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Chapter 16: Nothing In Between

Scout had actually drifted off somehow by the time George returned with hot tea for her. She awoke with a start when he opened the door, holding warm, dry pjs which he'd found in her dresser during a quick trip upstairs. He made sure she could change on her own, turned his back briefly while she changed, then sat down with her, pulling her into his arms and helping her drink her tea, pulling a blanket over her, trying to warm her up.

"So, tell me what happened?" she asked softly when she finally stopped shaking.

"I don't really know," he answered, rubbing his chin meditatively on top of her head. "I woke up and you were gone. The dogs were gone as well, and I found them shut up in the attic, of all places. You must've put them in there before you went outside. Have you done this sort of thing before? Walked in your sleep, I mean?"

She shook her head. "Never. I usually sleep like the dead," she replied.

"Strange," he said.

Something about his tone of voice sounded evasive to her, and she lifted her head to look at him. "What else?" she asked him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, shrugging. "There's nothing else."

She lowered her head back onto his shoulder. "Why was it so cold in here?" she asked.

"Oh. All of the doors and windows were open," he said.

She lifted her head again to stare at him. "What?"

He nodded at her.

"You're saying I got out of bed, locked the dogs in the attic, a room that I've never even been to before, then I opened every single door and window in the house, then I wandered outside and went for a walk along the cliff in my bare feet and pajamas, all without waking you up and without waking up myself?" she asked, her voice getting higher and higher in pitch.

George took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so. People do strange things when they walk in their sleep, I've heard, you know?" He looked at her. "Maybe it's just a delayed response to what happened yesterday, to spending the night on the ledge and nearly dying and all that."

Scout blinked at him. "You really think so?" she asked doubtfully. "I'm not usually like that, though. I'm normally very down to earth and calm and normal and all that, you know? Not very emotional or full of vapors or likely to faint and get all weird."

George grinned at her. "Maybe you're just coming into your femininity a little late in life."

"That's a very sexist thing to say, George Wilder," Scout said with a frown. "I'm going to ignore that, I think."

Scout yawned.

"We should probably get you to bed, love," George said, giving her a little shake. "Come on, then, up you go, hm?"

They closed up all the downstairs windows and doors before they went upstairs, and Scout noticed that it took the two of them close to ten minutes to do it together. She found it hard to believe she could've done all of them alone, in her sleep, no less, especially since she herself didn't know the locations of so many of the windows, and the latches were unfamiliar to her.

When they got upstairs, George turned to her regretfully, saying, "I think it might be better if you slept in there, on your own," gesturing to the smaller room she'd been sleeping in.

Scout looked at him, unable to keep the hurt out of her eyes. She swallowed and looked down. "Okay. Okay. Good night, George," she said softly, turning away.

He watched her walk through the doorway, and he heard her sad breath. He bit his lips together. This was for her, he told himself. This was to keep her safe. What had happened tonight, what had been happening practically since she arrived, had to stop. He couldn't protect her, that had been made clear. She had nearly died.