AN: Well, this is the end of it. For Murdock at least, I was thinking of going through each character but as of now, I am undecided. Thanks so much and I hope that this was alright, I don't know why but I thought this was longer. New to writing TAT but I've been reading it for a while now.

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The growling was back. This time it seemed angrier. Murdock sat up and backed himself against the corner, despite the fact that he was sure his ribs were going to rip through his flesh if he didn't stay still. Something was there and it wanted to hurt him. He could literally feel the evil coming off of it in waves. Murdock didn't make any sudden moves, but he had to come up with a plan. Anything to get rid of this threat. Grabbing his bit of bread and meat, he threw it into the darkness hoping to somehow strike the creature. Suddenly the growling stopped.

By the time he had moved in with his grandparents, he had come to realize a few things in life. First and most importantly: people leave, no matter who they were or how much they mattered to you. Two, the pain never goes away, it just stays at this constant, burning rate that you get used to. Third, despite all the pain, there are still people who genuinely care.

There was whimpering beside his bed and soft, wet licks to his hand. Confused, Murdock pulled his hand away from the wetness sat up on his futon. He absently wiped his hand on his pants and as he did so he felt a lick to his cheek. Murdock instantly flinched back. Something was in here. Something that could growl and wanted to cover him in saliva. Something that smelled like a dog and acted like a dog. Murdock reached out slowly, towards where he thought the creature was.

He needs help.

It's not real. A playful bark answers his thought.

He needs people.

It can't be real. Another lick to his hand and then one to the side of his face.

He needs… so much more than the care that a psych ward could provide.

They never opened the door, except for the last time they took him out and beat the crap out of him. A few tugs on his shirt.

He needs…

Did the dog sneak in then? A warmth lay next to him, the tail thumping gently against his thigh.

He's glad for the team. They don't care that he's delusional and paranoid. That he has to constantly sing or talk to himself. That everything in the kitchen has to exactly where he left them. They don't care that he has so much wrong with him that the only thing he could ever offer anyone was a home cooked meal and a ride home. But maybe, maybe that's all the team ever really wants.