Chapter Text
“Klaus, go read in the ceiling!” Mr. Benedict ordered.
Klaus was not sure he had ever heard those words put together in that way before. “What? Why?”
“Kate, go with him!” Mr. Benedict called back, already running down the hall. “Sunny! Where’s Sunny and Violet!?”
“In here, Uncle Nick!” S.Q. called. “At least, Sunny is!”
Mr. Benedict slid into the kitchen to find S.Q., Sunny, and Reynie around the island.
“Reynie, take Sunny and go up in the ceiling panels,” Mr. Benedict ordered. He looked out the kitchen window. The man was walking towards the house, a grin on his bearded face.
“Uncle Nicholas, what is going on?” S.Q. said.
“Where’s Violet!?” Mr. Benedict cried. “Everyone go in the ceiling! Except you, Constance, you just sit here and- and pretend to be a rather unintelligent little child!”
The doorbell rang, Mr. Benedict groaned, and his fingers started frantically rubbing the green plaid jacket of his suit. “Stay calm, stay calm, deep breaths, come on…”
Mr. Benedict inhaled, calmed himself, and saw Violet stepping for the door to open it.
“NO!” he yelled, and Violet flinched away, and he fell asleep.
He popped up just seconds later, ushered Violet away, straightened his suit, and plastered on a smile.
He opened the door– no time to wait, or else he wouldn’t appear trustworthy and stupid. “Hello there!”
Violet peered around the corner of the house. All the other children had disappeared -somewhere?- and she was left in a perfect spot for spying.
“My name ith John Fraun,” the man was saying, his speech heavily altered by a lisp. “And I’th come to inthpect your orthans.”
Now, if you’ve been reading up on the events of the Baudelaires, as I’m sure you have, I’m sure you will recognize what Violet did: John was not John at all.
He had done an admirable job, for once- his eyes were brighter, a blue-green, and less shiny. His hair was thick and curly and red, he had two normal eyebrows, and he seemed a great deal plumper. His voice was deeper and less wheezy. But Violet would recognize him if he was wearing a rubber chicken suit and clown makeup, and she recognized him then.
This man wasn’t John. This man was Count Olaf, and he had found them again.
She –accidentally, terrifyingly– made eye contact with him.
“Violet!” Mr. Benedict greeted with a smile, once he followed Count Olaf’s eyes and spotted her. “It’s lovely to see you. John is here to… inspect the orphans. He’s with the government, I presume.” he beamed at Count Olaf, shook his hand, and said quickly, “would you join me in my office?”
Dread seeped through Violet’s bones, filling her up until she had no room to feel anything else at all. She had thought that Mr. Benedict, of all people, would understand. But he didn’t, he didn’t, and nobody ever did-
And then, as Mr. Benedict escorted “John” out of the room, he looked back at her.
And he winked.
And just like that, Violet had hope again.
“Where are the orpthans?” Count Olaf asked. “I mutht thpeak to them all. Privately. At the thame time.”
“All at once?” Mr. Benedict said, baffled. “Well, Constance -she’s my original, you know- is coloring at the kitchen table-” Mr. Benedict gestured through the doorway, where Constance was indeed at the kitchen table, sitting very confused and –wisely– not saying anything out loud.
What’s going on? she asked Mr. Benedict in his head.
Count Olaf, Mr. Benedict thought back. Stay calm, my dear, and don’t say anything. I have a plan. Somewhat.
He had no time to further worry about Constance- he needed to keep Olaf moving, moving, and he needed a moment alone, so he could calm down, rub his plaid- oh, they were in the study now.
“I must get us some tea,” Mr. Benedict managed to get out, gently manhandling the count into a chair. “Please wait here.”
He exited as calmly as he could, before Olaf could protest, and took a very deep breath, working his fingers along the blazer. Number Two, who had realized what was going on and was eavesdropping outside, quickly handed him a cup of lukewarm tea that she had been drinking.
“Deep breaths,” she whispered, taking his hand. “You’re Nicholas Benedict, and you’ve disabled entire islands. You can do this.”
Nicholas took a deep breath, and he also took the tea, and he returned to the room.
Count Olaf, who seemed rather annoyed at the interruption, shook his head at the offered cup.
“I mutht speak to Klauth and Thunny,” he blathered. “I mutht make thure they are doing okay here.”
Mr. Benedict’s brow furrowed. “But Klaus and Sunny aren’t here,” he said blandly.
“What?” Count Olaf hissed, half-standing.
“Oh, I assumed you knew that they took the plane…” Mr. Benedict trailed off carelessly, trying to work out the sentence in his head. Might as well go for the kill, he decided. “...to… another… continent.”
“When?” Olaf asked.
“Just yesterday.” Mr. Benedict frowned innocently. “I assumed you knew all about it, being the orphan inspector.”
“I… yeth, of courthe I did,” Olaf replied. He had realized that he couldn’t ask more without seeming ignorant, which was exactly what Mr. Benedict had hoped for.
“Oh, good.” Mr. Benedict laughed. It was a fake laugh, anyone who knew him could tell. Low and warbling, off-balance, it would sound genuine to the common person’s ears. But anyone who had been around Mr. Benedict for more than two minutes knew what his laugh was truly like.
“And Violeth?” Count Olaf asked, leaning closer.
His sharp fingernails dug into the wooden table, and it suddenly occurred to Mr. Benedict that, with Milligan gone, he had virtually no defense against the arsonist except Kate.
“Violet went after them, of course,” Mr. Benedict lied. “She took the late plane.”
“What?” Olaf hissed.
“She wasn’t planning on going, but suddenly she was very excited to do it,” Mr. Benedict stammered. “She told me as I was getting the tea, and then she rushed out the door. Speaking of which, would you like some te-?”
“No,” Olaf growled. “It’s- it’th not very rethponthible of you to let them go on a trip by themthelves, you know. I juthst might report you to the orphan police.”
“No!” Mr. Benedict let out a strangled noise. It was an aborted laugh (because, seriously, orphan police?) but it could theoretically pass for a noise of shock.
Mr. Benedict rose to his feet hastily. “Oh, please, Mr. John, please don’t. I’ve got my own child, Constance, to look after! Don’t you have a heart?”
“Don’t you have one?” Olaf shot back, looking rather pleased with himself as he came up with a plan. “You let pathetic orphans wander around the globe by themselvethes. I’d call that pretty heartless.”
Mr. Benedict wrung his hands. “Oh, but there are so many, and you can’t expect me to keep track of them all, and-”
Olaf held up a placating hand. “Ah, ah, Mithter Benedict. I am willing to help you out.”
“Oh, thank you,” Mr. Benedict said in relief. He considered taking out his handkerchief to wipe his forehead, but decided he wasn’t quite sweaty enough to actually pull that off.
“If,” Olaf added, and Mr. Benedict froze, “You help me too.”
“I-” Mr. Benedict licked his lips, then remembered the part he was supposed to play. “Yes, of course I will. Anything, anything.”
Oops, too far. Now Olaf might try to get him to do something really horrible.
“I just want to know where they are,” Olaf said smoothly. “You thaid they went to another continent, right? Give me the address of where they landed.”
Mr. Benedict relaxed. “I can do that. Yes, I can do that. Here you go.”
Mr. Benedict scribbled down the first location that came to mind -an airport in Russia- because if he hesitated, then Olaf would know he was lying.
He held out the note. “Here you go. The address is on there.”
“Excellent.” Olaf flicked the note out of Mr. Benedict’s hand, scanned it, and tucked it into his coat pocket. “Thank you, Mithter Benedict.” The words were clearly forced out, and Olaf’s smile looked more like a grimace than anything else. “Let’s keep this between us, shall we?”
“Of course, of course,” Mr. Benedict agreed immediately.
“This was very helpful, Mr. Benefit.”
“Ah, Benedict.”
“That’s what I said.” Olaf turned on his heel and headed out of the door and to the left. “I will be leaving now.”
“The exit’s in the other direction,” Mr. Benedict called helpfully.
Olaf turned again and clipped out.
A few seconds later, Rhonda popped in.
“I’m going to follow him,” she said matter-of-factly. “Be back soon.”
“Rhonda…” Mr. Benedict trailed off. He was at an impasse. They needed to know what Olaf would do, but he couldn’t risk Rhonda. Milligan was the only one who was experienced enough for this.
Rhonda sensed his thoughts -she always did- and smiled. “I’ll be careful.”
And then she was off.
Mr. Benedict frowned in thought for a second, then gathered himself and called, “you can come out now.”
The vent popped off, and six and a half orphans (and Sticky) tumbled out.
“You sent him away,” Klaus breathed, untangling himself from the pile.
“Of course I did, Klaus.” Mr. Benedict smiled tiredly. “I would do nothing else.”
“You sent him away,” Violet repeated, her eyes shining with emotion.
Violet took a step forward, then another, and then, to Mr. Benedict’s surprise, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. Her chest heaved in an unspoken sob, and, oh, this was nice. The trust, he could feel it radiating off her, and that was nice. She trusted him.
Klaus joined next, and then Sunny.
“Thanku,” Sunny said.
Mr. Benedict, being Mr. Benedict, did his best to hug them all back. “Of course.”
Don’t fall asleep, he commanded himself. This moment was too perfect, too beautiful to be forgotten. They trusted him, they finally trusted him, and he didn’t want to ruin it.
“Aw, group hug,” Kate said, wrapping her arms around them all with a mushy smile, and that was what did it. Mr. Benedict laughed once, sharp and delighted, and fell asleep.
Rhonda came back a couple hours later with the news that Count Olaf had smuggled himself onboard a flight.
“He should be gone for quite a while,” she told Number Two, gratefully taking a glass of water she was offered. “Thank you, Two. Did anything important happen while I was gone?”
“Nothing unusual,” Number Two replied. “Or at least, nothing unusually unusual. Mr. Benedict is working with the children and Miss Perumal downstairs. They’re cooking up some sort of concoction for fire-proofing the house.”
Rhonda hummed. “Good idea. Why aren’t you with them?”
“Too many other things to do,” Number Two responded. “And besides, I thought I’d wait for you.”
“Thanks,” Rhonda replied, squeezing Number Two’s hand. “Is there any news from Milligan?”
“He’s still looking,” Number Two responded, anxiously nibbling on an apple. “Mr. Benedict offered to have him withdraw, to protect the house, but the Baudelaires were insistent on him finding Duncan. That is, Quigley.”
Rhonda sighed. That had been what she was expecting.
Miss Perumal came upstairs, hot and sweaty. She nodded a greeting to Rhonda. “Hullo, Rhonda. How’s the Count?”
“On his way to Russia,” Rhonda assured. “How’s the experimenting?”
“Good, actually,” Miss Perumal answered, pulling her hair back. “It’s just hot as the dickens down there, with the fires. Needed a break.”
Rhonda groaned. “Please tell me those are figurative fires or something.”
“I wish I could.” Miss Perumal grimaced, and Number Two tossed her a towel for her face. “Thank you, Number Two. They’re experimenting with heat resistance. It’s perfectly safe, for them, but you know how I worry.”
Rhonda nodded sympathetically. “I should probably go see how they’re doing.”
The group worked through most of the evening, and by nightfall, they had their concoction.
“It should work to paint it on the outer walls,” Mr. Benedict said, propping his hands on his hips. “We don’t have enough to coat the inner walls, somebody will have to make a market run for more ingredients…”
Rhonda groaned and popped her back. “You know what I need?”
“To be accepted?” said Sticky.
“To be listened to?” said Violet.
“To be allowed to be sad?” said Klaus.
“I was going to say a back massage and maybe a day off, but are you kids okay?”
Kate craned her neck up. “With my bucket, I can hang upside-down from Reynie’s room’s window and climb up the bricks and coat the top of the house!”
“Or we could just get a ladder,” Mr. Benedict interjected.
“Or we could just get a ladder!” Kate declared.