Chapter Text
She was in the birdcage. The tape over her mouth chafed as she worked her lips, attempting to get free. The hook-handed man held her up, but sometimes he would shake the cage, threatening to drop her.
She was crawling laps as fast as she could. Her short limbs ached, and her hands and knees were sore, covered with grass stains and scratches. She longed to stop to catch her breath, but he was watching them. His eyes glittered dangerously, promising to take her way, to hurt her. To hurt her siblings.
She was climbing up the elevator shaft with her teeth. Her face ached, and the metal was scratching the inside of her mouth, and Sunny couldn’t stand the metallic taste of her own blood. She didn’t dare look below her and see just how far she had to fall. She kept her eyes aimed up at the light at the top of the shaft. Her entire body shook with the fear of falling, but she steeled herself and kept inching upwards. She'd do it for her siblings—she’d do it for their first and only friends. She couldn’t bear for the Quagmires’ lives to go the same way hers had.
She was sitting in the shabby jail cell with her siblings, still reeling from the murder accusation against her. She’d never. She would never kill somebody; never! But Sunny couldn’t help but think… what if it came to defending her siblings? But she hadn’t defended them, though. She’d gotten them all in trouble, and she couldn’t do anything to save them from their fate. She thought she could already feel the heat of the flames that would kill her and her siblings, and she choked back a sob.
She thought she’d never been as scared and horrified as she was when she watched her brother, his hand shaking, press the long, brutal knife to her sister’s throat. She watched the gentle rise and fall of Violet’s chest and took solace in the fact that she was still breathing, that Klaus was just pretending to murder her. But her heart pounded as she watched his critical eye on her brother’s hand. What if he saw through their ruse? Would he force them to kill Violet for real, or would he just kill them outright? She wished she could do something to help Klaus, but she was helpless.
She looked at the crowd, full of people that believed she was a murderer. The only reason they weren’t rushing in to hold her until the authorities came to arrest her for a murder she didn’t commit was because she had disguised herself. Just like he always did. The crowd was mocking her, shrieking with laughter. Her disguise itched, and she longed to tear it off, but if she did, all was lost. She had to keep up the charade, or she and her siblings would die. But she couldn’t stand being disguised like he always was. She hated being in this vicious carnival. She hated everything about her current situation. But there was nothing she could do about it.
She was in his car. She was being held on his girlfriend's lap, and Esme was pinching her and pinching her, and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling, and not just because of the pain. They had taken her from her siblings; killed her siblings. She was alone in the world. There was no chance for her. They’d use her for the Baudelaire fortune and then kill her, and she was helpless . She would die, and they were dead, and she was helpless .
She was in the diving helmet. She could feel the fungus filling up her throat with spores, could feel the spores sprouting and making even more spores. Her breaths were thin and rattly and painful . Her siblings were frantically trying to find a solution, but she could feel herself running out of time. She would die, and she was helpless, and they were helpless. She was terrified, and the only thing she wanted was to die in her siblings' arms instead of all alone. But if she left the diving helmet, everybody would die, not just her. She just couldn't do anything .
'Burn down Denouement,' she had said. Her siblings were aghast. She was aghast. But it was the only thing she could think of doing. He had called her 'his girl.' She wasn't his girl, not now, not ever. But she had suggested starting a fire. She hated herself, but what else could she do? What could any of them do?
She huddled with her siblings on the boat. The rain was falling in sheets, whipping violet’s hair into her face and mouth and trying to tear Klaus’s glasses from her face. Violet was attempting to shield her from the raging storm, but the wind lashed at her, and she was chilled to the bone. She couldn't see him anywhere, and the worst thing was that she didn’t know whether that made her happy or not. She couldn’t do anything but cling to Violet and Klaus and hope that the storm wouldn’t kill them. Once again, she was helpless .
She sat in the armchair with her siblings. She couldn't breathe again. Those spores had made their home in her throat, again . She was petrified. Her breath wouldn’t come, and her body shook with the effort of staying conscious. She remembered last time. But there was no horseradish this time, no wasabi. She would die, and her siblings would die—there was nothing she could do. The only thing she could take comfort in was that she would at least die with her siblings.
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Sunny Baudelaire sat bolt upright in her bed. Sweat poured down her face. She couldn’t catch her breath, and she struggled to keep herself from panicking.
It had been four years since he died—four years since Beatrice had been born. Four years since the colonists had left and Kit had died. (She was helpless then too.) They had lived peacefully on the island for four years.
Peacefully. They were safe. He was dead. She’d seen him die. They were safe.
Yet memories of him still haunted her. She wondered if she would ever really escape him.
Her panic got the better of her, and she began to hyperventilate. Tears came to her eyes, and she tried to keep herself from crying, but she couldn’t hold the tears back, and eventually, she dissolved into tears and pressed her face into her pillow. Why couldn’t she just be done with him? Why ?
She felt a hand on her shoulder and whirled around, ready to bite her assailant. It was a good thing she spotted her sister’s face before she sank her teeth into Violet’s hand.
“Oh!” Sunny said. She tried to wipe her tears away, but they just kept coming. “I’m sorry, Vi.”
“It’s alright, Sunny,” Violet murmured, picking Sunny up. She balanced Sunny on her hip and walked outside, onto the brae, kissing the top of her head and murmuring nonsense into her ear.
Violet brought Sunny to her favorite hilltop, where she could watch the sunrise and look out at the entire island. Violet put her down, and they both sat on the bench Violet had built there.
Her sister took Sunny’s face into her hands and thumbed her tears away. “He's gone, Sunny,” Violet told her. “He can't hurt you anymore. I promise.” Violet put an arm around her shoulder, and Sunny laid her head on Violet’s arm. “Nightmare?” Violet asked. Sunny nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Sunny dissolved into a new wave of tears. “I was dying, Vi. Over and over. I was dying. You were dying. Klaus was dying. And I couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing! I was helpless!” She hugged her sister tightly. Violet carded her fingers through Sunny’s hair.
“Do you feel me?” Violet asked. Sunny nodded tearfully. Violet took Sunny’s hand and put it over her heart. “Do you feel my heartbeat?”
Violet’s chest was warm, and Sunny could feel the subtle throb of her sister’s heart. She nodded again. “Yes, I can feel it,” Sunny whispered, her voice raw from crying.
“I’m alive, Sunny,” Violet said. She pressed Sunny’s hand to her chest. Sunny could feel the beating of her own heart now. “Do you feel that pulse, Sun? You’re alive, too. So’s Klaus, and so’s Bee. We’re all here. We survived, Sunny. We’re done with him. I promise.”
Sunny clenched her jaw. “I don’t feel done with him, Vi. I feel like I’m still there . I feel like I’m never going to escape him, never !” she spat. Violet stroked her hair. “And—” her voice broke. “Vi, the things I did—"
“Sunny, no.” Violet put her hands on Sunny’s shoulders and looked at her fiercely. “You can't think like that. You were two years old when we did those things. You were barely talking or walking then. Besides, everything we did, we did to survive. We made the choices we had to make. We're noble enough.”
That was what Kit had told them.
Kit was dead .
Sunny shook her head violently. “But Vi, I told Olaf—” Here she spat on the ground. She hated saying his name. “I told him to burn down the hotel. I killed hundreds of people, even innocents. Me. I did that. I had the idea to push him overboard. I helped destroy the last safe place. I couldn't save Kit. I couldn't save Friday or the colonists. I—”
"Sunny," Violet said, stroking her cheek, “Stop this. You are six years old. You have seen more than any six-year-old should. You are the sweetest little girl, Sunny, and you're my little girl. My little sister. And I love you. Okay? Stop blaming yourself. Olaf would’ve burned down the hotel anyhow. We tried to save those people— you tried to save them. We were all thinking about pushing Olaf overboard. He ruined our lives, Sunny. He tried to kill us. Olaf destroyed the last safe place. Kit… she made her own choice. She chose to die to save her child. As for Friday and the colonists, they made their own choice too. You offered Friday an apple. You tried.”
“But I failed.”
“You were two, Sunny. What were you going to do at two years old?” Violet took a breath. “Please, Sunny. Please believe me. It is not your fault that all these terrible things happened to us. You are in control of your life now, not Olaf. You.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, Sun.” Violet pulled her into another hug, and Sunny pressed her face to her sister’s chest. She listened for Violet’s heartbeat and let the steady thrum of her sister’s heart calm her as they sat and watched the sunrise.
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Klaus woke up, and his sisters were gone.
They'd left him.
It was no wonder—he'd screwed everything up for them.
He'd gotten Sunny stuck in a birdcage at Olaf’s. He thought he was so smart, reading up on nuptial law. But of course Olaf would catch him.
Even though he'd had doubts, he'd let Stephano in the house, killing Uncle Monty.
He couldn't save Aunt Josephine from Captain Sham or the leeches. If he had been better, if he had known more about the leeches, he could've saved her. He should’ve known. That was what he was for .
At Lucky Smells Lumbermill, he'd gotten hypnotized, crushing Phil's leg, later almost killing Charles.
He couldn't save the Quagmires. He was so caught up in their own misfortune that he completely missed the danger Quagmires were in. Then, to make matters worse, he’d chosen the wrong lot at the auction, hurting his only friends further.
They’d set the hospital on fire, killing many. Indeed, he'd almost killed Violet himself.
His sisters must be disgusted with him. God knows he hated himself.
He'd helped Olaf get the sugar bowl. He was supposed to be helping VFD and look at what he’d done.
Of course his sisters hated him. How could they not?
But as he looked around to see what they'd left, he saw Bee sleeping soundly. His heart leaped. If his sisters were going to leave him, they would've taken Bee with them.
He ventured outside onto the brae and found Sunny crying in Violet's arms.
His sister had been hurting, and he'd been busy feeling sorry for himself. He sat down next to Violet and started rubbing Sunny's back.
Violet noticed him. She sat Sunny in her lap and said, “Good morning, Klaus. You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?” Sunny reached for him and pressed her face against his chest. He looked down at Sunny and then up at Violet questioningly. “She had a nightmare about all of us dying,” Violet told him softly. “She’s listening to your heartbeat so that she can convince herself you’re alive.”
Klaus sat dumbfounded. He put a hand on Sunny’s head, drinking in her warmth, and letting his situation sink in.
His sisters loved him, he reminded himself.
Here was Sunny, clinging to him as if she would lose him if she let go, and here was Violet, smiling at him.
Overcome, he started to cry.
“Are you okay, Klaus?” Sunny asked him worriedly.
“I’m happy ,” Klaus told his sisters. “When I woke up, and you weren’t there, I thought you’d left me, but of course you never would.”
“That’s right. We wouldn’t. Of course we wouldn’t,” Violet said. She frowned. “Why would you think such a thing? Klaus, you're our brother. We would never leave you.”
“I just thought…” Klaus sighed. “It’s hard sometimes, you know? To get out of that old thought process, from when we were running from Olaf. I just thought that I screwed everything up. Monty, Josephine, Dewey, the colonists, Kit… sometimes it feels like I killed them.”
“Klaus—” Violet started to say.
“I know I didn’t, Vi. I know. We’ve talked about it enough. We did our best.”
Sunny hugged him, and Violet wrapped her arms around them.
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Violet sat with her siblings for another moment, and then she stood. “I’m going to go get Bee. She’ll be waking up soon and wondering where I am.”
Sunny stood too. “I’ll make breakfast!” She ran off towards the Arboretum.
“I’ll go with her,” Klaus told Violet. “Make sure everything’s safe.”
“Thanks,” Violet said.
She thought about her siblings. They both had to grow up far too fast. Sunny was six years old, Violet thought to herself. She's only six. And yet she’d seen so much in her short life.
Klaus was sixteen. Sixteen, and he knew more than any adult should.
The trauma that both her siblings had broke Violet’s heart.
When Sunny was born, her parents had taken her aside. They had told her to protect her siblings. She was twelve that day, and Klaus ten. And here they all were, six years later.
Violet closed her eyes. She resisted the thought that she’d failed her parents. She fought the tears that fell. She couldn’t do that right now. She had to be strong for her siblings and for Bee.
She walked towards the Arboretum, towards her family.
She thought about Olaf. His shiny, shiny eyes. His eyebrow. His tattoo . She thought about the nightmare she’d woken from that night, where she really had to marry Olaf, where he beat Klaus and Sunny every night, where she couldn’t protect her siblings.
God, sometimes she felt like such a terrible sister.
“Vi?” A small voice sounded from the direction of the Arboretum. “Kla? Sun?”
Violet ran towards the sound of Beatrice Snicket Baudelaire’s voice. “I’m here, Bee,” she called. “Just took an early morning walk, that’s all.”
“Vi!” The four-year-old smiled and stumbled towards her.
Violet picked Bee up and spun her around. “Good morning, Bee! How did you sleep?”
“Really good! I had a dream that I was flying!”
“Flying? Really?”
“Uh-huh,” the girl said. “On a cloud.”
Violet smiled. “I’m glad it was a nice dream, Bee. Are you ready for some breakfast?”
Bee nodded. Violet carried her towards the kitchen. Klaus and Sunny were making pancakes together. Sunny stood on a stool pouring batter onto a griddle with Klaus supporting the bowl as she poured.
They had breakfast as a family, and looking at Sunny and Klaus, smiling, laughing, and having a peaceful breakfast, Violet smiled too.
She’d done something right for them to be able to be sitting here at all.