AUTHOR'S NOTE: You know, there could be a reason why Olivia might have had a doctor's appointment. A certain condition could make her travel from the carnival, all the way across the Hinterlands to the hospital, you know?
This is based only on the Netflix show.
"Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love."
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
chapter i
Olivia Caliban is a bird in a cage.
Her sharp mind is always active, racing to learn something new. But an English Literature degree and library science minor are both next to useless at Prufrock Preparatory School. Keeping the campus library open only ten minutes a day means there's almost nothing to do. Students only briefly enter, and though she dashes to lend them books, the ten minutes fly. Isadora and Quagmire are her most frequent visitors, though Carmelita comes into raise a ruckus. And then with a breaking heart, Olivia must turn away the despondent children and lock the door. She has petitioned Nero Feint on countless occasions, but the vice principal never gives in. So she organizes the shelves and dusts and sweeps, more times than she can count.
At lunch in the staff breakroom, she unwraps her sandwich and opens Anne Of Green Gables. The history teacher Mr. Ramora drones on about his tedious dream, as the mathematician Mrs. Bass studies her spoon against a ruler. Crushing a soda can in her fist, the gym coach Ms. Tench glowers at the librarian. Meanwhile, Nero is off somewhere butchering Beethoven. Listening to the horrendous screeching barely passing as a melody sets Olivia's teeth on edge. It reminds her that he cares more for music, than the students under his administration. But she prefers hearing it rather than the alternative. If he's shredding bow strings, he's not spying on her in the bathroom again like the way he spies on Esmé Squalor in cafes.
Olivia escapes her workplace through a book, to follow the redhead orphan adopted by the Cuthberts.
Nero does nothing when Isadora and Duncan are abducted by Count Olaf, formerly called Coach Genghis.
"Students under your care were kidnapped!" Olivia cries, green eyes hard. "Go after them!"
"I have an academy to run!" Nero retorts. "I can't go galivanting after the twins!"
"Triplets!"
"Besides, I'm very busy!"
"You'd rather practice your absurd violin than see to the safety of students?!" She regrets it as soon as it comes out of her mouth. "Nero, I-"
The vice principal glares at her beneath bushy eyebrows. "My violin isn't absurd, Miss Caliban! And yes, rehearsing Vivaldi is important! I don't permit employees to be so disrespectful! You are-"
"Then I'll take a sabbatical!" she rushes to say. "I'll look for the Quagmires."
"Staff aren't allowed to take time off. Not for illness, family emergencies, or chasing lost children. And because you'll miss my concerts, bring a mountain of candy if you want your job back."
Armed with the heavy tome The Incomplete History Of Secret Organizations, she catches the trolley to Mulctuary Money Management.
Though he's in the Orphan Affairs department, Arthur Poe is also utterly incompetent. He seems more caring than Nero, Olivia will allow. But between coughs, Poe blusters and makes weak promises that she guesses he'll never keep. As the librarian marches out with the secret societies' book, she glances at the banker's secretary. Name tag reading Jacquelyn, she looks like she is made of sterner stuff than her boss. Olivia hopes the typist can spur her employer into action.
Jacquelyn stands. "In a world too often governed by corruption and arrogance, it can be hard to stay true to one's philosophical and literary principles."
After the librarian misses the trolley, Olivia thinks of how much candy she'll need to grovel back into Nero's favor. But is it even worth it? she thinks. My job is a dead end, and what can I offer the students? Wouldn't it be better to put effort into rescuing the Quagmires?
Then a yellow taxi door opens. "Miss the trolley, ma'am?"
She's never seen such a handsome cab driver before. Dashing, bold, and heroic, he is the antithesis of the weak and heartless men she's known. Then she blinks and catches herself; a girl has to be careful, after all. "I did. The City's been a dead end. But I really need to head home and beg for my job back. If it's even still available."
He gives her a charming smile. "Your story's not over yet, I have a feeling. I can give you a lift."
"It's my first day in the City. But it's not, you know, my first day in the City."
"I'm a licensed taxi driver, you've nothing to fear from me. It's terrible, children orphaned by a fire only to be abducted by Count Olaf from Prufrock."
Her eyes widen. "How on earth did you know the truth? The Daily Punctilio got it wrong!"
"I drive cabs just to pay the bills. I'm really a Volunteer with the-"
"Volunteer Fire Department," they say together.
His hand is calloused and strong when she shakes it. "The name's Jacques Snicket."
"Olivia Caliban."
He extends a hand to her glasses. "May I?"
She nods, unsure. If he's going to say something stupid that she looks prettier without spectacles, she's leaving. He takes the frames, but gets out a handkerchief to clean a smudge. Then he carefully places the glasses back on her face. "Now do you see clearly?"
She can see every detail of the stubble on his chiseled jaw. "Yes."
He gets out the car. "You might want to change," he adds as he takes ropes from the trunk. "Pencil skirts don't help when secretly fighting fires and crime. Here's the rope."
She takes it. "About this–"
"Hook it to your safety belt."
"What will the rope be anchored to?"
He tugs her to him by the cable, firmly but not roughly. It feels like he pulls her directly by the core of heat building low in her belly. "It's anchored to me."
She tries not to get distracted by his square jawline. It should be illegal to be so handsome, and she's never seen a man who looks that good with a mustache. Focus, Olivia! she orders herself. "So Jacques Snicket, we go down together."
He smiles. "No, Olivia Caliban, we go up together."
They scale all forty-six floors of 667 Dark Avenue and search the Squalor penthouse, but there's no sign of the Quagmires. Once the Volunteers are back on the sidewalk, Jacquelyn calls on the cab radio. "The world is quiet here! The Baudelaires aren't in the Café Samonella! I'm stalling as long as I can at the Herring Houdini, but Olaf won't stay forever!"
Olivia and Jacques rush into the car. "Maybe I should leave you to it," she says. "Go back to Prufrock. You know a great deal more about this than I do. I'll just slow you down."
"Of course not. As a taxi driver, I will take you anywhere." He turns to lock eyes. "But you're needed, Olivia Caliban. The Quagmires, Baudelaires, the VFD, the world on fire, we all need you."
Though as she has always loved books, how much does Prufrock really have to offer? And yet here is an unfairly good-looking cabman offering her a fulfilling life.
"Then I'll stay."
"I don't know what the VFD would do without you. Now I'm going to have to floor it. Hang on to something sturdy."
Before she can stop herself, she grasps his shoulder. Beneath the leather jacket, his sinews are strong and toned. He looks at her hand, and then meets her gaze. He clears his throat. "Right. We should go."
They race to the auction, yet they're too late. In the end, Olaf spirits away the Quagmires in the red herring statue.
The Hinterlands seem endless.
The sole sign of life is the Last Chance General Store, and the only sustenance is processed jerky and greasy chips. Jacques and Olivia buy a pile, fill up on overpriced gas, and keep driving. Without any other civilization around, there's no hotels, so he stops on the shoulder of the road. "It appears we'll bunk here for the night. You can take the backseat."
They get out and stretch as the sunset paints the desert sky. She tries to get a kink out of her neck. "Thanks, but won't the driver's seat be mightily uncomfortable?"
"This isn't an ordinary cab. Nellie is a covert spy car, and appearing like a taxi is a front for field work."
He opens what she thought was a cigarette lighter on the dash, presses the hidden button, and the yellow car transforms. The backseat moves on its own to flatten into a bed, complete with blankets and a pillow. The steering wheel pulls back into the dashboard. Then the driver's seat leans back, as more blankets fall from a hidden compartment in the car roof.
Her eyes widen. "It looks like something out of a James Bond movie."
"The VFD outfitted the whole thing. She's fireproof, bulletproof, and can drive underwater. Nellie has an ejector seat, lasers, gas masks, parachutes, and multiple license plates. She also has retractable guns in the headlights, which I hope I never have to use. Though I am a certified taxi driver," he adds. "The job comes in handy to meet important and interesting people such as yourself."
She lays down in the back, and he reclines in the front seat. She sighs as she looks at the stars through the window. "Poor Duncan and Isadora. The Baudelaires will be alright for now with Mr. Poe. But the Quagmires must be terrified."
"We'll rescue them," he assures her, "don't worry."
The next morning, they use non-rinse shampoo and have an overly salted breakfast from the store supplies. When they head off again at dawn, this time she takes the front passenger seat. But when the hours pass through the desolate desert, she yawns. "You can rest if you want," he offers.
"Just for a few minutes," she concedes.
Olivia wakes with her head on Jacques' shoulder. He's sturdy and warm, and part of her wants to keep leaning on him. But, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment, she straightens. "Sorry."
"No need to apologize. I don't mind being a pillow."
She notices he blinks often, and his eyes are red. "Why don't I drive Nellie?" she says. "We could take turns, so we can both get some shut-eye."
He nods. "Good idea."
He falls asleep soon after she pulls back onto the road. When she stops at sunset, she hesitates in rousing him. But she can't help brushing hair back from his forehead, admiring the stubble dusting his angular jaw. He wakes at her touch.
"I stopped for the evening," she explains. "You take the backseat. I can sleep up front tonight."
"Then we'll swap sleeping arrangements every day. I won't deprive a lady of a bed."
She thinks of the narcissistic Nero, who always chooses himself. "I'm tougher than I look. But I appreciate the chivalry, it's rare these days."
It feels like they have been driving for a hundred years.
The air crackles with energy, and her hair becomes staticky and unmanageable. She tries not to worry about her appearance in front of her attractive fellow Volunteer. "Looks like a storm is coming," she muses, grasping the wheel as grey clouds gather over the desert.
He studies the sky. "We'll have to be careful."
Then the taxi's engine starts to clang and protest loudly. She parks, and they get out to look under the smoking hood. "The engine needs to cool," she says.
He raises an eyebrow. "You don't strike me as the car type."
She lifts her chin. "I'm not only a librarian."
"Apologies for my machismo pride."
"Thank you for apologizing."
Then lightning cracks in the distance, followed by faint thunder. "We need to fix this, and quickly," he says.
But even a spy cab is still a car, and vehicles don't always run the way one needs them to. They start the ignition a few times, but the engine always smokes, and then rain starts to fall. Jacques closes the front hood. "Let's get what we need from the trunk, before the weather gets bad."
They hurry to empty the trunk as the thunder draws closer and closer. As lightning splits the sky almost on top of them, the Volunteers are positively soaked. Then she drops the water canteen from her armful of supplies, and it slides through the mud into a small ravine.
"The canteen!" Tossing the rest of the items into the taxi, she starts to follow the jug of precious water.
He grabs her arm. "Stop, Olivia! You'll get hit by lightning!" As if to prove their point, a white-hot bolt strikes a cactus ten yards away, and thunder crashes at the same time so hard the ground shakes. They are in the heart of the storm.
"We need the canteen! Who knows when we'll find clean water again!"
"You stay in the car, the rubber on the wheels will protect you!" He runs off into the storm.
"No, wait!"
But then the lightning and thunder slam together, and she unwillingly gets in the taxi. Shivering, she peers through the rain-lashed windows to try to see him. But the storm obscures everything in the darkness. Then she dimly hears a shout and the crash of rocks. Without a second thought, she throws open the car door.
"Jacques?" she calls, even though she can barely hear herself over the wind. The rain hits her like knives. She heads in the direction that the canteen had gone, and finally reaches the ravine. Her Volunteer partner is lying at the bottom in a pile of stones. The water jug is next to him.
"Jacques!" she screams. She ungracefully descends the canyon as he tries to get up. But he's unsteady, and there's blood on his forehead. "What happened?"
"I was trying to climb out, and the rocks came loose with the rain!"
She pulls him up, and grabs the canteen covered in red clay mud. "I'll get us out of here!"
She finds long roots from a shriveled tree on the ravine's edge, and uses the roots to haul herself and Jacques to solid ground. He does as much as he can, but still leans on her. She helps him stagger back to Nellie, and gets them both to the backseat. Her hair drips, but he's soaked to the skin and shivering uncontrollably.
"First… Aid Kit," he says through chattering teeth. "In the… the glovebox."
She leans to get it. "The gash doesn't look deep," she says as she opens the kit. "But I have to clean your wound."
Even as she wraps a bandage around his head, he still trembles from the cold. Then she wipes the mud from their skin and clothes as best she can. "You need to rest," she says as the storm continues to batter the car. She helps him lay down, covers him in every blanket they have, and then she joins him to curl into his side.
"You don't have to–"
"Oh, stop being so noble. I'm giving you my body heat, that's all."
Olivia wakes to blissful quiet.
Golden sunlight bathes the car, and the sky is robin's egg blue. They're still pressed together, and her arm rests on the sleeping Jacques' broad chest. As he leans into her neck, his mouth is centimeters away from her throat, and his breath brushes her skin. Thankfully, he is no longer freezing cold. It feels oddly domestic, even though they are on a mission in the back of a spy car.
When she props herself on an elbow, his eyes open. "Morning," he rasps.
"Morning," she repeats softly. "How do you feel?"
He sits up, running a hand through his hair. "Better. You saved my life. Thank you for rescuing me."
"I wasn't going to stand there and do nothing."
Their legs brush as they sit side by side. "When I said the VFD needs you, it was true." His voice softens. "But I… I need you. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"I need you too, Jacques Snicket. Then I will hang onto…" She puts her hand on his muscular thigh. "…something sturdy."
His warm brown eyes fall to her mouth, while she looks at his lips. Then she leans over to kiss him. His hand goes to her tangled hair, and she reaches for his shoulders. She boldly swings a leg to straddle him, kissing him all the while. She isn't always this forward, but they have survived the storm and she scaled a building with him. She hasn't felt this alive in a long time.
He pulls her closer by the waist so they are flush against each other, and rests his forehead against hers. "Is this okay?"
The only words she can manage is an airy, "Uh huh, yeah." Some librarian she is, but her extensive vocabulary has flown out of her head. All she can feel is the pumping of her blood and the beating of her heart, as his hand slides under her shirt.
With rest, the taxi's engine roars back to life. But just when the Village Of Fowl Devotees is finally in sight, they have to stop Nellie once more.
Olivia scrambles out to hurl into the sand, losing track of how many times she's been sick. Jacques is there in an instant to hold her hair back, as her body expels her breakfast. Oily chips and jerky weren't that appealing before, but now its downright revolting. However, it's not as if they have other options. She does find herself craving apples to the point of obsession.
He helps her up, and it is her turn to lean on him. "When we get to town, Olivia, I'm finding a doctor."
They make it at last to the village. But as they go up to a physician's office with a faded sign, she sees a glimpse of Olaf through a saloon window. "It can wait until after we catch him," Olivia says, trying to ignore her churning stomach.
Instead of Olivia and Jacques putting Olaf away for good, he locks them up with the help of the high-maintenance Esmé. Jacques and Olivia are in separate cells, even though all she wants is to be held by him. The sheriff office's main door bangs open, and the three Elders stride in to lecture the prisoners with fire and brimstone. Rather, Elder Anabelle and Elder Sam rave, while the milder Elder Jemma hangs back.
"You broke rule number sixty-seven!" Elder Sam bellows.
"This is a misunderstanding-" Olivia tries to protest.
Elder Anabelle snaps, "Which states, 'No citizen is allowed to build or use any mechanical devices!'"
"You did arrive in a mechanical device, the…" Elder Jemma trails off. Her tone is softer, and Olivia wonders who the Elder would be away from the Council. "What was the contraption called again?"
"Taxi," Jacques supplies.
"Right, a taxi."
Elder Anabelle lifts her pointed chin. "And you broke rule number nineteen! 'The only pens that are acceptable within the city limits are ones made from the feathers of crows!'"
"Yes!" Elder Sam's beady eyes narrow even further. "We saw you write with a ballpoint pen!"
Even though she knows she shouldn't challenge them, Olivia's inquisitiveness makes her ask, "But rule number thirty-nine says, 'It is illegal to make anything out of crow feathers.' How does one make a crow feather pen if it's illegal?"
The two strict leaders sputter as Elder Jemma blinks. "Rule ten thousand and six says, 'Do not question the Council of Elders!'" Elder Sam says curtly.
"We will burn you at the stake for your impertinence, missy!" Elder Anabelle cries.
Horror turns Olivia's blood to ice, and her hand goes to her still-flat stomach. "No, please, I think I'm-!"
"Burn me at the stake!" Tears spring to Olivia's eyes at Jacques' declaration. "Kill me instead, and let her go unharmed!"
"The Council of Elders has decided both your fates!" Elder Sam retorts.
"Oh, would you look at the time!" Elder Jemma interrupts joyfully, as if they are discussing the weather. "Shall we adjourn for hot fudge sundaes?"
"Indeed," Elder Sam replies.
Elder Anabelle looks back at the Volunteers. "Rule number nine hundred and sixty-one states, 'The Council of Elders' hot fudge sundaes cannot have more than fifteen pieces of nuts each.'" The two stern leaders sweep out the door.
But as the third official follows them, Olivia calls out to her. "Jemma, wait."
Elder Jemma pauses. "What is it?"
"I need…" Olivia keeps her voice quiet, not wanting Olaf's troupe to overhear, or the rest of the Council of Elders. "I need a pregnancy test." Maybe if the town lets her go, she can save Jacques and all the orphans.
"I beg your pardon?" the Elder asks.
Olivia can only imagine Jacques' face with a wall between them. But she does hear his gasp. "What did you say?"
Elder Jemma still looks shocked, so Olivia adds, "You know, the plastic stick that tells you a single or double line?"
"That sounds mechanical," Elder Jemma replies.
"Don't tell anyone about it, please."
Elder Jemma flushes. "But in this town, we use wheat and barley as a test. If a mixture of a woman's bodily… you know, makes the seeds sprout, then the woman is in the family way."
"You don't have to do what the other Elders say," Olivia adds as the older woman heads to the door again. "Don't let them influence you. You could be a better leader than them."
Elder Jemma sighs. "The rules have always been rigid in the Village Of Fowl Devotees." But she smiles. "I'll see what I can find."
"Christopher Columbus," Jacques breathes when the Volunteers are finally alone. "You're pregnant?"
"Most likely."
"I would give anything to kiss you right now." His arm stretches around to her cell, and she reaches through the bars to clasp his hand. "We're having a child."
She lets out a watery laugh, half from fear of dying and half from wanting this. "We're having a child."
"Will you marry me?"
It's her turn to gasp. But they break apart when Esmé stalks in. "What are you plotting, prisoners?"
"Esmé, we–" Jacques says.
"Let me handle this," Olivia interjects.
"One of those ridiculous Elders was mumbling about barley and wheat," the haughty blonde continues. "But she wouldn't say what it was for. All you get for meals is bread and water."
"Give my portion to Olivia," Jacques says quickly. "I'm not hungry anyway."
"Miss Squalor," Olivia begins, "what about sugar to go with the bread? Because I know where to find a sugar bowl."
Esmé unlocks both cell doors. "Find it or I'll make you pay, bookworm!"
As Jacques and Olivia rush out of the jail to the taxi, he pulls her into his arms, and she buries her face in his shirt. "The sugar bowl line was brilliant." He cups her face in his calloused hands. "I love you."
"And I love you." They meet in a bruising, desperate kiss, and he palms her stomach.
"Let me update the VFD. The world is quiet here," Jacques says into the taxi radio. "Lemony? Good, it's you. Olivia and I just escaped prison in the Village Of Fowl Devotees. Correct, in the Hinterlands. She and I are alright, and, well…" He blinks back tears of his own. "You're going to be an uncle. Yes, we think she's expecting, and we'll get hitched when there's time. I know, I know. We'll see each other soon. Goodbye, Lemony."
Jacques goes back to her. "You need to leave. Now."
"You're not coming with me?"
"If the Council of Elders still wants to execute us, I'm not letting my fiancé and unborn child be burned at the stake."
"Jacques-"
"I'll be fine. I'm staying here to rescue the Quagmires and Baudelaires. Take Nellie and go to my sister Kit at Caligari Carnival. She's disguised as the fortune teller Madame Lulu, and Kit will help you." He pauses. "Esmé interrupted us before you could answer. If we survive this, will you marry me?"
"Yes." She tries not to cry again, but now it's from joy even in the chaos. "Yes, I'll marry you. So don't you dare die, Jacques Snicket."
"I won't, future Mrs. Snicket. That's a promise. And our tale hasn't ended yet." He kneels in the dirt to kiss her stomach, then stands to capture her mouth with his. She tries to hold onto him, but he tears away. "Hurry, the crows' migration is about to start. Go, go!"
She forces herself to leave his side, get into the car, and drive away. Looking back at him standing outside the jail, she prays this isn't the last time she'll ever see him.
She finally makes it to Caligari Carnival. Weak and lightheaded, Olivia drags herself out of the taxi. A lithe woman walks by in a handstand, and waves. "Welcome, miss! I'm Colette."
"Hello, I need to see…" Olivia is in such a fog she almost says Kit's real name. "…Madame Lulu." And then the former librarian collapses.
When she wakes, she's in a tent hovered over by Colette and another woman. The second is the epitome of a fortune teller, all flowing robes and purple headscarf and curly dark hair. "Are you Madame Lulu?" Olivia wonders, voice strained.
"I am."
"The world is quiet here," Olivia adds hoarsely.
The fortune teller's dark gaze snaps to the librarian's green eyes. "Colette, get her some water."
Once Colette leaves, the other woman takes off her wig to reveal nut-brown hair. Beneath the makeup, she looks like Jacques. "My real name is Kit Snicket. Are you with VFD?"
"I just joined, and Jacques sent me to find you," Olivia rasps. "I recently became his fiancé, and I think I'm knocked up. He and I escaped jail in the Village Of Fowl Devotees, and we were–"
"Explain everything else on the drive." Kit holds out a hand. "I'm taking you to Heimlich Hospital."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've fallen hard for this well-read spy power couple and I can't get up.
I do not support two white women - Olivia and Kit - wearing bronzer and pretending to be heavily stereotyped Romani fortune tellers. But this fic is about Jacques and Olivia's love story, not Netflix's failure at handling Madame Lulu.
My version of the taxi (which I'm surprised wasn't actually an outfitted spy car in Netflix canon) is named after Wet Nellie, a submarine car in the 1977 James Bond film The Spy Who Loved Me. The barley and wheat pregnancy test was a real method from old wives' tales before modern medicine. It perfectly fits the Amish/Salem Witch Trials theme of the Village Of Fowl Devotees.
I don't usually write multi-chapter fics anymore, but the second installment is coming soon!
