She waits. Dylan leaves to work the night shift (where the hell did he work anyway?) and she waits. Sits in the reclining chair facing the front window and waits. In her lap is the note, open and menacing, laughing at her. He doesn't walk through the door until eleven thirty and by then, she's too far gone to be reasoned with. She's on her feet and right in his face before the door even shuts behind him.

"Where were you?" The note is a lead weight in her hand.

"I told you. The library." He ignores the item she's holding. He knows what it is and he's not in the mood. He moves past her and heads for the stairs. She's a fireball shot from a cannon hot on his heels.

She catches up to him when they reach the top. His forearm flexes under her grip. "You're lying." He stops trying to escape. It's futile. He turns around to face her instead. Her blue eyes are ice cold.

"What's this, huh?! Who the hell is this?" The note gets waved in front of him, frantic like a white flag. The last surrender of an aging, dying soldier. He's done with the mind games.

"It's nothing."

"It's something. Who wrote it?" He snatches it from her grasp mid-motion and crumbles it. For a split second, that's the only sound. That paper withering away. He tosses it to the side.

"It doesn't matter." He tries to give finality to the words, but she's on him, slapping his chest and his shoulders in a half-hearted, desperate way. All he can do is grab her. He doesn't force her away; he takes hold of her wrists and drives her backward until she's flush against the wall to the left of the staircase. His hands keep her wrists above her head and his whole body keeps her from getting away.

"Stop." A heated whisper falls from his lips, almost threatening. There's power here, trapped somewhere between them, present in the hard press of his body. He's so tired of going around in circles with her, treading on eggshells about what to do and what to say. In this relationship, he has nothing and it's because he's given it all away. This show of dominance wasn't like him, but maybe he didn't want to submit anymore. Her fingers push up his t-shirt. He allows her to pull it over his head. Her touch teases along his bare chest and he knows she sees it: The road map left behind by someone else's hands. And he knows how it makes her feel: it's losing the one thing you'd always thought you would have.

Her fingers press into his skin, between his pectorals, straight through the lines of his ribs. He shivers when they pass just above the waistband of his slacks.

"Mother." His voice is soft and her eyes abandon the trail to meet his. Beth had let him leave on the condition that he'd end things with Norma. That he'd allow the relationship to go back to what it should be. He didn't tell her that he knew this would happen. He would end up in Norma's arms again, faced with the decision and resolve would run from him, leaving him alone to fend off his own selfish desires.

And again, he's here with that decision staring him in the face, but he kisses her. Runs a hand down her thigh as her leg hooks over his hip. It doesn't last long, but it sure does send logic scurrying away.

The hand on her thigh abandons her warmth to press into the wall beside her head. Norman has to steady himself. They're too close; he can hardly think.

"You need me." He says.

Her eyes glisten. "Yes."

"Say it."

The pad of her index finger draws indecipherable patterns above his heart. "I need you."

She says she needs you and you believe her.

Of course he believed her. He couldn't doubt the things her body conveyed or the power of the words they spoke to each other in the dead of night. He wasn't staying with her because she wanted him to stay; he was staying because he wanted to stay. Leaving was always an option, though it was never one he would willingly choose.

He stares at her, trying to find the slightest hint that she's lying. "Just me."

She rolls her hips and his control slips away. "Just you."

He's at his most peaceful when he sleeps. Serenity stills him and she sees her little boy again. Not the man she loves, but the boy she's raised. His youth shines brightest when he's caught in the confines of sleep. She's cradled against his chest again, his arms around her waist, one of her legs between both of his. Restlessness settles on her shoulders and her head collapses to his breast, right over his steady heartbeat. She's safe here, undeniably. The darkness that crept on her when she slept couldn't find her when she was awash in Norman's warmth. Her fingertips trace over Norman's skin, round and round in circles. The motion fades away the farther she falls into her dreams. Her dreams scurry away when Norman's arms tighten around her.

"Don't stop." He's hoarse, but she can hear the smile in his voice. She lifts her head and meets bleary, half-open eyes. "That felt good."

The motion starts up again.

"I like it when you touch me like that. Like you're reminding yourself that I'm here."

How did he ever come to know her so well? She prided herself on never being more transparent than she had to be, but apparently, she couldn't even pray to fool Norman.

"I feel safe with you." Is all she says.

"You are safe with me."

Silence falls between them. It's comfortable. He stares up at her with the softest look in his eyes. Norma could feel herself melt; if he wasn't holding her, she'd be a puddle on the rug.

"You're beautiful." He's whispering now, like it's a secret he's kept. The pads of his fingers land on her cheek. His thumb brushes her lips. "Every time I look at you, my heart speeds up. And I think to myself, 'this woman loves me. This woman will love me forever.'" If it's possible, his eyes soften a little more. "The world outside of you and me is meaningless. It all could end tomorrow and I wouldn't care as long as I still had you. You're everything. Everything to me and I don't want to live in a world without you. I could never abandon you. I will take care of you, no matter what. You don't have to do this to keep me with you. I'll stay." He'd do anything she wanted. If she didn't want to be with him, he would obey her wishes. It would tear his flesh from his bones, but he'd suffer through it for her.

He's so caught up in the idea that he doesn't seem to notice that Norma's silently falling to pieces. She doesn't know what she's done to deserve someone who loved her so entirely. It's more like she knows she doesn't deserve him in any capacity, but she won't squander this. She didn't have the strength to give this away. No one wants him or loves him or needs him like she does. That's the thought she holds onto when she replies.

"That's not why I'm doing this." It's the God honest truth. She could live without anything else, but she refused to ever learn what it would be like to live without Norman. She would cease to exist. "I'm doing this because I love you and I want to be with you. No one else matters."

Norman's still unconvinced. If she loved and wanted him, why was she with Shelby? He was easier, that's what Norma had said. But, if her heart belonged to Norman, then Shelby couldn't matter. Love didn't listen to reason.

"So, you're picking me?"

Her mind lingers on that note. Or more specifically, the woman on the other side of it. She couldn't let him get away with it. It wasn't okay.

"Who is she?" Her entire body locks up and she feels cold. Anxious and fearful.

"It doesn't matter." Those words again. The truth or the run around?

"It matters to me."

He smiles at her. His hands run up the line of her back to her shoulders. A soft touch that hits a raw nerve.

"Norman."

"It. Doesn't. Matter. It's done. I swear."

"You swear?"

"Yes." He rolls her over, pulls her leg up over his hip. His touch rides down her thigh, his blunt nails raking pleasurably. Her hands grab him at the back of the neck. "Are you picking me?"

"Always."

He hasn't worn a tie since his father's funeral. That day is burned into his brain; it'll never leave him. He doesn't like remembering it, but as he stands in front of the bathroom mirror and ties his tie, the memories bombard him. The white casket and the red roses that stood out like a bloodstain. Holding his mother close while they were offered hundreds of condolences. He didn't let her stray too far from him; they'd needed each other just to stay on solid ground. He pulls the knot to his throat. They would always need each other. Everything else came and went, except those feelings neither could deny.

"Norman." She's in the open doorway, holding out his suit jacket on two fingers.

"Thank you."

He pulls the jacket on and watches her brush lint off with her palms. "Mom."

His gaze is severe and pained. "What is it, honey?"

"Do you miss him?" Norman doesn't know how he personally feels. Sam's been gone for eight months and Norman hardly thinks of him. He's been so caught up in Norma that he's forgotten everything else that should be affecting him.

Norma steps closer and rubs warm palms over his sides under his jacket. Her expression is guarded.

"No." She says. It took her years to learn what a terrible man Sam had been. After that, it was a piece of knowledge that gnawed at her every day. If she'd been stronger, she could've helped Dylan; she could've had both her sons. Both of her sons would love her. Dylan would need her the way Norman did. Well, not exactly the way Norman did, but still…

Norman's arms circle her. "I loved him. I did." Guilt tunnels through his guts. "But, I don't miss him either. Our life is better without him." He kisses her forehead. The contact lingers for a long moment.

"I love you so much." He pulls her into him and holds her tight. "I can't lose you. Not you. Never."

"You won't."

She's wearing a suit of her own with a knee length skirt. Somehow, his hands find their way underneath it. She gives a belly laugh and it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

"Norman. Come on." She shakes her head as his teeth nip at her collarbone.

"It'll be quick."

He raises his eyes. They're begging her. "No." Another laugh, a little breathier than the last. God, he was barely trying and he was still making it difficult for her to do anything other than give in.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I want you all the time." A sigh passes his parted lips and she claims them, desperate and already intoxicated. He moans. She backs him up and his back collides with the closed door, knocking the air from his lungs. His mouth leaves her out of necessity. She rolls her eyes when she notices her red lipstick is staining him. He dips to her throat, leaves hurried kisses and her agitation disappears.

Damn it. She settles against him, her face hidden in his neck. He keeps up what he's doing for another couple seconds, then stops so he can hold her again. Gratefulness fills him to the brim. She wouldn't leave him; she needed him too much. He was her anchor, now and forever.

She lifts her head to whisper in his ear. "You're gonna have to wash your face." A moment later, his arms are empty and he's leaving the room. She watches after him, feeling her whole body become heavier without him here to keep her calm. Shaking her head, she turns around and heads to her vanity so she can reapply her lipstick.

There's a knock on the front door that startles her.

"I got it, Mother." Her eyes fall closed at the sound of Norman's voice. No matter who it was on the other side of the door, Norman would defend her.

It's Deputy Shelby, clasping his hands together and smiling politely.

"Hey. It's Norman, right? I'm Zach."

Norman's smile is tight lipped. Inside, his emotions are colliding heavily and tearing apart his control.

He shakes the cop's hand. Behind his eyes, there's Norma, naked, arching off the bed. This man's hands have brought her there, just as his have.

Norman's blood hits a deep freeze. "Good to meet you. What's going on?" His jaw clenches and his heart trips over itself before landing firmly in his throat.

"I came to talk to your mom. Is she here?"

That restrained smile appears again. "Yeah. Come on in."

His footsteps on the stairs are bass drum beats to his own ears, stunted and immense. She's just emerging from her bedroom when he stops her.

"It's Shelby." She nods at him, though she can see the tension that spiders along his shoulder blades.

With the slightest brush of fingertips on his cheek, she steps past him and heads down the stairs. Zach stands at the bottom with his hands in his pockets.

"Hi." That's her sweet voice; the one she used when she wanted something from you. Norman's been on the receiving end of it too many times to count.

His heart tries to escape through his mouth as he watches them kiss in greeting. Crimson creeps up on the edges of his vision. His body still betrays him, his feet moving toward them instead of far away. It ends quickly, that's what Norman notices. A short, chaste kiss. The kind that meant close to nothing.

She wants me. She'll always want me. He tries to pass that thought to Shelby through his bright eyes and the slight quirk of his lips, but Zach doesn't seem to get the message.

When Norman reaches them, she comes back to him, one arm around his waist, her cheek nestled into his shoulder. Shelby's suddenly uncomfortable and Norman feels joy flood through his body. Norma didn't want a private conversation; Norman had to stay.

"What's up?"

Norman's arm drapes over her shoulders. Mine.

Shelby shoves his hands back into his pockets. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. For not helping you out when I could."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I didn't try to end this sooner and I should have. Romero's on the war path, but he doesn't have much."

"Zach, what're you saying?"

His teeth chomp on his bottom lip. "I'm going to get rid of the evidence. Make it disappear."

She abandons Norman and steps closer to the Deputy. "Why?"

"Because I love you and I'd do anything to prove it."

Norma throws herself at him, gleeful. Numbness grabs Norman by the throat. He stands behind them and thinks treacherous thoughts. Another man who could do things for her that Norman couldn't do. Another man who was about to save her life. Breath leaves Norman in a rush as Zach kisses the woman in his arms, deeper than before. Norman would destroy the world to make it stop.

Norma pulls away first and Norman thinks he might be grateful that she wanted it to end. "Thank you." She whispers. Her son isn't the only one who notices the absence of an 'I love you, too.' Zach's face falls.

"You're welcome." He eyes them both. "Where are you going?"

"To meet the lawyer. We were just about to leave."

"You won't need her for long. I guess I'll see you later?"

Norma doesn't want to say yes. She shouldn't say yes. This isn't the man she wants. He could never be the man she wants, no matter how many strings he pulled. She ends up dodging the question.

"You might."

Behind her, Norman can't quite contain his grin.

The hospital's too clean. She's always hated that smell. The antiseptic that carried the vaguest hint of death behind it. Discomfort causes her to shift in her seat. Her mother left two hours ago, but Bradley's still here, waiting on the surgeons to come back and give her an update on her father. That familiar loneliness careens all around her and she pulls out her phone, dragging her finger down her contacts list. She has no desire to call Hayden or any of her other friends. They wouldn't understand. Norman's name appears and Bradley breathes in deep. He told her that he'd lost his father before he and his mother had moved here.

He would understand. For sure. Her finger taps his name before her brain can catch up to what she's doing.

Norman answers on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Norman. It's Bradley. I was wondering if you could meet me somewhere."

There's silence on the other end. Then, "Uh, sure. Where are you now?"

"The hospital."

"Are you okay?" She can almost feel his panic. It warms her.

"Yeah. It's not me. It's my dad."

"Oh."

"So, will you meet me?"

"Yeah. Of course."

Tears obscure her vision. "Thank you."

"No problem."

After the meeting with the lawyer, Norma falls asleep. She's not anxious or distracted for the first time in weeks and she's gone almost the second she hits the pillow.

Downstairs, Norman's on the phone with Bradley. He heads up the stairs the second the line is dead and finds Norma in her bed out cold. He smiles softly at her peacefulness and pulls the yellow comforter up around her shoulders. His lips graze her cheek.

"I love you."

The hospital cafeteria is even worse than the waiting room. Norman makes it slightly better, thank God.

"What happened?" He takes a sip of his coke and tries not to notice her eyes fixating on his lips closing around the straw.

"He got shot on the job." Her voice sinks in. It's something she's always been afraid of. Her father dying somewhere away from her while doing Gill's bidding.

"Is he a cop?"

She shakes her head. "An enforcer."

Norman doesn't even want to know what that means. Keith Summers had hinted at the darkness in this town and apparently, Bradley's father was neck deep in it.

"Oh."

He wrings his hands on the tabletop. It's a nervous gesture that endears Bradley further, though she isn't sure why. Maybe it's because he's more human than most people she knows.

"What happened to your dad? He passed away, right?" Shit. She fears she's crossed an invisible line; that he'll get up and run from her. Judging from the phantom pain in his eyes, he just might.

"Yeah. It was an accident."

She swallows. "Norman, I'm sorry." It must be even stranger to lose someone you love to something random. Bradley's been expecting this day a long time; Norman never saw it coming. Sympathy swells in her chest.

Slowly, she reaches across the table and puts her hand over his. His thumb rubs her knuckles on instinct.

"I'm sorry, too."

Norma awakes to dead silence. Briefly, she wonders where Dylan is, then decides that she doesn't particularly care. He could handle himself. Her phone buzzes from the bedside table.

The screen alerts her to one missed call, a voicemail, and a text message. The text message is from Norman.

Went for a walk. Be back soon. Love you.

She's still smiling when she hits the notification for the voicemail.

"Mrs. Bates, this is Beth Watson, Norman's Language Arts teacher. I need to see you as soon as possible."

The school's a tomb. No usual chatter or bunches of students. Just Norma wandering empty halls looking for Miss Watson's room. She finds it without too much effort. Her knuckles rap lightly on the door.

"Come in."

Norma's wary for some reason. Something about this woman (average height with pretty eyes and shiny brunette hair falling in perfect ringlets) makes her nervous and as she glances at the chalkboard, she understands why.

That handwriting couldn't get past her in complete darkness. It's burned into her retinas. She's read that note more times than she can count.

Dearest Norman, I wish we could be together forever.

On the board, it's some depressed loner poem and Norma turns away from it to fix Miss Watson with a hard stare.

Miss Watson returns it and multiplies by ten. "Mrs. Bates."

Norma's hands itch incessantly, her palms desperate to leave a mark across the other woman's cheek. She holds it in. Barely.

"You wanted to talk to me about Norman?"

"Yes." Beth sighs. "Look, I think it's better if we just get to the point. I know everything."

That's funny. So do I. "Know what?"

"About you." Disgust mars her tone. "About you and Norman."

Her hands form fists at her sides. Norman told this woman about them. Norma's throat constricts, but her guard doesn't fall.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do." Miss Watson takes three steps, her heels clacking on tile, and ends up in Norma's face. "You're going to stop or that information might fall into the hands of a police officer."

There is no information. Nothing could be proven. Miss Watson's lurid behavior, on the other hand, could.

Norma scoffs. "You can't prove a thing. But, there are things I know about you. Things I can prove. A little birdie dropped a very revealing note in my son's textbook." Sinister and conniving, the role she plays best.

"What?"

"Yeah. I found it. Norman didn't hide it very well." She points a finger that might as well be the barrel of a gun. "You stay away from him or I'll make you. You got it?"

Miss Watson stares, her eyes on fire. Norma goes on.

"He's mine and no one, especially not you, is going to change that." She gives a plaintive nod. "Have a good night."