Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Aug 4, 2007 18:21:06 GMT -5
Title: Lost Ties
Cast: Esmé Squalor, Jerome Squalor, the sugar bowl
Author's Disclaimer: I do not own any of the A Series of Unfortunate Events characters. They belong to Lemony Snicket a.k.a. Daniel Handler.
Rating: G
Genre: Romance
Story-Type: One-Shot
Summery: Esmé, devastated by the shattered remains of the sugar bowl as it is her last remaining tie to Olaf, is comforted by Jerome.
Author's Note: Before you read this, I just want to point out that I wrote this for the sole purpose to get it off my chest after experiencing something particularly stressful. In order to make myself feel better, I decided to write what I was feeling in the form of a fan-fic— an Esmé and Jerome fan-fic, actually— and even though it didn't take away all of the pain, writing it did help me to feel a little better. It is also partly linked to my upcoming ASOUE fic, "The Terrible Truth", which I may or may not be posting here. I just worked extremely hard on it and am very wary of people knitpicking little details here and there. And now, onto "Lost Ties"...
***************************************************************************************
Esmé knelt on the floor of the kitchen containing the blue stove as she stared in dismay down at the remains of the sugar bowl. The sugar bowl, which had been the last remaining thing connecting her to her beloved Olaf, was now broken after having slipped from her grasp and hit the tiles of the kitchen floor. Tears clouded Esmé’s eyes as she silently scolded herself for leaving the sugar bowl sitting on the countertop in the first place. Somewhere in the penthouse apartment she heard a door open and then close. It sounded like the front door, which probably meant Jerome was back from the store with the parsley soda, buttermilk and small paper cups. Esmé felt fresh tears escape her eyes and flow down her cheeks as she thought of all the pain and distress her actions must have caused Jerome. And still he loved her. How could he love a woman who had married him only because his home contained a secret passageway leading to the home of the person who had stolen from her so long ago? That was the one thing she had never been able to figure out about him. He seemed so quick when it came to forgiveness and yet was so hesitant when it came to getting involved in an argument.
“Esmé,” Jerome called, “I’m back. They were all out of paper so I got Styrofoam cups instead. I hope that’s okay.”
She didn’t answer and instead went on staring at the remains of her treasured sugar bowl as tears streaked her cheeks.
“Esmé,” Jerome said again. “Where are you?” He called her name three more times and every time he did his voice drew closer until he was standing in the entrance to the kitchen. “Here you are. Why didn’t you answer me? I’ve been calling and calling. Esmé…” He took a step closer and tenderly touched her shoulder. “What is it? Turn around and look at me.” Esmé did, and Jerome was deeply concerned and saddened at the sight of her tears. He reached over and slowly lifted the veil from her face. “Why, you’re crying, Esmé. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before. What’s happened?”
“The sugar bowl,” she sobbed. “I set it on the countertop by the sink so I could wash it, but my hands were so slippery from the soap I was using that when I picked up the sugar bowl it slipped from my grasp and hit the floor…” She trailed off, unable to control her sobs.
“There, there, darling,” Jerome said soothingly as he took his hysterical former wife into his arms. “If I recall correctly, the sugar bowl is fairly large, so I’m sure it can be fixed. How many pieces is it in?” He wouldn’t admit it at the time, not even to himself, but he was secretly enjoying Esmé’s moment of vulnerability— she still mourned Olaf, that was for certain, and the fact that she was pregnant with Olaf’s child was only increasing her emotions day by day. Even though Jerome still loved and cared deeply for the woman who had left him so she could be with a treacherous villain, he had made it his life’s mission to care not only for her, but also for the child she was now carrying.
Esmé sniffled, glancing over her shoulder at the sugar bowl that had shattered into six considerable pieces. Realizing that she couldn’t even look at the thing without bursting into tears, she turned her head away and buried her face in Jerome’s chest. “It doesn’t matter,” she cried miserably. “Even if we were able to put the sugar bowl back together, what would be the point? It’s never going to look the same again, so why bother?”
“Because it’s precious to you,” Jerome said, “isn’t it? After all, it’s what ties you to—” He broke off, suddenly realizing what he was saying. “It’s what ties you to V.F.D.,” he said quickly, “and that’s why it means so much to you. I’m sure if we were to glue it back together, then it would be as good as new.”
Esmé blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing. Sometimes Jerome could be so unpredictable it actually frightened her— and unpredictability and fright were things they had both lacked during their years together as husband and wife. So why were these qualities just beginning to show themselves?
With trembling hands Jerome lifted the dark veil from Esmé’s face and edged his face closer until their lips were touching. Less than a year earlier neither of them would have anticipated this moment, but now that it was here they knew there was no turning back. Regardless of everything that had happened between them, he had never stopped loving her, and at this point he didn’t believe he ever would. Whether or not she was worthy of his love and whether or not she believed she was, both Esmé and Jerome knew this was what she needed, and so as their lips locked together they accepted one another for who they were, feeling all of the pain and anguish they had both suffered begin to melt away…
The End
Cast: Esmé Squalor, Jerome Squalor, the sugar bowl
Author's Disclaimer: I do not own any of the A Series of Unfortunate Events characters. They belong to Lemony Snicket a.k.a. Daniel Handler.
Rating: G
Genre: Romance
Story-Type: One-Shot
Summery: Esmé, devastated by the shattered remains of the sugar bowl as it is her last remaining tie to Olaf, is comforted by Jerome.
Author's Note: Before you read this, I just want to point out that I wrote this for the sole purpose to get it off my chest after experiencing something particularly stressful. In order to make myself feel better, I decided to write what I was feeling in the form of a fan-fic— an Esmé and Jerome fan-fic, actually— and even though it didn't take away all of the pain, writing it did help me to feel a little better. It is also partly linked to my upcoming ASOUE fic, "The Terrible Truth", which I may or may not be posting here. I just worked extremely hard on it and am very wary of people knitpicking little details here and there. And now, onto "Lost Ties"...
***************************************************************************************
Esmé knelt on the floor of the kitchen containing the blue stove as she stared in dismay down at the remains of the sugar bowl. The sugar bowl, which had been the last remaining thing connecting her to her beloved Olaf, was now broken after having slipped from her grasp and hit the tiles of the kitchen floor. Tears clouded Esmé’s eyes as she silently scolded herself for leaving the sugar bowl sitting on the countertop in the first place. Somewhere in the penthouse apartment she heard a door open and then close. It sounded like the front door, which probably meant Jerome was back from the store with the parsley soda, buttermilk and small paper cups. Esmé felt fresh tears escape her eyes and flow down her cheeks as she thought of all the pain and distress her actions must have caused Jerome. And still he loved her. How could he love a woman who had married him only because his home contained a secret passageway leading to the home of the person who had stolen from her so long ago? That was the one thing she had never been able to figure out about him. He seemed so quick when it came to forgiveness and yet was so hesitant when it came to getting involved in an argument.
“Esmé,” Jerome called, “I’m back. They were all out of paper so I got Styrofoam cups instead. I hope that’s okay.”
She didn’t answer and instead went on staring at the remains of her treasured sugar bowl as tears streaked her cheeks.
“Esmé,” Jerome said again. “Where are you?” He called her name three more times and every time he did his voice drew closer until he was standing in the entrance to the kitchen. “Here you are. Why didn’t you answer me? I’ve been calling and calling. Esmé…” He took a step closer and tenderly touched her shoulder. “What is it? Turn around and look at me.” Esmé did, and Jerome was deeply concerned and saddened at the sight of her tears. He reached over and slowly lifted the veil from her face. “Why, you’re crying, Esmé. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before. What’s happened?”
“The sugar bowl,” she sobbed. “I set it on the countertop by the sink so I could wash it, but my hands were so slippery from the soap I was using that when I picked up the sugar bowl it slipped from my grasp and hit the floor…” She trailed off, unable to control her sobs.
“There, there, darling,” Jerome said soothingly as he took his hysterical former wife into his arms. “If I recall correctly, the sugar bowl is fairly large, so I’m sure it can be fixed. How many pieces is it in?” He wouldn’t admit it at the time, not even to himself, but he was secretly enjoying Esmé’s moment of vulnerability— she still mourned Olaf, that was for certain, and the fact that she was pregnant with Olaf’s child was only increasing her emotions day by day. Even though Jerome still loved and cared deeply for the woman who had left him so she could be with a treacherous villain, he had made it his life’s mission to care not only for her, but also for the child she was now carrying.
Esmé sniffled, glancing over her shoulder at the sugar bowl that had shattered into six considerable pieces. Realizing that she couldn’t even look at the thing without bursting into tears, she turned her head away and buried her face in Jerome’s chest. “It doesn’t matter,” she cried miserably. “Even if we were able to put the sugar bowl back together, what would be the point? It’s never going to look the same again, so why bother?”
“Because it’s precious to you,” Jerome said, “isn’t it? After all, it’s what ties you to—” He broke off, suddenly realizing what he was saying. “It’s what ties you to V.F.D.,” he said quickly, “and that’s why it means so much to you. I’m sure if we were to glue it back together, then it would be as good as new.”
Esmé blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing. Sometimes Jerome could be so unpredictable it actually frightened her— and unpredictability and fright were things they had both lacked during their years together as husband and wife. So why were these qualities just beginning to show themselves?
With trembling hands Jerome lifted the dark veil from Esmé’s face and edged his face closer until their lips were touching. Less than a year earlier neither of them would have anticipated this moment, but now that it was here they knew there was no turning back. Regardless of everything that had happened between them, he had never stopped loving her, and at this point he didn’t believe he ever would. Whether or not she was worthy of his love and whether or not she believed she was, both Esmé and Jerome knew this was what she needed, and so as their lips locked together they accepted one another for who they were, feeling all of the pain and anguish they had both suffered begin to melt away…
The End