Chapter Seventeen

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Duncan POV: Quigley and Sunny are both still investigating the wreck of the sub-basement library. Earlier, after the man and woman had left, the ever optimistic Sunny had volunteered to go search for any scraps of information, maintaining that "It can't be as bad as it looks." However, upon returning covered in ash and sand her and Quigley reported in grim voices that "It is actually much, much worse than it looks." They're still looking, though. Quigley is good at finding things. He found Isadora and I in the SSHAMH and Sunny, well, her determination is formidable. Klaus and Izzy have gone for a long walk and Beatrice has disappeared down to the beach, quickly followed by Lemony. Violet is sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring out into the hazy purple sky. When she sees me she smiles and butterflies flutter in my stomach. "Hey, Dunc. What's up?"
"The sky." Violet's laugh is lovely and and silvery and makes me feel indescribably more nervous.
"Seriously, Duncan, you look like something's wrong. What is it?"
"I'm in love with you?" The words slip out of my mouth as more of a question than a statement. "I have been ever since I first saw you. You are charming, resourceful and intelligent with extremely pleasant facial features and I... I want to spend the rest of my life with you, building incredible inventions or righting wrongs or simply just being. Because, when I'm with you, Violet Baudelaire, everything and nothing is enough." I'm starting to panic that my speech has made Violet feel even more awkward than I do when she stands up and wraps her arms around me. "I want to spend my forever with you, Duncan. I love you." she says, pressing her forehead to mine. I look up into her hazel eyes and realise that she is everything that I ever wanted and more. "I love you too, my Ultraviolet" we sit down, hands intertwined and Violet's head resting on my shoulder, gazing out into the purple sky with nothing but the gentle swishing of the waves in my ear.

The sky's been painted just for you,

O'er shimmering seas, a carpet of blue,

So close your eyes and do not fear,

Because, the world is quiet here.


Beatrice POV:

My shoe are wet. It's not a big thing, considering that I've just met and lost my grandparents in the span of an hour, but I really hate wearing wet socks. I'm just considering moving away from the sea shore to go and find Quigley or Sunny, the only two who won't be occupied with snogging, when I hear the crunching sound of shoes on sand. The feet turn out to belong to Uncle Lemony who, surprisingly, sits down next to me. "So those are my grandparents."

"Yes. Now you see where I get it from." I crack a smile but continue to look out to the sea, dragging my fingers through the sand. "You know, when I was about your age someone told me that families are like birthday presents. Can you guess why?"

"Both are filled with things that you didn't want, don't know why to do with, can't give back and large feathery hats?"

Uncle Lemony laughs. "Almost. A family is like a present in that it is only what is inside of it that gives it it's value."

"That's surprisingly deep coming from the man that I once saw drink an entire root beer float in thirty seconds."

"I have my moments."

"I just realised something. It's my birthday. I'm ten years old today. I guess that I just... forgot about it."

"Quite some birthday, Beatrice."

"You should hear some of the stories from the Baudelaires." Uncle Lemony shifts to face me and says, "Beatrice, I actually have a present for you, that is, if you want it."

"Well, I'm not one to give away presents. What is it?" I ask.

Uncle Lemony looks nervous and I place a hand on his knee. He smiles but still looks jittery. "Ever since I first met you, Beatrice, I've seen how much of an incredible young woman you are. I see flashes of your mother in you every day as well as the Baudelaires and many brave and noble volunteers who you didn't get a chance to meet. They've mixed in together with the parts of you that are all your own, and I want to see you become who you're meant to be. Beatrice, how would you like to be adopted by me?"

I must look as stunned as I feel, for Uncle Lemony hurriedly adds, "Only if you want to, of course. If not you can continue living with the Baudelaires, but if you would I would love to have you in my life."

All of the question in my head are answered with a single word. "Yes. yes I would."

I scoot nearer to Uncle Lemony and lean on his shoulder as he talks about the arrangements, his words overlapping into a singular blur of yes.


Isadora POV:

Duncan and Violet are sitting looking out to the sea, looking for all the world like an old married couple. I can't keep the smirk from my face and am seriously questioning my life choices as to why I'm not screaming "MY OTP!" I mean, seriously, that ship has sailed further than the one belonging to Lemony's parents. Suddenly I hear footsteps behind me. "I may not know martial arts, but I do a mean groin kick." Klaus laughs nervously.

"No intruders, just me." I don't know what it is about being with Klaus that makes me want to be more, louder, funnier, just better. It may be that he's so perfect and I'm so not that I feel the need to make up for it. Whatever. I don't have the time to psychologically evaluate myself. Out of the three of us I was always considered the 'deep one' because I write poetry, but it's really Duncan who's better at all of that feeling stuff. "What's up, sugar lump?" I ask.

"Well, Izzy, I just had something that I wanted to say to you." My heart drops into my shoes. This is it. Klaus is breaking up with me. That is, if we were even together in the first place. Klaus sees the look on my face and starts stuttering, "Izzy, I-"

"It's ok." I couldn't say that I wasn't expecting this, but it still hurts, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"Izzy, I just wanted to give you these." Klaus says, his face an interesting shade of red. He shoves his hand out and gives me two small pieces of paper. He's breaking up with me over letters? I unfurl the pieces of paper and read,

If love was a person it would be you,

Isadora, Isadora, my words are true.

You are my everything, my love, my life

Isadora, Isadora, would you be my wife?

He wrote me couplets. That's that's when it hits me that he isn't breaking up with me.

He's proposing.

When I look up from the papers Klaus is kneeling on the ground in front of me, eyes shining. "Izzy, I don't know how to tell you that I love you. I could talk about you for one thousand years and still not run out of ways to tell you how absolutely wonderful I think you are. Everything about you, from your couplets to your eyes to the way that you hate broccoli but love broccoli soup is so incredibly wonderful. I know that I can never find all of the ways to tell you how much I love you, but I'd like to try if you'd let me."

Every word in my head has been replaced with one: Klaus.

"I... I, Yes! Yes, I will let you! Yes, yes, yes!" I'm crying and laughing and every single thought and emotion in my head has blended into a beautiful, wonderful mess.

Klaus loves me for exactly who I am.

I couldn't love him any more if I tried.

It's just us, arms around each other and lips locked. I'm pretty sure that I can hear Sunny giggling and Quigley gagging in the background, but I don't care. It's just Klaus and I in our own little eternity, and it is enough.

We are enough.

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A/N:

I'm tired. I'm happy. I'm a romantic.

'Nuff said.

xxx Jess

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