A/N: Shoutout to The Snicket Sleuth, wherever they may be. If it weren't for their Is Quigley Quagmire a Liar? theory online, three quarters of this story wouldn't exist. Their take on Quigley's character was very intriguing and I kinda wanted to expand on this, using their theory as inspiration, as well as the books and the Netflix series. So again, shoutout to you, man! Thanks for taking my mind on this amazing journey!

But before we begin, thanks again to all you awesome reviewers out there, past versions of this story and now! You help me get better every day. ;) \m/

Disclaimer: Dude, why are there lawyers on my doorstep? I told you, me no own ASOUE! Y u no listen to me?!

.

WARNING! RATED T FOR:

- LANGUAGE
- SUGGESTIVE CONTENT

Quigley's Quagmire

=======
Chapter 1
=======

"Things look bad," Mother said quietly, concern apparent in her voice.

Night had fallen, and my parents, who'd just got back from Peru this morning, were now huddled around Father's desk in the library, devouring the latest from The Daily Punctilio. What the headline was today, I had no idea. I was too preoccupied tracing a path with my finger on the illuminated globe next to my armchair. And I highly doubted Duncan and Isadora knew either, as they were equally lost in their hobbies as well, lounging on the couch across the room from me. Even if we were remotely interested, Mother and Father's backs were to us, shielding the paper from our sight.

Almost like…they didn't want us to know…

"Sometimes when things look bad, they turn out to be worse," Father said, looking out the window, his face composed, but clearly disturbed by something. I don't know if it was from the pain in his leg, which he'd said he'd broken while escaping from prison in Peru, or if it was something else. For once, I never asked, which was odd because my mind was always hungry for answers, especially if the situation presented sounded intriguing.

Ears perking up at his words, Duncan and Isadora pulled their eyes off their guilty pleasures and looked at him, worried, but also with a hint of curiosity.

"There are fires all around us…literally and figuratively," Father continued.

"Then it's time we amount a Vigorous Fire Defense," Mother replied, glancing at him.

I guess fire was the topic of the night. Whatever had burned down, it sure made my parents pretty jumpy. …Ugh, I can't take it anymore. I have to know what's going on. I made a mental note of where I left off on the globe, then turned to look at them, opening my mouth to speak–––

"Why do they keep talking about fire?" Isadora whispered a little too loudly, looking at Duncan for an answer.

Thanks, Izzy. The suspense was killing me, too.

"I know, right?" Duncan whispered back.

"We can hear you back there," Father said.

I looked back at Mother and Father to find them facing us, a faint, amused smile on his face, and a disappointed, almost violated look on hers. I gulped. I'm glad Isadora beat me to the punch. Judging by the looks on their faces, she'd had touched a nerve. I held my breath and prepared for the worst…

"If you'd gone to my school, you would've flunked eavesdropping," Father added, as if nothing had happened.

I flinched, both at his reaction and what he'd said. First he breaks his leg breaking out of a prison in Peru, and now he says his school had taught a class on eavesdropping. I didn't care about the consequences anymore–––the can of worms had already been opened. I had to know about this. "What kind of school teaches eavesdropping?" I asked with a skeptical smirk, my eyebrows rising in disbelief.

Mother flopped the newspaper back down on the desk. "C'mon, children, it's past your bedtime," she said, walking over to us. Great. She'd changed the subject. I'll have to find out the answer for myself. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

Big day? What big day? Tomorrow wasn't our birthday, or theirs, or a holiday, or even a planned family event. What was so big about tomorrow?

"What's tomorrow?" Isadora asked before I could, all three of us reluctantly getting up.

"It's a secret," Father replied with a secret smile.

Isadora gave him a wondering look, as if it would convince him to spill the beans, but he remained silent. Disappointed, she turned and headed out of the library after Duncan. Obediently, I trudged after them down the dimly lit hall.

Whoa…that's a first. For once, being a daddy's girl didn't help my sister. He'd melt every time Isadora wanted something, even if it was something as simple as her questions answered. And if he didn't even enlighten her on what he and Mother were talking about in the library, the topic must've been extremely important. But then again, what was so terribly important about a fire in the paper? Fires happen all the time, everywhere. It wasn't a historic thing to happen. Unless, it was one of their friends whose house burned down. That would make sense. But even then, they'd at least tell us that their friend's house burned down. Even if they did die in the fire. They would've said something either way. And if they didn't even want to fill us in on a simple fire, then maybe the topic was more important than we thought.

Secret, even…

"What was all that talk about fire?" Isadora asked Mother a moment later.

I didn't even get an answer about a school that apparently teaches eavesdropping. What made her think Mother was going to tell her about whatever fire had them so worried?

Mother looked at her. "Just a little disagreement with our coworkers," she replied simply, much to my amazement. My bets on her reaction to Isadora's question were way off. Good thing I didn't bet anything valuable.

"But what does it have to do with fire?" Isadora pressed.

"Yeah," Duncan added, thinking that maybe some reinforcements would help her case.

"Fire is not always tangible…literal," Mother explained. "Sometimes it can be used as a metaphor…or, figuratively. In our case, we had a spat, or a fire, with our coworkers. And that's all I'm going to say on the subject."

"Oh…" Isadora looked at Duncan, their minds working hard at that Rubik's cube of a clue.

Wait a minute…that was it? That was the big secret? They had a fight with coworkers and they wanted to use metaphors to describe it? I was overthinking about nothing? Boy, do I feel stupid. Here I am, acting like some conspiracy theorist over an everyday thing… Maybe I was more tired than I thought.

"That's a…creative metaphor," Isadora remarked slowly after a minute.

"It is," Mother agreed with a musing nod. "And that's all I'm going to tell you about fire until morning."

Great. The big cliffhanger: wait until morning. That's always fun. Now she'd built up my anticipation so much I don't even think I'll be able to fall asleep tonight. …But, at least we'd get an answer in the morning–––a real one. And for that, I was grateful. We followed her up the wide, winding staircase. Though we weren't going to get an answer until tomorrow, I could tell Duncan and Isadora would be up all night also, wondering like me what tomorrow had in store for us. It was the same routine as any other night, with Duncan getting tucked in first, then Isadora, but finally it was my turn, and Mother flipped on my bedroom light and led me up to my bed.

"Goodnight, Quigley," she said once I was all settled under the covers. "I love you." She gave me a peck on the forehead and walked out, turning out the light on her way.

I lie there in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling in wonder. I couldn't sleep. I just couldn't. My curiosity had been aroused to the point where I just couldn't close my eyes until I found out what was in that newspaper. But, I had to wait for Mother and Father to go to bed first. Their room was down the hall from mine, so if I lie still and acted like I was sleeping, I could watch and see when the coast would be clear. And that would be shortly after they both passed my room and turned off the hallway light.

I rolled over on my side and sighed impatiently. Let the waiting game begin.

/

I was about to give up hope after an hour of waiting, but finally, my wish had come true. Mother and Father made their way past my room, only much slower this time due to Father's injury. When they were out of sight, and the hallway grew dark, I flung back my covers and got out of bed quietly. Creeping over to the doorway, I peeked out carefully to find them making their way into their room. Now was my chance. Immediately, I hurried out of my room, down the stairs, across the living room, and down the hall. Already, I could taste the secrets in the air being solved, and only that newspaper could do the job.

I opened the library doors, turned on the light, and darted over to the desk. My eyes widened and my heart began to pump faster. It was still there! Talk about luck. It was never on my side to begin with. I grabbed it and read the headline:

.

OFFICIAL FIRE DEPARTMENT CONCLUDES: BAUDELAIRE FIRE AN ACCIDENT.

.

So these were friends of my parents…well, judging by their reactions, anyway. I never heard that name before. Baudelaire. Usually our parents were pretty open with us about their friends. And if we were lucky enough, we'd get to meet them at a dinner party Mother and Father hosted occasionally. But these people I'd never met before. Never even heard of, even. And judging by Mother and Father's reactions earlier, they didn't want us to know about these people. But why? Our parents weren't evil or scheming, so it wasn't like they were criminals and these people were their accomplices in a crime. So why were they being so secretive about them? I read on. Maybe this will tell me why…

"Quigley?"

I jumped out of my skin, throwing the paper back on the desk. They were still up?! But I was so sneaky! How could they've found out I was still awake? I whirled around to find Mother looking at me, her eyebrows rising in surprise. I gulped. Get yourself outta this one, Quigley…

"What are you still doing up?" Mother walked inside and up to me.

"Uh…I forgot my notebook in here," I lied quickly, thinking fast.

Mother's look of surprise turned skeptical. Great. She didn't buy it. "You were in the armchair, not at the desk," she pointed out with a knowing smile. Wow…she didn't sound angry. That's a relief. But either way, I wasn't going to get out of this one. "Now what are you really doing in here?"

"Uh…reading," I tried. It was a library after all. Maybe she'd buy this one. "I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd do some reading to help me fall asleep."

Mother nodded slowly, and quite noticeably at that. "I see," she said. Great. She didn't buy this one either. But ironically, she was playing along with my lie. And her tone of voice proved that. But why was she playing along? Wasn't this supposed to be top secret or something? Why was she acting all calm and playful about it if I wasn't supposed to know? "What was your choice of topic?"

"Uh…journalism," I said.

Mother's eyebrows rose again, intrigued. "Journalism?" she repeated, keeping the charade up. "Did Duncan spark your interest in his hobby?"

"Oh, no, uh…it's just that if I read something I like, I'll stay up reading it," I explained, almost tripping over my words. "If I read something I don't like, I'll fall asleep." Please. Me be a journalist? Yeah right… I have standards. High ones.

Mother nodded again. "I see." She glanced at the newspaper on the desk. "Did The Daily Punctilio do its job?"

My eyes widened. "I…I wasn't reading that," I stammered.

Mother gave me a disbelieving smile, cocking an eyebrow as she put her hands on her hips.

The jig is up, Quigley. Throw in the towel. You weren't sneaky enough. "Alright, I was," I sighed shamefully. "I was just curious about what you guys were talking about earlier."

Mother chuckled a bit. "I would've expected Isadora to be in here of all people," she remarked, still smiling. "But, I can't say I'm entirely surprised to find you in here, either. Between you two, I don't know who would fail eavesdropping worse in my school."

I looked at her incredulously. "A school that teaches eavesdropping," I snorted. "You're joking."

"No. I'm not," Mother said, shaking her head.

To my astonishment, she was serious, and Father wasn't joking about a school that taught eavesdropping earlier. And even more surprising, they both went to that same school. This day was getting weird. Sleep wasn't an option tonight. I had to find out more. "There's…really a school that teaches that?" I asked.

"There is."

"Where is it? What's the name of it?"

"Those are the wrong questions. A right one would be: why isn't Quigley Quagmire in bed?"

"Uh…I can't sleep," I admitted with a shrug. That part was true. I really couldn't.

"Hmm." Mother thought for a minute. "Come here. Some hot cider should do the trick." She headed out of the library, and I followed after her, turning the light off and shutting the door on my way out. I followed her down the hall to the kitchen. Mmm…hot cider. I haven't had that in long time. Not since Duncan, Isadora, and I were sick with the flu a year ago. That put me right to sleep. Every time.

I took a seat at the kitchen table and watched her prepare her go-to for sickness and the occasional restlessness. "So what's tomorrow?" I asked. "Are we going on vacation again?"

"Something like that," Mother said, setting the tea kettle on a hot burner of the stove. "It's a surprise."

"Father said it was a secret," I pointed out, confused. "If it's a vacation, what's so secret about it?"

"He meant that as we're going to surprise you with where we're going. Don't worry, you'll see what it is when we get there."

"Well, can you at least tell me what I need to pack?"

"Everything you need is at the place we're going."

I slumped in my chair with a disheartened smirk. Man, this suspense was killing me. And again, Quigley, with the conspiracy theorist nonsense. I shook my head. I really need to get some sleep–––I'm acting psychotic. I mean, I am, but in the good way. Not the crazy, everybody's-out-to-get-me way like I'm acting right now.

Before long, the tea kettle began to whistle and the scent of cinnamon filled the room. I licked my lips, my mouth beginning to water. Ohh, boy. Here it comes… Mother brought over two steaming mugs of her homemade cider and set them on the table, one in front of me and one at the spot where she was going to sit.

"Thanks, Mother," I said, taking the mug in my hands and blowing on it.

"Careful, it's hot," Mother warned, watching me practically chug it down. She chuckled, shaking her head at my absurdity. "Goofball…"

I finished the mug in no time, an apple-cinnamon mustache now sprouting above my top lip. Shaving it off with my tongue, I smiled at Mother. She shook her head again with a smile, unable to believe what she'd seen. "Alright. Get to bed, mister," she told me, patting my hand. "You got a big day tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, standing up from the table.

Just then, there was a muffled, but extremely loud crash from down the hall.

Mother and I looked in the direction of the noise, our faces grave with concern. "What was that?" I asked, looking at her.

Mother stood up from the table, her gaze still in the direction of the commotion. "I don't know. Maybe it's your sister getting into trouble." She strode out of the kitchen back down the hall to the library. Curiosity aroused again, I hurried after her.

We retraced our steps back to the library. It wouldn't surprise me if Isadora's curiosity got the best of her, either. Tonight's discussion in the library was too enticing to just go about our business and act like nothing happened. Arriving at our destination, we found the doors shut, but the crack under them illuminated. Ugh…the doors! How could I forget to shut the doors? That's probably what blew my cover. I had a huge tendency to jump into things before thinking. Well, Isadora succeeded where I failed, and if I hadn't looked at the crack under the doors to find it lit up, I wouldn't have noticed anyone was still awake other than me and Mother.

But, wait a minute…

Something was…off…

I paused in front of the doors with Mother, pondering what was different than the last time I was down here. Nothing seemed out of place…the mansion was as quiet as could be, except for that crash. So, why was I getting the feeling that something was different?

Mother didn't hesitate to knock. "Isadora, you get out here right now!" she said in a motherly tone that even I didn't dare to challenge. "It's past your bedtime."

Silence answered.

Mother knocked again. "Isadora!"

"I don't think she's in there, Mother," I piped up after listening to another bout of silence.

"You underestimate her sneakiness," Mother glanced at me. "Isadora Melanie, I'm not gonna tell you again! Get out here right now!"

You sound like I don't know her, I thought. Besides, why was she knocking? She didn't hesitate to barge in on me…even if I did leave the doors wide open. I looked down at the crack under the doors again, watching the light flicker as my sister continued to snoop arou–––wait, flicker? Since when did our lights flicker? None of them flickered last time I was in there, and we changed our light bulbs immediately if they did. The lights were just changed last month. So why were they flickering now?

Stiffening at the silence that proceeded to answer her calls, Mother looked down the hall, lost in deep, disturbed thought. Uh-oh… That was never a good sign. "Wait right here," she told me, then strode toward the living room.

She disappeared from sight, heading for the front doors. Maybe that crash came from outside, now that I think about it. It did sound kind of muffled from the kitchen. It had to be outside. Ugh…probably those stray cats getting into our garbage again. We did have aluminum cans that made a racket when they tipped over. Before long, she came back into view and my vision began to blur. Ah, there we go. The cider's starting to kick in now. Now I should be able to hit the sack for tomorrow. It really has a way of making me feel incredibly warm all over…

"Nothing's out there," she reported, shaking her head as she began to walk back down the hall. She wasn't convinced though, as I could hear the tension in her voice still.

I blinked, beginning to sway lightly like I was a tall building in the wind. Unfortunately, all I could see now were blurs of objects around me. I guess I underestimated how hazy my vision became under the influence of such a wonderful concoction. "But…if nothing's out there…" I started groggily, my mind just as hazy as my sight. "Then…what was that sound?"

Mother was now by my side and about to answer when she stopped dead in her tracks and sniffed. "Smoke…?" she said, almost to herself. "What's burning?"

Smoke? I didn't see any smoke. But where there's smoke, there's fire. …Great. Again with the fire stuff. Go to bed, Quigley. You're tired, you're not thinking straight. I took a wobbly step toward the living room–––

BOOM! Everything went black.

After what felt like forever, I opened my eyes with a moan, only to shut them again due to a blinding light and a whoosh of hot wind. What the…? What…happened?

"Quigley? Quigley!" Mother was shouting somewhere above me, shaking me. "Are you alright?"

I could barely hear her. There was a roar so intense around me that not even she could shout overtop of it. "M…Mother!" I choked weakly, trying to get my bearings. "What…happened?"

"There's no time! Get up! We have to move!" Mother cried urgently, practically jerking me to my feet. I staggered around like a drunk, trying to find my balance. My body was suddenly heavier than an anvil, and in some spots it burned. My head was splitting, it was hard to breathe…

Finally, I opened my eyes again to see what was go–––OH MY GOD! FIRE! FIRE! EVERYWHERE! The entire stretch of hallway was now illuminated by the brightest, hottest flames I'd ever seen…well, not that I'd ever been inside a burning building before, but still. The sight was breathtaking…

Literally.

I coughed and wheezed, the air in my lungs a little too hot for comfort, my trachea beginning to cook under the temperature. The heat was so intense I could've sworn the skin was melting off my body. Or was that sweat? I didn't know, and I didn't care. I wanted this to stop.

"This way!" Mother seized me by the wrist and led me into the–––what?! We're going into the library?! Why?! It's on fire! But apparently that didn't sway her. The flames lapping at our legs hungrily, we hurried to the center of the room where a–––what the–––?! A trap door? There was a trap door under the rug in the library this whole time? Why? How come we never knew about it?

What the hell is going on here?!

Mother bent down and flung the door open, its hinges squealing from a lack of use and oil, then she gripped my shoulders and looked me seriously. "Stay down there until we get back, understand?"

I nodded.

"I love you." She planted a quick kiss on my forehead, then guided me toward the ladder. I needed no encouragement. At once, I scrambled down it into a dark, dank room, my heart thudding in my chest. It wasn't even a minute before my feet touched down on a wet brick floor–––it was a surprisingly small ladder. Sure of my footing on a solid surface, I looked up in time to find Mother shutting the trap door, leaving me in an eerie, thick blackness I'll never forget to this day. A darkness that haunts me to this day.

"Ray! Raymond, get Duncan and Isadora! The house is on fire!" I heard Mother scream over the chaos.

Luckily, the air down here was a giant contrast to the air above, and my lungs caught on to that, too. Immediately, I took some deep breaths, mostly to calm down. It was all I could do right now. It was too dark to make out anything, so I couldn't explore to pass the time while waiting for Mother to return with Father, Duncan, and Isadora. Even if it was bright enough to explore down here, I wouldn't have made it far. That cider was really hitting home now, and coupled with that adrenaline rush, my energy level was way lower than this basement I was in. It wouldn't be long before I crashed (if not literally) on the floor. I guess I should take that as a sign and actually do what I planned on doing before I blacked out: sleep.

Another good way to pass the time, I might add.

With nothing else to do but wait, I lie down on the ground and closed my eyes. I couldn't wait to wake up in bed in a cold sweat. At least I wouldn't be in this nightmare anymore.