This is it. The last chapter. :D Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers, most particularly Em, because she's like my ff sister, and she hits her bed with her head, which is just hilarious. ;)

To My Kind Friend,

As you may well know, it is never easy to return to a life that for years you have separated yourself from. One never knows if the people in your previous life will still care for you, or whether they will survey you like a piece of gum stuck to their shoe before smearing you out of their life again, just as they might smear the gum on to the ground. Once one has got past the daunting prospect of reunions, one's mind focuses on the equally, if not more daunting prospect of how to go about one's everyday life now that one has returned to the life they had before they left the life they had and started the life they had after the life they left. Naturally, you can see that for some time my life has been full of daunting prospects.

When I did finally return to the life I left behind me, I spent my days working to join my two separate lives together, so that my friends and family might better understand my reasons for leaving them all behind over three years ago, and for not returning until now, no matter how many times I looked back and wished that I had never left.

It took me a long time to think how I might go about doing this. I am a cartographer by trade, not a librarian or a reporter. It strikes me that had either you or Duncan been in my situation, you would have been able to come up with a solution much faster than I was able to; but you were and are not in my situation, and so can only read on in bemusement as I try to explain myself.

Finally, after many days of sitting at my desk, surrounded by screwed up sheets of paper which I had wasted time and effort on with hopeless scribblings, I came up with an answer. It was an answer which would not only provide the truth, but which would serve as a narrative of the many wearisome decisions I have made over several years, and also of the many gruelling ordeals a young woman has gone through in order to bring me back to the life I left behind, as previously mentioned.

The answer came to me when I was talking to your elder sister. We had talked a lot, since my return, as much as was possible, and I suddenly realised that I was not just telling my story, but hers as well, for she has been there every step of the way, searching for the truth and for me long before I ever realised that either of those things were lost. The more I pondered the situation, the more I came to realise that it was actually far more herstory than it was mine; Violet was from the first the one who fought hardest to bring me back to the life I had lost, the one who never lost sight of hope, even in the darkest of times. By the time I received the first of Violet's letters, I had long ago lost any hope. It was she who brought me slowly and steadily out of the darkness and back to the light, and she whose story most needs to be told.

So finally, I started work on the story of the truth. It had occurred to me that to give the complete story, I would need two sides to it, or else there would be much left unsaid and unexplained. This meant I needed two storytellers, and who better than the two people who have been most involved in this story from start to finish? So I started to gather Violet's letters together: the letters from Violet were easy to find, as I had kept each one of them with me: they were to me like a gift from beyond the grave. The letters to Violet posed more of a problem. Some Violet still had, such as the note she so touchingly sewed into her coat. Others, such as the telegram, she never received; it was my good luck no one had ever taken the telegram from where it lay, or this story would be incomplete; as it was, there were many letters I was simply unable to find, as they had been incorrectly delivered by the pigeons, or perhaps by our postman. Still others had simply been lost or stolen in the many years since they were written; I only managed to procure one of the earlier letters by swaping it for two gallons of goats' milk. Finally, however, I have collected enough of the letters we sent each other to complete this file.

Maybe not all questions have been answered, maybe some mysteries still remain. That is why the last letter of this file if to you. I hope to explain any small points which may trouble the inquisitive mind.

Firstly, Violet never knew why I left because she never learnt the Sebald code. Unaware of this as I was, I thought she would receive my letter and wait for me in peace. Thinking about it now, I doubt she would have waited anyway; she would have traced me and tried to bring me back; it is in her nature to keep fighting for those she loves to be united.

Secondly, I did try, just once, to contact Violet and arrange a meeting, so as to explain myself more clearly. I don't know who burned down that building and sabotaged the telegram device, or why they left the telegram lying there, incomplete but unharmed. I can only presume they sought to hurt me, when I finally found it, as they knew I would. Violet never received my message, and, not knowing this, I lost hope that we would ever speak again.

Thirdly, and finally, I never replied to Violet for two reasons. Foremost in my mind was the fear that it would not be safe to contact her – that our enemies would attack her or her family and friends. There was also a small doubt in my mind, when she sent her first few letters, as to whether it really was Violet Baudelaire who was contacting me. If she was writing now, why hadn't she met me where I asked her to in my telegram? That fear soon vanished, however, as she started signing her letters by hand, and even once wrote the entire letter by hand. After this, it was only the fear of danger to her that kept me back from seeing her. I wanted so desperately to reply: it was like torture to me. Finally, however, I know they are no longer tracking us; and even if they were, I now believe we will stand stronger if we are united.

My file is finally finished, and I can forget all about my time away from Isadora and Duncan, from you, Klaus, and from Sunny – and most of all from Violet. This is her story. Violet's story, and it is both to Violet and from her.

I ask just one favour of you, Klaus: that you keep this file safe in Dewey's library, so that its secrets may join the secrets of the world, and that everything may be a little clearer.

With all due respect,

Quigley Quagmire

P.S I have chosen to title this file 'The Violet Letters'.

Quigley leant back in his chair, rubbing his face with his hands. It was early evening, and he was desperate to escape the stuffy confines of his office. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let himself relax: his work was finished.

Suddenly a crack like a gunshot rang through the silence: Quigley leapt to his feet and dashed to the window, yanking it upwards and looking down into the street below. It was completely deserted except for one lone figure, that of a young woman who was beaming at the window.

'I never thought I'd have to be the one throwing pebbles, Quigley,' said Violet Baudelaire, 'now you'd better hurry up or they'll close before we get there.'

Quigley grinned and dashed to his door, not even bothering to shut the window or grab his coat on the way out. He ran down the seven flights of stairs pell-mell , and burst on to the street in tumble of madly working limbs.

Violet just had time to register with great surprise his sudden arrival before he swept towards her and his lips crashed on to hers, his arms enveloping her in a tight embrace. It was short, but the sort of kiss that burns white-hot and seems to linger on your lips for hours. When it was over, Violet smiled up at Qiugley.

'So … are you ready to get that ice-cream?'

'Yes. I'm ready … and you know, my offer's still open, if you'll take it.'

'Offer?' Violet frowned slightly, evidently confused, 'What offer?'

Quigley took a deep breath and knelt to the ground. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat lower than normal, making him sound very serious.

'Violet, you brought me back from the edge of despair. You followed my every movement in order to bring us all back together, and I cannot explain how grateful I am to you. There is no one I'd rather share my story with, no one whose life I want to be a part of more than yours. I've asked you this once before, and you said yes. Times have changed, but I hope your answer will have remained the same. Violet Baudelaire, will you consent to marrying me?'

Violet let out a small hiccough of laughter before she replied, her eyes wet with tears.

'I only did what we all needed, Quigley. If … if you hadn't – if you hadn't,' Violet was crying in earnest now, struggling to speak, 'if you … hadn't come b-back, n-n-none of us – none of us could have – have – ' she broke off again, took several deep breaths, then said, 'It wouldn't b-be the same without you Quigley. I love you. Of – of course I'll – of course – '

Quigley stood up and wrapped her in his arms.

'I'll take that as a yes, shall I?' he whispered to her, his hand stroking her hair rhythmically.

'Y-ye-s,' hiccoughed Violet, half-laughing now.

Quigley smiled, resting his forehead briefly on hers.

'So, how about that ice-cream?'

I hope you liked it, please review, I am so happy to have completed this! :D First multiple-chapter story I've actually completed! :D

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