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Through the sound of the rain and the wind through the trees, Lemony heard another sound. It was a sort of rumbling, or a sort of hum. Hangfire pushed him closer to the window, and he struggled against him. It was a tense dance. Lemony’s mossy foot slipped on the carpet, and when his hands grabbed at his coat, one of his medals poked his finger right where the tadpole had bitten him.
“Do you hear it?” He hissed.
“Dilemma,” Lemony managed to choke out.
"Yes, you certainly are in a dilemma, child." Hangfire' voice was low and dangerously biting. Before Lemony could say anything about what he really meant, Hangfire shoved him backwards through the window. An edge of glass ripped Lemony's coat and sliced a line of fire along his arm, enough to make him gasp, and then he gasped anyway when he realized he too had been defenestrated, a word which here means "thrown out of a window."
Lemony spun in midair, aiming to hit the water feet-first. Hopefully, that would distribute his weight while keeping him from being too likely to get hurt. Or die, something in him said. He ignored that something and prepared for impact, focusing on everything but the fall. It felt like it took forever as he stared at the trees around him and the shadowed swimming pool below him. It likely only took a minute or two.
Suddenly he hit the water, the iciness of it burning his skin and shocking him into full awareness. He cut through the water easily, but hit the bottom far too hard, twisting his ankle on impact. There was something in the water. Wow, was that glass? Ok, he had to keep his eyes closed, then. His foot brushed something oddly soft and he fought the water, sickened when he realized what it was.
It was the body of colonel Colophon, and the very thought of what it would have looked like made him gag. The water around him was pressing in, and as he fought, his lungs burned more and more, the need for air tightening in his chest like a sickening weight that he couldn't fight. He struggled and struggled, arms stinging, but gravity was a cruel mistress.
Oh shit, he was going to drown.
His lungs tightened and he fought to keep himself away from the bottom, and while that was something he could prevent, he couldn't prevent what happened next.
Voluntary apnea, he thought, a term which here means "holding your breath on purpose," could only be sustained for 1 or 2 minutes.
He fought, but his lungs spasmed and he sucked in water. Chlorine burned his throat and he felt a stray piece of glass against his tongue, sharp and deadly. Everything was dark and cold and incredibly terrifying, the water choking him slowly. It hurt, it hurt so bad he wanted to scream.
Suddenly, though, just as he was blacking out, something closed around his waist, like a pair of arms dragging him up or down or somewhere.
His last thought was well, if I die, I'll be the only person in history who can say they were hugged by a zombie.
"Lemony, you reckless moron, how in the hell did you get yourself into this mess?" Someone yelled, but it sounded like he was underwater and they were on land. More speaking, but it was too garbled and disjointed for him to make out.
"Come on, come on, don't be an idiot." The same voice, more panicked this time. There was something warm pressed against his mouth and he felt an odd tug in his chest. Slowly, he sank back into reality, feeling hard concrete against his back. The rain was freezing on his face.
He couldn't breathe. This, for some reason, did not concern him."You've got to breathe, Snicket, come on." The voice was the most panicked he'd heard yet, and it made him oddly sad to hear their words. More warmth, and more odd feelings. This time, though, it just hurt, and he gagged, water dribbling down the side of his face as he desperately tried to make room for air in his lungs. Warm hands gently rolled him onto his side, as you should for any seizure victim, overdosed person, or, in this case, waterlogged idiot. He felt sick and exhausted, the concrete rough against his face as he choked painfully. Someone hit him between the shoulder blades with a surprising amount of force and he coughed up a gush of lukewarm water. It felt like his throat was being ripped to shreds, and for a second he thought he had swallowed some of the glass in the pool.
(There was still a piece of it in his mouth. That wasn't important.)
Lemony kept coughing, stomach rolling as another gush of water was forced up. It was still raining. He remembered the dead body on the bottom of the pool and pushed himself up onto his elbows, then into a sitting position, trying to push himself away from the edge of the pool. His clothes were drenched enough for him to be shaking like a leaf, and somebody was rubbing his back, trying to hold him steady. "Snicket, hey, take it easy. I've got you." Moxie Mallahan's voice was angry but reassuring at the same time. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
He was lying by the side of the pool, and Moxie was sitting slightly to his left. Everything hurt, and he was shivering badly. "Can you speak? Are you alright?" Her voice was slightly panicked. Lemony spat the piece of glass onto the pavement as discreetly as possible, because no, he actually didn't want to worry her more.
"Yes. I hurt my arm on the way down and I don't think I can walk." He stumbled over his words, speaking way too fast, but she understood him anyway.
"Cleo, I need your help! See if you can find some bandages, or at least some disinfectant." Moxie called, presumably speaking to the missing girl, Cleo Knight. He guessed they had found her while he had been, you know, drowning. A few minutes passed and Lemony looked at the gash on his arm. It went across his upper arm down to his elbow, and while it wasn't bleeding too badly, it made him dizzy to look at. The fire was still radiating along his skin. He noticed that there was a piece of glass or two embedded in his hands. Ew.
A short, intense-looking girl with a very distinctive face ran over with a first aid kit and a determined expression.
"Cleo Knight." She said, holding out her hand for him to shake it, but then she eyed the glass and put it down. "I'd shake your hand, but.." She trailed off. She had a nice voice, clear and sonorous with a slight accent he couldn't quite identify. With quick eyes, she looked him over and ordered him to take off his jacket. Not about to piss her off, he obliged.
She eyed the gash in his arm and opened the kit, grabbing the small bottle of disinfectant. "This is going to hurt," she warned, and he took Moxie's hand. She tapped a little bit of the liquid over the gash, and it felt like someone had doused it in gasoline. He dug his nails into Moxie's palm, hard enough to hurt, but she didn't say anything. He felt dizzy, vision spinning like he was on some demented carousel from hell. An involuntary whine escaped his throat, but the burn faded. He looked over at Cleo. The look on her face was still intensely focused, but slightly worried. She was wrapping it with an ace bandage now.
"Be careful with those things." He frowned apprehensively, eyeing the bandage like it was a snake. Cleo gave him a knowing glance, and he made a mental note to talk to her later.
She took out a pair of tweezers and took his hand, carefully tweezing out bloody pieces of glass. He winced every time, but he managed not to move too much as she did so. It stung, especially when she poured a liberal amount of disinfectant on his hands, a term which here means "enough for it to hurt a lot." She wrapped his hand as well and did a final once-over of him, recommended ice for his ankle & bed rest. "No more defenestration for you, kid," She joked.
"Thank you." His voice was still slightly hoarse, and she gave him an elusive smile.
"Sure thing. You're Snicket, right?" She inquired, and he nodded. "Figures you'd be the one to get defenestrated, huh, kid? That was impressive." Her tone was slightly teasing, but she still looked shocked at the fact he got pushed out of the window. He was impressed at the fact she used the word "defenestrated." "Do you guys need a ride?" She asked.
Lemony looked at himself, them looked at Moxie.
"Yes, please." Moxie decided for them both. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders, and Cleo took his good arm, and carefully he got to his feet. He nearly blacked out, but after maybe 10 minutes of struggle they got to Cleo's beautiful, beautiful Dilemma. Jake was already sitting in the passenger seat, looking tense, and when he saw him his eyes widened.
"He actually did it? He threw you out the window?" There was a sense of awe and terror in his voice.
"No, no, I was just practicing my diving routine." Lemony laughed, sliding into the backseat with Moxie. Thank goodness the Dilemma had waterproof seats. Jake gave him a worried look.
"Egad, Snicket, that was morbid, even for you."
"Would it be worse if I told you there was a dead body in that pool?" He said nonchalantly, and Jake looked mortified.
"Please tell me he's lying." No one answered. Lemony shrugged, but shuddered when he remembered it. He was shivering and he barely realized it until Moxie pointed it out.
"Snicket can stay at my place, Cleo. You can just drop us off." She piped up, and Cleo nodded visibly in the mirror.
"Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't jump out the window again." She chuckled, and Jake frowned.
"No way. You're coming with us to Hungry's. I'm making Snicket hot chocolate, he deserves it after that ordeal." He said firmly.
"I object. Your aunt would kill me if I got water everywhere. At least let me dry off first." Lemony explained, and Jake nodded.
"Even I can't argue with that, Snicket." Cleo pulled up to the Mallahan lighthouse. Carefully, Lemony opened the car door and stepped down, Moxie standing behind him and holding him steady.
"Thanks for the ride, miss Knight." He said.
"Of course, Snicket." She had a worried tone to her voice. "Take care of yourself."
"You too." He had a feeling he didn't need to say that, but he did it to be polite. With that, they drove off, the engine of the perfect car purring slightly. Moxie painstakingly half-dragged, half-walked him to the door as he tried to put as little weight on that ankle as possible.
Lemony only got to her doorstep before he tried to use it. He took a step and fell flat on his face.
"Snicket, what the hell? Are you ok?" She inquired, helping him sit up. It was raining still, harder now, and it was making him shiver. He was just dazed. Part of him realized he had left his jacket back at the Clinic, which was now likely a pile of rubble. She helped him up, taking on most of his weight as she shoved the door open and then closed it behind her. Moxie frowned and helped him over to the couch. He practically collapsed onto it, shaking violently.
"I-I left my jacket." He stuttered, teeth chattering, and she frowned.
"Way ahead of you." She untied the torn up thing from around her waist. He hadn't seen it before. That made him feel weird. "Alright. Ok. You can't walk, so you can't shower. I can get you some dry clothes, though."
Moxie walked out of the room. He waited awkwardly for a few minutes until she returned with a blue hoodie and a pair of gray sweatpants. Lemony wasn't used to wearing other people's clothing unless he was disguised, but at this point he'd do anything to warm up. He was shivering so hard that it actually hurt. "While you change, I'm getting you some tea because you're a reckless moron," She exclaimed, and walked into the kitchen. He hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt and kicked off his shoes and managed to wriggle out of a soaking wet pair of pants. Once he had the borrowed sweatpants on, his only worry was getting out of his thoroughly soaked binder. It was tight enough already, but it was even more difficult to get off when it was wet. Finally, though, he managed to tear it off with a painful sucking sound, and pulled the hoodie over his head. Luckily, it was big on him, so it was easy to get on quickly.
He buttoned his wet clothes inside of his shirt and folded that, then pondered asking Moxie for a plastic bag to put them in. He set the bundle on top of his shoes for now, and slid those as close to the doormat as he could, where Moxie had hers.
When she came back, she was in a thick sweater and a pair of athletic shorts, toting 2 mugs of tea, a bag of ice, a pillow, and a very, very large blanket. She passed him a mug and sat down next to him on the couch. "I figured you'd want some ice, even though you're cold enough already."
"Th-thank you, Moxie," He sighed, and sipped his tea. The warmth of it flowed through him, helped to soothe the fiery, scratchy feeling in his throat. He was still cold, however; when one has just been dragged out of an icy swimming pool, tea can only do so much. "Oh, and I also have t-t-to thank you for d-dragging me out of that pool. That was.. That was valiant of you." Lemony said softly, and she patted his shoulder.
"That's what friends do, Snicket." She smiled at him. He kept sipping his tea and shivering. After a few moments, he took the ice and rested it under his ankle. It made him colder than he would have liked, and he kept drinking his tea in the hope it would warm him up. It did, but not quite as much as he would want it to. Moxie frowned and wrapped the blanket around him, handed him the pillow. "You're shaking," she noted, and he set down his near-empty mug, putting the pillow on the arm of the couch and curling up the best he could without hurting himself. "Snicket, this isn't good, you're really cold." She muttered, scooting closer to him. He sat up, felt dizzy, and laid back down. Moxie took one of his hands and started rubbing it, trying to warm him up a little. She kept holding his hand, and for some reason, he didn't mind that. "Jeez, you're such an idiot," She said, but the way she said it was fond, so that was okay. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
"That was terrifying," he said quietly.
"I bet," she mumbled, looking at the floor. There was a beat of silence, then another. Then she did something unexpected and hugged him. "Don't worry me like that again."
"I'm not planning on it," he deadpanned, sort of sitting awkwardly in her embrace for a minute before he hugged her back. It was nice, and she was warm. They stayed like that for too long, long enough for Lemony's eyes to slide half closed, and he nearly fell asleep right there. But then she pulled away, and he flopped back down on the couch.
Lemony curled up some more, pulled the blanket closer around him. He was a bit less cold, a bit less dazed, but he wasn't any less exhausted.
It was easy for him to fall asleep then, in the warm safety of the lighthouse. So instead of making things more miserable for himself by thinking, or crying, or any of those things, he simply slept.