A/N : Last chapter! Enjoy the chapter, and find me at the end for more informations on what's to come.

The world was never quiet

Lie 20 : …

I realize that I passed over entire months in silence, and still those last chapters succeed one another quickly even though they only regard a relatively short period of time. But I guess things rushed for me, VFD and in general. It's a bit weird, really, how everything speeded up and still I remember those few days as the longest of my life.

I feel like I spent an eternity in this damned crowd before they ended up putting me in a cell whose door I could have picked in five minutes. I feel like they left me alone for another eternity. I feel like it took an eternity for Lemony to arrive, my bag on his shoulder. I feel like it took him an eternity to reach the bars. I smiled to him, but it took him an eternity to smile back and speak.

"What game are your playing?

- I have a last card to play. It's inside this bag.

- What…

- At the bottom."

I watched him diving his arm inside my bag's mess. I watched him frown, take the package, hand it to me. He didn't ask what was this thing wrapped in another bag, this little thing with indistinct contours. He let me take this thing and stuff it in one of my pockets. I didn't answer his lack of question. He would know soon enough.

He finally raised his eyes and stared back. He didn't understand – could I really blame him? I'd been running away from anything close to justice to throw myself in the worst pseudo-court I could find. I wasn't suicidal, at least not as far as he knew. It couldn't make any sense in his mind.

"Come tomorrow," I asked him. "I want you to be there.

- There for what? Watch them lynch you?

- You know me better than that, Lemony. If everything goes well, I will get out of here as fresh and dashing as I am now.

- And if everything does not go well?"

He frowned. I was too careless for him. Even for myself, I have to admit. But I had lost my last purpose, I saw it set sail from a hotel's roof. The only thing I had left, I didn't want it anymore. And I wasn't going to just throw the sugar bowl down the drain. It deserves better. It deserved the fires we started for it. It was adequate. I can tell you now that it really was.

I rested my head between two bars and sighed. I didn't want to lose Lemony – I didn't want him to disappear. I was certain I wouldn't be able to find him and I was right. He's the one to find me whenever he wants to - I can only find him when he wants me to. He looked at me, unmoved. I wasn't expecting this much anyway.

"If everything does not go well, you'll have another story to tell.

- I am not joking, Cassandre. The Arsonists are suspicious, they know you're up to something," he retorted. "They won't let you speak. You'll be lucky if you reach the hearing room alive.

- I know what they do to those whose voices they don't want to hear, Lemony.

- Then why are you playing with fire? You better than anyone know that you'll end up burning yourself."

He was right – obviously, he was right. But it was the point. I didn't take into account my very numerous enemies on the wrong side of the Schism, but I knew things wouldn't go well. My enemies, my supposed allies, even those I didn't know, none of them wanted a kid who definitely knew too much about them around, but they did not want to be blamed for her death either. Blaming her for avoiding her own trial, on the other hand…

You see what I'm hinting at? If not, you'll soon understand. It took a few seconds for Lemony to get it. He slowly shook his head and a vague smile distorted his lips. I chuckled.

"Do you realize how dangerous this plan is?

- I know. How long since the last time you threw yourself heart and soul in a shaky plan?

- Fourteen years." He kept quiet for a few more seconds. "I'll be there.

- Good. I still need you, don't fail me.

- Don't die. I still need you too."

We shared another glance before he vanished again in the corridor's shadows. I didn't sleep - of course I didn't. And I wouldn't have had enough time anyway.

They came for me a hour or so after Lemony's departure. Outside, the crowd was restless again. It was almost as if no one had left. They took me out of my cell, and forgot to tie my wrists. I was greeted by fresh air and early morning. I didn't understand why they came so early, at first – it's the smell that made everything clear. The smell and the smoke.

Two fires in less than two days, I mark it as a record. The man that held my arm put me in front of the great building of the High Court, in front of the vivid orange flames that licked the sky. The judges were outside, whinging, asking what was going on. Well, Strauss did. The two others, the man with a beard but no hair and his colleague that I didn't recognize, stared at me in silence. How suspenseful, who set this fire?

"Get her closer, let her see what she's done!" They ordered my human hinder. He pushed me in front of the judges. "Wasn't it enough to burn Hotel Denouement? You also needed to burn the High Court?

- Answer your own question. How is your leg?

- Silence!" He wanted to slap me. That much was clear. "Your trial will take place here and now, so that everyone can see the full extent of your felony."

Haha. I looked at Strauss. She turned her eyes away, as if the mere fact of looking at me reminded her of everything she'd seen me do in Hotel Denouement, everything Olaf had done, everything the Baudelaire had done. But I didn't turned my eyes away. I saw her shivering and moving next to the colleague. This woman was swift to condemn a monster she didn't dare look in the eyes. I don't know what happened to her afterward. My optimism would say she must have left the Volunteers. But I doubt it – she's the perfect inane Volunteer, clinging onto ideas she does not even understand. But anyway.

In front of the flames that still devoured the building, the judges listed the charges, one by one. Arson, murder, escape, complicity in murders and arsons… The list was long and I barely listened to it. I was searching for Lemony. I hoped he didn't leave to rest, I hoped he was… Still there. And he was. He was in the middle of the crowd, my bag on his back, a cigarette between his lips, his long trench and his hat. He was staring at me. He was waiting. I didn't recognize anyone else in this crowd, but it didn't matter.

They eventually asked me if I had anything to say for my defence. It wasn't a trial – it was a forum. In their mind, I was going to throw away everything I thought I knew about them, about everyone around me (there were a few Volunteers who came especially to see what would happen to me). They would then produce false evidence or simply insist that I had killed Jacques and set fire to two buildings in the same day. Even if I'd been locked inside a cell the whole night. Who said they were smart?

I didn't say anything for a while. I walked up the court's stairs, got closer to the flames. They were already dying, for lack of things to burn. The building was almost already collapsed. They watched me as you would watch a demon preparing some demonic spell. I took the sugar bowl from my pocket. And I started to speak while I got it out of its bag.

"I won't reply to those charges, because I know you already found me guilty of half of them. I won't utter any charges against you, because it would be pointless and I would be losing precious time." They frowned. The crowd started to fuss around. "I know why you came here. You came seeking for the trial that didn't occur yesterday, or the one that should have occurred today.

- Enou…

- But I know some others came for a very different reason. This."

I took the bowl from my bag and showed it. The silence that followed lasted an eternity too. There wasn't a move, not a sound except the flames' behind me. Every stared at the teeny tiny porcelain thing that had warranted all these horrors. Some stared because they didn't understand what a sugar bowl could possibly mean. Other stared because they thought Olaf had it. Others stared because they thought it was in safety. And Lemony stared at me and I stared at him.

Until silence turned into some sort of a rumbling and roaring thunder, until everyone started to move in every directions, until some of them ordered others to seize me, or the sugar bowl, or both, to give them the sugar bowl, or destroy it, or let them destroy them, to take it away, or take me away, or take me away with the sugar bowl…

"You won't do anything with this sugar bowl," I almost screamed above the uproar that immediately quieted. "I don't know what's inside and I'm almost certain half of you don't know either. All I know is that you lied, manipulated, started fires, killed to have it.

- That's not true!

- It is. Isn't Esme Squalor there?" I received no answer. I learnt later that she'd died in the Hotel's fire. "If it's not true, then you won't mind if I…

- NO!"

The scream came from everywhere at once. Almost two third of the crowd suddenly understood that I was serious when I pretended to throw it in the flames. The first rows came closer as I held my hand almost in the flames. I just needed to open it for the bowl to break and its content to burn with the rest of the court. For good measure, I stepped back and felt my back getting even hotter. They stopped. All of them. And Lemony was still staring at me.

He knew – still knows, I suppose, what was in the sugar bowl. He also knew that it was important. He would have been the only one I would have listened to. But he didn't say anything. He allowed it to happen. Accepted. I smiled and, as if encouraged, I continued.

"An incredible kid told me a few hours ago that no one ever did anything for him and his family. That everyone gave up on them, even the good people, even the noble hearts, and that he had no reason to protect the sugar bowl." I saw, from the corner of my eyes, Strauss straightening her posture. She knew what I was talking about. "I will repeat these wise words. When the Arsonists took my father from me and burnt my house, only one man helped me. He was taken from me by the same Arsonists, who then blamed me for his death, and later on for every crimes they committed. The Volunteers, so rightful, so noble, didn't try to understand. They blamed me too." I gritted my teeth when I felt my skin burning. "And all this time I was protecting the sugar bowl. I thought I would give it to the first noble heart that would listen to me. He never came. Rather, he came but is now gone."

I don't know how I managed not to cry. I was in some sort of a strange trance, I spoke as I write today. I said what sounded necessary, what sounded right. And no one stopped me. They could have shot me, but the sugar bowl would have fallen. One wrong move and I would release it. Status quo.

I took a deep breath and I smiled the most luminous smile I could. I looked at the sugar bowl that had followed me everywhere without me opening it or talking about it to anyone. I printed its image in my memory and turned my eyes to the crowd before me.

"You took everything from me. It's my turn to take everything from you."

Time slowed down. I released the small porcelain bowl in the flames. With a barely audible noise, it broke before I crushed its contents with my heel. Behind me, the flames briefly redoubled in intensity and I felt the back of my coat and my heel burning dangerously. A dozen of people dashed on me – rather on the now invisible remains of the sugar bowl. The judges were part of them.

When time went back to its usual speed, I sneaked between the legs, between the arms, the screams (take it, leave it, it can be saved, it's pointless, I'm a Volunteer, I'm not…) and I managed to run away from the still burning court. I suddenly felt a hand grabbing mine, heard a voice ordering me to run and, this time, I obeyed.

And we ran while the whole town seemed to move toward the court, the whole world, even God himself. The deluge was behind us and we ran without stopping until we reached the edges of the city. To the place where everything began, where I should have met Kit Snicket and begin my apprenticeship in VFD to become a perfect Volunteer. The place where the Arsonists had entered my life to never leave. Lemony chose an empty taxi, took a key and switched on the engine. He threw my bag on the backseats, left every doors open and came back to me.

"I'll only ask you once. Was it the true sugar bowl?

- Yes.

- I see."

He nodded. He believed me – he always believed everything I told him. And he was right. I wasn't lying. Extensive researches on the sugar bowl, well, the sugar bowls since fake ones would soon be produced, proved it. He gestured the backseat door. I smiled and nodded too.

I was going to sit when he grabbed my arm and put his two hands on my shoulders. I stood still and stared at him. He did the same, at length, as the sun rose behind me. And I didn't move. And I realized he didn't look so much like Jacques. His face wasn't thin at all, his face was too angular. His gaze was way sadder, his eyes, way more distant. His body was stronger, thicker. Their likeness stopped at their voice, but I didn't understood it until that day.

"You don't look like him this much," I uttered. "I thought so but… No. Why didn't you tell me?

- You wouldn't have believed me.

- True. Where are we going?

- We need to know where the Baudelaire are. We both have a promise to keep."

I smiled again and nodded. He looked around, took off his hat and put it on my head. He wasn't the last person to strangely disappear anymore – I was this person. This time, I grabbed his arm when he tried to go to the car. I didn't grab his arm to stare at him, but to find my way in his arms. Without asking for any authorization. Or permission.

He would have given it. He gave it to me, in hindsight. After a second of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around my back and let me rest my head on his shoulder. I wasn't forgiven for all the lies I said. I wasn't forgiven for the help I gave to Olaf and the Baudelaire. I wasn't forgiven for my father's murder. But I was understood. It was worth all the riches of this world – all the sugar bowls, all the Snicket files, every VFD's fortunes and every stupid codes.

"You'll still need for long?" I asked, a vague smile on my lips he couldn't see. "'Cause I will get bored, you know.

- I'm afraid I'll follow you for quite some times. You know too much.

- Or not enough."

I eventually released him, of course, and he let me escape. I sat at the back of his taxi and watched the city getting smaller and smaller, the smokes rising to the sky and the sun starting to shine. I stared at the small dot the city became long after this small dot wasn't visible anymore. And when we reached the mountains and there was only the arid panorama of the hinterlands around us, I fell asleep on my bag. For the first times in ages, it seemed very empty.

I could go on. I could tell you that once we'd reached the border, I left Lemony with a quick note. I could tell you that, a few months later and after him finding me again, we went incognito to a masquerade organized by the Duchess of Winnipeg, that I finally met her and finally tasted bitter apples. I could tell you that I finally reassembled the Snicket files with every draft pages I found here and there. I could add that Lemony and I separated as many times as we reunited, and he apparently still needs me. And I could finish by saying that we know the Baudelaire are alive.

But I won't. I was not blamed for what happened once the sugar bowl had been destroyed, and was never charged with anything – it doesn't mean I couldn't be, though. Cassandre Dupin disappeared this day, and everything that remains of her are accusations that don't vanish and won't vanish.

I know that, should the Arsonists or the Volunteers find me, they wouldn't care about the months that passed and they would do exactly what they wanted to do when they brought me to court: eliminate me. This tale is not trying to stop them, it just tries to quench the thirst for truth that some still have. Those who ask the good questions.

This is how this tale ends. I would love to say I am a good woman, a volunteer with a noble heart who now travels the words to protect it from criminals – but I can't. But in fact, and it is the last confidence I'll make here, I know no one who can. VFD is corrupted, rotten to the core, monstrous. The time when its members were admirable is over, if it's ever been. I'm no better than Olaf, but certainly no worse than Kit Snicket or Bertrand Baudelaire.

And I'll still put out fires I didn't start, even if it means I'll end up in ashes.

"Book found in the ashes of the Valorous Farms Dairy after the suspicious fire that destroyed the farm.

An extensive study is requested. Apparently related to the Dupin, Snicket, Baudelaire and Quagmire's cases and to the events of the 667 Dark Avenue, the Heimlich hospital, the Valley of Four Drafts, the Hotel Denouement and the High Court. Mentions the existence of the Snicket File 1 and 2 as well as the sugar bowl.

NB : it seems that it could prove Lemony Snicket isn't dead as it has been announced fifteen years ago, and that he isn't guilty of the crimes he was accused of. The file must be reopened.

K., V., S. B"

A/N : And here we are, at the end of this story! First things first, thank you very much for reading me. I actually really enjoyed writing this, and love Cassandre's character. I won't give any precise date, 'cause I'm the best to give expectations and never fulfill them (remind me of a certain someone hmm...), but I am already writing a second part of this story. It's going to be the last one, and I hope I'll be able to upload it here. I'll do so when I'll reach the end of it, so I'm sure I won't have a writer block while I'm supposed to upload it.

In any case, thank you again! Watch out for the smokes - the Villain's Felonious Deeds are never over.