Prologue

It had been an accident, though they never considered it to be an altogether unhappy one. When Violet first told Klaus of her suspicions that she might be pregnant, his first reaction, right before the overwhelming worry, or the insistent shame, or even the gentle pride, had been happiness. It had given him a crazy, hopeful feeling, this physical manifestation of the love that he felt for Violet, this new life growing in her belly that was part her and part him.

Then, just as they became used to the idea of raising another child, just as Violet's soft belly had begun to sweetly round, hard and low in her abdomen, they lost the baby. Klaus guessed that the events of that awful night would be etched into his memory forever; Violet's desperate call from the bathroom, the lone fluorescent bulb lighting the darkened room, the expression of horror on her face, the puddle of blood staining the white tile around her feet. Klaus arrived first, and even though it was the middle of the night, Sunny was hot on his heels. Blood trickled down Violet's legs and he thought to keep his little sister from seeing this catastrophe. Turning quickly in the doorway, he blocked her way with his body as she tried to run past him.

"Wait, Sunny. Don't come in here."

Sunny was shaking her head, determined, calling worriedly to her sister. "Violet?"

"Klaus," Violet's voice behind him was shaky.

"Call 911," he whispered anxiously to Sunny before stepping into the bathroom. Sunny didn't listen, following right behind and gasping loudly at the sight. Violet's face was white as a sheet. There was too much blood on the outside of her body. Her nightgown was soaked and drops had splattered the baseboards. "It's okay," he tried to reassure and reached for her just in time as she collapsed in his arms, fainting from blood loss and shock.

"Sunny! 911!" he said sternly to remind her of her task and the child ran for the phone. Klaus carried Violet to their bed and he'd never seen her skin so pale or her lips so ashen. Feeling intently for a pulse, he listened quietly to Sunny give their address to the operator in the next room.

He couldn't ride with her to the hospital, not with Beatrice and Sunny in tow, and he had no choice but to bring them all with him. Klaus woke the youngest quickly and didn't bother to get her dressed, but loaded them in the car and sped all the way to the emergency room. It had been one of the longest nights of his life, and he'd had a few terrible ones. The girls stretched out in opposite directions on the waiting room chairs, their heads on Klaus's lap, sleeping intermittently as they waited for news of Violet.

And the longer they waited, the deeper the guilt wormed it's evil way into Klaus's gut. It was his fault, wasn't it? He should've known they could never safely have a child. The odds of it having some sort of birth defect was as high as fifty percent. Now that it was gone he realized sadly all of the lost potential and how they had already begun to make plans for this small fetus's future. Klaus could've kicked himself for never stopping to think of the danger that the pregnancy could also pose for Violet. It was a terrible thing to lose the baby… but he could easily have lost Violet that night and that would have been unbearable.

Several hours passed before she was stable enough to come home. The hospital didn't keep her. The doctors cleaned out her womb, gave her a little blood and sent her home on bedrest and painkillers. Poor Violet was exhausted, barely speaking even when spoken to, going straight to the bedroom when they got home to the apartment. Klaus tucked the girls back into their beds, assuring them that Violet would be okay, then headed to bed.

He'd forgotten what a bloody mess they'd left the house in. He'd been in too much of a hurry to get to Violet at the hospital to even give a second thought about what they would come home to. When he opened the door to the bedroom, he found Violet just standing, staring at the puddle of drying blood in the middle of the mattress. She still looked too pale.

"Come on," Klaus said gently, turning her from the gory scene. "I'll bring you some blankets to the couch, okay?" She let herself be led to the sofa and laid down without a word to him. He covered her up to her chin and got to work on changing the sheets and cleaning the bathroom floor. Dead tired, he'd knelt in the bathroom, and with Violet's blood covering the knees of his pants and dripping down from the towel he used to wipe up the mess, the tears finally came. Klaus felt so heartsick. Here was another devastating loss for the Baudelaires. He should've been used to it by now, but the hurt of it somehow still managed to take him by surprise.

Violet didn't leave the couch for three days and subsisted mainly on pain meds, sips of water, and sleep. She got away with it until the fourth day. With some stern urging from Klaus, she ate a little lunch, but then ran straight to the bathroom to throw it all up. Looking back on it now, Klaus knew her guilt was just so big that she relished the pain, wanted to be punished somehow, and so accepted little comfort from anyone. She would allow Beatrice to lay with her a little, but the way she flinched away from even the smallest touch from Klaus just compounded his own grief and uncertainty.

Several weeks passed. Violet improved in strength, could almost be herself with the little girls, sometimes, rarely, but never with Klaus. He pleaded with her to talk to him. He tried everything; comforting her, giving her space, negotiating. He tried to be constant when he knew she was reeling from the failed pregnancy. None of it worked. She didn't seem to want him anymore. In the end, she packed a small bag and left, not telling Klaus where she was going or how long she would be gone.

"Klaus," she had touched his cheek at the front door. "I just need a little time. You understand, don't you? I don't feel like myself anymore." Klaus didn't think he would be feeling like himself for a long, long time if she left him there alone, but couldn't find the words to tell her, didn't think the ache in his throat would let him utter a sound. "Take care of the girls for me." She gave him a quick kiss on the lips, the first in several weeks. "Take care of yourself. I love you," she said. "Don't ever doubt it, okay?" Then she was gone.

Never before had he ever doubted Violet's love for him. Never. Not when they were children, when their parents had been killed. Not when she'd had crushes on other boys their age. Not when they'd spent too many months alone on a deserted island and got on each other's nerves because they had no one else to talk to. And especially not since they realized that their feelings ran far deeper than the normally chaste love of siblings. Violet's love had been steadfast and undeniable and it wasn't until he saw her packing her bag and finally, walking out the front door to get into a waiting taxi cab, did that doubt fill him with such surprising and unexpected pain.

The thing was, though Klaus had been devastated about the miscarriage, he had been oh, so grateful in the end that Violet was alive, not totally understanding until too late that Violet would've given anything to keep that baby safe. She would have traded her life for that baby's in a heartbeat. So, it turned out that even though Violet had survived that awful night, a part of her died, and Klaus lost her anyway.