Being the smart Labrador (with a hint of Border Collie past down from her grandsire) that she was, Daisy left Edgar's room and changed her original course. Judging from his cool reception to her initial presence in the home, she sensed that the tall guy may not be the most receptive to her request for assistance, so she astutely headed back into the big guy's bedroom.

Norman was asleep in his bed, his large left hand hanging over the side and snoring softly on his belly.

Daisy came up to the edge of the bed and sat down on her haunches. Staring up at the bulky snoring figure, she weighed her options. I could just go back downstairs and they'd never have to know I was up here. Apparently, they didn't want me up here in the first place or they wouldn't have put up that sad excuse for a gate to keep me out. I try to be a good dog but sometimes curiosity gets the best of me. Not like a cat, though, because that would be an insult to any dog. Cats are sneaky, secretive creatures that only look out for themselves. I just wanted to see what the house looked like up top.

But being a good dog means you protect. That's a dog's #1 job; PROTECTION. All the love and licks and kisses are just the icing on the cake; the fun part of the job. So, if I'm doing my job like a good dog should, I have to let somebody know that the boy is in trouble. He could be sick or lonely. His nose could be dry. I don't know what's wrong because I didn't get close enough to see. I didn't want to scare him. Maybe he's really sick and needs the older members of his pack to help him.

I can't just go back downstairs and leave one of my people, if they are my new people, in trouble. That goes against the fabric of my canine makeup. I AM a good dog. My old people just didn't give me a chance to show them. Things are going to be different this time around.

Well, here goes nothing.


Lost in a decadent dream of Daisy Duke, minus the short white shorts, Norman was in early-80's-teenage-boy heaven. Therefore, the wet nose and slobbery tongue being shoved into his dangling palm was an unwelcomed distraction from those long, tan legs. He tried several times to push the offending wet nose away and return to his tantalizing dream. Yet, the damp nose and tongue persisted with singular intent.

Reluctantly, Norman opened one eye, found himself staring into the sweet face of a young lab and recoiled back in his bed. Crammed up against the wall, the tough middle brother had a mild panic attack. Shit, there's a dog in my room. Holy hell, how'd this dog get here… Memories of finding the stray animal in the pouring rain came back to Norman a few seconds later and he relaxed his defensive posture. Oh, yeah, I brought the dog home. I'm damn lucky I got the mutt in the front door and past Sig. Man, I hope I made the right decision bringing her home. It's gonna take some getting used to having a dog in the house again, although I don't foresee it being a difficult transition. The difficult transition would be if the dog had to leave.

"How'd you get up here, girl?" Norman asked the animal gently, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "I guess the roadblock at the bottom of the steps wasn't one of my brightest ideas. I'm a future engineer for God's sakes. I should have come up with something better."

Daisy cocked her head to the side as if to say 'You're going to build me something more challenging because the chairs were kind of a letdown? I'm an incredibly smart dog so bring it on, big guy.'

Norman rolled onto his stomach with a groan, "You're not the Daisy I was hoping to wake up to. Sorry, mutt, but it's the truth."

The dog started thumping her tail on the carpeted floor, pleased that the big guy was moving around in his bed. It's very frustrating being a dog because there's so much I want to say but I have to wait for the slow humans to figure it out. She let out a low, soft bark in mild frustration.

Suddenly, Norman lifted his head with a fright, "You didn't wake up Sig, did you? Damn, that would be the dumbest possible thing you could do. Please tell me you didn't. I don't think I could deal with him right now. He's not thrilled you're here to begin with, he'd have a conniption fit if he knew you were upstairs."

The little lab stood up and trotted over to the doorway, pacing back and forth between the door frame. Umm, smart dog, remember? I wish you were so smart because I'm trying to get you to pay attention to me down here.

Norman propped himself up on his elbows and looked over at the pretty dog in the doorway, "Oh, it's not that he doesn't like you so don't take it personally. My older brother loves dogs as much as my younger brother and I do. It's just that Sig's worried about Edgar. If you have to go back to your family or if dad makes you leave, Sig's really concerned over how Edgar would take it...and so am I. I probably should have thought about that before bringing you home but tonight was one of those rare times I thought with my heart instead of my head. That's usually Edgar's gig so don't rat me out to my bros about it."

"See, my baby brother's been through absolute hell these past months and my older brother has become like an uber-protective older brother. He's not gonna let anything or anyone hurt Edgar anymore. Edgar's wanted a dog for a long time now. You're the best thing that's happened to him since Mom…"

You are a yip-yapper, aren't you? I thought you just talked a lot on the way home to make me feel better. In the doorway, Daisy was really starting to lose her patience. She let out a low yip, causing Norman to hold his breath and wince at the same time. You're telling me stuff I already know. I know how badly the boy's been hurt…do you? Has he told you…everything? Come on, you are wasting time.

Listening for an angry older brother to come stomping down the hallway, the only sounds Norman heard were the storm still raging itself out beyond his window and soft whimpers coming from Edgar's room. The latter noise caused Norman to forget all thoughts of Daisy Duke as he rolled over and sat up straight in his bed. He turned his legs to the side and put his bare feet on the floor.

Daisy took this as an excellent sign of progress and ran over to the exposed bare feet, giving the shapely toes a bath with her tongue.

Norman couldn't suppress a very unmanly giggle. "Damn," he laughed, pulling his feet up to safety, "That's tickles."

Whatever gets you moving, big guy. The tenacious dog ran back to the doorway, this time going out into the hallway and looking around, then coming back into the room.

"I'm guessing you have to go out…" Norman sighed.

I already took care of that.

"…But it sounds like my little brother is having a rough night so I gotta check on him first. Then I'll take you back downstairs."

Whatever, just come on, let's go. I'm starting to think I should have tended to the boy myself. Maybe he just needs his face licked and then he'd go back to sleep – I could have handled THAT on my own. Daisy had enough of waiting for Norman and wandered down the hallway towards Edgar's room.

"Hold up there, mutt," Norman called in a whisper, quickly but quietly grabbing his sweatpants and t-shirt that he slung over his desk chair before going to bed. The middle brother dressed and walked, a talent learned in his early childhood, a coping skill for living with a dad that expected his family ready in a minute's notice.

With a glance towards the opposite end of the hallway, Norman was assured that Sig was not coming to kill both him and the dog for waking him up. The eldest brother's bedroom light was off, his door open a jar and no noise coming from that direction.

Good, Norman thought to himself as he followed the dog, Sig has to get up early for work tomorrow so he needs his sleep. That and he's in pain with his wisdom teeth so he's better off not getting disturbed. If Edgar's having another rough night, I'm dealing with it this time, not Sig. Unfortunately, there are no stars to look at tonight, only endless clouds and more rain followed by the occasional lightning strike and balls of hail.

With Daisy leading the way, Norman followed her down the hallway, stopping only to turn on the bathroom light switch and send a small shaft of light into Edgar's bedroom. Making the turn back, Norman entered the large bedroom and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

When he could finally see, Norman was greeted to a wrestling match between Edgar and his sheets. The young teen had come close to ripping off the fitted sheet covering his bed, the remaining covers were crumbled into a ball around the lanky youngest brother. Edgar was whimpering, tossing and turning and pulling at the bandages wrapped around his hands. He had managed to dislodge several strips of gauze and the excess fabric was flapping about as he punched at imaginary figures that existed only in his dreams.

Daisy looked up at Edgar's bed and then back to Norman, finally sitting down on her backside in what could have been interpreted as a 'huff' in human body language. See…I tried to tell you. Patiently, she waited for Norman to respond appropriately.

"Oh, lillebror," Norman whispered sadly, his heart sinking at the sight of Edgar's inner demons winning the battle between restful, peaceful sleep and turmoil and torment. Please let these bad dreams be because of the storm and nothing else. These bad things that happened to you cannot haunt you forever...can they? Of course, it's been less than two days since you had a loaded gun pointed at you...I can only imagine what kind of nightmares that would bring. The dog forgotten, the middle brother crawled into the ample bed, peeling the covers out of Edgar's death grip in the process.

Edgar stirred violently in his sleep, protesting against the entity removing his only means of protection from the monsters.

Norman easily evaded the restless boy's movements, rolling the kid onto his side and putting a strong, firm arm around him at the waist. He pulled him back smoothly, using his free hand to readjust the covers to shield them both from the cool, night air.

"Shhh," Norman whispered gently when Edgar tried to pull away, "You ain't going anywhere. I got you."

At the sound of the familiar voice, Edgar woke completely. He felt drained, like a soldier returning from the battlefield, and not like someone who'd just slept for several straight hours. I slept but I wish I didn't. Horrible nightmares…horrible images are the only things I can remember. Sometimes, in my dreams, I get shot with that bullet instead of Adam. In other dreams, sometimes they actually kill me that night Sig saved me.

Either way, sometimes, the blood I see all over the floor is my own, seeping out of me and I can feel the life leaving my body. In a weird twist of fate, during other nightmares, Norman and Sig rush in to save me only to get shot and become the ones lying lifeless on the floor - that's probably the worst dream for me.

God, Elliot may be dead but it feels like he'll haunt me forever. Now that he's no longer in this world, he can come into mine whenever I let my guard down.

The brawny arm surrounding his chest, the overlarge figure attached to the arm and resting behind him and the smell of Dove soap with just a hint of dryer sheet: these were the things that kept Edgar from crawling under his bed to block out the disturbing residual images. He didn't need to look back to see which brother had come, yet again, to comfort him in the middle of the night. "Norman," he said softly, like a wish that had never been wished had just come true.

"Yeah," Norman snuggled closer to his brother, "The one and only."

Edgar asked in a whisper, "Was I screaming? Is that what woke you up?"

No, just a God damn smart dog that I have a funny feeling may not have ended up here solely by coincidence…Naw, I don't believe in that 'fate' stuff. There's no logic to it. "No, I didn't hear any screaming."

"Because I was in my dreams. I was just screaming and screaming…screaming and calling out for help."

Norman took a second to absorb that information as it took his breath away for the moment. With a painful swallow to get rid of the lump in his throat, he whispered back, "Go back to sleep, kid. Nightmares are afraid of me…" he said as he flexed the defined muscles in the arm he had tightly wrapped around his younger brother as proof, "…so you're all good now."

Edgar clearly recognized Norman's statement was simply ridiculous; a false bravado of epic proportions told to a child that needed any kind of lifeline to hold on to. Yet, he elected to buy into the ploy. If nightmares were really afraid of someone, Norman would definitely be that someone.

The young kid snuggled closer to his brother, putting his injured hand over Norman's and squeezing weakly.

The middle brother responded in kind, hugging his brother's back to his chest and leaning his chin on the top of Edgar's head. Remembering what he had just shared with Daisy about the uber-protective older brother down the hallway, Norman recognized he was just as overprotective as Sig when it came to this traumatized kid falling asleep in his arms. Oh, Jesus, we were always protective of him…now, things are different…and it's not just because of what's happened to him. It's because, now, we know what it feels like to lose someone you love with all your heart. It's not a foreign concept anymore, it's cold, hard reality…and it hurts so much.

Daisy watched the interaction between the two brothers from her place on the floor. Satisfied the younger boy was in good hands with his older pack-mate, she left the room and took herself back downstairs.

Norman looked back when he heard the pitter-patter of padded paws on the steps. He listened and, upon hearing what could only be described as a flying leap from the third last step, he chuckled inwardly - One good dog.

~tbc