Such Woe as Dreams Are Made Of (a Wednesday fanfiction)

Into the Woe

Wednesday spent the day after the dream researching the phenomenon, but she couldn't find a book that talked about anything quite as real as it had felt to sit there in that booth with Tyler, or to enter his memories.

As she lay back on a slab in the family tomb, arms crossed over her chest in her favorite meditating position, she heard a faint sound in the silence. Annoyed at the interruption, Wednesday held her breath, waiting.

Just as she had expected. The rustle of silk across the marble floor.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Oh, darling, did I disturb you?"

"Yes."

Wednesday waited. So did Morticia. But Wednesday had more patience, more self-control ... more stubbornness, if she was being honest with herself.

"I thought you might want to talk about what happened at Nevermore—"

"I would rather not."

Undeterred, Morticia came and sat down on the bench near the slab. Wednesday could see her mother's face from the corner of her eye. "You may be able to convince other people that you feel nothing, Wednesday, but I know you. You bury your feelings deeper than any unmarked grave, but you have them. And ... there is something special about first love that—"

Wednesday sat bolt upright, turning to glare at her mother. "It wasn't love."

"Tell yourself that all you like."

"I will." Odd that her mother should choose this moment to bring up Tyler, after the dream last night. And how had she known, anyway? Wednesday hadn't told her parents about kissing Tyler, or their date, or ... any of it.

"Oh, darling. A mother knows these things. I can see it in your face."

"You can't. I have no time for love, no interest in it. You and Father are all the sickeningly over-the-top love affair one family can handle. I am not going to let my potential be drained away by some man's affections, by the distractions of a family."

Morticia stood up. Wednesday had meant the words to hurt as much as she had meant them as a declaration to both of them of what her plans were for her own life, but Morticia wasn't needled in the slightest. "I know it may look like that from outside, and it may feel frightening at first, but love is not what you think it is. I am more myself with your father than I ever could be without him. And as for distractions—I look at you and Pugsley and I see the fullness of my own potential realized." She smiled. "I hope someday you can look at what you've accomplished with your life and feel the same."

*****

Tyler closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Wednesday was the first person he thought of, but that had been ... intense, before. The connection, the way he could feel her as part of his thoughts. He wasn't sure he was ready for that again, for what that feeling could mean.

But who else was there for him to reach out to? His friends from Jericho had dropped him after he came back from that summer camp for hooligans his father had sent him to; he'd killed his therapist; Lauren was ... well, he didn't know where she was, and he wasn't sure he cared. He was done being someone else's puppet.

Part of him wanted to try to connect with his father, but the rest of him definitely didn't.

He closed his eyes and thought of Wednesday. She was the person he most wanted to be with, anyway, the only one he thought might understand him and be willing to help him.

The room he was in was sterile. Even the straightjacket had no discernible scent. But suddenly, he smelled ...

Leaves. The rich aromatics that already spelled Wednesday to his increasingly sensitive nose. Coffee, as always. Wherever he was, the scent of coffee was a comfort for Tyler.

He caught Wednesday with a hand over her mouth and pulled her back against him. Part of him was aware of how easy it would be to snap her neck like this—but not satisfying. No, satisfying would be to turn, to let the anger of the Hyde out and put fear on her face, the same fear that he had felt when his mother had turned in front of him when he was a small child. Wednesday and her kind had done that, forced his mother out into the world alone, with no one to help her.

With an effort, Tyler got hold of himself, watching as his father and Elvis passed out of sight before letting Wednesday go.

"You must think it's weird, that I'm stalking him," he said when his father was gone.

"No. I consistently stalk my parents."

Of course she did. Tyler felt such a kinship with her. He should hate her, and part of him did, but the rest of him was so drawn to her.

As she turned to go, he followed. "Wait. What really happened the other night at the festival?" He knew, of course he did, but he didn't know for sure what Wednesday had seen, or what she thought about it. It was an unusual opportunity, to talk to someone who had seen the other half of him and lived to tell about it.

"I thought Rowan was in danger," Wednesday told him. "Turns out I was wrong. Then he proceeded to use his telekinesis to try and choke me to death."

"Holy shit. Why would he do that?"

"No idea. That's when this monster came out of the shadows and gutted him."

Tyler stopped, remembering the blood and the fear and the fascination in Wednesday's eyes. "Whoa. So you really saw it? And it ... didn't try to kill you?"

"It actually saved me from Rowan. That's the part I'm trying to figure out."

There was a ripple in the air, and suddenly Tyler could no longer feel the bite of the chill breeze on his skin. The memory had ended, but they were still standing here in the woods together. His dream, or hers? He didn't know.

*****

"Tell me," Wednesday said, turning to Tyler in these dream woods. Whether they were in his mind or hers, she couldn't say. That's what made all this so fascinating. "Tell me what you want. Why do you need help? What kind of help?"

But Tyler couldn't speak. He hadn't spoken a word since his father had shot him in the woods that night. He wasn't entirely sure he remembered how.

However, it seemed he could touch her. He ran his fingers across her shoulders, marveling at how solid and warm and real she felt beneath his hands.

"Tyler! What do you want?"

What did he want? His eyes were drawn to her mouth. Yes. That's what he wanted.

He bent his head and kissed her.

Wednesday remembered his touch better than she would have liked to have admitted, the gentle fingertips on her face, the warmth of his mouth on hers. The dream felt as real as that moment in the Weathervane. She should pull away, should demand to know what he meant by coming to her in dreams, but her mouth clung to his.

Tyler woke in the dark. "Wednesday," he whispered.

Wednesday opened her eyes and lay there staring at the ceiling. She was incredibly frustrated with herself for not insisting that he speak to her ... but at least that kiss had assured her that it was indeed Tyler stalking her dreams and not something else taking his shape.

She lay in the darkness of the tomb wondering what he wanted from her. There was more to it than a kiss—she could see that he wanted to speak and couldn't. Was he trapped somewhere? Was he lost in the Hyde with dreams as his only outlet? She would have to speak with Uncle Fester, she thought. He was the only one she could trust who knew anything about Hydes.

But not yet. Not until she was sure what Tyler wanted ... and what she wanted.