Chapter Text
Sunny’s first word was “Pietrisycamollaviadelrechiotemexity”. A lot of adults, her parents included, thought that meant she was a very talented newborn child, but since the word roughly meant I haven’t the faintest idea what is going on, Sunny didn’t particularly agree. However, she enjoyed the attention and adoring smiles of her family, commenting on how smart she was and how much good she would do in the future, so she didn't express her doubts. Besides, as an infant, she hadn’t paid much mind to the specifics of the conversation around her crib. She had clutched Violet’s ribbon and accidentally pulled it straight out of the chestnut hair, the shiny texture appealing to the newborn, and Violet had declared in glee that Sunny clearly took after her. Klaus had accused her of influencing the subject, and Sunny briefly wondered if she was a science experiment.
She quickly realised she experienced a lot more than most babies. She remembered more, noticed more, understood more. But now, just a few months after those happy days and just a few more months into all of her days, she wasn’t sure if she’d been able to do any good with these heightened experiences, like her family had declared when she first said "Pietrisycamollaviadelrechiotemexity". She certainly didn’t know if it had done her any good. Maybe she wasn't as talented as everyone assumed.
A lot of the time, she didn’t really know what was happening. Long sentences and words confused her - as did conversations that involved a lot of shouting or running, at which point she might just start crying. Klaus rushing her out of their burning house had been one such time. Looking back on it, Sunny regretted not being there for her brother, but in the moment all the loud noises and flashing lights scared her, and she was quickly reduced to tears. She hadn’t noticed a man in crinkly, uncomfortable overalls taking her from Klaus’ arms as his colleagues physically restrained him from running back into the house, or him passing her to a woman within a truck, who kept her safe until Klaus was able to hold her again. In fact, it wasn’t until they were being driven away from the scene that she thought to look up and realise Violet wasn’t the one that was holding her, as she had assumed. In fact, Violet was nowhere to be seen, nor were her parents. And Klaus was as still and silent as a statue.
She didn't remember a lot of the time between that dreadful night and meeting her first ever friends. When she was a lot older, she would be grateful for this. She was horrified whenever Klaus briefly touched on those times - when she was finally mature enough to notice the way he brushed the topic aside, or the terrifying things about his predicament that he occasionally let slip, she was filled with a selfish sense of gratitude that her infanthood had protected her from realising she was close to losing what little family she had left.
She would, however, forever remember the next time she had been truly confused - when the Quagmires were taking their fraud of an exam in Prufrock Prep. She had woken up from a rather peaceful nap to see Klaus having a tearful conversation with her friends, and then tried to fall back asleep only to be woken again by whispers all around her. The librarian is dead, the hisses swore. She looked up at Klaus, swaddled in his jumper, and tried very hard not to cry as he spoke hushed words of comfort towards her. She tried to be of help when they were quickly snatched by two pale faced ladies, biting their hands until she didn't know whose blood she was tasting, and tried to be of help when they were being driven away, hugging Klaus as tight as her weak arms allowed, but the fear was suffocating her small heart, and she was once again just a baby.
Now, she stood on a boat - which is difficult to do when one has only recently mastered the art of standing and, more importantly, has been severely underfed for a long time - watching the Quagmires get smaller and smaller. This time, she wasn’t confused; she knew why they couldn’t join them on the boat, and knew why it was a very sad occasion. She knew, looking across the river, she would never see the Quagmires ever again.
But she was still a child, and so when Klaus started quietly crying, she did too, soon sobbing loudly.
Their uncle, this stranger that they were supposed to know through the simple notion of sharing blood, picked her up and brought her and Klaus inside, where they sat in a cramped living space and Gustav hovered awkwardly. He had never met these two Baudelaires, and unlike Monty had no natural reason to care about them. Monty hushed Sunny gently, telling her it was all right, she was safe now, but he didn’t understand why she was crying. Sunny knew she was safe - she had seen Count Olaf on that dock, trapped behind the same wall of flames as the Quagmires, and knew he wouldn’t be able to follow them. By all accounts, she and Klaus were now in the clear. But that did nothing to stem the tears of grief from the young child. She missed her friends - the only friends she’d ever had. She wanted them back. And she wanted Violet back. Monty seemed like a man who gave nice hugs, but his hair was too short to tie in a bow.
Klaus understood this; he understood her grief. So, selfishly, she reached out her small arms to him, and he hiccuped down a sob to take her from Monty. And try as she might, Sunny couldn’t stop herself from crying the way Klaus could. He held her close, and she cried, and cried, and he didn’t cry anymore.