New story with some old faces. Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the story title (It belongs to Elysian Fields). I just love it!

Hope you like the story! Enjoy!

Part One: Dark Encounter

In the living room of the Addams' mansion, Wednesday's phone rang violently as she struggled to unearth it from the bottom of her oversized bag. She checked the caller-ID before flipping it open. She scanned the room quickly, not wanting to be overheard. When she was mostly sure she was alone, she answered.

"What do you want?" she sneered in a whisper.

"I wanted to see how you're doing. It's been nearly three weeks, there's nothing wrong with that," the voice on the phone answered in a low, defensive voice.

"Oh, there are plenty of things wrong with that. I told you never to call me again," Wednesday insisted, her voice scathing.

Before the voice on the phone could reply, Wednesday slapped the phone shut, and threw it into her bag. Annoyed, she stomped up the stairs to her room and slammed the door.

When he was sure she was gone, Pubert climbed down from his perch in the ceiling, burgeoning with pride over his new hiding spot and brimming with curiosity about who Wednesday's secret caller might be.

Alone in her room, Wednesday pondered the problem of her caller. She looked at her desk calendar. It was July 20th. School had been out for nearly two months, and it'd been three weeks since the last time she saw him. Before that, it had been a month, and before that, nearly six years.

The first time she'd seen him this year, she'd nearly jumped out of her skin. Six years ago, he'd run out of her life and had been shipped across the country to a boarding school chosen specifically for that reason. She hadn't thought about him since - until he was randomly lounging up against the outside wall of her school on the last day of classes. She and Pugsley had eaten their last cafeteria dinner for the school year and had split up to go pack their things. Wednesday took one last look at her window as the sun slipped behind the horizon before wheeling her things to her car.

She'd nearly run into him when she'd exited on that last day, in a distinct hurry to be out of that hellhole and home in her own. She'd been concentrating on finding Pugsley, when a lazy voice curled around her name, "Wednesday Addams."

It had been the way he'd said it that startled her. Most people said her name in whispers or with a distinctive sneer she'd begun to recognize as the preppy girls' attempt at an intimidating voice. It was not the half-fearful, half-authoritative voice of the teachers who tried to force her to respect them despite their obvious fear of her. He'd said her name like a caress, but with something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on at first.

When she'd turned to see who had called her name, scornful face already set, she'd nearly fainted with the shock of who she saw there. She knew him immediately, though for all intents and purposes he looked nothing like the child she'd known. She was stunned into silence and she gawked.

He'd grown. That was the first thing she noticed. No longer small and scrawny, he was tall, angular, subtly muscular and substantially more comfortable in his own skin. His glasses were replaced by contacts, she assumed, that showed off his dark eyes. She didn't remember him having green rings around the irises, but then again, it had been awhile. The babyish curls of his youth were partially hidden under a skullcap, but those that stuck out seemed darker, heavier than she remembered. He seemed pale beneath the spotlights around the school. He was dressed in heavy layers of black and grey, with frayed jeans and black Converses. She remembered he looked utterly bored, waiting, leaning up against the wall, a lit cigarette in one hand, tendrils of smoke curling around his still body.

He laughed. It was a lazy sound, a proud sound. A cocky smile curled his lips, and he spoke, "So you recognize me. That's heartening. Who would've thought I'd be able to shock the great Wednesday Addams." His voice was raspy, from the smoking, she thought. It was low and even, and slightly sinister.

She hadn't known what to say but was hugely annoyed at the fun he was having at her expense, so she forced a coherent thought through. With as much indifference and condescension she could manage, she said, "What are you doing here?" She crossed her arms across her chest and let her weight fall on one hip – accentuating her indifference.

Joel Glicker laughed again, and flicked his cigarette away before standing up and facing Wednesday head on. She noticed he was now several inches taller than her, and she'd worn her three-inch platform combat boots.

He stepped toward her, his movements taking on a slightly menacing edge, and Wednesday felt uncomfortably out of her element. She did not know what to expect from him. She refused to retreat and instead let him come uncomfortably close to her, less than a foot from her body. Rolling her eyes, she lifted her face to meet his eyes, still waiting for her answer.

"Waiting for you." He'd said, simply.

Wednesday shook herself from her reminiscence. Even in her memory he rattled her. She couldn't decide if she liked the feeling or not, but she hated a mystery.

It had been that motivation, more than anything else, which had led her to agree to meet him that second time, about three weeks ago.

She didn't know how he got her cell phone number, but he'd called her around July 4th wanting to get together and 'catch up.' She'd told him to piss off and he told her he'd come pick her up, and she told him she'd murder him if he tried, and they ultimately agreed on a meeting place a few miles from her home, a ridge overlooking the huge town cemetery where they'd be far enough away from the ridiculous tourists celebrating the deaths of thousands of soldiers with hot dogs and glow sticks, but close enough that they could still see the fireworks over the distant hill.

When she'd pulled up in her Mercedes almost a half hour after they'd agreed to meet, she thought at first that he'd stood her up. But as she shut off her engine and prepared to get out and look around, she noticed the black Harley Roadster leaning up against a tree silhouetted by the setting sun. She saw him then, sitting in the deepening shade of a weeping willow overlooking the drop into the valley below. He was dressed in black again, and the contrast between his black form and the rows of white tombstones below took Wednesday's breath away.

He heard her approach, and turned his head in her direction before rising slowly. She felt a sudden twinge of fear that warred with her insatiable curiosity and her annoyance that this stupid boy could get such a rise out of her. She needed to know more. She walked right up to him and sat down under the tree, waiting for him to do the same.

She didn't look at him, only stared over the horizon and at the tombstones below them. Finally, he sat too, but stared only at her. She felt his eyes burning into her cheek, so she turned and said, "Alright, I'm here. What do you want?"

He didn't laugh this time, or smile even. He just stared deeply into her eyes. His stare unnerved her, and although he didn't move, she felt suddenly that his presence was overwhelming. She shifted uncomfortably, and situated herself a few inches farther away from him. Her movement broke his stare, and he smiled now, almost proud of himself.

"I've told you this already, Wednesday," he said, "I've come back. And I've come back for you." He said this like it was common knowledge, not a romantic revelation, but a statement of already decided upon facts. He returned to staring at the horizon as Wednesday puzzled out his words.

"Come back for me? What does that mean?" Wednesday asked, feeling a defensiveness rise up in her. "I never asked you to come back."

Joel laughed one hard laugh, before digging through his pockets for his cigarettes. He lit one and took a drag before answering, "You misunderstand my meaning." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye for a one long moment, before returning to his smoking and staring out at the horizon.

They sat in silence as true darkness fell. When the fireworks started, Wednesday felt her attention divided. With each blast of color and light, she found herself stealing the opportunity to glance over at Joel. He was transfixed, his eyes wide, and his breathing staggered as he watched the mediocre (at best) fireworks fill the sky. She couldn't understand his absorption. She and Pugsley had set off much bigger and brighter fireworks than these. She was supremely unimpressed.

One of her stolen glances at Joel nearly startled her. She would have sworn that, after a particularly large explosion, she could see fire dancing in Joel's eyes, and in the partial light on his face, she swore she saw maniacal grin, giving him a distinctively demonic appearance. But after the blast faded away, his face appeared normal again – cold, lazy, stoic.

When the fireworks ended, Wednesday had risen stiffly and headed for her car without bothering with goodbye. Joel rose also and called after her, "I'll see you later then."

Wednesday made a non-committal grunt, too unsure of her own feelings on the matter to answer one way or the other. She didn't bother to turn around, so she was immensely startled when she felt his hands on her shoulders, spinning her around and pressing her up against the passenger side door of her car.

Before she could form a retort or begin to fight back, his face was inches from her own, his body pinning her to the car, one hand on her cheek, and the other resting against the car, caging her in.

She drew in a deep breath to scream or tell him off – she wasn't sure which – when he placed one finger over her lips.

"Wait," he said softly.

She was too shocked to disobey, but her eyes were wide with fear and confusion, and her muscles coiled to attack. Just as she began to realize that she was just standing there, letting this guy push her around and that she should fight her way out of his pathetic hold, he removed his finger from her lips and brought his face even closer to hers, so that their lips were nearly touching.

She stopped breathing. She knew that now was the perfect time to attack and that, if he really meant her harm, trying to kiss her first was the stupidest move ever. She could simply bite down on his lip and startle him before stomping down on his foot and kneeing him in the groin. He'd be on the ground in two seconds flat. But then, if he meant her harm, wouldn't he know that already? She couldn't figure him out.

Confusing her further was a sudden whiff of his cologne, which sent shivers down her spine. It was both cold and fresh, and well, strange, but appealing.

He smiled. Lips lightly touching Wednesday's, not even enough to be classified as a kiss, he stopped and smiled. And then spoke very softly, his lips moving against hers, "Your heart is racing. Are you frightened of me?" His voice had that lazy, sinister sound again.

Wednesday didn't know what to say. Annoyance at being incapacitated flared up in her, and she pushed against him. "Back off lover-boy. It'd take much more than the likes of you to frighten me," she mocked.

She pushed, hard, against his chest.

He didn't even budge. It was as if she hadn't touched him at all.

She pushed again with the same effect. If her heart had been racing before, it sped double-time now, and when she looked up into his eyes again, she saw her own, wide with fear, reflected in them.

She quickly rearranged her features, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was scared. She took her hands from his chest and crossed her arms around her own. With a look of utter disdain, she stared him down. "Now what?" she asked.

He laughed now, at what, she had no idea, so she waited impatiently for his answer.

"Oh, the lengths to which you'll go to avoid admitting you're afraid," Joel mocked.

"I'll die before granting you that satisfaction," Wednesday answered slowly and clearly, eyes locked on Joel's.

He smirked, but otherwise said nothing.

Wednesday broke the silence. "So, are we done here?"

Joel smiled, and stepped away from Wednesday's body.

She moved quickly, but not so fast as to reveal the depth of her fear, and opened the driver's door to her car. As she climbed in, Joel's voice cut through the silence.

"I'll give you a call sometime," he smirked, a smile in his voice.

"Go to Hell," she murmured, mostly to herself, as she got in and sped off.

"Been there…" Joel murmured to himself as he watched Wednesday's car peel off into the night.