startled. Enid’s face was taut with anxiety, her usual brightness dimmed. It was a stark contrast to the Enid she had encountered at the funeral.
“Enid? What’s wrong?” Wednesday asked, her research momentarily forgotten.
“I… I need you to come with me after the lecture,” Enid said hurriedly, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard. “It’s important. I have something to show you. Something… about your father.”
Wednesday’s heart skipped a beat. “About my father?” Her voice was a mix of suspicion and intrigue. “What is it?”
“I can't talk about it here. It’s not safe,” Enid whispered, her eyes darting to the doors and back. “Please, just trust me. Meet me outside after class and come to my apartment. It’s urgent.”
The urgency in Enid’s voice and the genuine fear in her eyes convinced Wednesday that this was more than just a classmate’s concern. It was something deeper, possibly even dangerous. Wednesday’s mind raced with possibilities. Could Enid have stumbled upon something related to her father’s research? Or was it a trap, another of the government’s ploy to entangle her further?
“All right,” Wednesday replied cautiously, her mind already calculating the potential risks. “I’ll come. But if this is some kind of trick…”
“It’s not, I promise,” Enid interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. “I just… I think it’s something you need to see.”
As the lecturer entered the hall, signaling the start of class, Enid quickly took a seat nearby, her demeanor still visibly shaken. Wednesday turned her attention back to her laptop, but her thoughts were no longer on her research. She was now focused on meeting with Enid, on the potential revelations about her father, and on the dangerous path she was about to tread.
Through the lecture, Wednesday’s mind was a whirlwind of speculation and strategy. She was preparing herself for whatever Enid was about to reveal, ready to face new truths and new traps. The stakes were high, and every decision now carried the weight of life and death. But she was determined to uncover the secrets that had caused her father to lose his life, no matter the cost.