Work Text:
One moment.
Just one moment with that slimy bastard and all of this could have been over.
One moment and that faceless murderer would have become a speck of dust on her shoe.
Before now, this game of cat and mouse had been a fun little side project at Wednesday’s new school. A way to blow off steam. Indulge in the thrill of mystery-solving.
But now?
Now it was personal.
Wednesday knew she should have convinced her roommate to stay put in the dorm. She tried to put her foot down, really, she tried. That is until she saw the eyebrows knit. And the lips press together. And my god, Enid was more like Wednesday than she cared to admit. In the end, Enid had her own free will, the lead was a shot in the dark, and nothing Wednesday said would have put a stop to Enid following her into woods that night.
Everything would have been fine if she had just gone alone.
Wednesday was used to being alone, and she was quite good at it. Alone, she could think. Alone, she could try to work through the clues of a case without incessant chatter in her ear. Alone, the only person she had to worry about getting stabbed, was herself.
She doesn’t even remember what exactly had happened. One minute, Enid was at her side, mumbling about how stupid they were being by going into the woods at night alone based on a hunch, and isn’t this how all true crime podcasts start and shouldn’t they have at least brought a flare or something in case they got stranded and “O h my god I think I just saw a spider the size of my hand can we please go back to the school--”
And then nothing. Silence.
Wednesday had grown so used to the chatter it had started to become like background noise. So much so that when it stopped, it took her almost a full minute of walking to notice. She whipped her head back and forth, braids hitting her cheeks.
“Enid?” she called out.
Nothing.
The trees bent against the wind, sending shadows dancing across the mossy ground.
Wednesday swept her flashlight beam in front of her, but the darkness was so thick this deep in the woods that it nearly swallowed the light. She stood in the stillness for another moment, straining her ears for any sounds other than the rustle of leaves.
Suddenly, a scream broke the quiet.
A scream that turned Wednesday’s blood to ice in her veins. A voice she had started to recognize better than her own.
Enid.
Wednesday ran. Her feet carried her through the trees at a speed she didn’t even know she was capable of, completely blind to the branches and brush scraping at her face and arms as they pumped at her side. She didn’t know how far she ran, or for how long, all she knew was that she needed to follow the direction of the scream.
Enid’s scream.
Only another moment passed until her feet came sliding to a halt. There was something looming in the darkness up ahead of her. Something tall and faceless bent over a huddled form on the ground. The tip of a bright pink converse. A shock of blonde hair against the brown leaves.
Wednesday took off again without another thought.
“Hey!” she yelled. The figure crouched above Enid startled. Something glinted in the moonlight. Before she could get a better look, the figure straightened up and darted in the opposite direction, disappearing into the dark canopy of woods.
A whimper comes from the form on the ground. In that instant, Wednesday forgets all about the psycho killer she’s been chasing for weeks and instead drops to the ground next to the shivering girl. She reaches her hands out and is met with something wet. She doesn’t need the flashlight, now abandoned on the ground, to know what it is.
“Wednesday?”
“It’s me,” she tries to keep her own voice steady, for both their sakes. “Are you hurt?”
“Yes,” Enid sobs. “My leg.”
Wednesday’s stomach drops. There’s so much blood it’s impossible to tell where the injury even is. She yanks her sweatshirt off, blind to the cold, and presses it to the outside of Enid’s thigh.
Enid cries out in pain, and the sound twists in Wednesday’s stomach.
“You’re going to be okay.” she says. Reassurance isn’t exactly her strong suit. “I’m going to get you back home.”
Enid nods.
“Do you think you can walk?”
“M-maybe.”
Wednesday ties her jacket around Enid’s leg, and loops her arm around the other girls' shoulders. They stand up together and the movement brings another gasp of pain out of Enid’s mouth. She buries her face in Wednesday's shoulder and lets out a muffled sob. Wednesday’s stomach twists again. She leans down a fraction, until her lips are hovering over the shell of Enid’s ear.
“It’s alright,” she whispers. “I’ve got you.”
Another few moments pass, and Enid’s breathing starts to even out against her neck. Finally, Enid lifts her head and nods.
“I’m okay, let's go.”
The two head out into the dark. Enid keeps her weight off her bad leg by almost entirely leaning against Wednesday and doing a one-legged hop through the underbrush. Wednesday slows her pace and stops whenever Enid needs to rest—which turns out to be a lot.
“I think I should take you to the school medics.” Wednesday says after their tenth break.
“No,” Enid shakes her head. “They’ll ask too many questions.”
“Enid,” she says quietly. Controlled. "You probably need stitches, and—”
“No, no, I'll heal on my own, I just need some time.”
Wednesday tilts her head.
“Werewolf, remember?” her eyes flash yellow in the darkness. A bolt of electricity runs down Wednesday's spine. A small fact she always seems to forget about her roommate: she can shapeshift into a predator with teeth sharp enough to rip out her throat in the blink of an eye. Something about the thought of living in such close proximity something so dangerous always gives Wednesday a bit of a thrill.
The two continue through the woods for a couple more minutes until the looming shadow of Nevermore Academy appears out of the fog. They get inside with no further incident, until they reach the narrow staircase leading up to their shared attic room.
They look to each other, then back to the staircase.
“I could try to hop—” Enid attempts to jump her good leg up the first step and misses, nearly coming crashing down on her face. Wednesday catches her with a huff.
“That’s not happening.”
“Yeah, no.”
Wednesday thinks for a moment, coming to only a singular and very upsetting conclusion. She scrunches her face up and turns around so her back is facing Enid.
“What are you—Oh!”
Wednesday gets down on one knee at Enid’s feet. If she had known this was how her night was going to end, she would not have left the dorm in the first place. She waits with baited breath for Enid to understand. If the girl has any mercy, she won’t make her say anything.
Finally, she feels two slim arms wrap around her neck from behind. Wednesday reaches out behind her and braces herself.
“Ready?” she asks.
Enid nods and slips her legs out from under her, trusting Wednesday to catch her behind her knees. The motion causes another sob to escape her as her bad leg gets jostled and wrapped around Wednesday’s waist. She buries her head into the crook of Wednesday’s neck again.
Wednesday waits until Enid’s breathing evens out to stand up, her chest rising and falling rapidly against her back.
Once she stands, Enid lifts her head.
“Am I too heavy?”
Wednesday nearly laughs. Nearly.
“Please,” she says. “I have knives heavier than you.”
They start up the steps, one at a time. Wednesday tries to focus on not sending them tumbling down the stairs instead of the press of Enid’s chest against her back and the ends of her hair tickling her cheek. Once they make it up the stairs and into their room, Wednesday gently sets Enid down on her bed.
“Stay here.” she turns and disappears into their shared bathroom, emerging a moment later with a first-aid kit, a cup of water, and a stack of towels.
“You were listening when I gave you a tour of the bathroom.” Enid mutters.
“Yes, in case I needed the scissors in the first-aid kit.”
Wednesday opens up the kit and kneels by the side of the bed. Seeing Enid’s injury is difficult even in the light. Blood is still oozing out from somewhere in the wound and her jeans are torn and caked in dirt.
“How attached are you to these pants?” she asks.
Enid pauses. “Um, not that much I guess?”
Without another word, Wednesday takes the aforementioned scissors and slices a cut clean from the bottom of her pant leg up to her hip, being careful of the injury half-way up her thigh.
She pushes the excess fabric away and it’s at this moment that Enid decides to look down. Her face, already pallor, goes white as a ghost.
“ Ohhhhhh my god , that’s so much blood.” she whispers.
Wednesday shares in her panicked sentiment. She had lost a lot of blood.
She grabs the cup of water and hesitates.
“This is going to sting.”
Enid looks at her with wide eyes. Her lip is trembling.
Wednesday doesn’t blink, instead reaching a hand up wordlessly and threading her fingers through Enid’s. She squeezes once and pours the water over the wound with her other hand. Enid’s cry of pain twists in her chest this time. A feeling she will have to file away and investigate for later. For the current moment, bigger problems await. Now that she has a better look at the cut, she can see just how long it is—and deep. Wednesday had seen enough gruesome wounds in her day to know when something needed more than a band-aid.
“Enid, you need stitches.” she repeats.
Enid’s eyes are squeezed closed, sweat beading her forehead. She shakes her head again.
“No doctors,” her voice cracks. “Please.” she opens her eyes and locks them with Wednesdays'.
They stare at each other for a moment. Something in Enid’s eyes, bright blue and unshed with tears, has Wednesday nodding her head before her brain can even catch up. She realizes she’s still holding onto Enid’s hand and quickly lets go.
“Fine,” she dips her head to rummage in the first-aid kit. “But if this doesn’t start closing up in the next few hours, we are going to the infirmary.”
Enid nods, the tension in her shoulders easing. Wednesday takes out a gauze pad and roll of medical tape. She pauses.
“I’m going to need both hands for this.” she says quietly.
Enid’s face flushes pink. She nods.
Wednesday gets to work with the bandages. Carefully, she winds the tape around her leg, delicate hands moving in a methodical rhythm normally reserved for her cello. When she finishes, she looks up to see Enid watching her.
This isn’t the first time she had caught the other girl observing her, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. The first time it happened, she had assumed the worst. Most people looked at Wednesday like an exotic zoo animal. Something to gawk at behind the glass but never get close to—unless you wanted to lose a few limbs. But there was something different about the way Enid had looked at her. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Wednesday clears her throat. “There,” she tucks the bandages back into the first-aid kit and sits back on her heels. “All done.”
Enid shakes her head, as if breaking herself out of a trance. “Right, thank you.” she shifts herself on the bed and wrinkles her nose. “Any idea how to get blood out of a duvet cover?”
“There are quite a few different ways,” Wednesday answers honestly. “Do you want me to get my peroxide?”
Enid snorts. “Should have known you’d answer that seriously.”
Wednesday stares expectantly.
“No, not right now.” Enid says. She grimaces. “You can help me get my jacket off though, when did it get so hot in here?”
Wednesday stands, narrowing her eyes. Considering her roommate was normally whining about how cold it is up in their lofted attic room, especially at night, something was amiss.
Enid’s face is still flushed pink as she flings her jacket onto the floor with a huff.
“It’s like a sauna, and not the good kind,” she lays back on the bed, “have I ever told you about that time I almost got stuck in a sauna? Well, I did get stuck, but you’ll never guess who found me—what are you...” Enid trails off.
Wednesday doesn’t even think about what she does next. It was pure instinct. Something she had seen her mother do to her, and her brother, a hundred times as children. Her braids frame Enid’s face as she leans down, her lips hovering barely an inch above her forehead.
Enid’s breath hitches, her body going still. The tips of Wednesday’s braids tickle her cheeks.
Wednesday presses her lips gently to Enid’s forehead, barely a whisper on her skin. The smell of Enid’s floral shampoo is still fragrant despite the night she’d had, and the scent of it overwhelms Wednesday. So much so, she nearly forgets what she had set out to do in the first place.
When pulls back, she’s met with a stare she doesn’t think she’s ever received from Enid. Or from anyone, for that matter. Her pupils are blown wide, only a thin line of blue remaining, and her lips are parted in a silent o .
Enid blinks. Once. Twice.
When it becomes clear she’s not going to speak, Wednesday does.
“I think you have a low fever.” she states.
Enid snaps her mouth shut. “Um, I—uh,” she stutters for a moment, then clears her throat. “That means that my um, ‘wolfie’ powers are working. I should be starting to heal.”
Wednesday nods. “Good, you should rest.” she turns on her heel and disappears into the bathroom again. When she returns, she’s holding a damp washcloth. One of Enid’s pink ones, to be exact.
She walks to the side of the bed and lays it across Enid’s forehead without a word. Enid closes her eyes with a sigh of content. Wednesday turns to get ready for bed, but a hand reaches out and grabs her wrist to stop her.
“Thank you, Wednesday.” Enid says softly. She opens her eyes to meet the brown ones staring down at her.
“You’re welcome,” Wednesday responds stiffly.
Enid lets go of her wrist and closes her eyes again. Wednesday starts to walk away, and pauses.
“Enid?”
“Hmm?”
“If you decide to die in the middle of the night,” she says, her voice much gentler. “Wake me first.”
Enid barks out a laugh and the sound sends a shiver down Wednesday’s spine.
“You’ll be the first to know.”