A Series of Unfortunate Events Drabbles

Jacques & Olivia (I'm Alive... You're Alive... Heh...)

When Olivia Caliban got to the Mortmain Mountains, she was a little more than surprised at what she found, "... Jacques?"

Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say, what to do. He was supposed to be dead. He was beaten to death by Count Olaf in the Village of Fowl Devotees with a crowbar. He was dead. He had to have been dead. He wouldn't have left her alone if he was anything short of dead. He wouldn't have abandoned her so soon into the mission. He would have stuck by her and helped her. He was dead. He couldn't have been here. Not now. Not like this.

"Olivia..." He breathed out in a shocked kind of response, "You're supposed to be--"

"Dead," She finished the sentence for him. "Yes. As are you."

"I am so sor--" Before he could finish that word, he was met with a swift slap to the face. Olivia didn't know what was happening until it was too late. She pulled her hand back, surprised at her own inability to control her anger.

"Oh my God, Jacques! I am so sorry!" She cupped her hands around her mouth.

"Do not be sorry, Olivia. I deserve much worse after what I did to you. You should punch me. Multiple times. In the face."

"No, that slap was uncalled for on so many levels. I am sorry. I should have let you explain yourself before resulting in violence." She reached out and stroked the cheek she had slapped with her fingertips, "It's really you..."

"How did you survive that pit of lions?" Jacques asked, worry lines evident on his forehead.

"Well, the lions had only been kept in that pit for two days. Luckily for me, they were fasting. You see, lions usually eat somewhere from ten to twenty-five pounds a day, but sometimes they eat up to a hundred pounds a day and then they fast for several days after. Count Olaf did not know this. He knows very little about lions, anyways. Humans are more of a last resort kind of meal for lions. They weren't interested in me, and I was not interested in them. However, we did have a common goal. We all wanted out of that pit."

"You outsmarted the count... I have never been more attracted to you--" He stopped himself a little too late.

Olivia's head jerked upwards, so she was facing him, "What did you just say?"

"I said, I have never been more... attacked than when Olaf tried to kill me! Yes, that's what I said. Don't think too much into it," He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "As you may know, my siblings, Olaf, the Baudelaire parents, the Quagmire parents, and so on... we all went to Prufrock Preparatory School before the Schism. That was before the fire-starting side took over the school. Long ago. We had V.F.D classes such as code-breaking, eavesdropping... how to fake your own death 101."

"You... faked your death?"

"Yes, as Count Olaf was distracted with, you know, beating me with a crowbar, I slowed my heart rate. I slowed my breathing. He didn't know because he slept through that class-- like he did with many other classes."

"So... we both outsmarted him. And I know the Baudelaires did the same. They should be around here somewhere, too. Before my quote unquote death, I showed them the maps. They knew to come here to the Mortmain Mountains."

"Then we must find them! Before Count Olaf finds out!" Jacques grabbed his jacket.

"These are big mountains, how will we ever find them?"

"Well, first we must find every place they are not. Not the most efficient way of finding them, but better than sitting here waiting for them to find two people they are not looking for. They still think we are dead."

"Right. Do you have a map?"

"I never leave home without one," He patted his breast pocket. Together they turned to leave, their hands brushed against one anothers.

Neither one of them really knew whether to hold the other's hand or to pull away, so they got stuck somewhere in between. Their fingers slid past one another's until just their index and ring fingers were touching. They each arched their fingers, so they were holding four fingers together instead of their entire hands.

Of course they were both too proud and stubborn to acknowledge what was happening. So, they walked out of the small room, in silence, fingers linked together in the most awkward way. While out loud it seemed to be ignored, both the librarian and the firefighter were full on freaking out inside their own heads.