A/N: I an ashamed. Deeply ashamed. IT HAS BEEN WAY TOO LONG AND IM TRULY SORRY! Ok, no more shouting… but honestly, time just flies and I look at my computer and think, "I'll do it tomorrow!" And then it's 3 months later lol. Anyways, throw tomatoes, maybe even pies at me, but after you read the next chapter… ;)

Chapter the Sixth

The room was black. Nothing but darkness.

A cricket chirped and then stopped as if it noticed the uncomfortable darkness too; there was no sliver of warm sunlight peeking through the windows or doors because there were none.

The only movement in the room was coming from a lone spider, weaving a moldy web in the far corner of the room.

The room was black.

Quigley woke up, one side of his face pressed against the cold cement floor. He could see nothing; the blindfold was back over his eyes.

He groaned as he tried to heave himself up. His hands were bound behind them, and from what he could tell, with crude rope. He could feel the scratchy cords rubbing deeper into his skin with every movement he made until finally, he blindly leaned against one of the stony walls. Everything was so cold.

Then suddenly, he realized everything that had happened. He knew he was captured by Olaf and his troupe, for a ransom… even perhaps a murderous kidnapping, but he only just recalled what he had been doing before he had awoken just now out of his state of unconsciousness. He had been dying in the back of Olaf's car.

He coughed but his throat was clear… he was fine. Confused, Quigley shuffled to try to free his hands but cringed as he cried out aloud; a shooting pain in his ankle burned up his leg and paralyzed him to the spot.

What could he do? He couldn't move, he couldn't even see. God knows where he was, and what would be the use of calling for help? Olaf and his troupe could be in the very same room as him at that moment, watching him struggle and muffling their evil laughter.

Unexpectedly, the sound of a long creaking footstep came to his ears. He couldn't tell where it was coming from but in panic, without any reasonable thinking, he cried hoarsely, "Hello? Anybody, please… help me! Help!"

The footsteps stopped and a quiet groan of aged wood was heard, as if a door was being opened. Even through his blindfold, Quigley sensed a flood of light fall into the room and then disappear. He waited anxiously as he realized his irrational shout for help. The steps were suddenly closer. A hand touched his face.

Quigley jumped back although the touch was gentle. Carefully, his blindfold was slipped off and Quigley sat there dumbly, his eyes adjusting to the room. He opened his mouth stupidly, trying to think of what to say but a hand closed quickly over his mouth.

"Please be quiet. I'm not supposed to be here," a soft voice came through the darkness. Quigley still felt blind, not being able to see anything still but a thin milky outline of the face in front of him.

"I managed to sneak away some of my dinner for you. I don't imagine they've fed you since you've been here… they're horrible. Complete monsters… but you can trust me," the voice spoke and abruptly, food was poured onto his lap. He lifted a crusty piece of bread to his mouth and tried to swallow. He had no questions to ask this mysterious stranger, whoever it was. There was nothing to know other than he was cold, hungry, forgotten, alone…

"M-my brother and sister! Duncan and Isador--" Quigley stammered faster than his tongue could speak and the hand closed over his mouth once more.

"Shh!" And they froze. Footsteps were heard from above and Quigley realized he was under the floor, right under a hidden trapdoor.

The hand was lowered once the steps disappeared and the voice spoke quickly in rapid fire, "Please, you mustn't shout… your siblings. They're here. I can show you them, but you must promise to eat this first."

A spoon was held up to his lips and Quigley cringed at the taste. "It's horseradish. I need to make sure you're thoroughly healed. Count Olaf poisoned you with Medusoid Mycelium… he snuck it into your food basket Kit had sent. It's a long story and we haven't got much time…" The stranger said and he was pulled up to his feet. He gave a weak cry.

"I think my ankle's broken… or--or something," Quigley winced. He turned to the pale outline. "How do you know all of this… what's going to happen?" He asked as the stranger uncoiled the ropes around his hands.

"You know exactly what's going to happen. It's Thursday." That was all the voice said until he watched the stranger pull a small lighter from their pocket. With a flick of a thumb, a feeble light was emitted and shimmered like a star in the darkness. It was held inches from their faces and he could see two eyes in the darkness, blue and wide. "You look alright, for the most part," she whispered and then the soft voice said curiously, "Gosh, it's like I'm looking right at Duncan," and the light was gone. Quigley's heart thumped fast at the thought of finally seeing his siblings…

"Who are you?" Quigley asked, feeling as if he had been talking to a ghost the entire time. She paused.

"I'd give you a name, but I'm not even sure who am I anymore… I've lost my family and I'm a prisoner to Olaf's troupe now, but if you must insist, I'll tell you. Aye, it's only fair…" she pulled a ladder down from the trap door above their heads, "You can call me Fiona. Now, hurry. This way."

The trapdoor was opened and Fiona helped him up the stairs by grabbing his hands; he tried not to cry out loud when his ankle burned painfully once again. The hallway was dead empty and nearly as dark as his room under the floor. She pulled him into a vacant doorway and put a finger to her lips. They proceeded as she led the way.

They passed corridor after corridor, filled with bare, cobweb-ridden rooms on either side. With every step, a puff of filthy dust rose up from the rotting carpet. No one seemed to be around and Quigley slowed down to look out one of the windows but realized that there were none. They came to the stairway and Quigley leaned against the handrail before he could go any further.

"Duncan and Isadora… are they alright? Has Olaf done anything to them?" Quigley whispered throatily; swirls of white dust flew up the stairs and landed back softly on the steps.

"They're alive for the most part. Probably not as safe as you could hope for, but what can you expect when you're kidnapped by Count Olaf?" Fiona joked darkly. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure I know where they are… I only talk to them when the entire troupe is asleep down here, but Olaf… he doesn't ever sleep it seems like."

Quigley hobbled up the stairs as Fiona supported his left side with his arm over her shoulders. They stopped frequently for Quigley's ankle; he rubbed it as it shot spurts of pain up and down his foot until it became numb and lost all feeling all together.

Quigley turned to Fiona suspiciously, "Why are you doing all of this for me? If you are who you say you are, how come you're risking yourself for my sake under Olaf's rule? You're not one of those Snow Scouts from Mortmain Mountain, I would have remembered you. " He stared her straight in the eyes, the clear sheen of her glasses reflected in the dim light of the stairway. Finally he said, "How come you've kidnapped me… who are you trying to trap?"

Fiona turned abruptly towards him and he grasped for the handrail for support; her face was hurt and angry. "I'm doing this because I believe in family. That's why I'm here with Olaf--- so I can be with my brother. That's why I'm speaking to Duncan and Isadora--- to plan an escape. That's why I'm taking you to them. I'm not like them… I don't play their games of ruining people's lives."

Quigley looked down at the steps, ashamed he said anything from the start, and started up the stairs, knowing he wasn't worthy enough to receive her help. Yet, she stood beside him and linked her arm with his, steadily helping him up.

"However…you are right, though. They kidnapped you for a different purpose," Fiona said sadly, "They've got Isadora and Duncan for the fortune but they decided to take you and place you as a prop, like one of their acting sets. They forced your brother to telegram the receiving room for the V.F.D. Factual Dispatches once they found out you were there with Kit Snicket; they've been spying on her for months. Now that they have you… they want to lure the Baudelaires here, along with the rest of the V.F.D. members. A-And from what I've heard…"

She stopped suddenly and brought her hands up to her face, trying to hide her oncoming tears. Her voice shook as she choked on her throat, "They plan to set fire to this building and kill every volunteer in it."

Quigley was dumbstruck and as he turned to Fiona again, her face was now set hard and emotionless as if she was trying to swallow her fear and misery. The stepped deftly through the next hallway, lighter than the first dark hallway, but still no windows.

"But they can't," Quigley spoke finally; his voice was sure and disbelieving the fact that Fiona presented. "How are they capable of bringing every V.F.D. member to one spot and planning on successfully keeping them in a burning building?"

Fiona stopped outside a closed, black door on the far end of the hallway. She raised her eyebrows at Quigley, confused. "Haven't you figured out where we are yet?"

Quigley shook his head.

"We're underground, about three floors. The reason Olaf and his troupe hasn't heard us yet is because they've all moved upstairs… preparing. We're under the floors of the Hotel Denouement. Today, at 7:13, everyone will be arriving and we will be waiting…"

Quigley stood silent and shocked. But the Baudelaires know of the trap, and Kit…? They can't possibly come… he thought, dumbstruck with Olaf's plan. However, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next… the very moment he had been dreaming and waiting and working for months and months. Fiona turned the brass knob of the black door in front of them and swung it wide, moaning softly like a cold breeze.

Inside, lying asleep on the rotted wood floor of the room, pale and starved, was Isadora and Duncan. Quigley almost mistook them as being dead.

"Duncan! Isadora!" Quigley cried, overcome with a strange emotion of mixed joy and sadness. They didn't even stir and as Quigley gained balance on his good leg, he stumbled forward but a clammy hand grabbed the back of his throat. Fiona shrieked and they were both pushed forward into the room.

"Well, well, well… Fiona, do I really need to tell you not to disturb my little Quagmire prey? You should know this by now… the consequences of going against my rule can end fatal, but I'll let you off with a warning…"

Count Olaf stood above them, his yellow teeth gleaming in an awful sneer. Fiona wiped her bloody nose silently frightened; she had landed face first into the ground.

"Now, you keep your tiny mouths shut for the next few hours until we decide to pull you out. And you mustn't worry… we have plans for you, so you won't actually be perishing in the fire like the rest of your V.F.D friends." He giggled and wiggled his grimy fingers into a wave, "Toodles!"

"You'll never get away with it! Your arson isn't going to work! The V.F.D. knows of your plan and-and they'll inform the police before you can do anything about it!" Quigley had shouted this, even after Olaf had closed the door, in his foolish anger. He didn't know if any of this was true, but he hoped desperately inside that it was.

He sat crumpled on the floor defeated until the door clicked open. "Oh, it won't, will it…?"

Olaf's cruel profile was all that could be seen in the narrow doorway and he said murderously soft, "I'm afraid it will, you stupid child. From the kindness of my own heart, I'm letting you stay down here with your helpless brother and sister because I know that after tonight, it'll be the last time you'll ever see them once I collect the fortune with ease, or anyone again… because you'll all be dead!"

His cackles echoed down the hallways and rang for a very long time in the seclusion of their windowless prison. Quigley trembled, his eyes blurring… he dared not look over at Fiona. He wiped his eyes and looked over to his brother and sister, but they hadn't even moved.

Thursday.

8:15 AM

The Baudelaires had risen for an early start. The last two days of arrival at Justice Strauss's was a blur as she and Kit researched and sent questioning letters and telegrams to as many V.F.D. members as possible. They waited.

10:21 AM

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny sit anxiously in Justice Strauss's library, trying to read. All they can think about was the Hotel Denouement and how Olaf had talked about being there too with his troupe.

"I've only just remembered…" Klaus speaks randomly from looking up from a book, "'denouement' is defined as 'the outcome of a sequence of events… the end result'. Perhaps this will be the end to all our questions."

"Perhaps this will be the end of the V.F.D," Violet whispers quietly. Klaus and Sunny never retorted, knowing deep in the back of their minds that it could be true.

1:58 PM

The mailman comes to the door and hands Kit half a bag of letters with no return addresses. Each one is from a volunteer and each one denies the rumor of Olaf's appearance at the Hotel after careful research. The all agree that they plan to be there to discuss the future of the V.F.D. and their enemies… 7:13 PM sharp.

4:03 PM

Kit demands that they must get an early start for the Hotel is far away in a remote, desolate strip of desert land. Justice Strauss dresses the three of them formally, knowing how the other V.F.D members will coo and compliment the Baudelaires, telling them how Sunny's got her mother's eyes and how Klaus has got his father's intelligence.

"You mustn't worry, dear children. The Hotel has been inspected on every floor and police will be close by in the nearest town if anything goes wrong." Her voice was cheery but the Baudelaires lost hope once they saw her smile waver as she left the room.

6:52 PM

Through their car window, a large, white seven-floor building comes into view over the horizon. Violet doesn't bother to wake Klaus and Sunny up.

Here it was. The Hotel Denouement in all its ominous glory. Everything they had heard about and worked to discover, to finally be among other volunteers… Olaf obviously wasn't in view but it didn't mean anything to Violet. He always seemed to be a shadow against a wall, a disguise in a crowd, never to be caught.

She wished he would never show up again, especially not today.

And she prayed.

7:13 PM