Chapter Text
The last time he’d seen her, her hair had been loose and glowing in the moonlight. She had been so beautiful, in those brief moments outside the V.F.D jail – Jacques didn’t think he’d ever forget the way Olivia Caliban had looked at him. The way they’d kissed.
And he hadn’t forgotten, not for four lonely weeks. Escaping Olaf’s murderous clutches had been a very near thing, but no volunteer worthy of the title went around not knowing how to fake their death. So now Jacques Snicket was on the run – without his taxi.
He had been lucky at first. He’d managed to get a ride out of V.F.D, stowed away in the back of the truck of a tumbleweed salesman. He’d leapt off just ahead of the Last Chance General Store, where he’d managed to barter for a few provisions. From there onward, he would have to journey by foot.
It wasn’t the hardest thing he’d ever done. He, Lemony, and Beatrice had after all once climbed Mount Fraught with nothing but a pack of chewing gum and a pair of dessert forks. And now he had Olivia to think of, to keep him going. He only hoped she was safe.
--
The view from the Mortmain Mountains truly was spectacular, but Olivia Caliban could take little solace in it. She was incredibly, unfathomably lucky, she knew, to have escaped the Caligari Carnival alive. Luckier still to have been assisted by skilful volunteers in making it to V.F.D Headquarters. But it seemed so wrong that she should be safe in a fortress of faded luxury while the Baudelaires remained in danger, and Jacques Snicket was…dead.
She had objected, at first, to the idea of going – but the volunteers who’d taken her there had explained that this was where she was needed. They said that other sterling qualities in addition to her bravery had been noted, and that she was just the kind of person the organization needed at Headquarters. She had wondered if they were just being kind.
But upon arrival, she had understood. The V.F.D Headquarters, grand though they were, were severely under-staffed. The ever-worsening spate of crises had drawn most of the volunteers away, leaving only a chef, a nurse, a cleaner, and an aged butler who greeted them at the entrance. The library lay almost abandoned.
Olivia had expected that this would be her task, and she took it up gratefully; while she was shelving books, she didn’t have time to think, about Jacques Snicket, or his fate, or what might have been. But on her second day, over breakfast, the departing volunteers gave her some unexpected news. They’d had word that the Quagmires were passing nearby in a Self-Sustaining Hot Air Mobile Home, and had communicated via carrier pigeon that the triplets would be safe and welcome at Headquarters, if they chose to come. Isadora and Duncan had accepted the offer, and would be arriving via parachute that afternoon.
“The children will be exhausted, and greatly in need of gentleness, kindness and care. We have no doubt, Miss Caliban, that you can provide this.”
Olivia nodded, her eyes over-bright. (Tears came all too easily to her these days.)
“Of course. I’ll take care of them. I’d be honored.”
She had adored those children, ever since they’d first stepped into her school library (and been regretfully ushered out ten minutes later). Whatever use she could be to them now, she would do it gladly. And they would be comfortable here – though physical comfort could hardly make up for all they had had to endure.
She waited anxiously in the entrance hall that afternoon. When they came up the front steps, still wearing their parachute harnesses, Olivia all but ran to them. They looked windblown and weary, and older than when she’d seen them last, but still they smiled at the sight of her.
“Quagmires! I’m so glad to see you!”
“We’re glad to see you,” replied Duncan. “When Hector told us you were here, we could hardly believe it.”
“Well, we’ve all of us come a long way from Prufrock Prep,” said Olivia, smiling though her tone was bittersweet. “Come inside now, both of you, and let’s get you settled. How about a bath, and some fresh clothes?”
It was clear they were both physically and mentally exhausted...and yet, as always, they were unfailingly polite. They took her every suggestion – a bath, supper, fresh clothes – but did not ask for anything themselves. It broke her heart to think that they had forgotten how to expect, and ask for, comfort.
Isadora was nearly falling asleep into her bowl of trifle when Olivia shepherded them both up to bed.
“Goodnight, Isadora. Goodnight, Duncan. Don’t hesitate to wake me up, if you need to – my room’s the seventeenth one down the hall.”
Isadora smiled. “Thank you, Miss Caliban.”
“Olivia.”
“Olivia.”
The librarian sighed to herself a few minutes later, as she pulled the curtains shut on another coldly-beautiful alpine scene. She should be grateful, she knew, to have such a beautiful space to retreat to – to have the whole grand V.F.D Headquarters as her home. But all she could think was that every night she was going to bed alone...when things might have been so very different. Sometimes, late at night or in the early mornings, she let herself dream.
--
It wasn’t the hardest thing he’d ever done. Still, it wasn’t proving easy.
But it would be worth it. Where he was going was a safe place – and right now that was what he needed. Once he’d found it, he’d be able to send for Olivia. She could join him – she was a volunteer, after all. They would be together.
As he navigated a narrow ledge, Jacques imagined what he might say when he finally saw her.
--
The Quagmire triplets spent their first full day at V.F.D Headquarters with Olivia in the library. She quite understood their choice – libraries had always been places of sanctuary, after all. She was glad of their company, too. They spent the morning checking for wear and tear on any of the books in the Humor & Absurdism section, reading out quotes whenever they found one that struck them as particularly funny. It was good to see the children laugh.
In the late afternoon, Duncan and Isadora went down to the kitchen to see if they could help the chef with the evening’s menu. Olivia was just drawing the library curtains, taking in the spectacular view of the Mortmain Mountains at sunset, when the elderly butler came striding in at an uncharacteristically urgent pace.
“Sampson, what in the world-”
“Miss Caliban, would you be so kind as to gather any books the library might have on hypothermia? We’ve just had a volunteer arrive unexpectedly, and he’s…in poor condition. Nurse Nichols is seeing to him now.”