Chapter Thirteen

Evolution

If I lay here - if I just lay here,

would you lie with me

and just forget the world?

I don't quite know how to say how I feel.

Those three words are said too much.

They're not enough.

I need your grace to remind me

to find my own.

- Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol

The tree house looked much the same as before Violet had left, except that there were even more half-finished inventions scattered around many of the rooms – not even the kitchen was safe from Beatrice's new obsession. Klaus was nowhere to be found when Sunny, Violet, and Olaf arrived, but Beatrice was sitting on the sofa in the entry cum living room, fiddling with a spoon and some electrical wire next to a dismantled radio.

The young girl rushed over to give Violet a hug but then stopped short when she saw Olaf. "Is that him? The man that kidnapped Violet?" she whispered to Sunny.

Sunny came over to hug her supportively. "Yes, Beatrice, but he's not a bad man…well, he is, but-"

"-But your…er, Violet is trying to turn me into a better man. You're Kit Snicket's daughter, then?"

She nodded silently at the blood-splattered man, eyes wide in suspicion and uncertainty. "I guess. But she died."

An awkward silence fell over the group before Sunny spoke. "Um, we've already eaten, but if you want anything, there are leftovers. Violet…I would try to stay out of Klaus's way for a while, okay? He's up in the library and I don't think he's coming out anytime soon, but just so you know. I'm going to put Beatrice to bed and then I think I'll go see if he wants anything."

"We're both exhausted, so I think after we clean up we're going to get some rest." They said good night and Sunny hugged her fiercely before catching Beatrice's hand. "We're glad to have you back, Violet."

After they disappeared up the stairs, Violet wheeled Olaf over to the stairs and helped him stand. He grunted with pain when she eased his arm over her shoulders and they began the slow walk up the steep steps. Once they reached the landing, she led him carefully to her room, eased open the door, and turned on the closest light.

Her room was also much as it had been before she had been stolen from the island by Olaf and his men. Inventions in various stages of completion littered almost every surface, from the floor and its cheerful rag-rug to the desk which took up an entire wall of the larger room – the only surfaces not covered were the window seat and the bed, which was still left unmade. Her siblings never touched anything in her room since an unfortunate incident when they were younger involving a conductor and several egg whisks.

Olaf snorted when he saw the chaos, but winced as Violet gently helped him onto the bed. "Good lord, your room is messier than my tower used to be, do you remember? Add a few more empty bottles and it would be almost identical, in clutter at least."

"You stay here, I'm going to the bathroom to get something to clean you up with. You look horrifying with all that blood on you."

As soon as she had disappeared back into the hallway, Olaf sighed with some combination of relief and wearied exhaustion. He couldn't remember the last night he'd had a truly restful night of sleep, and the dark oozing into the room from the wall of windows behind the window seat, covered by gauzy curtains that swayed in the ocean breeze, seduced him into a doze.

He woke at the touch of a warm, damp cloth on his face. Violet had changed while he slept into a cream-colored nightshirt and soft tan pajama trousers…and had tied back the long dark waves of her hair with a new, bright red ribbon. She smiled when his eyes opened but quickly frowned when she noticed how swollen his left eye had become from a particularly brutal hit.

"Klaus really went after you…but," she paused. "After all you've done, I don't really blame him." She continued to minister to his wounds as she spoke but dreaded the impact her words would have. I'm not going to lie to him and take his side, she thought, Klaus was justified after what Olaf has done to us, much as it hurts me to admit it.

"Neither do I. I would have done far worse…the old me, anyway." He grinned crookedly without humor. "I don't really expect him to accept me, you know. I know a lifetime could pass and he would still be waiting for the knife in his back…as I am, to be honest with you."

Violet was silent as she finished cleaning and dressing the wounds on his face. She helped Olaf sit up and pull away his suspenders, then began to unbutton his shirt to tend to the rest of his injuries.

"You know it's the truth, Violet."

She sighed. "I know, I just wish things were different…I wish none of this had ever happened. I could have met you at the theater, watching one of your shows, or walking past your house one day, not…the way we did."

"I do have a lot of regrets, but meeting you was not one of them. Granted, attempting to marry you at age fourteen to steal your fortune while I threatened the safety of your siblings was not one of my finer moments, but I…well, I am me, after all. Hopefully just the good parts of me left, though."

Violet smiled. "Hopefully. Now help me with your sleeves." Once they had removed his shirt, she gasped softly at the mass of bruises, welts, and cuts that were scattered across his lightly muscled chest.

"Did he at least manage to miss hitting the bullet wound?"

"Mostly." As her hands began their ministrations, he shivered at the feel of her hands on his chest and her breath on his face as she leaned closer to assess the severity of a wound. Her caught her wrist with one hand and, placing the other at the small of her back, pulled her to him slowly.

His eyes searched her with a look of desire mingled with wonder. "How is it, orphan, that you manage to so thoroughly undo me? I was, well, a villain before I met you and now I scarcely know myself. You've changed me, you know. I don't think…I don't think I could be the man I was before if I tried."

"I know what you mean," she murmured, distracted yet again by the feel of his body against hers, a sensation still novel to her. He caught her mouth suddenly with his own and held her tightly as they kissed, careless of his wounds. They were alone in her room and there was no one to interrupt them, no crisis to live through, only Violet and Olaf and this newfound, quite miraculous and thoroughly unexpected bond between them.

It was if all of Olaf's pent-up frustration of weeks, if not longer, had been brought to a head by their interlude on the boat earlier. He pulled her entirely astride his lap as his kisses became passionate, more desperately free of any restrictions on emotion. His hands moved downwards from her back to press her against all of him, sending a molten shock below her waist. Though she had kissed and been kissed before, this was entirely new territory, and it was as if her body acted of its own accord now that this previously buried desire had been awakened. He moved beneath her, a few thin layers of clothing all that separated them, and she gasped, the sound of which further fueled the raging, aching need that threatened to overwhelm him.

And it was not some common whore, the only kind of woman that the twisted, malevolent man that he had been could have, but the heroic, resourceful, and stunningly caring Violet who was kissing him back with desire that mirrored his own, so long unknown to him. He rolled so that their positions were reversed and bent down towards her, carefully mindful of his injuries so that no fresh mishap would stop what was happening. One hand began to slide up her thigh as she craned her face upward, wanting to continue the kisses that had ceased when he had moved.

But then a hand on his bare chest stopped him, and he pulled his face away from hers breathlessly. Violet's eyes were filled with nervous fear. "I need to know…I need to be able to trust you, Olaf. I've never done…I want to. I want you. But I…I don't know, I-"

He should have realized that she would have had no chance to explore her longings while kept on the run during their formative years beyond a few stolen kisses and quickly-dismissed daydreams. Her genuine innocence and fear sent an ache of guilt through him that cut through his lust, and he moved away from her to sit up, head in his hands. "There's nothing I can say to make you trust me, we both know that. But I wish like hell that there was something…damn it, I would give anything, Violet, to be given the chance to prove myself, as completely unworthy as I am. You're too good for me, you always have been."

And suddenly Violet saw him, knew him at his most vulnerable. That he could be at all pretending remorse was impossible; she had come to know him too well after years of deception and betrayal. It was as if all of his walls had suddenly collapsed to reveal a more fragile Olaf than she had ever witnessed, the man scarred by years of being alone, knowing nothing but hate and sadness and violence but wanting nothing more than to be loved and accepted, the heart wrenching reason why he sought so angrily to steal the peace of others. And she knew that, for better or worse, she loved this tortured, broken man…and that giving herself to him would be his penance through the gift of her trust, no longer questioned but finally given utterly, and her heart.

She pulled his hands away and pulled him back down to her. And when she looked into his eyes, she saw that he understood everything she left unspoken.

Olaf woke to bright, crisp sunlight and Violet sleeping in the curve of his arm. Despite being attired only in the bed's thin sheet, her skin was pleasantly warm. The light caught a shining patch of red within the tendrils of her hair and he lifted a strand to see her hair ribbon, still more or less in place. A crooked smile appeared on his face alongside a look of wonder. This is a sign, he thought. Someone knows that I am a changed man, because of her. Someone has heard my desperation and given me a sign that things will be different, that I can be different, be a man worthy of someone like her…

Violet's eyes fluttered open to meet Olaf's gaze that was a mix of gratitude and so many other emotions. She saw him struggle to regain some of his confident composure and smiled when his hand gently brushed away a dark curl and slid to cup her face.

"Well, my love…good morning."

Author's Notes

As they say, that's all – other than a brief epilogue, Intrigue is complete! I was debating adding an epilogue but as the fantastic Mr. Snicket taught his readers, not all questions need to be answered :) Please note, I decided to change the rating from T to M after this particular chapter, although looking back at a few other brief instances I probably should have changed it before, since some of this story isn't really fit for 13-year-olds. But I didn't want to post a disclaimer at the beginning of this chapter, since I figured it would give away too much ;) I sincerely hope you've enjoyed reading my humble literary offering – it's been two years since I started writing Intrigue, and I've truly enjoyed finishing my first fanfic ever! The support from reviewers has been fantastic and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking around and providing your feedback! Please don't forget to leave a review – I can always use advice, since I will either be finishing Ulterior Emotions or starting something new when I get the chance!

Cheers,

Katrina