A/N - Ok, so I was going to have 3 chapters but I couldn't think of ideas for the second chapter, so this is the second formerly third chapter as the second chapter. Did I confuse you yet? Good. This chapter is rather morbid. It even creeped me out as I wrote it. So, enjoy (or something).

And huge thanks to my reviewers! Hermione Baudelaire, TaNsHi, EvilMicella, kittykat, and Kate (shmeeble to you too!).

Words in italics are lyrics.

It was a cold night. Typical for early December, but it still stung Sunny's face as she climbed out of the car on the dark street. There had been a power failure the night before. That would make everything much easier. She looked back into the car and glanced at the time. The luminescent green read 5:48 am. The sun would rise soon. They had better get this over with.

"Hey, S, some help over here?"

She turned and walked back to the trunk, where James and Esmé stood. Sunny was still in shock that Esmé Squalor was not only alive, but as menacingly beautiful as ever. And, she had completely accepted Sunny as a member of V.F.D., despite the Baudelaire family connections.

Steve's voice brought her back to reality as he jumped out of the backseat. "Sun! Take this," he called. Slowly she made her way to him. Steve dropped a pile of branches into her arms, along with a box of matches. "Go...you and James have some fun now. We'll follow behind."

Both James and Sunny nodded solemnly, then walked up the street. Everything was still and quiet. It was a fancy neighborhood. Ornamental shrubs dotted the green lawns, in front of large mansions. Brick gateways stood at the end of the driveways. A small bronze and gold plate was embedded into each post, telling the number and name of each resident. After a minute of walking, Sunny spotted it.

"Here," she whispered, gesturing with her flashlight to the nameplate.

James ran his fingers over the raised letters. "Quagmire," he murmured, and they both nodded. It was now or never. They crept around to the side where Sunny remembered the master bedroom was. It was lightening outside, with gray clouds streaked across the sky.

They reached the window. "Well," James muttered, "go on, take the screen off. It'll make the job easier."

Sunny easily detached the screen, tossing it behind her. She held a match in her left hand, a stick in her right. In the slowly brightening morning, she could see more clearly into the room, and gasped softly at what she saw.

Duncan and Violet lay sleeping in their bed, which Sunny had expected. What had made her gasp were two small details. First, between them lay two young children, obviously scared by the previous night's electrical outage. Not only that, but Violet's arm lay across her stomach, and Sunny saw that she was pregnant.

She could not do this. Not destroy this perfectly happy family.

As though the night itself could hear her thoughts, she heard a quiet reply.

"Count the years you always knew it...strike the match, go on and do it..."

Sunny looked at the match and gulped. She was going to do it. In less time than it took for her to think, she had struck the match, lit the stick on fire, shoved the window open, and thrown it in. The flame quietly flickered on the edge of the blanket. She then lost all control, mindlessly striking matches and throwing them feverishly into the room.

"Wow, S, you're going all-out, eh?" James stood behind her, Esmé by his side. "The rest of the house is going up, too," Esmé added, smiling. "Go, look."

Sunny walked, breathlessly, to the front yard.

She couldn't bear to look.

Sunny ran as fast as her legs would carry her around the house, past a confused looking Steve. She began to scale the brick chimney, focused on one thought.

Days go by, I'm hypnotized

I'm walking on a wire

I'll close my eyes and fly out of my mind

Into the fire...

Sunny stood on the edge of the chimney, staring down into the fiery mass below her.

This was what her life had come to.

It felt strangely exhilarating.

And she no longer cared.

James, Esmé, and Steve saw it happen. In later years, they all recalled how surreal it looked: A dark body, silhouetted against the sunrise, flying in a graceful arc down into the smoky orange mass below.

She was gone.

Light the sky and hold on tight

The world is burning down

She's out there on her own and she's alright...

Sunny came home.