Chapter Two

Violent Reunion

The count has an eye on his ankle
and lives in a horrible place
He wants all your money
He's never at all funny
He wants to remove your face

-- Scream and Run Away from "The Tragic Treasury"

Klaus checked his watch, and frowned. Violet should have been back at least an hour earlier. He peeked into the nursery, where Sunny sat reading a picture book to an enthralled Beatrice.

"Sunny, I'm going to find Violet. Whatever you do, don't leave the tree. Who knows what's going on out there – there could be three Olafs running around, the way things are going. Look after Bee."

She nodded meekly, seeing the astonishing fierceness in her brother's eyes. A fierceness that frightened her almost as much as the man they had pulled from the ocean. She shivered once, then gathered herself together and continued to read, wrapping her spare arm around Beatrice protectively.

- - -

Klaus reached the end of the island, scanning the dunes. Suddenly he saw exactly what he had wanted never to see: Olaf, fully conscious, was throttling a gasping, thrashing Violet with such a determined look of sheer rage that Klaus knew he had only moments to stop the man before his sister ran out of strength. He screamed in fury and ran faster than he had ever run in his life, ramming Olaf away from Violet and into the sand. Klaus was no longer the gangly bookworm he had been before; a year of hauling driftwood and performing feats of strength as head of a family had filled out his frame, although he had not grown much taller.

He rammed his fists into Olaf's growling face, over and over without pause. Suddenly Olaf threw the younger man off his chest, and launched himself at the boy, murder in his crazed eyes. The two struggled, screaming in rage and hatred, until Klaus hit Olaf across the temple with a blow so hard that for a moment, he believed that he had beaten the man to death when Olaf's body hit the sand. Abruptly, Olaf twitched before laying still – and Klaus knew that the fight, though over for the moment, was far from through.

But he knew that he had more important things to attend to – such as his barely conscious sister, whose neck was already ringed with young bruises that promised to be a long time healing. Gently, Klaus cradled Violet and rose, leaving the unconscious and bleeding Olaf in a heap in the sand.

- - -

Violet opened her sore eyes to find herself back in the tree, lying on her bed with the worst sore throat she had ever had. Sunny sat rocking Kit's crib, staring worriedly at Violet. Her eyes were round with fear.

"Violet, are you alright? Klaus says he almost killed you."

Violet sat up and gagged. She could barely force air through her bruised and damaged windpipe but finally managed to reply. "Yes, Sunny. Where's Klaus?"

Sunny shook her head and pointed out the door. "He's in the study…he tied Olaf up. I heard shouting earlier, but Klaus told me to stay in here and watch you and Kit. Violet, I'm frightened."

Violet made her way stiffly over to where Sunny was sitting and hugged her tightly. "We'll be fine. Be back. Stay put."

The study door was open a tiny crack, and creaked ominously when Violet opened it onto the gruesome scene within. Violet barely recognized her brother: His glasses were smudged with grime, and his rolled shirtsleeves were covered with gore. He looked almost villainous, she shuddered to think. He sat glaring at the man who was bound with what appeared to be steel wire to one of their sturdier chairs. The wire cut into Olaf's wrists, and both it and his wrists were stained brown with dried blood.

Walking around to stand next to Klaus, she got her first good look at the man who had tried to marry her for her family's fortune, murder both her and her siblings, and had very probably started the fire that had killed her parents. The side of his face where Klaus had punched him was a livid purple, as was his swollen eye. His white shirt was more brown than bleached, and his pinstriped pants were in tatters; he was wearing boots instead of his usual shoes, which hid his tattoo.

The hatred and utter loathing that clouded his eyes when he saw her almost made her step back. Olaf had been insane and viciously cruel before, but she had never seen a look so evil, so utterly filled with hate from the eyes under that eyebrow.

"I see you survived," Olaf snarled. "Had I not spent two days adrift in the ocean, I can assure you that you would not have been so lucky."

"Shut up." Klaus's voice was low and furious. His eyes glinted dangerously at their captive, as if daring him to continue.

Olaf grinned maliciously in return. "Then again, who says I won't have the chance to try again, eh?"

Klaus attempted to launch himself at Olaf but Violet held him back, ignoring the fire that erupted in her throat.

"No. Leave him. To me. Go."

Klaus froze, then nodded. She knew her brother thought she wanted revenge, the chance to return Olaf's deadly favor, and let him think that. "I'm going to take Sunny and Bee to the safe place. Meet me there in two hours." He left, pulling the door shut behind him tightly, most likely to ward away the screams he hoped would soon erupt from Olaf.

Violet watched him go, ignoring the bound man. In less than a day, Klaus had channeled all his adolescent confusion into acts of violence she would not have thought him capable of. It frightened her – and that was why she knew he could not be the one to do what needed to be done…whatever that was. He was already so rapidly transformed that Violet knew she had to protect her brother before he became any more similar to the man seated in the middle of the library. There had to be an end, and this would be it, one way or another.

She made her way back across the room and sat, face to face with her worst nightmare.

- - -

"Well, my dear, aren't you going to kill me?" Olaf grinned, anticipating the fight that he thought was coming, in which he would clearly be the victor, battered as his adversary was.

"No."

Her simple answer caught him off guard and quenched his immediate bloodlust in an instant.

"What did you say?"

"I. said. No. Just want. To know. Something. Some things." Every word was painful in more ways than one, but she forced the air past her lips. She had to know.

Olaf sneered. "What makes you think I'll answer any of your questions?"

She shrugged painfully, pretending apathy. "If. You. Want. To. Live." Violet was surprised at herself as well; yesterday, she would not have thought herself capable of such callousness. But she knew she had two young girls and a not-yet-grown brother to protect.

His eyebrow raised in feigned shock. "Well, Violet Baudelaire, I never would have expected such a thing from you! And you say you aren't a villain. Well, my dear, I have news for you: you are just as much a villain as I am."

She shook her head. "Never. Killed. Anyone. Not like you."

He laughed, eyes shining. "So you protest. But I can see through that façade of yours, right to the black heart you deny."

Tears filled her eyes, which she wiped away quickly. She knew she was not what Olaf said she was, and yet she knew her tears were those of uncertainty and guilt. She forced herself back to the task at hand: questioning the monster before her.

"How did you. Survive, Olaf?"

He watched her carefully. "So good to hear my name from your lips, you know. The disdain…and by the way, I didn't need to survive. I never died."

"But…we buried you. Next to Kit."

The shiny eyes that stared back from the dark rings on his face shone with even more amusement. "That was not me you buried. I suppose you remember a certain someone named Count Omar, hmm? Did I ever mention my twin brother and I are quite alike in appearance?"

The realization of his words knocked Violet back, and she gasped audibly, sending a painful spasm through her bruised throat. Olaf had never been on the island, never been on the boat…because his twin, Count Omar, had taken his place – taken his place easily, because none of the Baudelaires knew of his existence. They had simply thought The Daily Punctilio's typographic error was just that – a false name, nothing more. And the death of "Count Omar" that had taken place in the Town of VFD had only blinded them further: they had never known that the name had been borrowed from an actual, living person.

Violet realized this with a thrill of sheer terror, and backed away from Olaf to the corner, as far from the man as possible. Her action provoked a delighted laugh from the captive, who looked almost the happiest she had ever seen him.

"Now you see, my dear…I waited and waited, laying low until the time when I would finally be able to come to this island, where my useless brother had died just as I planned, to steal the Baudelaire fortune once and for all."

Violet felt almost relieved. "Okay. Have it."

"What?" Olaf's face had lost its triumph and now he looked simply shocked, as if he could not believe what he had heard.

"You can have it, Olaf. Just leave us alone." Violet knew she didn't need the money, only needed to know that the people she cared about were left in peace.

The man struggled to gather himself, and then smiled evilly. "You know, dearest Violet, there was a time when I would take the money and slit all of your throats before making my escape, but this time I believe I shall take your offer. Why, you may ask? Because, my dear, I have won. You are stranded on this wretched island, no friends to help you – and I get exactly what I want, and my friends will be returning to bring me home in triumph. Letting you live in misery is far crueler than a quick death."

Violet trembled in anger at his gloating speech. How dare he mock their suffering, their isolation. She stalked over to where Olaf sat, her hands balled into fists, and slapped him as hard as she was able across the face. Olaf was somewhat shocked. "Well, that was surprising. I expected your brother to resort to fisticuffs, but never such a lady as yourself. Had I made you my countess as planned so long ago, such behavior never would have been tolerated."

The leer in his eyes told Violet that he enjoyed the effect his detestable words had on her, and he continued, in a low, brusque tone. "The offer still stands, my dear. And I do believe you'll wish you had said 'yes'."

She contemplated hitting him again, but refrained because she knew he wanted her to given in to violence. Instead she turned and opened the door, hiding where Olaf could not see the paleness of her face. "Never. I'll sign over the fortune. Then you. Leave and never. Come back. Or I will. Kill you myself."

The last she heard before slamming the door was Olaf's high-pitched, victorious laughter echoing off the walls of his prison.

--

Author's Notes:

Second chapter finished; I tried to make Olaf as deranged and angry as possible, without making my future plot seem completely implausible. Then again, fanfiction is by definition implausible. Please review, and let me know what you like or dislike about the fanfic so far!

Cheers,

Katrina