Jalivia (Jacques Snicket+Olivia Caliban) ASOUE

Jacques Point of View 4

I barely managed to sleep in the taxi, and resorted to waking up at the crack of dawn to find something to eat. In the trunk I found an aging bottle of pancake mix that I hoped wasn't toxic and my trusty camping stove and set to work making breakfast. I tried a piece of my first one, which was surprisingly edible, and set to work cooking the rest and piling them onto a paper plate. I had a very good collection of things in my trunk. Once Olivia had awoken I passed the meal to her and waited gingerly for her reaction. Apparently they 'weren't half bad.'

Once she had finished eating we tossed the plates into a trash can and started driving towards the mansion so that I could show her the real context of what was going on. It was all very good and well to say that we were fighting arsonists, but to see the skeleton of the once lively home was a different deal.

We turned corner after corner in silence before I made any effort to continue conversation.

"It's nice speaking to someone in this lonely taxi." I told her. "All of the customers think that I'm odd. Can't see why." Honestly I could have said absolutely anything else and it would have been better. She chuckled quietly, probably to be polite, and continued to sit in silence. I wouldn't be surprised if I had ruined every chance with her.

We slowly drove up to the mansion that was barely still holding its form and I parked the taxi outside. She darted out of the taxi and stood in silence, staring at what was one the beautiful home.

"A sugar bowl?" She muttered. "All of this for a sugar bowl?"

"Yes." I replied. It wasn't the whole truth. We stared up at the aching bones that creaked in the wind, still whispering feint memories of life. I was used to seeing buildings similar to these ones, buildings that I, on occasion, had burned myself. For the noble... it was for the noble cause. It was noble. I knew it was.

"Do you want to go back?" She asked me. I really did. The building stood like a warning, to question the organisation's morals as a whole- to see what had come from all this. Beatrice and Bertrand were dead. Monty was dead. Josephine was dead. And Lemony. Lemony was gone too.

I nodded shortly.

"Let's go." She whispered.

I turned my eyes to the ground and followed her lead to the taxi again. Truthfully I was ashamed of what VFD had become- where was the 'courage' and 'world-saving?' Where were the strong moral principles of the past? Why had nobody stepped in and offered to help the Baudelaires so far in a way that wasn't just to suit their own agenda? 

Olivia stopped walking very suddenly and I almost fell over my feet, cut out of my thoughts.

"Jacques, why is their letter box full of letters? Are they still being sent bills?" Her tone was one of genuine curiosity, but had an aftertaste of concern and something I couldn't quite place. Hope?

"Letters?" I repeated, confused. "From whom?"

Olivia walked tentatively towards the letter box, and pulled a letter out, ripping her arm away as though it would bite her. As she turned the letter over in her hands, I read the sharp, angular letters that formed the address. I told myself that I didn't recognise the handwriting, though the lingering feeling in my mind knew I couldn't mistake the care taken in writing her name in the ink.

Beatrice Baudelaire
28, Prospero Place
Boston
Massachusetts

Olivia slowly flipped over the envelope and read the back.

Return to:
Lemony Snicket
Room 343
Ash Hotel
668, Dark Avenue

And though my mind knew that there was no way that my brother would be foolish enough to write an accurate return address with his real name, my heart hoped that he had grown careless in age or, better yet, had deliberately left the breadcrumbs for me to follow.

"Jacques." Olivia said slowly and delicately to me. "Do you want me to open the letter? I will check the date."

I knew she had to be right. the letters had to be old and sent in a final moment of panic- perhaps a warning to prevent the Baudelaires' murder when my brother had overheard a whispered conversation. I sighed and nodded. She pulled a paper knife from her pocket- a detail i noted and tried not to worry too much about- and cleanly sliced the seal to the letter, before pulling out the paper and unfolding it neatly. Her eyes drifted to the top right corner. 

"And you're sure he's only been gone a year?" She asked me.

"...Yes." I confirmed. "I think I would know."

"Of course, yeah. Sorry." Olivia turned to me with a look of concern. "Look Jacques if this letter is completely truthful- Lemony is still alive. And he's been here in the city... the entire time."

It was the crushing realisation that I had deserted my brother for a year, at a time when he would be the most grief stricken of us all, besides, perhaps, their children, that caused me to stagger backwards so sharply, and grip Oliva's arm with such desperate confusion. Her eyes flashed with sympathy as she supported my back, but the scene of my pitiful reaction was mortifying to consider. I tried to return to composure as quickly as possible- to forget that I could be so- so vulnerable. Straightening my back and roughly swiping the tears forming near my eyes, I spoke again.

"Olivia." I whispered, making note of the pathetic ache in my voice and vowing to remove it. "How many letters are in there?"

"There's a lot. There is... many a letter." She had peered into the flap of the box that strained under the pressure. "Though if you were to be very skeptical about it, it could just be advertisements." She gave a small laugh at that, though it was clear that it was a very real opportunity.

"May I borrow your paper knife?" She frowned at this. "F-for picking the lock of the box. I need to get in. To check." 

She passed me the knife. I picked the lock, gasped at the heaping pile of similarly marked letters, lifted them into the trunk, and walked over to turn the key in the ignition.

As I sat down in the drivers' seat, and turned to face her hopeful eyes, I knew exactly what was going to happen after this point. I had a level of certainty I had rejected since I was a child, before I became a volunteer. Yes, I would find my brother, and yes I would help the Baudelaires. But once things had calmed down and I had put a stop to these troubles, I was going to marry her. 

Olivia had saved many lives over these past days. And I was going to work to love her as she deserved.

And I told her so.

Authors Note
Woo! Over 900 words!!!!! Very proud writer.

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Author (Editing Note) 2021

I am returning to editing this fanfiction, what with covid and England's current lockdown. I still don't like the work I've produced, but I am making it a mission to keep this work in a way that isn't as triggering and.. let's say plain awful... as I first wrote it when I was 12. On days where I receive notifications about this fic, it has always been amusing to me that the high praise it occasionally receives... stops after this chapter where things are no longer edited, so I am working to make this a full length fic that doesn't make you want to question your grip on reality.

~rodentsrule981

(why did i make that my username, oh lord)