A/N: Hey guys. Welcome back to Life Without You.

Or at least the editted chapter of it. Making it a bit more wordy and with a bit more tooth until I can get around to writing a REAL update. Special thanks to TheLordismyGod for their review on this story!

They always know who cares about them- They always know who their real families are... Children, that is. They were very interesting in the way they functioned from the time of their birth up until they were able to think on their own. They had some special way of just knowing who would be there for them... He thought about it often.

Was it at all possible that this may still have applied to Sherman as well? That he still remembered Peabody just as much as Peabody remembered him? Maybe he did, but then that would lead to a new problem- one that left Peabody with a new and much more intense anxiety that no amount of vodka could get rid of.

"Which Peabody would Sherman remember?"

Funny. He felt like he had asked this same question before.

Sherman sighed in relief and was about to walk out of the alley when someone grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards the darkened area. A hand was clapped over his mouth a few seconds later. Who ever this person was, he was a lot stronger than the little boy who try if he may, could not get away.

Still, something deep in his gut told the child that if he would just fight for a little bit longer, then he would win.

"Leaving already?" The voice croaked, gripping his small wrist a little tighter and beginning to drag him. "Why don't you stop and stay a while...?"

Sherman gasped, chocking on a few tears as he frantically kicked at the figure behind him in fright. He didn't know who or even what was behind him, but he did know that whoever it was, they sounded strangely familiar. A voice kind yet stern and familiar. He didn't know if he should be relieved by this, or terrified. Relieved because he remembered someone who wasn't the Petersons or terrified because he couldn't put a face to a voice. Either or, he began kicking like crazy once more, attempting to pull himself free, or at least turn himself around enough that he could see the person's face.

The second happened, the grip loosened enough that Sherman could turn his head to find the face of- No one...

"W-what the?" He gasped, turning around several times like a confused puppy and looking around.

He couldn't be anymore confused than he was in that moment. The boy KNEW someone had been behind him, he KNEW he had heard a voice... That voice... His world rushed back to him just in time to hear the voice of Patty Peterson break through the still air. Her cute, slightly-British sounding lit shoot the boy to his core.

"Sherman!" She called, looked around the side-walk, before quickly going on her way like before.

All the blood in the red-head's body ran cold as he watched her blonde hair disappear into a crowd as she walk away. It didn't take much brain power in realizing that their paths had nearly crossed, and if they had then he would have been dragged back to that home with her. Frowning, he quickly recovered some more of his wits, but only just enough wit to look behind him for the figure again. Once more, he found no one in the alley except for a few empty boxes and some rats a little ways back. A small smirk pulled at the sides of his lips despite this, as he continued to face that direction for just a few seconds more.

"I don't know who you are yet... But thank you." Sherman whispered in a calm voice, despite his still racing heart.

As quickly as he could turn, he scurried out of the alley once more and made a b-line for across the street, ducking in and out of another walking crowd before taking cover in yet another space between buildings.

Once he was safely tucked away again, he peered out of his new hiding place and searched for the Petersons. All three were out of sight, and there-for out of mind. The figure from before however, was not, and Sherman found himself looking back across the street at the alley for a hopeful sign of it. None was found of course, and he inhaled deeply and took a few steps back, further submerging himself into the darkness where he felt safe.

"That was close- But what to do now?" He wondered out loud, his own voice sounding strangely like a conversation rather than an echo. As if he were asking this question to a friend.

Escaping from that house had always been his first goal, his only goal up until now. There was no other plans now. He knew he couldn't stay in this alley forever, but he also couldn't keep his mind on track long enough to think of his next move. His thoughts kept wandering to this dreams- or perhaps they were memories/ Memories of some funny dog in a time machine that was coming back for him. A distant memory that hadn't yet happened yet because he didn't have an idea of what to do yet. All of his ideas ran stale though, and any new forming ones were quickly shot down by him before they even had a chance to form.

Sighing in defeat, he opened his eyes tiredly and dramatically tossed himself down onto his side. The fall was expected to be quiet, no more than a soft thump, but what startled him was the sound of crushing paper beneath his shoulder. Sitting back up, he scrambled to look down for what he had laid down on.

"What the-" Brown eyes stilled, looking down at the crushed up paper beneath him.

It was a newspaper with a simple headline, composed of two simple words. Just below it an absolutely extraordinary picture. A white dog, not a typical collar wearing one, but a white dog by any other name. Though, this one didn't wear a red bow-tie, nor did he dawn any spects either. However, there was just an air about him that made him seem special. With his rather large eyes, which were wide like a humans and set-up just the same, dawning an unnatural emerald colour to them. Thats what made the dog stand out. Those two simple words just seemed to make him pop.

Sherman's eyes suddenly drew from the dog and back to them, re-reading that headline until his eyes blurred from a lack of blinking. There was an answer to his question hidden in those words, and he knew that he had found it.

"Thats what I have to do! Its my only chance." Sherman announced, tearing the headline free from its page and tucking it into his pocket.

With a new found strength, he got to his feet and faced the opening of the alley with a sort of determination in his eyes. It shook him down to his bones, and with a final huff the boy took off running. He didn't know where he was going, but he did know one thing;He finally had an idea in his mind and it was a plain and simple one. Simply spelled out in just two short words.

Free Him.