The Baudelaires never argued with Esme again. We knew that much. In this story we find Esme in a mental insitution, suffering nightmares.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters but I should by now I write about them all the time...

Burn Scars

"Esmé? Esmé, Darling? Ah, there you are." Jerome said kissing her pale cheek. She smiled, her colourless cheeks lifted slightly. Cracked and dry lips showing her ever white teeth. "How are you today?" he asked.

She didn't answer. But did she ever answer unless she was interested? No. She was looking out the window, the sunlight shone on her eyes. They used to sparkle in the light, now the green had turned to a bitter yellow, colour drained away with her looks.

"Have you sewn anything today?" Jerome tried, sitting in a plain wooden chair. You could tell the room was never meant to be fine. The white paint was chipping off the walls and there was only a desk and two chairs with a bed. Jerome had purchased things to make the room more bearable. White and pink bedspread and several pillows.

"Yes." she answered quietly. She pulled one of the drawers open on the desk and pulled it out. It was a white handkerchief. She had embroidered an E on it.

"That's wonderful." Jerome smiled at her lovingly, hugging her.

"Please take me home." Esmé said into his ear. "Please. I don't want to stay here anymore." she began to cry.

"You know I can't, pet" Jerome replied steering her towards to bed to sit down. "The doctor said you can go when the nightmares stop."

"They have!" Esmé's shaky voice breathed.

"The doctors say you still scream at night." Jerome protested.

"No….no….No!" Esmé shouted. She saw how it made him jump. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Esmé cried.

"It's okay….hush…." Jerome soothed with his arm around her. "Now. Nurse Natalie says you've been doing real well during the day. She says we might let you have a sewing machine. I'll buy you all the material you want." Jerome offered.

"Oh!" Esmé breathed. She looked at the white night gown she wore. She wanted her colours back. She kissed Jerome.

"You'll only be allowed to use it while you're supervised for a while. But after you show them how talented and careful you are they'll let you use it whenever you wish." Jerome informed. He touched her hair. The black hair dye she had used for that majority of her life had long since grown out and her blonde hair remained. Right now it was messy and it had been falling out.

"Thank you." she whispered. She held his hand. He made the mistake of looking down at her hand. Her left hand where the burn scars started and worked their way up her arm and over her middle. She caught him looking and sat on her hand. She started crying. "It's so ugly. I'm so ugly." she wept.

"Don't be silly! You're as beautiful as ever." Jerome exclaimed. He smudged the truth. They had removed the mirrors from her room because she spent all her time watching herself, and crying. He looked at his wife. She was almost the same. Just a little off. But he always knew how to please her. "Sweetheart. Look. Look what I brought you." he said.

"Another new hanky?" she asked taking it from him, sniffling.

"No. Look inside it." Jerome smiled.

He had hid a present inside it. Esmé unwrapped a bottle of bright red nail polish. "Oh. Oh you're so sweet." she said still sniffling. "It's been so long since I've been able to use this."

"I know. Since they wont let you have jewellery I thought you might like this." Jerome reasoned his thinking as she tucked it away in a drawer with all her other handkerchiefs she had embroidered. "I made you a hanky." she said proudly handing him the blue piece of cloth. He looked to the corner of it. It read "Jerome and Esmé: Married after only one night together".

"You remembered that? Thank you so much darling." Jerome said tucking it into a pocket inside his jacket.

"Jerome, I'm in here because of nightmares. Not memory loss. Time and time again I tell you I don't need to be here. Darling, I'm so bored." she pouted.

"Next time I'll take you out for a walk. I promise." Jerome said looking out the window. He examined the bars on the window and wondered what it must be like for her to live inside them, wondering why she was here. A beat up looking notebook sat on the desk with a black pen. "What's this?" he asked.

"They make me write down what's in my dreams." she answered. She was fluffing one of her throw pillows that sat on a one of the plain wooden chairs. The first thing she would make was chair covers, when she got her new sewing machine.

Jerome opened the notebook. Last night was the same again. It's always the same. The flames are everywhere and there's no way out. That's when I get trapped under the burning beam. Jut like what happened in real life. I'm not a different person because of it. The worst part of my dream is when I wake up and find that I'm still trapped in here. I now dream that I will go insane from being trapped. Then have to stay in here for the rest of my life. That's a bit of a contradiction. Isn't it?
A pang of guilt it him in the heart. He closed the book and walked away from the desk, sitting on the bed he rested his face in his hands. "Darling, I have a business meeting to get to."

"I don't want you to go, I'm so lonely here." Esmé pouted.

"I know, sweetheart. But I really don't have a choice." He apologised. He gave her a hug, and kissed her forehead lovingly. "Goodbye."

"When will you be back?" she asked hopefully.

"Um… I have some free time tomorrow." he answered.

"Bye." she cooed, sitting on the bed.

Jerome left the room. That was followed by the nurse locking the door. That noise meant she was alone again.

Fire left scars that you couldn't see on your skin. The fear and the nightmares, were sorely reminded to her, by her burn scars.

Part Two

"It's a beautiful day." Jerome said looking at the nicely arranged gardens.

"Any day is a beautiful day when I'm out. I would love to be in the rain again." Esmé told him. She had sewn herself a blue dress since his last visit. She had not lost her talent with her mind.

"Who plants these wonderful flowers?" Jerome asked.

"Some of the others. The ones that like gardening and can do so without the need of a straight jacket." Esmé answered. She knew it hurt him. It hurt him to know his wife was put in an institution where there are really disturbed people.

"Ah." was the only answer he could give. She was so herself today. Sometimes he wanted to take her home so badly. As they sat on a stone bench a few other patients wandered close by. Jerome observed Esmé for minutes before she noticed him. She smiled.

"What?" she asked.

He just smiled back and then kissed her. It was answer enough. And at the same time it further confused him. She kissed so passionately and sweetly, it made him want to carry her home.

Esmé knew all this. His visits had become more frequent and he came with gifts every time. He was trying to make it up to her. The plain room didn't have places to store all the things she got. Now on the desk stood the presents from the past few weeks. Lotions in her favourite scent, nail files, manicure sets, and other various personal care items along with new clothing, flowers, candies. The nurses didn't like him. He wasn't supposed to give her most of those things.

Jerome just couldn't tear himself away from the fact that Esmé hadn't had a relapse of the old behaviour in months. On cue, ruining their moment together, thundered clattered and the rain came pouring in through the wound it had made in the sky. They stood and ran for the safety of inside, with the other patients and their families. Esmé stopped abruptly, when the doors came insight. "Come on, you'll get soaked." Jerome urged trying to pull her along.

"No. I don't want to be locked up again." she said quietly, while nurses brought people inside around them.

"Don't be silly. Come in. Before you catch your death." he said, still smiling. It started to fade as she refused to move. "Esmé. Come on darling." She turned away she rushed away. "Esmé! Darling no!" he couldn't pull her back.

The lawn was getting soaked and it was muddy, too slippery to run on. She fell forward. They were on a hill, and Jerome quickly tripped on her heels and landed beside her. "I can't just walk back in there." Esmé cried. "I can't…I can't…." mud covered her entire front, and the side of her face, wet hair stick to her cheeks. "You can't imagine what it's like to have everyone think you're insane. You think I'm insane. I just want you to love me. Love me like you used to." she sobbed. Jerome pulled her into his arms and they sat, clothing completely soiled. Once she calmed down they both stood up.

"Let's talk about it inside." he offered.

"I can't believe that. I would love to believe that. But you're the one who put me in there." Esmé reasoned.

"We can't talk seriously in the mud, I'll take you out to lunch and we'll have a nice warm chat." Jerome offered, dangling restaurant dining in front of her as a bait.

"I'm sorry." she said. Jerome looked at her oddly before he realised she was going to run. He wrapped his arms around her waist just in time to pull her back. She kicked and screamed, struggling to get away.

"Esmé! Stop!" he grunted , she kicked him in the knee, he dropped her. Watching helplessly, as she scurried down the hill toward the river. The pound of the river was intense and it made her want to get away faster, she stepped onto a log at the edge of the river. It would be small enough to hop across. The log spun in the mud, sending her hurtling to the ground where her head hit the ground hard.

Where the burn scars had left bad dreams, the dreams left in here, and now this place left a new scar on her. It was bleeding down the side of her face.

Later.

A piece of shiny metal was the first thing that came flickering into view, it was quickly unfocused by the throbbing pain in the side of her head. When she gained enough vision she tried to sit up. Restraints held her down. Esmé sighed in exasperation.

"Welcome back." Jerome's voice came from behind from a newspaper. Esmé lifted her head, with effort to see him but he stayed behind the newspaper.

Esmé strained to think of something proper to say. But she remembered her last waking moments with Jerome. They weren't pretty. "I'm sorry." she said, surprised to find her voice came out raspy and quiet. She coughed.

"I told you, you would get a cold." Jerome stated matter-of-factly, folding up his newspaper. It revealed a black eye.

"Oh." Esmé exhaled, feeling miserable.

"Oh, is that all you have to say?" Jerome asked rhetorically. "Because you never really have much to say afterwards." he was walking around her hobbling as he went.

"I'm sorry." she said again, looking at the ceiling.

"You really should be. I was so ready to take you home." Jerome stressed. "You always do that. You make me trust you and then you go and hurt me. This time you hurt yourself too. How much longer do you expect me to believe you, my dear?"

Esmé broke down into tears. "Please. Please. You don't know what it's like to be trapped in here. I just wanted to get away I never meant to hurt you."

"I don't believe that. Consider that when we adopted the Baudelaires, you left with that man, and never even thought how much you had hurt me then. Now you can actually see the wounds." Jerome leaned over her, his face inches from hers.

"Stop, please stop." she sobbed, tear stung in a cut on the side of her face. She could feel his hands doing something around her middle and with some clicking and untying she was soon able to sit up.

"Tick-tock, Esmé." Jerome said, standing beside the stretcher, with his hands rested on the metal side bars. She sat up and hung her arms around his neck, kissing him. "There's a girl." he smiled into her shoulder. He picked her up (it was easy she weighted little more than a broom) and set her on her real bed.

"Were you allowed to take me out?" Esmé asked.

"It was said to be inadvisable." Jerome answered. He sat with his hands on her knees. "Now, although after yesterday I think you should stay in here for quite a while, I fear what you really need is a trial period out of this place. Somewhere with colourful wallpaper." Jerome attempted at a joke.

"Oh yes. Yes, that would be smashing." Esmé answered.

"Smashing? I haven't heard you say that since before you left me." Jerome remembered.

"Don't remind me of that, darling. I hate to think of how I treated you, I do love you so." Esmé said, placing her hand on his cheek.

"That's the girl I've been seeing for a few months now. I see you in those eyes Esmé, and I'm taking you home. Hopefully with a few good hours of shopping, you'll be my wife again." Jerome grinned. He wanted the sane, but fashionable Esmé back more than he wished to keep the insane, sweet Esmé that was so affectionate.

"I think I'll just be happy to sew my own things, without supervision." she smiled.

"I'll go take care of all the paper work. You stay here and rest that headache off." Jerome said, limping from the room. It didn't take Esmé long to get to the desk. She pulled out was she was looking for and slid it into one of the many embroidered handkerchiefs. The item in question had been dropped through her open window yesterday, hidden inside a wine cork.

She thumbed through the drawer full of hankies looking for the other object. A wedding present she had received. She couldn't find it. Esmé started pulling out handkerchiefs. The colourful cloths landed helter-skelter across the desk top and floor. Once all the hankies were out of the drawer, there was still an absence of the small object she had sought out to find. She got on her knees and shuffled through the things on her floor, looking for it. "Where the devil is the damn thing?" Esmé grunted sliding hr arm under the desk and swiping across hoping to bring something out , other than the dust bunnies that clung to her dress sleeve.

She screamed in frustration. "Damn it!" another scream.

"Esmé?" her husband's voice comes just before the noise of the door sounds. "Are you okay? Did you lose something?"

"Yes." she said as calmly a she could. "It's a small ring." Esmé informed.

"That's impossible darling. You didn't bring any jewellery with you. It's all at home."

"No. No. No it's here." she insisted, disappearing behind her bed again to search the floor.

The nurse who had came in with Jerome raised an eyebrow at him "You're sure you're going to take her home?" she asked looking at the hankies fly from behind the bed.

"I'm sure. The things she does are nothing more than burn scars."

Part Three

"Mmm…Good morning!" Esmé moaned happily into Jerome's chest. "You have no idea how good it feels to sleep in a great big fluffy bed again.

"You have no idea how it feels to have your wife back at home with you. I didn't worry at all last night I just slept." Jerome informed, playing with her hair.

"You were really tired by the time you went to sleep." Esmé said, running her fingers down his chest.

"And here I thought you would be weak from being in that place. You know frail and in need of heeling time." Jerome laughed.

"Well. Sorry to disappoint." Esmé said sarcastically, pulling up the sheet so she was covered better.

"I have to go to a meeting today with my publisher." Jerome informed looking at the clock.

"I'll be fine here, if that's what you're worried about. " Esmé said, sitting up, taking the sheet with her to cover herself.

"Well… yes, I trust you. It's just that well it's a very big apartment and-"

"I know it like the back of my hand. Darling, hunny, sweetheart, baby…." she emphasised each one with a kiss on his nose. "I was in there for nightmares. It's day time. I'm just going to go through my closet. I miss my clothes." she reassured.

"Okay, but just in case I have written my cell phone number on a note page in every room, beside every phone. It took a while but I had some friends over to help with it." Jerome informed, getting out of bed and searching for some article of clothing.

"I'll be fine." she smiled, getting out of bed, and grabbing her night gown from the floor.

Jerome was always quick getting ready. A shower and suit was all he needed before he was out the door. He only said good bye a thousand times before actually leaving. Esmé knew every emergency precaution too, before he finally closed the door behind him.

To the closet. At a running speed. Not for the clothing but for the jewellery. Jerome seemed to think she had left all her rings behind and she needed it. She pushed the door open to hard and it slammed against the wall leaving the door knob imprint. She would have worried about it if she weren't rich.

Her jewellery was in a large folding out box. It looked like a tackle box or antique sexing box, only bigger. Drawers folded out several times, each with it's won contents. She had more jewellery than the sky had clouds.

She detached the first section of the rings and examined each one. She found her engagement ring and wedding band from Jerome. There was many other rings from Jerome. Rings that had been in, rings that had been out. Not what she was looking for. Esmé lost her temper quickly, she slammed the drawer to the floor, rings flew out and rolled every which way.

She sat on the floor with her head on her knees and cried. Laying down she made sure to hit her head off the floor hard a few times before rolling onto her side. There was a glint of light from under the enormous jewellery box. She reached under and pulled out what she had dropped only a moment ago. Her engagement ring. It was a sore reminder of what she wasn't looking for. Hurling it across the room she went to her closet's closets. She pulled down the first outfit an checked the pockets. Not there. The second. No. The third. No. The forth? The fifth?

Esmé knew she had well over a hundred articles of clothing. Much more. They lay strewn across the floor. Every dress, shirt, pant, skirt, and shoe was thrown into the centre without care. And still the ring remained unfound. It was maddening. Jerome could have taken it. His closet is there to check as well. She headed for his room when the all too familiar "Honey, I'm home!" sounded. Esmé groaned. She hoped she wouldn't be sent back she quickly closed the door on her closet.

"Ah there you are! I knew I would find you playing in your closet. But not extravagant outfit? Why the plain night-gown?" Jerome asked, handing over a yellow rose.

"Well, really I looked at everything. Really. I didn't see anything that really called out to me for today."

"Don't be silly." Jerome smiled reaching past her and opening the door to the closet.

"I can explain. I was so excited to try everything on again, I just couldn't help myself. I'm sorry, darling." Esmé apologised.

"Don't be. I figured you would want your clothing back. There is a reason rich people hire maids you know." Jerome shrugged it off. From the corner of his eye he noted the dent in the wall from the door knob and then, the biggest piece of truth sat at his feet. The engagement ring he had given her. It was the most expensive thing in the entire closet, and Esmé would never belittle it in such a way. He picked it up and put it on her finger.

"You must have dropped it." he said simply, before leaving the room quietly. Esmé sensed his thoughts and remained quiet. This mess in front of her was another burn scar. A problem she had to live with for now.

She seemed to be adjusting well. She was completely okay as long as she was in his presence. Esmé played her newest acting piece well, she was sane. In fact, she believed she was sane. Even though she has searched under every rug, and sofa in the penthouse, she was defiantly sane.

Maybe the thing she was searching for wasn't so close. Maybe her phone book would lead her too it. She found the page she wanted, a lone number was scribbled across it in her own writing. Esmé dialled it quickly and listened to it ring for twenty times before hanging up. Apparently Olaf was out. Out, or not alive anymore. She grabbed the latest acting magazine and looked into the community theatre section. Not a mention of Olaf. That was a bad sign.

Jerome had decided to let her out of the apartment on her own now, so she went for brunch at the Veritable French Diner. A warm welcome awaited her. "Mrs. Squalor! How are you?" asked her favourite waiter, the one with the dark brown hair. Other people whispered behind her, she head her head high , soon to get back her reputation.

"Usual table, by the window." she said simply. She had no interest in the food here. She only wanted F to help her. He showed her to her table. While Esmé pretended to look over her menu she slid a letter to him into the sugar bowl. Then she knocked it over. "Whoops." she said in an obvious uncaring way. He smirked at her as he stopped to clean up the spilled sugar.

"More work for me?" F asked. "As always, there will be a price." He warned.

"Of course. Don't I remember…. How much?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mrs. Squalor , I'm not so interested in numbers." he purred, wiping sugar off her shoe and caressing her leg.

"Oh, I see. Well see what you can find me and I'll see what I can do for you. As of right now Jerome barley lets me out of the house, let lone at night to visit you." she said, stroking his chin.

"Come back tomorrow." he instructed, leaving with the note in his hand.

Esmé was assured she would have her ring before the end of the month. The ring was a source of her memories. Everything had faded. She had stared at the white walls for so long all she could remember was white. The ring made of cork and wire, from Olaf. It brought back memories that nothing else could. One of the bottles of wine that had broken at the wedding had given him just the right piece to make a center stone.

With the ring in mind she made her way back to apartment. "Honey muffin! I'm home!" she liked to lay it on thick. Jerome loved it too. He came running.

"Darling. How was brunch?" he asked.

"Okay…too much sugar."

And Finaly The End

She went back the next day, eager to ask him how it was going.

"What's today's special?"

"A lightly toasted fish crumble with a side of ring." he grinned, and slide her a menu with the ring inside. Esmé gasped.

"Oh no! You couldn't have found it so soon! F, I could just kiss you." Esmé exclaimed.

"I did. And my shift ends in five minutes. I live upstairs in room 22." He said, disappearing into the kitchen. Esmé wasn't about to walk up there in the light of day, he should have known it. She took out a purple pen and wrote him a note on the napkin.

You should know me better than that. Here's a very VERY large tip. I'll get back to you.
Love ya babes,
Mese

Mese was the best known anagram for her name among the villains in V.F.D. She left, people watching her as always. Her purple skirt and blazer stood out in the usual business attire on the street.

She took the ring out of her pocket and slid it onto her first finger. It was so meaningful to her but it brought back what she was looking for. Olaf. Now the question was…where to find him. He owed her something. A remedy for her burn scars.

He deserved his own scars.

END