Disclaimer: standard.

Warning: incest, sexual content.

A/N: Yet again, I am immensely sorry for the delay. I took a break from writing the three papers I have due next week to churn this out.

I can't thank you enough for the great reviews. You are fantastic and wonderful.

Triple thanks to Belle07, spedclass, Endelvich, agreywriter15, Horseygirl7, milkywaymidnight, and theWondersofLove for coming back again and again.

I love you all!

~Pretani

Chapter 20

He Knows

"Love is the most difficult and dangerous form of courage. Courage is the most desperate, admirable and noble kind of love."

~Delmore Schwartz

Klaus sat on the floor in the old sewing room, alongside the lower bunk where Violet lay, unconscious. His hand curved around hers lightly, staying clear of the bruises on her wrists and arms. He didn't want to hurt her. More than anything, he didn't want to hurt her. But he couldn't let go.

He leaned into the side of the bed, with Sunny curled up on his lap, calm and sleepy.

Her tiny hands held onto the folds of his shirt, as if she were afraid to fall asleep, to lose him. She is so small. He patted her back gently. So small, and yet he owed his life to her…to both of them, really. Memories gripped at him with icy fingers, a web coiling around his heart. It's not the first time.

Violet turned her head, murmured something in her sleep. He looked to her then, taking in her shuttered eyes, the white sheet-bandage on her leg, the burns and bite marks that made his skin tight with anger.

He'd examined the gunshot wound as carefully as he could, relived beyond words that it had missed her major arteries. A few more inches to the left, and she would've… His throat felt dry, and he shut his eyes. Exsanguination. The term spiraled in his mind, despite his efforts to silence it. She would've bled out.

The bullet had hit the outside of her leg, with less damage than he'd initially thought. But he didn't doubt that she was in pain.

With everything he'd read, everything he could remember, he'd done his best to tend to her injuries, to make her comfortable. He raised her hand to his face, held it against him, reassured by the smooth, even cadence of her heartbeat, her steady breathing. She was alive, and she would be alright. She had to be alright.

He kissed the back of her fingers, momentarily forgetting his own red-stained hands, the makeshift bandages he wore. He'd been nearly paralyzed with fear when she lost consciousness, but now, he was almost thankful for it.

Mercifully, she hadn't stirred when he'd cleaned the blood and dust away, when he'd used sugar and a bottle of brandy from Ethie's pantry to treat her leg wound. Sugar speeds healing… She might not even need stitches, as long as there's no infection. I couldn't have done this much if she were awake. There was an ache in his chest, in his blood, so fierce that it hurt to breathe. Violet. He still heard her screams when he closed his eyes.

She'd been shot and burned and beaten, shattered into pieces thinking they were dead, and he couldn't do it, couldn't cause her anymore pain. Even now, to see her like this was almost more than he could bear.

He studied her again, his mind searching for remedies, for something else to help her. Black tea is good for burns. If we have tea bags, I could make a poultice.

Rain fell against the roof, wind humming in the windowpanes in the height of another storm. At least we don't have to worry about the fire. He felt her shiver then. She's cold.

He'd stripped off her clothes to see to her injuries, and he'd wrapped her in blankets afterward, afraid to touch her, to move her.

He wondered if he should look for her nightgown, and he glanced to their suitcase in the corner of the room, by the door. A moment passed, and he decided against it. There's another quilt in the armoire.

Gently, he extricated himself from Violet's hand. And he lifted Sunny onto the top bunk, pulled the blankets up to cover her, glad that she was resting, she and Violet were resting, even if he couldn't. His eyes darted to the window, the drawn curtains. There was a loud whirring, like the sound of a motor running. It's only the wind…or is it?

He went to armoire at the far wall, mere steps away from the bunk bed…. too far for his liking. The hinges creaked as he turned the handle, as he opened it.

"No, no, please…You can't…Klaus!"

In an instant, he was back at her side, hauling the quilt with him, and he took her hand. "Vi, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here."

He could feel the anguish, the raw fear as she clutched the bedclothes in her fist, clutched at him. She was crying, harsh, labored sobs that broke his heart, and he wanted to explain, to tell her that he wouldn't leave. But she hadn't opened her eyes. Another nightmare. He sighed inwardly, wondering if she'd ever sleep through the night again. Will any of us?

He ran a hand over her face, tracing the curve of her ear, the fine line of her cheekbone. His Violet.

The soft touches seemed to calm her somehow.

He adored Sunny to no end, loved her, and looked after her, and protected her. But she was a sister, and only a sister. With Violet, it was heartache, a different kind of love, warmth and reverence and longing, and everything else in between. He belonged to her, belonged with her, as surely as he knew how to read. She was the other half of him.

No, he corrected himself, as he remembered the helplessness, the acute pain, like being ripped apart. There was no life without her, nothing but a hollow void inside of him, an empty space. Maybe I'm the other half of her.

He couldn't separate those aspects, one from another, anymore than he could stop loving her. She'd been his strength, always, and she needed him now. He wouldn't let the nightmares take her again.

He touched his lips to the few, unscathed places on her forehead, the bridge of her nose, softly. And then he kissed her mouth.

She reached out for him, her hands possessive on his shoulder, in his hair. Breath and heat and strong, safe arms, and her body knew him, knew that it was him, even if her mind was far away.

"Klaus…" He felt her voice before he heard it, a soft sigh against his neck.

"I'm here," he said, unsure of whether he'd woken her or become a part of her dream. "I'm right here."

Green eyes fluttered open slightly, holding his before they squinted shut again. Her head throbbed, the room spinning around her. "Where's Sunny?"

"The top bunk," he nodded upward, toward their sleeping little sister. Violet made to leave the bed, to sit, but she felt his hand, calm on her shoulder. "She's okay, Vi. You shouldn't move around too much."

She sighed then, sinking back into the pillows. "I thought you weren't real." Her voice sent a pang through him. "I thought you were…that he'd..."

The words faded, dying on her lips as he kissed her, his warmth flooding her senses. Her fingers curled in his hair, clutching him, and she wouldn't let him go, wouldn't let him come up for air. But he didn't need to, only needed her mouth against his, her breath in his lungs. And he wanted to steal the fear and pain, to pour his love into her until she couldn't feel anything else.

She guided him, a soft, contented sigh as his thumb brushed the underside of her breast, the smooth, bare skin…

His head cleared in an instant. He hadn't meant to do this, to take advantage of her trauma and exhaustion. I just wanted to stop the nightmares. But it had turned into something else entirely.

"Vi…" He took her hand in one of his, the pad of his thumb making circles on her palm. "You're hurt. We can't do this now."

"Please," Her eyes were wet, her voice desperate and aching. ""Make him go away, Klaus. Just make him go."

He could see the pall come over her again, and she was shaking, cold and weary and so, so alone. She was trying to hide the pain, to be brave, but a few, errant tears slipped down her the side of her cheek.

He laid his hand against her then, against her heart, infinitely gentle, and she held it there. The softness in her eyes made him ache inside.

She was amazing. After everything she'd been through, after all the men who'd hurt her, she still wanted to..."How can you even look at me?"

"It's different with you," she said. "I love you."

He brought her hand to his chest then. Her eyes grew wide as she felt the beat under her fingers… one life inside another, and she couldn't tell where hers ended and where his began…

She loved his hands, so warm, so careful as he touched her. A ghost of a kiss on her neck, her nipples between his fingertips, and her mind was gone, lost in the smooth, fluid harmony of their bodies.

His mouth was there, on her shoulder, on her breasts, whisper-light kisses, lapping softly, taking all.

And her breath hitched as he swept kisses to her stomach, avoiding the bruises, then the back of her knee, her leg, to where his fingers disappeared inside of her...

He kissed her the way he kissed her mouth, long and slow and tender, so thoroughly that she nearly fainted again. A single thought reached her through the warm, dizzy pleasure swirling in her blood…He is memorizing me… She rocked her hips slightly, unconsciously, straining toward him. And she felt the waves crashing inside of her, a stream of light, the brush of his hair on her skin as he burrowed deeper. Klaus...

Time meant nothing, the world meant nothing, and later on, he never would remember just how long he stayed. There was only the perfect quiet, neither of them daring to make a sound, her scent all around him, drowning him. And he wanted her, always, he wanted her…

He held her afterward, gingerly, as she settled in close to him. Her eyes were veiled in shadows, purple bruises forming on her neck and shoulders. And he knew, with the persistent ache of memory, that more were concealed beneath the blankets. She fought so hard.

Her forehead rested against his, and he draped an arm around her waist, let his eyes slip shut for a moment.

She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. "How did you get out of there?"

"It was Sunny." His hand wrapped around hers, deftly, careful for her injuries. "And you. You told me about the loose boards. If you hadn't…" He glanced aside then. "I…We made a hole in the west wall. It was big enough for Sunny. I told her to run to the house, but she didn't. She found the key somehow. She let me out."

A soft smile glanced across her face. "She's fearless, isn't she?"

"She learned that from you."

She kissed the underside of his chin, nuzzled her face into his neck. And the morning came back in a rush. She closed her eyes then, delicate features masked in pain. "We didn't get the animals out."

"No." He spoke into her hair. "They were already dead, Vi. He slaughtered them, and then he planted a smoke bomb. It was all a ruse."

"He wanted me. He meant to kill you and Sunny, and keep me."

He felt it again, like a kick in the stomach, like a stab, burning and twisting. And he drew a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair, her skin, but it was still there-the urge to fight for her.

"The phones aren't working. I don't know if it's because of the rain or-"

"Or Gerard," she finished softly. "He might've cut the lines." It didn't matter, really. They had no link to the outside world, and no way to call for help. "He dropped the key. He had a gun." Her gaze was cloudy, unfocused, and she stared straight ahead, without seeing. "He said no one would come for me… And then you came."

He pressed another kiss into her hair. "He's a coward, Vi. He had to separate us, because he was afraid…he didn't want to face the three of us together."

She smiled wryly, through her tears. "Where have I heard that before?"

"He's probably not in the army, either. I've read three books on combat training. If he really were a soldier, I don't think I could've beaten him."

"But you did…you did beat him." She laid her free hand against his face, his tired, red-rimmed eyes reminding her that he had suffered too. "You were so strong."

"No," he told her. "We did it. We're strong together."

"What did Ethie say?"

"She just asked me about Gerard, whether or not he was in the barn when it…when it burned." She felt her brother sigh, his lean, bare arm taut around her. "I tried to tell her what happened, but she didn't want to hear it. She went for the police and the doctor."

An image flashed in front of her, pieces of words she didn't want to remember."Klaus, he knows about us."

"Yeah," She felt him wince, and she didn't have to see his face to know that he remembered. "He was probably spying on us in the barn…when the door opened. It was him."

"What if the police find him, and he tells them, Klaus? What'll we do?"

"I don't think he has any proof, Vi. We'll just deny it," he said. "It'll be our word against his."

"And if they listen to him?"

"They won't. The deputy thought I was lying because he assumed that Gerard wasn't here. If they find him, they'll see that I was telling the truth. They'll believe us." And if they don't, I'll tell them it's my fault…that I forced her.

The thought made him sick. Those few, stolen moments were sacred, meant for the two of them alone. Gerard had destroyed their sanctuary, in more ways than one, tainting the beautiful things they'd shared. And a sudden realization came over him. He wanted his sister, too…he thinks we're the same, he and I…Only I didn't…I wouldn't…

"Klaus, there's more," her voice pulled him from his thoughts. "He heard you, when you shouted my name. My real name. And then he said he knew me." She shifted onto her back, to look at him.

His jaw clenched, with more than a hint of anger, his hand a fist at her side. "I'm sorry, Vi. I didn't think…" He searched her face for any sign of condemnation, ashamed at himself, lost for words.

Lithe, slender fingers slid across his mouth, and she smiled as he caught them in his hand, as he kissed them. "It isn't your fault. He already knew. He called me Violet Baudelaire." Her eyes met his then, deep and troubled. "How could he know that, Klaus?"