Disclaimer: I own the Quagmires! And thus, I own their fabulous fortune, the Quagmire sapphires! Muahahahaha…sorry. No, actually Daniel Handler owns them.

A/N: Third chapter! I love this story. And we haven't even gotten into the fanfiction…or actually, original fiction, since Isadora writes poetry. Ah well. It'll come when my rambling plot leads me to it…

Coffee Luv and MORT: All right, here's more…I like your name. But I don't like coffee. Strange world.

edgy wedgy: Um…thanks? Yes, Isadora had to be evil. Come on, siblings fight more with each other when mutual friends aren't around, you ought to know that. And we've never seen them without the Baudelaires in the books, so I'm just basing them on my sister and me. And shut up about the updating thing, I haven't seen YOU update for a while.

regi: Thanks! Hopefully you haven't lost interest…

Waffles4eva! : Thanks! That's a huge compliment, comparing me to Lemony Snicket, you know that? You're making me grin with evil satisfaction.

Jade-Monsoons: Yes, I counted on the originality factor…I love original ideas. dances around, happy to be writing in a section small enough that there still ARE original ideas…

Queenofinsanity: Hmmm…you'll just have to read and see what happens, won't you?

A Revelation

Duncan tried to make himself as shadowy and unobtrusive as possible, staying low as he clambered over the "wall" between baskets. Maybe, just maybe, he could—

"Aha!" Isadora cried, spotting him. "Stop right there!" Gulping, Duncan tried to ignore her and broke into a sprint. He had to get there first! Darting a glance over his shoulder, he saw his sister gaining fast and dived desperately for the laptop.

Triumph! Duncan clutched the small computer to his chest and backed away from Isadora. "What do you think you're doing?" she hissed at him, edging a little closer. "You'll wake Hector!"

"Oh no I won't," Duncan said smugly, proud of his own mental powers. He had taken the liberty of stuffing their guardian's ears with cotton as soon as he dropped off for his afternoon nap. It never hurt to be prepared, he reflected, grinning at Isadora.

She watched hungrily as he flipped the laptop open and nonchalantly started it up, pretending not to notice her pleading gaze. "So how does it feel, Izzy?" he asked with a malicious chuckle. "The agony of defeat…knowing that I have won…" He opened an Internet window slowly, enjoying his sister's soft moans of pain.

There was a hostile silence for a few minutes, during which Duncan pretended to be very busy while keeping an eye on Isadora. He wondered what devious scheme her twisted mind was plotting now.

"Aren't you going to share, Duncan?" she asked in a small voice at last. "You know we should share with each other like nice siblings." Duncan stared at her. What was she trying to accomplish by this?

He was about to find out. Forcing back a (fake) sob, Isadora continued, "Our…our…our p-p-parents always said we should share…back when we were all a happy family…"

Duncan froze. His sister had said the magic word parents. This was not fair! She was playing on his sentimentality to achieve her own selfish ends. How could she do this to him?

"Don't try it, Izzy," he muttered between clenched teeth, bending over the laptop until he could no longer see her over the top of it. "It's not going to work this time." Determinedly, he typed "www. yahoo. com" in the "Address" blank and proceeded to check his email, ignoring Isadora's ersatz sniffles and crocodile tears.

There was no mail from Violet. Or anyone else important, for that matter. Someone offering a great deal on home insurance in case of fire. Duncan scowled at the screen and went to www. fanfiction. net.

"Isadora," he said, suddenly breaking his silence as he read the recent announcements. "You realize doesn't allow you to post poetry anymore, don't you? You're going to have to get an account at www. FictionPress .com."

"What?" Isadora shrieked. "What? Give me the computer! I must have an account!" Duncan grinned and nimbly dodged her grabs for the laptop.

"Weeeeell," he said slowly, "actually, I think I'll get an account of my own first." He proceeded to do so, pausing at intervals to smirk at his sister. Being disagreeable was great fun. Perhaps he ought to consider joining Olaf so as to maximize his disagreeability…disagreeableness…whatever…

Duncan stopped, horrified at his own thoughts. His mind must be going! If he was thinking of actually joining Count Olaf's evil troupe…He needed to get his mind off this. And the best way to do that was to relax by reading some FictionPress literature.

"Duncan!" Isadora snapped. "I insist that you hand over that computer this instant. This instant, do you hear me?" She stepped toward him.

He ignored her. "Hmm, this looks interesting. 9,000 haikus…"

"Give me that!" Isadora screamed in anguish. "Duncan, you rat, I'll kill you!"

Duncan grinned. He hadn't heard that in a while. …NO, no more being disagreeable…he must concentrate on reading.

"The dandelion: Tiny parachutes waiting, Waiting for the wind." Isadora turned reddish-purple and made threatening gestures at him. Duncan returned his attention to the screen.

Who, he wondered, would actually write 259 haikus in three days? Aside from Isadora, of course…After a bit of poetry-surfing, Duncan grew bored and went back to check his email again. Maybe something had come up in the meantime.

There was only one unread message. Better than nothing. Hoping it would be from Violet, Duncan went to his inbox.

And stared in disbelief. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out on the first few tries.

"Isadora," he croaked. "It's from Quigley."

Isadora was at his side in an instant, abandoning her sulking fit. "What?!" She stared at the screen, displaying the message from ", and then at Duncan. "But…" she said slowly.

"But Quigley's dead," Duncan finished flatly. "Unless…" But he didn't know what could possibly change the fact they had long since accepted, the fact that their brother was no longer alive. Not sure what else to do under the circumstances, he clicked on the message.

"Wait," Isadora said suddenly, her eyes widening. "What if it's them? They could've gotten his password somehow…" Duncan had to admit this was a possibility, but any doubts vanished when he saw the message itself.

(000)

Duncan, it's me, Quigley. I know it must seem impossible to you, but I'm alive. I survived the fire and escaped. I can't tell you where I am, because Count Olaf and others may be hacking into our accounts or using spyware or something equally villainous even as I type these words. But I can tell you that I found the Baudelaires. We were separated, but I think they're safe for now. They told me what happened to you and Isadora. I'm just glad you're out of reach of all these terrible people and no harm can come to you now. I'll be back in contact as soon as I can sneak into this café and use the Internet access terminal again. Give Isadora my love.

Quigley

The world is quiet here.

P.S. Duncan, check this out! It's this great site where you can distort famous authors' facial features. Check out what you can do to this one guy named Daniel Handler: www. literarydistortion. com/ handlerd

(000)

Duncan looked at Isadora, dumbfounded. "That's definitely Quigley," he said hollowly. "I'd know his writing anywhere."

"Emailing," Isadora corrected automatically, but she had to agree. Quigley's style was very distinctive. "I still can't believe it, though." She sat down cross-legged beside Duncan. "Did I just dream that message, Duncan?" she asked.

"No," Duncan said, feeling a grin break out on his face. "No, you didn't." A rare moment of pure joy engulfed him as the truth sank in. "Quigley's alive!" he whooped, leaping to his feet, laptop forgotten. He pulled Isadora to her feet as well and swung her around in a circle. "He's alive, he's alive!"

Now Isadora was laughing too. "It's amazing!" she said happily. "Oh, Duncan, everything's turning out right after all! Quigley's alive, and he says the Baudelaires are safe, and we're safe—" She tilted her head back and let out a yell of unchecked glee.

It is my sad duty to remind the reader that everything was not in fact turning out right after all. In the excitement of the moment, the two Quagmires had quite forgotten the beloved parents who had perished in the fire. And both Quigley and Isadora were very, very wrong in saying that everyone was safe, especially in assuming that Duncan and Isadora were out of harm's way simply because they were airborne. However, there is no need to ruin this, one of their few happy times for a long time to come, with dismal forebodings of the gloomy future.

Isadora and Duncan sat down after a few minutes of dancing and yelling, out of breath but still laughing uncontrollably. "Thank goodness for that cotton," Duncan said, panting slightly. Both glanced toward Hector, who was still snoring softly to himself, oblivious to their antics.

"Duncan," Isadora said softly. He turned back to her. "I'm sorry about—about being such a cakesniffer about the computer. I've been acting really stupid."

Duncan smiled. "You're not a cakesniffer, Isadora. You're my sister," he told her. "I understand. We've had a rough time lately."

"You don't think I was just a little bit of a cakesniffer?" Isadora asked, starting to smile in return.

"Well," Duncan said honestly, "maybe just a little bit." They laughed together. Somehow, almost everything was funny at the moment, and Duncan didn't question it. He had learned how to enjoy moments like this.

"So." Isadora began walking her fingers toward the laptop. "Have I apologized abjectly enough to get my own FictionPress account?" She didn't wait for an answer, and Duncan found that he didn't mind that irrepressible touch of bossiness so much as he had before. The thought of Quigley sitting at an Internet access terminal somewhere, safe and very much alive, made it impossible for him to feel angry or even annoyed at anything his sister might do.

"I feel inspired," Isadora said happily as she filled in blanks on the account registration. "I think I'll write a few dozen couplets after I finish this." Duncan groaned good-naturedly and shook his head.

Quickly, Isadora shut down and put the laptop back in its case. Then she got out her notebook and pen and stretched herself out on the floor of the basket with a contented sigh. "It's been a good day, Duncan," she said with just the faintest hint of a yawn. Duncan agreed wholeheartedly.

"Whaa…?" Both Duncan and Isadora jumped at the sudden noise from Hector. He snorted a few times, then yawned hugely. "'Afternoon, kids," he said to them.

Suddenly, his expression changed to one of perplexity. "Hmm," he said vaguely. "How strange. I can't hear a word. I believe I must have a banana in my ear…" Duncan and Isadora looked at each other and silently elected not to say a word about the huge tufts of cotton still firmly in place.

A/N: Um, that was kinda weird. But they know Quigley's alive! Yay! And I updated in less than six months. That's always a good thing. Next chapter—well, no, I won't tell you about the next chapter because then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it now? You'll just have to wait and see (and review while you're waiting)…