Somehow Scout and George got through the next few days. There were last minute details of Sunil and Alfred's trip to be seen to. The whole village knew of their impending trip to Euro Disney, and everyone was at the port to see them off. The boys assumed they'd be traveling by car to London to take the regular ferry like most people, but George thought it would be more fun for them to go "top shelf", all the way, so he'd hired a private yacht to take them to France, then a private car to the park itself, so it was a real send off, streamers and everything. 

The local paper reported on it, of course, which was fine with George and Scout, and made it into even more of an event, but what they hadn't been expecting was for the London Times to send a reporter down to cover the whole thing. A couple of TV shows even came, and they didn't want to tell the boys not to talk to anyone, though of course they would've done anything George told them to. He, however, didn't want to diminish their joy, so he let them have their moment of fame, and as a result, the whole thing turned into a bit of a circus, and George could tell that, between the publicity and the strange events at the house, Scout was very nervous indeed.

They had managed to live for most of the previous year off the radar and out of the spotlight, even though George Wilder had spent most of his young life as one of the most sought after and famous young men in the world, and to be suddenly thrust back into all of it was a little disconcerting, even for George himself. For Scout, who was used to being well-known in academic and high-society circles, to suddenly be tabloid fodder was completely alien.

"Oh my god!" George heard as he entered the lounge the evening after they saw the boys off to France for their Euro Disney adventure. He quickened his step, afraid that something else strange had happened, possibly involving the baby.

"What? Dear god, what now?" he asked, pushing open the door and looking around. He saw Scout sitting on the couch, holding Alis on her lap, watching TV, the dogs sitting all around her.

"We're on TV!" Scout announced, eyes wide, gesturing with one hand. "Apparently I'm not up to your usual standards, George." The screen showed George and Scout, holding Alis, waving to Sunil and Alfred as the yacht cast off from Point Rosen, arm in arm, smiling.

George turned up the volume in time to hear the host of the show finish what she was saying, about Scout's wardrobe, and how it was never going to land her and George on the "Best Dressed Couple" list, where George had spent most of the last few years with his first wife. Pictures started flashing on the screen of George and Tessa, looking very well-dressed indeed, in various glamorous places all over the world.

George silently clicked the TV off and tossed the remote on the couch, taking a seat next to Scout and reaching for the baby, who cooed happily at him.

"What made you look at that crap in the first place?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "I thought it might be fun to see what they had to say about Sunil and Alfred," she explained.

"Well, we're going to be going to London next month when I start filming and recording, and there are going to be paps and fans and all that garbage all over, so you're going to have to learn to just ignore it, understand?" he said, looking at her sternly. "That part of my life is over, and it never meant anything to begin with."

Scout covered his hand with hers. "I don't think we can keep saying that," she said. "Something's got to be done, George. The bad things that have been happening, pretty much since I arrived here, haven't stopped. I mean, if anything, they're escalating. She's getting stronger. She's playing with us." 

George took a deep breath, but Scout covered his mouth with her slim finger.

"You know I'm right, you know I am," she admonished. "And we can't get away from her. Wherever you go, she's right there. She could hurt Alis anytime she wants." She took her finger away. "You think about that, George." She leaned in and kissed him. 

George looked at Scout, the love of his life, and nodded soberly. He bent down and kissed his baby's precious head.

***********************************

George was in the music room the next day, noodling around on his guitar. The windows were open, and he could hear the sound of the surf booming onto the shore, and, from time to time, the lovely sound of his girlfriend and baby laughing out on the lawn. They were out there with the dogs, in the shade of the tall trees, watching the puppies gambol around, enjoying the wonderful weather, and he was looking forward to joining them, as soon as he straightened out the bridge he was working on.

He got lost in his music for a while, as he usually did, and realized when he tuned back into the world that he could no longer hear his family. It seemed like a good time for his break, anyway, so he went looking for them, and he climbed out the window, as he usually did, and went looking. The blanket was empty, though Scout's iced tea was there, and the sun screen. Baby Alis' little hat was also there, which was strange, because why would they go anywhere without it? If they were walking somewhere, surely she'd need it? And if they went back in the house, wouldn't they take it? And where were the dogs?

George felt the first frisson of fear, but he resolutely tamped it down. What on earth was there to be scared of? The image of Jess, the shining, evil, piece of wrought iron protruding from her gentle chest, rose in his mind, but he pushed it away. He quickly went to the French doors and stuck his head in, calling, "Scout?"

He got no response.

He turned and looked around, listening, but again, he heard only the crashing of the waves against the rocks below. 

Why did they suddenly seem so loud?

He began walking to the cliffs, opening the gate and heading toward the new path and sturdy new fence he'd paid for, with money and with his beloved dog's life. He turned north and began heading toward the links, though he could easily have turned left, toward the park. For some unknown reason he began walking faster. He noticed uneasily that the mist was beginning to rise.

And as he walked, he finally saw Scout, standing and looking out to sea, holding Alis, the wind whipping her pony tail about her shoulders. Bandit came to meet him, looking concerned, turning quickly and heading back toward his mistress as soon as he knew George had seen her.

"Scout? What the devil are you doing way out here?" George shouted into the wind. 

She turned quickly at the sound of his voice. "Don't come any closer, George!" she cried.

"What?" He was sure he'd misheard her. "What are you on about?" He took a few more steps toward her.

"George, no!" she warned, and he could now see the terror in her face, the panicky way she was holding the baby.

"What's wrong?" he asked, stopping a safe ten feet behind her. This was eerily like the night he'd found her in her pajamas, except that she was wide awake. Bess, Harry, and Hermione were all behind George, whining. George could hear all three of them, even over the wind. Bandit was slightly in front of him, in an aggressive stance, looking, like before, like he wanted to lunge at Scout. George was worried that Bandit would do something that would make Scout drop the baby.

"George?" Scout took one, cautious step toward him. "I'm going to take a few steps closer to you, and I'm going to put Alis down, okay?" She looked at him to make sure he understood her. "You mustn't move while I do this. Then I'm coming back out to the edge. After I get back here, you step over to her and pick her up, you understand? Nod if you understand, my darling George, please." Scout could feel tears prickling her eyes and blinked impatiently. Now wasn't the fucking time, Jesus.

George was staring at her, confusion on his beautiful face. "What? Why? Please don't put our daughter down on the dangerous ground, sweetheart, please," he entreated his girlfriend. "If you don't want to hold her anymore, just walk over here and hand her to me, all right?" He nodded encouragingly. "Then we'll go inside and talk about all this."

Scout shook her head. "George, stop it. I can end all of this right now, and I'm going to," she said.  She took a couple of steps toward George, and he could see goosebumps on his daughter's arms from the wind and mist. He could also see that one of her yellow socks was beginning to fall off her little foot.

Scout found a small patch of grass that was relatively flat and carefully set Alis upon it, stepping away from her and back toward the cliff. Alis goggled at her mother. She had never been in such a position before, set down all alone, out in the open, with nothing and no one nearby. She turned and looked at her father, almost comically amazed.

Bandit looked back and forth between the two adults, as if unable to believe this turn of events, his expression very similar to the baby's. He moved close to Alis, sitting down next to her. She put a chubby arm on him and seemed content for the moment.

Scout took one last look at Alis, and satisfied that she was okay, looked briefly up at George. She was crying in earnest now, eyes red, nose running. 

"I love you, George," she shouted over the rising wind. "I've loved you from the first day. I want you to know that, okay? From the very first day. I knew it, too. I never told you that, but I did, I did." She nodded, then kissed her fingers and waved at him.

She turned around and faced the sea. "I'll die for them," she said to the ocean, to the wind. She was talking to someone out there. "I'll die for them, I will." And she nodded and began walking toward the cliff's edge.

George heard her words, and saw what she was doing. 

In a vivid flash of clarity, he understood everything, and he was running, and shouting.

"I will die for them," he said as he ran. 

"I. Will. Die. For. Them." 

And Scout saw him run past her, heard his words, heard Bandit's barking, heard Alis' tears, as he ran straight off the cliff.