A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I'm sorry this took so long, but I don't have access to the internet and can only update when I can visit others who do. That's also why I review so rarely, I wish I could read many more fanfics! The ones I have read so far have been great. On with the story.

Chapter Three

Though the last one asleep, Violet was the first one awake. The oldest Baudelaire always woke early to set out some things for breakfast before the others arrived hungrily into the kitchen. This morning she walked over to the dresser and opened the jewelry case that she had received the night before. As she fingered the silver chain, he eyes fell on a note lying on her dresser. She quietly unfolded it as she moved closer to the light from the window. It was written on V.F.D. stationary in somewhat scrawling script.

Happy Eighteenth Birthday, Violet! She smiled and wondered whom it could be from.

I have been waiting a long time for this day to arrive. You are not alone.

Sinisterly Yours,

Count Olaf

The smile vanished from Violet's visage. This was certainly not a reassuring note. In fact, it was terrifying. None at the hostel had heard in over a year from the villain that had caused them so much trouble. When they had first moved in to the apartment there had been a few threats and some aborted abduction schemes, but all that had subsided a long time ago. Violet had assumed that running from the authorities and Lemony Snicket kept the Count too busy for villainy. After reading the note, however, she realized that he had been just biding his time. Not only that, but clearly he, or one of his henchmen, had stolen unnoticed into the hostel at least once.

Violet tried to clear her head; she needed to think. Should she wake her siblings and the Quagmires? She thought of all the dreadful events they had suffered at the hand of the criminal. Could she put them through all that again, after all these years? On the other hand, could she face Olaf without them?

Violet decided to call Justice Straus first. It was something the inventor could do without leaving the apartment or waking the others. Listening carefully in case there were still criminals in the building, she walked slowly towards the living room and the phone. Every time her foot hit the floor, Violet nearly jumped at the noise. Finally, she reached the telephone and picked it up. Yet, after holding it to her ear, she quickly, but gently placed it back on the receiver. It was dead.

The oldest Baudelaire stood frozen in the living room for what seemed like hours, but was really less than a minute.

She weighed her options carefully; a phrase that does not mean she placed each on a scale to measure it, but that she considered the merits of each. As far as she could tell, there was no decision that held many merits. If she woke the others up, they would be thrown back into the world of running, scheming and trying to survive, in short, the world of Olaf. If she walked to the Justice's house, she would be alone and exposed on the streets and her siblings and friends would be left sleeping unaware in an apartment to which villains had access. If she went on her own to confront Olaf, she would be on her own confronting Olaf, that is, if she could even find him.

"Violet, Violet what are you doing?"

A sleepy voice derailed her train of thought. She looked over and saw Quigley standing at the door of his room.

"I'm thinking," Violet managed to utter.

"You have a lot to think about," Quigley said quietly as he stepped closer. "But you know. . ." His voice trailed off.

"I know," to her surprise, Violet smiled, "I am not alone." Suddenly everything became clear. The first note she had received last night, though written by the cartographer, could have been expressed by anyone at the hostel. They all felt the same way, including her. They were together and always would be, no matter what. Her smile faded, "Quigley, I have to show you something."

Moving quietly to her room, Violet retrieved the second note and placed it in Quigley's outstretched hand. His expectant grin slowly changed to a look of dismay, "Oh, Violet."

"I know," said the Baudelaire. "I thought we were through with him."

"Have you tried to contact Justice Straus or Lemony Snicket?"

"The phone is dead."

"Let's wake the others." Quigley moved slowly to his room.

After returning to her room Violet roused Isadora. "We need to have a meeting."

"Now?" the Quagmire questioned dreamily.

"Yes," Violet looked into her sleep filled eyes, "It's important."

Without another word Isadora moved to the living room. The inventor picked up her little sibling and carried her to the couch. After setting Sunny down and gently shaking her to be sure she was awake, Violet looked around at each face in the room. The only way to do this, she decided, was quickly.

"I found a letter on my dresser this morning." The oldest Baudelaire looked at Quigley who handed it the paper her. She read it straight through and paused afterward to allow everyone time to digest it.

"And the phone is dead," Quigley added after a moment.

"Are you sure," Duncan began slowly. "Are you sure, someone isn't playing a joke on you?"

"Duncan!" his sister scolded. "No one here would do such a horrible thing."

"I know," sighed the journalist, "I just hoped we wouldn't have to. . ."

'I understand," commented Violet, "we all hoped we had seen the last of Count Olaf. We have several options, none of which have much merit. We could run and go into hiding again; we could go to Justice Straus' house and ask for help, or we could remain and wait."

"We can't hide again," said Sunny seriously. Though the five year old had only vague memories of life on the run, she remembered the overall feelings of helplessness and fear. They were feelings that everyday she tried to forget.

Klaus nodded to his little sister. "We can't just wait and see what will happen to us either."

"So," Isadora stated, "we go to Justice Straus' house."

Violet thought for a moment. "I woke you because you all need to decide. You are not all in danger."

"We can't be sure about that," Klaus injected.

"Right," Violet continued, "but Olaf mainly wants me. I don't know if I can manage alone, but I will try if that's what you decide."

"No," said Quigley sternly, "I'm here. You are not alone."

"Me too!" said Isadora who was echoed by Duncan.

"We need you as much as you need us," reminded Klaus.

Sunny looked at her sister and silently slipped her hand into Violet's. It was a gesture that she had used to communicate with her sister since long before she could speak clearly, and by it she usually meant, "I'm with you. I may not be able to do much, but we are together." This motion always reassured both sisters.

The oldest Baudelaire went into action. "Everyone, get dressed, get your coats, and grab a slice of bread or some cereal. We don't know when we'll eat again."

In moments the group was assembled at the apartment entrance. As they shuffled out into the hall, Violet closed the door and locked it. Together, the Baudelaires and Quagmires made their way out of the building and into the cold morning