Thanks to ikffrox and GEEKYKC for reviewing this *cough* brilliant FanFiction so long ago. I hope I haven't disappointed you with the long wait, but I think I'll update rather frequently now.

Disclaimer:I am not Lemony Snicket, so I have no rights towards the ASOUE related characters in this FanFiction

This chapter is in Isadora's point of veiw. I'm going to be switching between first and third person, so don't get confused.

I awoke to the hot, coppery scent of blood that morning. Red was spattered across my brother's pearl white pillow, and had generally made a mess of the whole bed. My head throbbed, and that was when I realized it was still bleeding, and probably for a long time, too. I stood up and shuffled all the sheets into a nice little red-and-white heap while stretching. Despite the mess, I felt good. Well rested for the first time in a while.

Also, there wasn't as much red tinted water in the shower that morning. Soaking my head and smiling, I thought about last night. It was so much better to avoid him. Not completely, of course, but getting out of there when I did felt pretty smart. I mean, I didn't almost die again. But next time I saw John I was probably going to be in for it.

If you ever saw chaos, it'd be Quigley in the morning. Though it's a Sunday, he's partially dressed for work. Yes, partially. His pants and shoes are on, but there's no socks or a belt, and his fly is undone. Added on is a dress shirt with the only the bottom buttons done up, and a tie that isn't tied like it's supposed to be. I don't even want to know if he remembered underwear. My brother is rather scatterbrained, mostly because he's got a ton of stuff to remember, and Violet is usually out of town. So the poor guy is stuck at home, with his daughter and a million things to do.

I took a seat across from Quigley, not expecting him to say 'Good morning' or 'Hello'. He was on the phone, writing in a replica of the commonplace book he had when we were teenagers. I desperately wished I still had mine, I'd written fake love poems to nobody in them, just to keep practice (Well, I wouldn't say to no one. Back then I had a huge crush on this picture of young David Bowie, but needless to say, that'd never happen) When I started going out with John and John had started going through my things, he'd found them, and thought I had a secret lover. And that was the end of those poems to Mr. Bowie. Along with my poster of Ziggy Stardust.

'Hey, Isadora', Quigley whirred to me whilst in the middle of his heated conversation that my ears could hardly follow, 'Do you think you could babysit Annabelle? I gotta get on some stuff, and taking her would be of inconvenience. I'll pay you and everything, I just really need to get things done-'

'Yes, Quigley, of course. Go get stuff done!', I exclaimed at him. He smiled and reached over to pat my hand, a childhood habit that never really faded,

'Thank you, Isadora. Your a lifesaver'. With that, my brother, without his belt or socks or underwear (maybe) dashed off to God knows where, I didn't even want to know how many places. By then I think he forgot he'd been on the phone.

I was starting to feel a whole lot better about my injured head that quiet afternoon, with Annabelle sleeping contently in her crib and me just being able to sit and think, maybe write some more poems to David. This time I'd hide them in a safer place, where they couldn't be stolen and burned, like in a vault. The idea made me smile, something I sometimes strained to do around John. Loving him was hard and easy at the same time. Under all those hate and threats was a truly sweet, caring boy, most just didn't dare try to get that deep. I had taken a risk in being with him, and it felt kind of like it was all worth while. Until he showed up with his face pressed against the sliding glass door of my brother's house with a syringe stuck in his arm. I jumped up, and wham! there goes my nice quiet day. I was scared because he might hurt me because of last night, but on the other hand he had a syringe stuck in his arm. I couldn't ignore that, especially if he hadn't used a sterilized needle.

'What the hell did you do?!', I slid open the glass door and took his arm, examining the booster filled with a foamy white substance. He was jittery,

'Heroin... I figured it'd go in faster if I stuck the needle in deeper. It doesn't work that way, Izzie'. There was some blood squirting out of the impalement, so I naturally had to help him. Not wanting to get anymore blood on Quigley house, I ripped off some sleeve, holding it tightly against the broken skin, then dragged him into the bathroom.

'You said you were off heroin', I said stiffly, trying to figure out a safe way to pull the slim metal out of his vein.

'I was. I was on coke for a bit, but it's not cheap stuff. Black Tar heroin is cheap, and keeps me high', John explained in an expert junkie way, 'Your not a user so you don't get it'. I gave a little pull at the the needle,

'Well, I'm not a user but I know lodging a syringe four inches into your arm isn't smart. Now, I'm going to yank it out on three, two, and-'

'AH, FUCK!', John crumpled down to the floor as I held the crimson needle between my fingers carefully. So much for not getting any more blood on anything. But it had to be done. I wrapped the still heroin filled syringe in a wash cloth and put in on the counter, then knelt next to my boyfriend,

'S'okay. I got it out'. He gave me puppy eyes,

'Ouch... That hurt...'. He was in one of his more forgiving moods. I wrapped my arms around his quivering form,

'I know. I'm going to steralize you and wrap that up, John. It won't hurt after', I assured.

'Promise?'

'Promise', I gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, forgiving him for last night. Things like this made us seem so normal, and normal was the best I could ever get with John.

Meh, did you think it was as awful as I did?

Klaus is coming into play soon, and John won't be, as Isadora says, 'normal'. Next chapter later this week.

By the way, ikffrox, I was reading your profile and noticed you have future story summaries posted. You should really get wroking on 'Murder' or was it 'Murderer'. I'd honestly like to check that out if you get around to it.