Disclaimer: "I do not own 'A Series of Unfortunate Events'. Not the books, not the movie, not the TV series... none of it. I own Dusty, and any original content I make her do or say or add to this story. That is all."


Chapter 1: The Aftermath

Fire. The thing itself has many uses and purposes, in actuality. A fire is used to create heat, and therefore provide warmth to those around it. A fire is used to cook food, therefore killing deadly bacteria that might otherwise remain in the otherwise edible meat and vegetables. If there is fire in your eyes, it means you have passion and desire, unlike a great many others that happen to be around you.

Fire was also, when provided with too much oxygen, or left unattended and in an open space, as dangerous a thing to have to encounter. The heat that once provided comforting warmth now is too much for a person to stand. And in the most tragic of cases… it was too much for them to survive either.

As Dustine Baudelaire makes her way through the ruins of what had once been her older sister's property, she can't help but wonder at which one of their former colleagues had done this. There were those that were obviously still on the side of good. Those that would forever be volunteers, until their last and dying day. And then there were others, who should never have been allowed to join in the first place. Those who had a wicked gleam in their eye, rather than a gleam of pure and innocent curiosity.

Then there were those in the middle. Those whose curiosity had started innocent enough, but with the right push, could become a dangerous obsession with the fires of this world. Both literal and figurative.

In all honesty, these are the ones that Dusty is trying to determine between. The Man with Beard but no Hair, and the Woman with Hair but no Beard… they were as wicked as they came. But they would consider Beatrice and Bertrand as chump change, compared to how much wealth they truly wanted in the world. So it wasn't them that caused this.

Plus, those two might be evil, but they had never been to Beatrice's home. They didn't know all of the secret passages in and out of the house. They wouldn't have known how to block them all off, so there was no chance of escape.

The fact that there were a significantly smaller number of people that did have this information, shrinks Dusty's pool of suspects considerably. Not to mention the ones she knows are incapable of such treachery. That rules them out as well. Which, in the end, only left…

She glares at a piece of ash on the ground while muttering, "Olaf."

The man may have had his reasons for holding a grudge against Beatrice… but he'd been in the middle of the schism for quite some time before that. She recalls the night he'd 'accidentally' burnt a hole into one of the curtains at the opera. She remembers the smirk that had been on his face… before he'd realized she was watching him.

Of course, that night she'd been distracted after that. Both by Lemony clapping enthusiastically for her sister's beautiful finish… and by the hand that had gently tapped her shoulder, fingers gliding softly up the side of her neck, before the vanishing. And though no one else in the room had known why she'd suddenly stood up to leave that night… she didn't care in the slightest. She had much more important places to be.

But that had been a long time ago. Now Olaf was officially on the Fire-Starting side of the schism. And he'd killed Beatrice and Bertrand. He was the enemy, and a far more sinister one than anybody had anticipated he would become.

And before this all was over… he would pay dearly for what he'd done.

First things first though, Dusty needed to figure out where he was, who was helping him, and how to get the children out of his clutches safely. For if he was after the Baudelaire fortune, then he had to have the children in order to get it.

Dusty was still going over the house, searching for any other clues she could find in the ruble that was left behind. The local authorities had done a good job, that was not to be denied. But Dusty was a different breed of thorough… and there were details here that she was sure they'd missed. Like the passages that, if one cared to look hard enough, were easy enough to find. Like a particularly dark piece of wood, compared to the others that were more charred and gray.

She was still searching when she heard a car pull up, and a figure step out and begin approaching the house. Hiding behind one of the few columns that remained standing of the structure, Dusty pulls out one of her many weapons and waits patiently for whomever it might be. If it was Olaf, trying to ensure that his goal had actually been successfully accomplished, then he would die here and now for his crimes. If it was an accomplice, or someone who looked like a henchman, she would see to it that they revealed everything they knew before she would allow them to leave.

But as the approaching steps reached her, and as Dusty spun around with her blade extended, she found herself holding the curved blade against the throat of Jacqueline. Someone who would forever be on the Fire-Fighting side of the schism. Someone who had been like a second sister to her, until about twenty years ago.

Twenty years ago… when she'd made a decision that changed her life forever. Along with everyone else around her.

Jacqueline, for her part, forgot to breathe for a moment as she stares at the dark figure before her. The woman was dressed from head to toe in black. Boots, pants, shirt, jacket, gloves… all of it black. Even the hood she wore wrapped around her head, which also came up to hide the lower half of her face, was black. The only part of this woman that Jacqueline could actually see… was the pair of deep green eyes that were staring back at her.

For a moment, neither moved. Then Dusty slowly lowers her blade from Jacqueline's throat. And it would've ended there. Dusty wasn't supposed to be seen by the people that used to know her in the past. She was supposed to be a ghost. A shadow. A figure that appeared when needed, and then vanished before you ever realized she was the one that had been there.

But Jacqueline wasn't simply going to let this strange woman walk out of the house without a fight. What if she was in cahoots with Count Olaf? What if Beatrice wasn't really dead, and this woman was being sent to go and finish the job? Jacqueline couldn't let that happen, if it were true.

As she lashed out to grab the woman by the wrist though, the dark figure spun around and twisted out of the grip with ease. And no matter what Jacqueline did, she couldn't get a grip on her. And Jacqueline wasn't an expert, per say… she knows that. But she'd been trained for many years in how to fight and capture the enemy.

And this woman was making it look like all she knew was child's play. She slipped, she dodged, and batted Jacqueline's hands away. She twisted, turned, even flipped straight over Jacqueline's backside, never allowing herself to be put in a position of almost captured.

The fight lasted that way for a good fifteen minutes. That's how long it took for Jacqueline to pick up on what should've been considered a rather crucial detail. Though this woman was better than her, and certainly had no intention of being captured or interrogated about what had happened here… she wasn't fighting back. Evading, blocking, and even occasionally shaking her head as though in amusement with something Jacqueline was trying. But she never once threw her own punch into the mix.

When she finally stops, she stares at the woman harder for a moment. Again, there was nothing to see. Nothing except the set of green eyes that were sharp as a hawk's. Green eyes that had a gleam within them that looked similar to other members of the true VFD.

And over the right eye… a scar. There was a thin line down the middle of her eyebrow, where a blade had been drawn and the hair refused to ever grow back. And beneath her eye, starting at the top of her cheek and disappearing beneath the black fabric covering her face, the scar continued.

Jacqueline had to blink, and then consider the implications of what exactly she was thinking at this moment. Because it should've been impossible. She was dead. They'd all attended the funeral. Even Lemony, who would forever be in hiding, had made a rare appearance back into their lives, to attend Dusty Baudelaire's funeral.

But that scar… there weren't many people in the world with a scar like that. Nor were there many with the same deep green eyes.

Leaning closer, her hands now shaking rather than remaining in fists, Jacqueline asks, "D… Dusty?"

The woman blinks in surprise, and for a moment just stares at Jacqueline. Then she can't help it. Jacqueline can see her cheeks rise up a little in what must've been a small grin appearing on her face.

Then she pulls the cloth away from her face, unwrapping it from around her head as well. And as Jacqueline gasps and covers her mouth with both hands, Dusty admits wryly, "You were the one I knew I needed to keep away from. You and… well, him. But you were always harder to avoid. I always knew I needed too though."

Looking up to meet Jacqueline's stunned gaze, Dusty adds, "Always knew you'd be the one to look at me and figure it out." Then she smiles gently, "How've you been, Jackie?"

Jackie was the nickname that Dusty had always used for Jacqueline. Most others called her by her full name… but Dusty had always had a preference for nicknames. Somehow, in her opinion, calling someone by their nickname made it apparent that you were true friends. Which is why, though everyone knew her full name was Dustine, everyone had always called her Dusty.

Lowering her hands from her mouth, Jackie says, "How have I… How have I been?! Dusty! You… you're supposed to be dead!"

Dusty nods, "For all intents and purposes, I am dead." Then she gives Jackie a hard stare, "And it needs to stay that way."

"What on earth for?! You… we've all missed you dearly. Beatrice, God rest her soul… she was…"

But Dusty shakes her head, "She is an amazing actress, we all know that. She's particularly good at playing the tragedies. You all thought she was devastated. And if I had actually died, she would've been. But… she knew. She was the only one that knew."

"Why?"

"Because that is the way it had to be. I was granted permission to keep one person in the loop. One person who could know that I wasn't gone… I was just moving into a different field of work. And for particular reasons… it needed to be Beatrice."

Jackie stares at her long and hard for a moment. Then she says, "I… I can't believe you're alive. After all this time… I… I just can't believe it."

Dusty smiles gently as a beaming smile erupts on Jackie's face. Then she launches herself into Dusty's arms. The slightly shorter woman catches her old friend with ease, holding her tight in spite of the fact that this was not supposed to be happening.

But she was the best her new organization had. She was one of the only ones still left who could always get the job done. Just let them try to fire her at this point. There weren't enough of them to actually make it stick anymore anyway.

Jackie notes the way Dusty holds her tightly, and how much firmer her body seemed to be. Dusty had always been the fighter amongst them. She was always the one who wasn't afraid to get dirty, if her opponent was willing to do the same. And now… now Dusty looked like a woman who was built for dealing with the dirtier, grittier, and darker parts of the world.

Dusty's appearance, back when they'd known her, was a lot like Beatrice's. Their facial structures and tones of skin were much the same. Beatrice had simply been the taller of the two, and Dusty's hair was black, where Beatrice's had been brown.

Now… Now Dusty's once long black hair was short, parted so more hair was pulled towards the right than the left. It spiked up a little on her head, though some of her bangs fell across her forehead in what looked like an attempt to cover some of the scar at her eyebrow. And all of tips of her hair were dyed a deep red color. The scar, now that her face wasn't covered, could be seen to stretch just a bit further past the top of her cheek bone. Then, just beneath her jaw, it started again, and was dragged down and into the right side of her neck.

Jackie supposes that had been the beginning of Dusty's new look to begin with. She'd tried to stay with the VFD after the attack. After she'd been kidnapped by the other side of the schism, and tortured for information. But a volunteer fire department member couldn't exactly save people, when they took one look at you and screamed.

Dusty had then dedicated herself to putting out the figurative fires… but that had never been her strongest suit. She was a physical individual, not meant to sit still for any great length of time. Not unless it was in the interest of reading a very good book.

And then, at a time when VFD was in the most danger of being destroyed altogether… Dusty had died. Or… they'd thought she had, anyway.

Leaning back to look at her old friend, Jackie asks, "What happened? Why did you fake your death? What sort of work are you doing now? How did you get here before me? What…"

Dusty holds up a hand and says, "Easy Jackie. I… can't answer all of those for you."

"Why not?"

"Because… the work I do now is from the shadows. The organization I work for, doesn't even have a name. We work in the dark corners of the world, operating in those shadows, because we know that's where our true enemies already are."

Jackie cups her face in her hands and says, "We miss you. All of us. Especially…"

Dusty jerks her head to the side, not wanting to hear about that right now. She was certain that by now, he's moved on from her. It's been twenty years. Plus, she never intended to reenter the world of the living. Not while there were still so many cruel people that needed to be dealt with on the bad side of the schism. Therefore, she never expected him to remain attached to her memory for very long. He was a good man, a good person, and he deserved to be happy.

Didn't mean she wanted to talk about how his life must be now. Who he'd met, how happy he was, or if he had a family? These were things she didn't want to know right now. Maybe she'd never want to know.

In any case, she sighs and says, "You can't tell anyone you saw me."

"Dusty…"

"I mean it, Jackie. No one. Not a soul. I am dead. I am a ghost. And that is the edge I need in order to save my sister's children."

Jackie stares at her for a moment, and then finally concedes, "I won't tell anyone. For now."

Dusty would have to work on the 'for now' bit later. At this moment, she'd take what agreement she could get from her old friend. Time was of the essence. She already knew the chase to get back the Baudelaire children was going to be a long one. Her resources had diminished in the past few years. She really only had one person working in intelligence now that actually knew what he was doing.

But boy, was he good at what he did. So the journey would be long… but she would get it done. She would save Violet, Klaus, and Sunny.

And Count Olaf would pay for the pain he'd caused everyone. Including her beloved sister.

Nodding that she accepts Jackie's tentative agreement of secrecy, Dusty reaches into a pocket and pulls out a card. Handing it over, she says, "Any information you find on the kids, or Olaf. Anything at all that might be of the slightest importance. Call me, and give me an update."

Jackie nods, but says, "If I call and I'm with any of the others, they're going to want to know who I'm speaking to. What do I tell them, if I can't tell them I'm talking to Beatrice's little sister? Who do I say I'm talking to that they won't question?"

Dusty starts walking out of what's left of the building, rewrapping her head and face so only her eyes are visible again. She pauses at the bottom step, glancing back at Jackie who had returned to surveying the property. Then she says, "Tell them you've been granted privileged access to The Phantom Pixie's phone number. That ought to interest them for a while."

Jackie gasps at the name, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head as she spins around to look at Dusty again. But then she blinks… because Dusty… Phantom Pixie… she's already gone.

Vanished. Just as The Phantom Pixie… or Pixie for short… was known to do. She was a figure in the secret organization's community that was almost considered a myth. Except for the drastic impact she'd had in taking down at least part of the anti-VFD portion of the organization. But none of them had ever actually seen who the person was that was fighting for them in secret. That was what Pixie did. She appeared out of thin air, and then vanished without a trace.

But as Jackie looks back to the card in her hand, the phone number written cleanly across it in Dusty's handwriting, Jackie can't help but smile. "No. Not without a trace. Not this time, Pixie."


So this is Chapter 1! Hope you find it interesting. And no, Lemony is not her love interest. In case this chapter didn't at least clear that up. I realize I may have confused a few people with my prologue. But he's really just happy right then that Beatrice's sister isn't dead. Even if, maybe and probably, he'd be happier if Beatrice were the one that was still alive.

Anyways, let me know what you guys think. :)