Gomez Addams staggered from the taxi toward Gate which made a cheerful, rusty sound as he turned the key.

-Glad to see you too, old man, he mumbled.

It was nearly an hour past midnight and the house looked dead. He reckoned they where all in bed now. The butler, his mother in law, his kids, his wife…oh dear, beloved Tish, how he had missed her. She was probably asleep, and all he wanted was to lie down next to her and sleep as deep as a corpse in a freshly dug grave. Wrap his arm around her and bury his face in her mist black curls. He pictured her fresh from the shower and soundly asleep, cold and stiff in his arms. He was terribly tired. The flight from Tokyo to New York had been dreadful. The total lack of turbulence upset his nerves, he couldn't sleep on a plane without the shaking. He had to leave Tokyo earlier than he originally had planned as his deal went down the drain due to some unfortunate circumstances. At the moment, he could not care less. All he could think of was his bed and his wife and to finally get some sleep.

He walked up the stairs to the second floor and followed the corridor towards the master bedroom. Then, startled by a familiar noise, he stopped. Something was terribly wrong. All of sudden he was all ears, the heavy tiredness gone. He held his breath, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, as he focused on the faint sound seemingly coming from his very own bedroom.

There it was again, louder now and couldn't be mistaken for anything else. The sound he heard in the dead of night was really the sound of his sexually aroused wife. He could have recognized that moaning anywhere. The soft cries floated towards him in the chill emptiness of the corridor. A sound he used to cherish so much, a welcomed response to his skillfulness in intimate activities…now, as he stood there alone in the dark, it scared him. He was certainly not the source to her pleasure, so it could only mean one thing: His wife, his very own cara mia, betrayed him with another man, while believing her husband was still on his business trip.

A sudden urge to run and hide jolted trough his body. If he took the car and drove to a motel and slept there, what he had witnessed would just seem like a dream tomorrow. He could manage to convince himself that this…affair going on his bedroom was nothing but a figment of his own imagination. And the two of them could go one like nothing had happened. He would still love her. He couldn't possibly do anything else. God, even in this moment as she lied there in her marital bed willingly letting another man fuck her, Gomez couldn't do anything else than love her. He would gladly slay the son of a bitch she had taken to bed, but he cold never, ever hurt Morticia nor hate her.

No, he could not run. It was not his style. He was a Castilian nobleman, and they never run away from their destiny. Unless they where in the arena with a very angry toro. But this was no bullfighter arena, this was his home, and it was his damn right to walk into his own bedroom, kill the impostor and finally get some sleep. If he ever could manage to sleep again, that was. Maybe he would have to kill himself. As he crept closer and the sound of female pleasure got even louder, the idea of suicide seemed rather tempting. Whatever scene awaiting him, he knew it would be burned into his retina forever.

Still he walked up to the half open door and peered inside. And the sight that met him took his breath away.