Jeremy fumed silently. First, Josh had called him backward and baby, and then Jason had called him little and stared him down. Never mind that neither was wrong, it just was NOT NICE.

His own brothers shouldn't talk to him like that. He was supposed to be one of them. The same as them. It was almost enough to – well, never mind that. Almost wasn't enough to or for anything.

He hadn't been a baby. This whole time, with Jason gone, he hadn't been a baby. He hadn't cried when Jason wasn't there. He didn't bother Josh with his scary thoughts. When they heard about the accident, he hadn't cried or talked about the bad things he was thinking. He hadn't even had bad dreams! He'd done everything he was supposed to, even going to school and being polite to That Man. And when Josh got sad or scared, he tried to make him feel happier and luckier. Like Josh did for him.

How could they call him little and a baby?

It was almost enough to make him cry, but he didn't think that would prove anything. Even if it was because he was mad, instead of whatever it was that made babies cry a lot.

Why did babies cry, anyway? Did they cry because they were mad? In that case, crying because he was mad would have been being a baby, and he wasn't. Maybe that was really why he didn't.

Oh, "darn and drat!" he thought out loud, and half sat up and punched his pillow a couple times, before flopping back onto it.

And now Jason wanted to have some big talk about if something happened to him! Except nothing had, so why should they talk about nothing happening? Who wanted to even think about that? (well, besides Jason. Everybody always said he wanted to talk everything into nonexistence. Maybe that's why he wanted to talk about it? So it wouldn't exist?)

"Phooey!" he said, as loudly as he dared. A log gave way in the fireplace and sent a handful of sparks up the chimney, on their way to join the stars.

"Shaddup," Josh ordered.

"Make m-me."

"In the morning. Too tired right now. Go to sleep."

"Both of you," Jason added. How nice it was to be there to hear his brothers fussing and acting like brothers. Good to be home.

Jeremy huffed and Josh half-laughed, and the room fell silent once again./

/It was the settling down time of night. The little cabin was warm and snug. Scents of supper remained in the air, since there were two mouths yet to be fed. The younger two had been fed and washed and readied for bed, and the blankets were hanging on the rods in front of the fireplace.

The wee one followed her as she went to turn down the bed and fluff the pillows. She smiled at him.

"No go bed," he said.

"Not yet," she agreed. Poor thing was getting grumpy and would probably go to sleep whether he wanted to or not. And he wouldn't want to, not until his father and oldest brother came in from their day's work.

"You don't say," the older of the two said crossly. "Mama says."

"Not yet," the wee one said, and laughed.

""Yeah, but you go first." Josh was building something – with that boy, who knew what – with wood chips, and Jeremy squatted beside it to watch what he was doing.

"Go 'way, or I'll smack you."

"No."

The door opened, and the missing two members of the family came in, stomping their feet clean and shaking the water out of their coats before closing the door and hanging them up. The man greeted his wife, and their oldest son was attacked by their youngest, shouting "Yay, Yay! Yay home, Mama!" before wrapping himself around one of Jason's legs.

She laughed. "I see. Why don't you let him wash up and get some supper?" Her eyes were sparkling and she was sharing eye-smiles with their father, who was already at the washbowl.

"No! Me help'm."

"Can't help nobody wash," Josh pointed out, tumbling his building and sweeping the wood chips out of the way.

"Remember that the next time I have to wash your neck and ears for you," the mother teased,

"Don' hafta, could leave 'em alone."

"Ah but then they'd never be clean, and we'd be digging potatoes out of your ears."

"They'd be awful little," Josh said, after trying to put his finger in his ears.

Meanwhile, Jason had set Jeremy up on the counter beside the washbowl and given him the washcloth to hold for him, which contented the younger boy, who jabbered away as Jason washed.

Oh, home was such a nice place to be.

Then Mama said it was bedtime for 'verra sma' boys, and he said "No" and ran away from her.

Jason said, "I got him, Mama," and Jason started chasing him around.

Oh, that was even more fun! Because he could get away from Jason! Jason was too big to get some of the places he could hide. Of course, sometimes Jason could just barely reach him in those places, and he'd tickle him and make him laugh, until he could wiggle out of reach, and sneak out enough to dart to another hiding place.

[ The dreamer wondered how much of that can't-reaching or being too big had been acting. The little cabin had been crowded with furniture and stuffed with the things needed for everyday living, but really – it had been a small cabin, and most of the stuff was moveable.

It had made for fun nights and usually a pleasant end to the day]

Then Mama was wrapping him up in the warm blanket, and putting his head on the soft pillow, tucking a quilt up around his shoulders and throat. She sat beside him, leaned against the wall, and she'd sing to him. Sometimes Da would join in the song, but mostly not. Mama would take her hair down, and her wee one would run his fingers through it.

Always, always going to sleep with sweet music and quiet laughter or conversations, and wrapping strands of moonbeams between his fingers, wrapped in warmth.

There were no monsters there./

Jeremy didn't open his eyes at first. He wanted to feel the house around him. The warmth from the fire; the reassuring sounds of his brothers' weight and comfort of the covers over him.

He opened his eyes. The light reflected on the walls was a soft gold, a night time version of the sun that was so rare in winter. Straight above him was the bottom of Josh's bed, and he could feel Josh's small movements as he slept. (How could he sleep after what he had said?)

Jason was over there, sleeping, too. He wasn't snoring, but he could sure breathe loud. But it was rhythmic and almost musical, and the part of Jeremy's mind that was still dreaming wandered into making up a song to go with it.

The waking boy laughed quietly. He didn't really know how Jason could sleep, after the long sleep when he'd first come home, not drowned and not broken in any way.

On the thought, with the soft laugh, Jason stirred and opened his eyes.

He saw Jeremy's eyes were open, and he half sat up. "Okay?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Bad dreams?"

"No. Not really. You used to chase me every night. Before…"

"I did? I don't remember." Jason stretched out and adjusted his covers, ready to go back to sleep.

"I didn't neither." Jeremy yawned. He was going back to sleep, too. He wondered if he would finish his Jason-breathing-song.

The words that drifted around in his mind, though, were the ones Jason had said earlier. "One of those things that need done."