An Addams Never Dies

Prologue (SHORT)

The final moments of Gomez Addams' life had not been expected to go this way. Here he stood, face-to-face with his beloved bride. She was farther from him than he would have liked, a little bit more than an arm's length away. In his shaking hands, he held a cup. A small, silver one containing a clear liquid that would have appeared to anyone else as water, or perhaps vodka (though to anyone who knew Gomez Addams, it would be obvious that the latter was impossible, for he only drank brandy). His sad eyes were focused on Morticia's -- her big, blue eyes that held him captive like only the darkness ever had been able to. Slowly he licked his chapped lips, the new moisture chilling them as he drew in a long breath. The dead silence was deafening. "Say something, Tish," he whispered, voice hoarse.

Her eyes were locked on her own cup, a gold one containing the same liquid. "Mon cher..." she breathed, her gaze traveling upwards to meet his. Her raven-black locks waterfalled down to frame her pale face. Morticia's thin hands held onto the silver rim with a gossamer touch, and her chest rose and fell with each deep, shaky breath she took.

"Tish... that's French," Gomez exclaimed, grasping one of her wrists with his free hand as he set the cup down. Tugging her closer, he threw an arm around her waist and bent his head down to her shoulder, the warm breath from his slightly-parted lips warming her cold skin. This was their usual routine, Gomez once again expressing his love for his wife with her pushing him away only to say, "Later, Gomez..." But this time, she just stood there, her hand resting on the back of his neck.

"Is something troubling you, Querida?" asked the man, leaning back a ways to look her in the eye. She had never acted this way during their little games, especially not this one. Gomez reached over again for his cup, touching the top of it to hers.

The woman shook her head gently, though her eyebrows were knit in a way that showed otherwise. She must have seen the light in his eyes that said this, for she sighed and slid her hand down to rest on his cheek. Her husband leaned into her touch, the corner of his mouth pressing into her palm. "Oh, it's silly... but what if one of us goes this time? One without the other? Cavaliere Mio, I couldn't bear to go through life without you, or go onto the next one alone..." Again Morticia shook her head, this time as though it would make the horrid thought go away. She didn't fear death; not as long as Gomez was with her. The macabre was one of her greatest inspirations.

"Nonsense--" Gomez said pointedly, raising the cup a bit further as he kissed his lover's hand. "We've played hundreds of times, and never before has any Addams lost this game. Are we not both Addamses?"

It took a moment, but eventually Morticia nodded and raised the cup as the man before her did. "Alright. I suppose you're right. On three... One... two... three--"

They both lifted the cups up to their lips, the silver giving relief to an acute burning sensation present as the cyanide trickled down. Once her nerves began to calm as it seemed nothing was going wrong, things took a turn for the worse. Gomez doubled over in a coughing fit, clutching his chest like he was trying to keep his lungs from falling out. "Tish--" was all he could get out before his voice was gone completely. Then, Morticia Addams watched in horror as her husband fell to the ground in front of her.