"Violet…"
The voice retrieves her softly from her sleep. She opens her eyes with some difficulty, exhausted beyond comprehension, and she struggles to make sense of her surroundings. There's Lemony hovering over her — his face is blurred, but those eyes are unmistakably his. Blinking again to sharpen her sight, Violet notices one unmistakable aberration in the man staring back at her.
He's smiling.
It's a foreign look, she decides. The smile stretches muscles that must have atrophied after all those years of disuse, but it brings a glimmer to his gaze and makes him look infinitely younger than the brooding companion she has come to know.
For some moments, she only stares.
Then she remembers.
With a quick snap, she turns her head to the side and finds the slot beside her empty. Her heart palpitates so quickly that she all but jumps out of bed.
But Lemony's hands land on her shoulders, easing her down before she agitates herself too much.
"Slowly, Violet," he advises.
"Where is he?" she asks quickly. "Where's Klaus?"
"He's in the bathroom," he says, his smile morphing into a grin, "disgorging whatever poison is left in his body, I'd presume."
Relief washes over her like a tidal wave. It feels like a bird has taken flight in her chest — it flutters and tickles her with its feathery wings, and she feels so light, so weightless. When her eyes blur this time, it is with unshed tears.
"Then…" she starts, "… he is…"
"He's alright," he finishes for her. His exuberance is amplified by the sight of her own. "Your concoction did the job — I swear, I'm the last to believe in miracles, but you might just be the one to make a heathen like me stray into faith."
She lets out a laugh, short and relieved, then she bites her lips and closes her eyes, fending off her tears. She allows herself to feel the depth of her exhaustion just for a moment; enough to relish the comfort of knowing that it was worth it. It paid off. She didn't lose her brother; didn't break her promise; didn't drive one more nail into her coffin.
Lemony's hand on her cheek anchors her. He swipes a finger across her cheekbone, tracing the end of one dark, puffy circle, and her comfort finds a custodian in him. Throughout this journey, he has been by her side; silent as death, but not gentle enough to offer her its sweet release. A most stubborn lifeline. His insistence that she stay alive is cruel at times — why make her toil and suffer when she is bound to a life of misfortune?
But then he becomes her compass, just as silent as her death and lifeline, and he shows her why she stays alive.
Love. She stays alive for love.
The love of her siblings. Of a life beyond the murk of her present.
There's a faint clamor in the background and she simply knows that it's Klaus. And her heart fills and overflows.
In the spur of the moment, she throws her arms around Lemony's neck, hugging him so tightly he almost tips over in his chair. Tentatively, slowly, he raises his arms and holds her to him. His hands barely graze her back, fingertips just faintly touching the thick material of her dress, but she's more alive than anything he has allowed himself to feel since Beatrice's death, and he doesn't know what to do with that.
Just when he begins to settle in her embrace, the door cracks open, and Violet withdraws from him sharply, her eyes wide open.
"Klaus!" she exclaims, jumping to the ground and running to hug her brother.
Klaus, still disoriented, can hardly be made to contain his sister's excitement. He stumbles and almost falls, but she steadies him in her hold, clinging to his feeble shoulders and clutching his shirt until her knuckles turn white.
"Vi," he says meekly, "I think I need to sit down… I don't feel too steady on my feet."
"Yes, sorry, of course," she says, pulling back with a sheepish laugh. "Come, let's sit you on the bed."
She guides him with an arm around his waist, ever the protective sister, and eases him down on the edge of the bed. As he sits down, he spares Lemony a look that is at once suspicious and resigned to their need for his assistance.
"How are you feeling, Klaus?" asks Lemony, notwithstanding the boy's suspicion.
"I can't get the taste of bile out of my mouth," says Klaus, licking his lips so as to prove his distaste.
"Oh… here," mumbles Lemony, patting down his pockets in search for something. He eventually finds it and offers it to Klaus. "It's not the most appetizing meal, I'm afraid. But it's fairly nutritious. Should get the foul taste out of your mouth, too."
When Klaus does nothing more than stare at the bar, Violet takes it and unwraps it before putting it in her brother's hand.
"Eat, Klaus, you need it," she encourages.
He complies, chewing slowly as though it were a painstaking task. Violet's stomach grumbles and she quickly covers it with her arms, embarrassed.
"I," Lemony begins, searching his pockets more thoroughly only to come out empty-handed, "don't have any more flapjacks…"
"That's alright," says Violet. Then she grins. "Flapjacks?"
"I forget my audience," he mumbles, humming and drumming his fingers on his knee as he thinks on it. Recalling the term, he says, "Oat bars."
"Granola bars," says Klaus. They both look at him, and he looks back at them, eyes flicking from one face to the other. "More commonly."
"Yes, that's right," says Lemony, clearing his throat.
Klaus's clever brown eyes appraise Lemony with barefaced curiosity. There's no true aggression in his demeanor, but his suspicion is evident enough for there to be tension in the room. He still has little reason to trust him after all.
"Where in England are you from?" Klaus questions innocently enough.
"That's… a negligible part of my past." Lemony shifts in his seat. He eyes the door as though considering his chances of escape, but the prospect of humiliation keeps him rooted to his spot.
"It's your start point," Klaus says. "Everything that came after came as a consequence."
"An interesting philosophy."
"It's true more than interesting. Something must have happened to you in your hometown and made you move to the States. Before you joined VFD. And met our parents."
Silence hovers stiflingly in the air. Despite her desire to keep the peace, Violet finds her eyes glued to Lemony.
He looks at Klaus, face sullen and tired. "Your parents trusted me, Klaus," he says softly.
"So we should trust you too?" Klaus counters, bitterness dripping from his tone. The universe had a way of turning every would-be positive occurrence that the Baudelaires encountered into a life or death situation, and he refuses to be the butt of another cosmic joke.
But Lemony simply says, "What other option do you have?"
And his arguments nullify.
"He has a point, Klaus," Violet says tentatively. "I'd never have found you without Mr. Snicket. And he's helped us get here."
"Where I almost died?"
She flinches, and guilt shrouds his face and softens his edges.
And she steels her resolve and looks him in the eye. "Where we can find Sunny and Beatrice."
Klaus sighs. "But we don't know that they're here, do we? Not truly."
"But we might have a lead."
Having garnered both men's attention, Violet proceeds, "There was a note hidden in a music box in my room. Written in code. And when I deciphered it, I got this."
She produces a small piece of paper, now crumpled, from the pocket of her dress, and Lemony takes it in a snappish movement.
"Desert your current location. Go to the light bearer," he reads out loud.
It clicks instantly for Klaus. "Lucifer."
"Exactly," nods Violet.
"Someone must have put it there," Klaus says, taking the note from Lemony to examine it, as if he can uncover its creator's identity from the handwriting or some other clue. "Someone who knows we're looking for Sunny and Beatrice."
"It could very well be a trap," says Lemony, ill at ease.
"A trap that will lead us somewhere," she quickly retorts. This possibility hasn't escaped her, but more pressing than any looming danger is her desperation to come one step closer to uniting her family once more.
Klaus becomes silent as he weighs their options, while Lemony, an embittered cynic, affords such considerations not even a minute. Instead, he implores Violet with his gaze. She looks away before she can understand what it is he's imploring of her.
"It's not like staying in Vesper is a safe option," mumbles Klaus.
"Nowhere is safe." Violet smiles ruefully. "But we'll be on our guard in Lucifer. Maybe try not to engage with the locals as much."
Lemony shakes his head. "Engaging with the locals is how we get information — there is no way out of it. But…" He licks his teeth and sighs. "I might be able to enlist some outside help."
Suspicion returns quickly to Klaus's disposition.
"A friend," presses Lemony meaningfully. "I trust her with my life."
"I'm sure she's earned that trust, then," says Violet, looking at her brother.
Under the pressure of their expectant silence, Klaus concedes.
"To Lucifer," he announces with a heavy exhale. Violet grips his hand and squeezes, and he returns her smile a bit too slowly.
Lemony stands up and slips on his jacket, smoothing its sleeves and his trousers before donning his hat. "Shall we, Baudelaires?"
"We shall," says Violet, looking again at her brother. She rises to her feet before he does, though he lags less this time.
The anticipation of a new place to visit — or perhaps it is dread, though the two words have become vastly interchangeable — sends a flutter to their stomachs. It could very well be relief to leave this dire establishment with its faded greens and mold-infested ceilings. Gertrude Solomon in particular is a cruel stain that clings to Violet's psyche.
But before they can exit room 13, the priest-doctor emerges, humming a hymn to himself. He abruptly interrupts his tune when he sees Klaus, and he exclaims, "Hallelujah! The boy is healed!"
The boy in question looks at his sister for an explanation, only to find her even more weary if at all possible. Violet thins her lips and dryly says, "A miracle."
"Hallelujah indeed," Lemony says just as dryly.
Wagging his finger, the priest-doctor says, "That was one mighty prayer!"
"It must have wrung you dry."
"I admit, just between you and me, it knocked me out cold. Slept like a log after my recital." He hacked out a laugh.
"Well, I suppose you can return to bed," Lemony says. "Come on, Baudelaires."
But his stride is halted when the priest-doctor rests a hand on his chest and says, "Now, mister, I'm a saintly man, but a simple man all the same — I need money to survive, and I can't be offerin' my services like a charity."
Lemony only stares at the offensive hand on his person with a grimace. He hates it when strangers touch him.
"So about the bill —"
"Post it to my address," Lemony says, producing a card from his jacket pocket. It reads Emmanuel Jung, 8765 London, Filigree Street, 87.
The priest-doctor squints at it. "Ah — Mr. Jung?"
"The J reads like a Y."
"How's that?"
"I'm from Switzerland."
"Ah!" he exclaims despite not comprehending the logic in the slightest. "Right, so, Mr. Young, we don't have no post office 'round here."
"Send it by bat."
And with a last awkward pat on the man's shoulder, Lemony steps around him, glancing briefly behind him to make sure that the two siblings are following. Violet and Klaus avoid looking at the perplexed priest-doctor, though they do look at each other with uncertainty, and they hurry behind Lemony.
It would be comforting to say that stepping outside the hospital filled them with a fresh bout of hope and the rejuvenating warmth of sunlight, but that would be a lie. The truth is that their surroundings are equally bleak to where they were a few moments ago, with the same flat, lifeless stretch of land they've grown sick of seeing over the past few days, and with a sun that seems adamant about hiding behind the oppressive cluster of clouds.
Tesla, who has been in search of berries the whole night, flies down and hovers a few centimeters above Violet.
"Tesla — there you are," she greets fondly, reaching out to him, but he croaks and flies away in the direction of the trees before settling down on the ground. His beady eyes lock on her. "He wants us to follow him."
She's the first to go after Tesla, and she crouches to her knees when she reaches him, her eyes falling from his form to the ground where the blackberries lie. Her jaw drops. "Where did you find these!" she says, gathering them in the palm of her hand and looking behind her to check if Lemony and Klaus are there to see this.
"Tesla got us berries," she says proudly.
"These are blackberries," says Klaus picking up one berry to inspect it. There's a frown on his face. "How is this possible?"
Violet looks around her and muses, "It's odd, isn't it? All I see are dead trees with no foliage, let alone fruit."
"Well… not only that, but it's not the right season, either."
"What is that thing dad always used to say? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth?" she grins lopsidedly, eyebrows raised.
Klaus smiles with some exasperation, but the smile fades when wistfulness settles in. "Yeah, he always said that. Mostly to justify your weirder inventions to mom."
"Right," she says quietly. Neither of them meant to evoke those memories, so they do away with them quickly. "So now we're in a situation where we're hungry and have little to no resources. I say we just eat."
She holds her palm up in offering, and, crouching to sit beside her, Klaus takes a bunch of berries. But Lemony remains unmoving, lost in his own thoughts.
"You two eat, Baudelaires," he says. "I'll go make a call before we set out for Lucifer."
And like a specter, he drifts back to the hospital where there is a payphone near its main entrance. With the fog of the early morning settling down, he soon becomes swallowed up until he hardly resembles more than a black blur in the distance.
The two siblings eat silently until Klaus speaks. "What kind of name is Lemony, anyway?"
Violet's shoulders descend and she gives him a meaningful look.
"It's an honest question," Klaus defends, doing his best to appease his sister with a more lighthearted tone. "For all we know, he might actually be Jung from Switzerland."
She laughs. "You would much rather create and believe a conspiracy theory that he's… the undead Carl Jung than believe he's who he says he is."
"His looks would be very impressive for a centenarian, I have to admit," he jokes, and she shakes her head.
Then the laughter dies, and he tells her earnestly, "It's not that I believe he's an evil man, Vi. Or that he's out to get us. I just don't believe that there's nothing in it for him, or that he's helping us out of the goodness of his heart. He was making all that money with the books he published about us. Maybe he's building enough material for his next story."
The smile on Violet's lips twitches and falls. For some seconds, she's without a compelling argument, and Klaus notices that the image he painted hurts her to even consider. It makes him feel cruel for even painting it, and he hopes that she knows it's for her own good.
"It's a fair enough price for helping us reunite, isn't it?" she says. The argument is for him, not for her. It's not enough for her. "I would let him do whatever he wants with our story if it means I get to have you all safe and sound by my side."
Klaus gives her a sympathetic smile, putting a consoling hand on her shoulder. "This much I agree on."
"But you don't trust him."
"No."
Silence, then she says, "Do you like him? Even a little bit?"
He struggles with his words as he fails to vocalize the confusing nature of how he feels about all of this.
"I think there's a lot that he isn't telling us," he finally says. "And until I know what it is he's hiding, I can't truly like him. He just feels… shady to me."
She nods slowly in acknowledgement of his answer though it disappoints her. The greatest discomfort she feels comes from the fact that she can't fault him for his reasoning. He says the things that her mind always whispers to her; the very things to which she has deafened her ears.
"He's coming," she says, looking at his approaching form as it emerges from the fog, and they close the subject. They pop the last few berries in their mouth before they stand and dust off their respective skirt and trousers.
Lemony comes to a halt in front of them and says, "Are you two ready?"
"Was that your friend you called back there?" Klaus nods at the payphone.
"Yes it was," says Lemony as they all walk side by side. "She said she shall arrive sometime at night."
"What's her name, by the way?" says Violet.
Lemony smiles grimly. "Moxie. Moxie Mallahan."
Violet recognizes the name as the bargaining chip Lemony used to get Klaus admitted into the hospital, and her interest immediately spikes. She opens her mouth to ask another question, but Lemony clears his throat and quickens his steps so that he is walking in front of her and Klaus, and her lips fall closed.
It would be a lie to say that his secrecy doesn't agitate her. It agitates her more than she is ready to let on.
The walk resumes in silence, with only the blow of the wind through the barren branches to create any sound at all, and by the time the fog has begun to clear, they reach the intersection that divides Venus into Vesper and Lucifer, and they stop to look at the new road ahead.
The hedges are also shaped like crosses, but from where one would walk to pass them, the crosses look inverted. Also similarly to Vesper, the path is paved with cobblestones, except that these are colored black. If there is a feeling of forced sanctity in its neighbor, Lucifer dons its ominous mien much more naturally.
The fog is also heavier in Lucifer's air. It is as though Vesper is breathing it out for Lucifer to suck it in. Be it a blessing or a curse, this means that much of what lies ahead is obscured from their sight. They can only know what hides behind the weightless screen once they have stepped through it.
Violet looks at Klaus, then looks at Lemony. The former is uncertain, and the latter has had his anxiousness blunted some infinitely miserable year ago.
And she is unfaltering.
With her raven, Violet is the first to step into Lucifer.
Never thought I would update this, but the inspiration struck and I missed this story very much, so here we are! Not even sure anyone is reading at this point but it feels nice to post it