Hey, all, here's the next chapter, sorry about the long wait. It's probably not as good as I wanted it to be, but Hell, Postpartum Psychosis proves to be a hard thing to write about. Anyway, thanks to the usual people for reviewing, and I hope you like it regardless.

Every now and then looking over her shoulder and listening out for noise, Maura continued packing her clothes into her suitcase, layering them neatly one on top of the other. Everyone had taken to creeping up on her lately, as if to catch her doing…something. Well, she reminded herself, they'd have to get through the locked door first. She glanced around at Dominique's cot. It was empty. She felt a savage kind of pleasure. If only it could be empty all of the time. If only she could leave her somewhere, somewhere someone else could take her so she'd never have to look at her again. If only she could just drop her. Send her to the moon. Anywhere that wasn't here. They wouldn't allow that though, would they? Not now they had a new princess to give all their attention to. Not that it really bothered her: it stopped them hassling her as much. Her Dad had always wanted another little girl he could dress up and show off, and coming from a family of boys, Sonny had been desperate for a daughter. She'd wanted the same once upon a time – but that had been before she'd learnt to be careful what she wished for. She pulled her sleeves up and looked at the minute cuts on her arms. It was her only outlet. She couldn't scream, or shout, or tell the truth. Not yet anyway. She pulled the sleeve back down and continued her packing, interrupted when the doorbell rang. She crossed to the window, but from the high angle, she couldn't see who had come to call. Everyone who lived here had keys. Who could this be? She went downstairs, crept to the door and peered through the peephole. Who she saw had her uttering a loud gasp of surprise.

"Lyra!"

She opened the door, as surprised to see her as Lyra had been to see her on her doorstep all those weeks ago.

"Hi," said Lyra.

"Isabelle," the two said at the same time. Maura chuckled slightly and stood back to allow her in. Lyra stepped into the warmth, taking everything in.

"Nice place," she said as Maura shut the door. "It's really…quiet. Erm…where is everyone?"

Maura shrugged uncaringly. "I don't really know. Work. School. Pushing a pram around the park."

"Yeah, I heard you had your baby. Tom, the proud uncle sent everyone in his contact list pictures, they got to Isabelle and now it went viral. To me. She's beautiful, Maura. What was it you called her? Danielle?"

"Dominique," said Maura, taking Isabelle through to the kitchen. "So. I have the feeling that this is about as much a social call as my visit was to you."

Lyra was surprised by the abrupt subject change and wriggled uncomfortably. She sat down and said, "Well…for so long, I thought I was all alone, so I blocked it out. But ever since I found out that he…did it to you…I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

For the first time since Dominique's birth, Maura felt something other than indifference. It was regret, shame.

"I'm sorry," she said, putting down a mug in front of her. "I shouldn't have come to see you. I shouldn't have dug up the past."

"I was angry that you did at first. But…I don't feel so alone anymore. Do you know, I've tried to avoid eating in the dining room ever since that afternoon? It was one of the good things about moving out. I don't have to keep pretending it doesn't exist."

"I know," Maura said sniffing. "That was the good thing about moving out of this place. But I'm back here now, and I reckon it'll raise a few eyebrows if I suddenly start asking to swap rooms."

"You and Sonny still haven't patched things up, then?"

"No," Maura said, stiffly. "And we're not going to. Ever. I love him Lyra, but I hate him at the same time. He knows what Vincent's like, he knows full well and yet he still doesn't believe me. Like he cares right now, anyway," she said. "All he has eyes for is his daughter; he's all goo-eyed over her. He used to look at me with that much love."

"Maura, I'm sure he loves you."

"Yeah, right," Maura said moodily, spooning sugar into her tea. "He does a good impression of it. He wants us to be a family and seems to think we'll just go back to the way we were."

"Maura, you can't throw your life away on Vincent West. You need to be happy."

"I haven't been truly happy since I was sixteen. He destroyed my life. Whatever it takes, I swear to God I'll do the same to him!" Her expression softened and she said; "I've told you Lyra, if you don't want to be dragged into this, I understand. But I'm not going to let him get away with it. I've had to look at his smug face, day in day out, knowing he knows he got away with it at the time. He could hurt Lexi. Or someone else. I can't have that on my conscience."

"Well, how do you intend to prove it?"

Maura shrugged sadly. "I don't know. My Doctor took notes of all injuries. She said they're good for evidence, but the only thing lacking is forensic evidence. Unless I can find a way of proving it was him, it'll be my word against his."

"You haven't told your father?"

"No."

"You don't think he'll believe you?"

"No. I think he will. But I know my Dad. He'll go in, all guns blazing and make a mess of everything. He doesn't know Vincent like I do. If I ever stand a chance of sending him down, then I need to make sure I get the evidence I need."

"You said you didn't want to go to the police."

"Well, I have the feeling that I won't have much of a choice soon," Maura said, thinking of Sam. "When I prove this, everyone will find out. Then I won't have a choice. I'm going to have to report it."

"It'll be harder to prove in a court of law."

"I know that. But I'll find a way. I'll be damned before I'll let him destroy my life anymore."

"Maura, I…"

"Don't worry. I'll keep your name out of it Lyra."

"No, what about your daughter?"

"What about her?" Maura asked coldly. "It's got nothing to do with her. It happened years before she was even thought of."

"He's a thug, Maura! What if he tries using her to stop you?"

"Well, with Sonny's eyes following her wherever she goes, I'd just like to see him try."

"Why can't you just forget him Maura? You deserve to be happy!"

"And I can't be happy, not as long as he's around, a constant reminder of that day! I try to get away; I move to London, he follows. He's everywhere I go! I can't get away from him! Not as long as he's free! It was too late to tell me not to throw my life away on him you know. I did that a long time ago. I'm not going to give up until I destroy him like he destroyed me."

Lyra watched her uncertainly. This wasn't the Maura she remembered from all those years ago. That Maura was fun, lively and sprightly, ready with a quick comeback to any comment. This Maura was angry and hateful. For very good reasons, she reminded herself, but all the same, it was unnerving. Trying to tell her not to go after Vincent was impossible and a waste of time – but at the same time, Lyra could see why and part of her wished she had the same fire in her belly, but the majority part was worried. Vincent was a dangerous man, Maura seemed to be terrified of him, but despite that, she didn't seem to care about what he could do to her.

"Aren't you scared of him?"

Maura looked straight into the other girl's eyes. "I'm terrified, Lyra. I've been scared of him ever since that day. And I don't want to live in fear any more. I'm just sick of it and I'm sick of him. I have to try to do this, do you understand that? Do you?"

"Yes. I think I do. And…I know what I said about not having any part of this, but…if you do need to talk, well you can come around."

"I appreciate that, but I'm not going to be around to come over."

Lyra looked surprised. "What do you mean? Where're you going?"

"Away. But you can't tell anyone I'm going. At least, not until I actually am gone."

Lyra looked uncomfortable, anxious and even upset. "Maura," she said, chewing her lip. "What's going on?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said Maura. "Probably the same time as everyone else, but its better that you don't know. I don't want you to feel any pressure to do something you don't want to do."

"But if you're going to disappear…"

"Oh, I'm not disappearing, Lyra. They'll know where I am, just not what I'm up to. It'll be cruel to do it this way, I know that. Especially to my father, after all he's done for me, but it's the only way."

The door opened just as the words left Maura's mouth and she leaned forwards to see her Dad struggling down the corridor, laden down with shopping bags. He looked up, saw Maura had company and his eyes widened. He smiled pleasantly.

"Hello," he said, putting down his bags and wiping his hand clean of sweat before offering it to Lyra. "I'm Peter Barton, Maura's father."

"Lyra Andrews," she said, her tight, anxious voice not going unnoticed by Maura. "I…I just thought I'd visit the new Mum. Pictures of the little one went viral."

Peter laughed. "The proud uncle and father couldn't help themselves. If only…" he bit his lip to stop himself completing the sentence, 'the mother could be the same.'

Maura glared at him, and said, her tone aggressive; "if only what, Dad?"

"If only I was clued up on technology and the like. The pictures would stretch further than Glasgow; I can tell you that now. England. Wales. Ireland. All fifty states and Canada."

He and Lyra laughed while Maura raised her eyebrows and said; "Well from the looks of things, you're about to feed a third world country for a year. What's all the shopping in aid of? Are we about to go through a famine?"

"Dinner, Maura, remember? To celebrate the new arrival. Where've you been lately when we've been talking and planning it? Everyone's coming."

"If 'everyone' includes Vincent, then…"

"It doesn't," he said quickly. "Don't worry Maura, he's not invited, and everyone understands that."

"Lexi?"

He shrugged. "She can like it or lump it, take it or leave it, whatever term you like. She can't expect us to invite him after everything he's done to you."

'You don't know the half of it,' Maura thought, and had to bite her lip to stop herself saying. To Lyra, Peter said; "we're planning a proper party for later in the year, to welcome the little one into the family properly. You must come. We'll send out invitations soon."

"Thanks," said Lyra. "I'll be sure to dig out my party dress. I'll see myself out. Thanks for the tea. Maura. Mr. Barton."

She left and Peter switched the kettle on, turning to Maura. "Lyra…I'm sure I never heard you mention her."

Maura shrugged. "She left, quite early into the first year. I haven't seen her in years."

"It's good to catch up with old friends. You'll see plenty of them tonight." He frowned at her. "Maura, the dinner's been planned for ages, you didn't really forget, did you?"

"Of course not," she said. "I just…I've just had things on my mind. That's all."

Forgetting tea, he sat down in front of her and picked up her hand. "Maura, baby, if there was something wrong, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would," she said, the words automatic, answering the question she'd been asked nearly her whole life.

"But you said before. There was something you did. Something really bad."

"Like you said," she replied after a pause. "I was tired. Out of it. Didn't know what I was saying. I'd better go and get ready, hadn't I?"

"Of course," he said, looking at her in concern. "Sonny and Tom would be here soon. You'd keep an eye on Dominique, while we get it all ready. Wouldn't you?"

"Of course," Maura said, keeping the bitterness in her voice to a bare minimum. "I can't let you lot have all the fun, now, can I?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she said, getting up. "I'm gonna have a bath. Just…call me when you need me."

She went upstairs, feeling her Dad's eyes on her all the way up the hallway. Why couldn't he just leave her alone, in fact, why couldn't they all just fucking leave her alone? She'd given them the long awaited daughter, niece, granddaughter, cousin, but yet they still wanted more. For her to play happy families. Well it wasn't going to happen. She looked in the mirror above the sink. It was just her now, she realised. Her against the world. The rest of them were all out to get her, as if it wasn't enough that she had half of Sun Hill on her case, now her family had to join in the act. In fact, they probably just wanted rid of her now she'd given them what they wanted. She sloshed bubble bath into the bath and watched the words the heavy, thick liquid formed – 'bad mother.' Gritting her teeth, she ran the water, the hot tap only and watched as pink bubbles formed. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging up the mirror. If they wanted rid of her, then they wouldn't be disappointed. She'd be gone by the end of the night. She climbed into the scalding water, turning on the shower radio as she went. Grabbing the buffer, she scrubbed furiously at her skin. She needed this urgently. The water might be so hot, it was unbearable, she might be scrubbing so hard, she was taking her skin off, but it was the only way to get rid of them – the insects that were crawling on her skin, never leaving her alone, no matter what she did. They were always there, when she was awake, when she was sleeping – or rather trying to. Even if the insects weren't there, she wouldn't be able to sleep because of the voices, the ones that never left her alone. It was low, it was taunting, it was sly – and it was always there. It was the voices telling her to shed her own blood, and the voices telling her that she'd be better off on her own. They were right though. Nobody wanted her. Like she cared anyway. But the voices also told her to do things that made her feel uncomfortable. Like, to go to Dominique's cot with a pillow. It told her that the child was evil. That she wasn't really hers. That, she could believe. She was scared to be alone with her thorough fear that she might give into the voices one day. She got out of the bath and stood in front of the mirror, staring at the scabbing cuts on her arms. The voices said they weren't deep enough. It wasn't enough. The baby was the problem. The bath's still full. Do it. Do it!

"NO!"

Frightened, Maura plunged her hand into the water and wrenched out the plug, watching as the water swirled down the plughole. She slid down the door, despite the hot bathroom, freezing cold. Surely this wasn't right? She was supposed to be her mother, but all she could imagine doing to her was…blinded, Maura anxiously chewed her fingers. She hadn't felt this way about Eve, and she had been the baby conceived out of rape! Dominique was the result of a loving marriage between her and Sonny! Well, supposedly. Composing herself, Maura got to her feet, bitter tears in her eyes. This was all her fault anyway. If she hadn't come along, none of this would be happening. She'd be at peace, possibly still happy with Sonny and able to somehow live with what had happened all those years ago. But there she was, a bitter reminder. Why had Sonny been so desperate for a baby? Wasn't she enough for him? Obviously not. And now he'd got what he'd always wanted, after using her to get it, he didn't want her anymore. She wrapped herself in a towel and was immediately met with the sounds of laughter from downstairs. Everyone was down there, preparing for dinner. And so, came yet another night where she'd have to hold her, and smile, and pose for pictures. Another night of pretending. She stood, listening, feeling rather left out before climbing the stairs to her room. She stopped short and glared. The kid was already in there, lying in her cot, fists clenched. She couldn't sleep that easily. She couldn't sleep at all. Scowling, she threw herself on the bed, and with a vicious brush of her hand, knocked the little red dress off, to the floor. She supposed she was supposed to dress her up. It was just dinner. She slapped moisturiser onto her skin; it stung as it went into the cuts and scratches on her arms. Wrapping her long hair in a towel, she crossed to her wardrobe and opened the doors. Her hand lingered on a brightly coloured dress before she pulled it away and yanked a long-sleeved black number from its hanger. It suited her mood and suddenly she knew what she was planning was right. It was clear everyone thought they'd be better off without her. It was best all round that she went. This just all felt so…wrong. She towelled her hair dry, and sprayed it generously with heat protection spray before straightening it. It'd been a long time since she'd done so. It now came down past her waist. She applied some make up and sat on the bed, staring at the dress still crumpled on the floor. Gingerly picking it up, she glared again at the baby, who she hadn't realised till that point was awake. She went to the front of the cot and stared down at her. When she looked at her, she saw nothing of herself. Only Sonny. Tom. Vincent.

"They don't need me anymore," she muttered, picking her up reluctantly. "Not now they have you. You make them happy, something I can never do. Know why? Because I'm a terrible person, but they'd never say it to my face. It's obvious from the way they look at me. They all hate me. And they don't even know the worst of it. But they will. Then they can have shot of me for good."

She dressed her and laid her back down in the cot before pulling out her suitcase from under the bed and checked it for everything she needed. Her tickets had come in the post that morning and she had the keys to her flat. She squeezed them tightly and jumped, bashing her arm on the bed as someone knocked on the door.

"Maura, food's ready, baby."

She gritted his teeth at her Dad calling her 'baby' and got up and unlocked the door. She saw the look of surprise on his face at her attire – she hardly ever wore black and hadn't straightened her hair in years. He was wearing a smart shirt and trousers.

"You look lovely, baby," he said warmly, stroking her hair. "Your hair's lovely. You get that from your mother. Looking at you, it's like looking at her. You're so beautiful. Like her."

"I'm not like her, Dad."

"You are," he said and pulled her towards him, kissing her forehead. He was hurt and confused when she didn't return the gesture.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom. Dominique's ready," she said, brushing past him.

He watched her go, tears prickling in her eyes. He picked up his baby granddaughter and cuddled her tightly. It was the closest he'd get to Maura for now.

"Come on my darling," he said, rocking her gently. "Dinner's all ready and Daddy's desperate to see you." He glanced at the closed bathroom door on his way past and went downstairs, into the garden where two tables were set up, laden down with food. Sonny's face lit up and he made a beeline for her.

"Hello my darling!" he said in delight, taking her from Peter's arms. "Oh, you're so gorgeous! Yes you are! Red's really her colour, isn't it? Just like Maura."

"Yeah, in twenty years' time, she'll be wearing a red wedding dress too," Tom said, tickling her stomach.

"Oh no, she won't," said Sonny. "No dating until she's twenty-five."

"With four ferocious uncles ready to break the legs of any guy who dared, let anyone try to go near her," Peter said, sitting at the table. "Bunch of Rottweilers the lot of you."

"Saves you money on a guard dog," Tom said cheerfully, sitting down and putting chicken on his plate as Maura came outside, shielding her eyes against the sun.

"Hi Maura," Robert said, pulling out a chair for her. She sat down and looked up and down the table.

"Where's Lexi?"

There was an uncomfortable glance up and down the table. Robert looked angry, disappointed and took the seat next to Maura. She sighed and looked down at her empty plate. Peter picked up a bowl of vegetable rice and piled some onto her plate.

"Here, Maura, eat."

"Dad, I can do it myself," she said, pushing the bowl away and picking up some bread and spooning tomato salad onto her plate.

There was a glance up and down the table before everyone began to gradually help themselves to food and wine. The food felt like mud in Maura's mouth and it wasn't long before the conversation, as usual, turned to Dominique. Maura gave the impression that she was listening by looking up at the conversation, but her ears pricked up when she heard her name.

"…but she'll have something of Alex's. Maura can pass them onto Dominique, like I passed them onto her."

"Pass what on?" she asked, glaring at the smiling baby.

"Those beads."

"What beads?" she said, tearing her eyes to her father.

"The rosary beads I gave you. That were your mother's. The silver ones."

Maura felt as if a boulder had dropped into her stomach. He hadn't mentioned those for years; and ever since the day she'd dropped them in Eve's grave, she prayed he'd forgotten about them. And he had. Until now. And they were in Sun Hill, in an evidence bag, and she had no hope of retrieving them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tom wipe a salad leaf from his lip, shock filling his eyes.

"Maura?"

"What?" she said, shakily.

"You do still have them, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she said dismissively. "They're in my room somewhere, but she can have them when she's older. When she understands where they came from." Maura looked down at her nearly empty plate and put down her knife and fork with a loud clatter, startling everyone at the table. She stood up and said; "excuse me," before going inside.

She went upstairs to the bathroom and locked the door. Those fucking beads! Of course he'd remember them one day – and by the look on Tom's face, he'd made the connection too. She splashed water on her face, composed herself and opened the door, jumping back in shock to come face to face with Tom.

"Don't do that!" she snarled, glaring at him. "For Christ's sake Tom, there's a bathroom downstairs!"

She brushed past him and he caught her arm, dragging her back, ignoring her protest. He swallowed hard and said; "there were beads."

"What?" she said, bored.

"There were beads. In the pocket of the cardigan. In the grave. With the baby's body. Silver ones, like yours." He swallowed hard and said, "Maura…where are your beads? You still have them, don't you? You've got your ones."

"My beads, Tom, are in an evidence bag in Sun Hill. Because, as I've been telling you all along, that baby was mine!"

"No. It wasn't. They're not. You still have them here! Show me them Maura!"

"I can't," she snarled, pulling her arm away. "I don't even know why we're having this conversation, Tom. I'm telling you the truth, you don't want to listen! I can't show you my beads because I don't have them! I lost them the night I buried her! But you know what; you can carry on sweeping it under the rug. I don't care."

"Maura, please. You can end this all now."

"You want me to say that I'm lying Tom, and I'm not. Saying I'm lying will be a lie, and it won't end it. It'll end either with him behind bars or with me in the ground."

"Maura, you've just had a baby, how can you say that!"

"Well, it's good that she has you lot then, isn't it, cos she certainly doesn't need me. I did all right without a Mum."

"Maura, you need to speak to someone."

"I don't need to speak to anyone, Tom. What I need is for you to believe me. But that's just too much to ask, isn't it?"

Turning, she walked off. Tom watched her disappear down the stairs and scrunched up his hair, deeply concerned and disturbed. Who the Hell was this person and where was Maura? Nobody would even know that she'd had a baby, the way she was acting. She should be happy, and refusing to let anyone else have a hold of her, but it seemed she couldn't wait to give her to someone else. Her disinterest was shocking, infuriating, but it broke his heart. He wiped his fingers across his eyes. The niggling doubt he'd had in his mind had grown bigger and bigger. What if she was telling the truth? Her running away. Her breakdown. The rosary beads. So much of it seemed to make sense, but…Vincent was his brother. Surely, as much of a bullying bastard he was, he wasn't capable of rape, and surely not at the age of sixteen.

Oh, said the taunting little voice, but isn't he capable of beating Lexi to the point of hospitalization? Isn't he capable of being the most vindictive, hateful bastard? Doesn't he have the most horrible temper known to mankind? He's capable of just about anything. Why not this? Tom climbed the stairs to Maura's room and looked around. Here was where she said it had happened. He didn't know how she could stand to sleep in here. Memories must haunt her. Oh, what a total mess! He picked up her discarded towel from the floor and draped it over the radiator. It wasn't like Maura to be messy, he thought as he straightened her bedcovers. He got a whiff of her perfume and breathed it in deeply. It was the smell he used to get whenever he hugged her. Whenever she used to let him. He missed her deeply. What if what she said about Vincent was true? She'd never forgive him for doubting her. Pulling the corners of his mouth down, he sighed heavily and left the room. Back outside, Maura was sitting at the end of the table, looking down at her plate, looking as if she didn't belong there at all.

Maura was up at two in the morning, quickly doing the last of her packing. Her hair was tied into a messy bun at the top of her head. When she was finished, her room was tidy to military precision. Taking one last look at her baby, she picked up her case and the baby monitor and crept quietly down the stairs. She stopped outside her Dad's open room and poked her head in. he was asleep, the dumbbells he'd been lifting before bed lying on the floor. She put down the monitor on his bedside table with a soft thump. A tear ran down her face and she brushed it away, bending over him and kissing his cheek.

"I love you, Dad," she whispered.

Straightening up, she turned and walked out, the sensation of the crawling insects stronger than ever. She scratched furiously at her arms before taking her case, descending the stairs and with one last look around the house, closed the door behind her and disappeared into the night.