A/N: Okay, let me just say I'm really, really sorry I haven't updated sooner. I've just had some really bad writer's block lately. This chapter's a little longer than usual, so I hope that makes up for it, if only a little.

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. "Oh crap," I groaned.

"What?" Matt was still focused intently on the game.

"It's almost 11:00," I answered.

"What!"

"Yeah, come on. I'll walk you to your room," I said, marking the page in my book and setting it on my nightstand. I stood up, crossing the room and pulling my shoes on.

Matt seemed reluctant to leave, and I wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was wrapped up in his game or if he had truly enjoyed my company. Finally, he turned the game off, before pocketing it as he stood up. He pulled his shoes on and grabbed his things before turning to me. "Okay, I guess I'm ready to go," he said quietly.

We made our way to his room in silence.

He kept glancing at his watch anxiously.

"Don't worry," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets as we trudged up the stairs. "We'll make it to your room before 11:00."

"What about you?" His voice was so quiet, I almost didn't hear it.

"I'll be fine," I answered him gently.

He didn't seem convinced, but kept walking. When we reached his room, he fiddled around with the card slot a little before opening his door and walking inside.

He left the door open, so I followed him inside and shut it behind myself. "So, what the heck did you do to your door?"

"What? Oh, that," he answered, dumping his books by his desk. "I hacked it."

"What?"

"Long story," he explained, pulling his goggles down to rest around his neck. His back was to me, so I couldn't see his eyes. (Thinking back, the jerk did it on purpose; he always wore his goggles because his eyes were so damn readable, or maybe that was just to me…) "I don't want my key card stolen, so I keep it in my room."

I nodded. It sounded reasonable enough. "So, uh, you want to walk to class in the morning?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, s-sure," he mumbled.

"Okay, you want me to come here in the morning?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah," he said. He pulled his goggles back over his eyes and moved past me. "Lemme show you somethin'…" He showed me how to hack the key card mechanism. It was really cool, actually. I mean we were all geniuses here, but come on. "And, it should work on every reader in the House," he finished. "You get all that?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he mumbled awkwardly. "So, uh, good night, I guess…"

"Good night, Matt," I said. I noticed he was chewing his bottom lip (a habit I would soon come to realize either meant he was nervous about something or debating what to do next). "What's up?"

"Never mind, it's stupid," he mumbled.

"Matt," I said quietly. "I assure you it's not stupid. What is it?"

"I-" He rubbed his arm in embarrassment. "Can I have a, um, hug? I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine," he mumbled.

I shook my head smiling. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "That's not stupid at all," I whispered in his ear. "Anytime you want anything, all you have to do is ask."

After a few moments of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around my waist loosely. "Thank you."

After a minute or two, we pulled apart. "Now, hurry and get to bed, okay?" I said.

He nodded and mumbled, "'Night."

"Night, Matt," I answered.

The second he shut his door, I took off down the hall and to my room. I managed to step inside and shut the door just as the read out on my clock changed to 11:00. I sighed and then grinned. Yeah, life would end up pretty enjoyable now.

The next morning, I was out of bed, showered and hair dried, and hacking into the reader by 5:15. It clicked and I went in. Shutting the door behind myself, I ran and jumped onto his bed. "Morning, Mattie!" I said cheerfully.

He screamed and fell out of the bed, half tangled in the sheets so that he hung a few inches off the floor. Instead of responding, or even attempting to untangle himself, he simply glared up at me and said irritably, "What the crap, Mello! What time is this?"

"5:15," I said matter-of-factly.

"Figures," he grumbled, reaching up to untangle his legs from the sheets.

I moved off of the bed to help, but my weight shifted off the sheets and caused the rest of them to slip down.

"Crap!" Matt hit the floor. "Dang it all," he grumbled angrily, untangling himself and throwing the sheets back onto the bed.

"Oops."

He just looked at me a bit before shaking his head. "It's gonna be a long day."

Twenty minutes later, we were walking towards the cafeteria. Matt yawned, stretching one arm across his chest.

"Hey, Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you, you know, freak out when I woke you up this morning?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, uh, I don't know, really. Guess it's because you're the only one I've showed how to hack the readers, and you did say you wanted to walk to class together. So, yeah…" He stretched his other arm.

"Oh. Okay." Wait. Did he say I was the only one he'd taught how to hack the readers? That had to mean he trusted me not to hurt him.

We fell into a pattern after that. I'd be at his room by 5:15, we'd get to breakfast by 5:30, and at 6:45 we'd go to our first class. In the afternoons, we'd end up in the library for about an hour and a half doing our homework and studying, and after that we'd just hang out in either his room or my own until lights out.

One afternoon around 7:00, we were just hanging out in my room; I want to say it was a…Tuesday. I was curled up at the end of my bed, leaning back on my pillows, reading Ten Little Indians by Agatha Christie for literature, and Matt was curled up at the end of my bed playing his game.

"Hey, Matt?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look up at me, but I knew I had just as much of his attention as the game did, if not more.

"You trust me, right?" I asked hesitantly.

"I showed you how to hack the readers."

It was a blunt statement, but the underlying meaning… As far as I knew, Matt was the only hacker here, and those key card readers were pretty stinking advanced. For him to show me that, and give me access to his room, he had to really trust me.

"Matt, what…" I took a deep breath and continued. "What happened to you before we met?"

He froze in shock, the game falling from his hands and onto the bed as he turned to look at me cautiously.

"You don't have to tell me," I said hurriedly. "I was just curious."

"It's-it's okay," he mumbled. "I…I need to tell someone…"

I don't know how hard it was for him to talk about it, something he'd kept locked away for years. He told me about his dad leaving the day after his second birthday and how his mother had blamed him for it. He told me about everything that happened the first year. Every time she slapped him, punched him, kicked him, and insulted him. But what he said next made my blood boil.

"She even told me that I…I w-wasn't worth bringing home," he managed, bursting into tears. "That I wasn't worth it!"

I wrapped my arms around him as he flung himself against me. "Don't you ever think that," I whispered fiercely. "Of course you're worth it, Mattie," I murmured gently against his ear. "You'll always be worth it."

After a while, he quieted down to soft sniffles. Without any question from him or any confirmation from me, he curled up and rested his head in my lap.

I ran my fingers through his hair in a comforting, almost motherly fashion, almost like Mamma had done for me when I was younger. "It's okay," I murmured. "I'm here."

He shifted onto his back and looked me in the eyes, tears that had been unshed threatening to spill over. "Please don't hate me," he whispered, his voice so soft I barely heard him, before lifting his arms and letting the sleeves of his shirt fall down to his elbows, revealing pale, silvery scars littered down his fore arms.

"Oh, Matt," I said, touching a finger softly to his left arm and running it across the skin gently. "I could never hate you."

"Really?" He looked so scared that I was going to leave him, it broke my heart.

"Mm-mm," I murmured, shaking my head. "Never."

He let out a soft sigh and rolled over onto his stomach before sitting up. "I want to tell you about the next year," he said quietly.

"Okay." I leaned back against my pillows and held my left arm up, letting him curl up against my side. He told me all the little things, but when he reached the Christmas before his fourth birthday, he started crying hard.

"What happened?" I asked gently.

"I talked back to her," he managed to get out, before grabbing my hand and pressing my fingers against the underside of his chin and letting go.

I ran my fingers gently across the skin. "Oh, shit," I gasped softly, pulling my hand away. The scars were deep even after the years. "Why?"

"She told me to do something, I can't even remember what it was now, and I told her no," he mumbled as the tears continued sliding down his cheeks. "She grabbed me by the throat, dragging me off my feet and shook me, screaming at me about how disrespectful I was…"

Even though he trailed off and buried his face against my side, sobbing, I could imagine what happened. Three year old Matt getting dragged off his feet, his mother's hands tight around his throat. Her screaming in his face as Matt, no doubt scared out of his wits, scrabbled at her hands as he struggled to breathe. I started to shake furiously. "That bitch," I growled angrily. "I'll fucking murder her!"

Matt made a small, noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. "Don't worry about it," he mumbled.

"I will worry about it," I said fiercely. "She tried to kill you. She deserves to die."

"No," he said, shifting slightly and trying to dry his eyes with the back of his hands. "I meant don't worry about killing her."

"God doesn't like ugly," I said, remembering the phrase from when Mamma was alive.

"There's no such thing," he said. "She just got what she deserved. Fate, I guess you could say, but not God…" He told me about the afternoon that his house burned down and how he'd run instead of waking his mother up. "Does that make me a bad person?" he asked, sniffling softly.

"No, of course it doesn't," I assured him, pulling him against me gently. "You're not a bad person, Mattie, she was. That's why you survived and she didn't."

He just kept crying until he eventually cried himself to sleep in my arms.

#####################################################################################

We became extremely close over the next year. One afternoon, Roger called Matt to his office and, though he only wanted Matt to come, Matt begged Roger to let me come too, so he conceded.

We sat in Roger's office listening to him and answering his questions about how we'd gotten along the past year.

"Matt," Roger began. "I called you here today to inform you of something about your parents."

"Dad?" Matt asked excitedly, almost bouncing in anticipation. Sort of like Christmas morning when I'd told him I had a present for him. "Is Dad alive?"

"No," Roger said. "He is not. He passed on not long after he left his family. However, we have found some paperwork that has proven Rita Jeevas was not your biological mother."

"What?" Matt squeaked in disbelief.

"Yes, your biological mother's name was Molly James," Roger explained.

"Wait, 'was'?" I said. "What happened to her?"

"She died a few days after he was born, due to complications from childbirth. Only after her friend, Matt's father and the man she'd had an affair with, assured her that he would take care of the boy did she finally let go over her life and pass on."

Matt made a weird whimpering noise and bolted from the room before I could say a word to him.

"You know," Roger sighed. "Somehow I knew he would take this badly. I suppose it's a good thing you're friends with him. He needs someone to talk to no doubt…"

I ran after Matt. I grabbed his wrist as I caught up to him. "Matt, please," I started, pulling him gently to a stop.

He whirled around to face me and I saw how close to breaking he truly was. "I-I understand now," he finally managed to choke out.

"You understand what?" I asked gently.

"What she meant by 'You weren't even worth bringing home'…"

"Oh, Matt." I held out my arms and he collapsed against me, crying softly. "You're always worth it."

"To you, but not to her," he said sadly, sniffling as he pushed his goggles up to wipe his eyes.

I reached up and wiped his eyes gently with the hem of my sleeve.

"But it's enough," he said, smiling.

"I'm glad," I murmured, ruffling his hair affectionately. "You want to go play Super Smash Bro.?" I asked.

He looked up at me, and I could still see a little residual pain floating in his eyes. "Uh-huh."

"Come on," I said, nudging him gently in the ribs before taking off down the hall at a sprint.

He laughed and followed me to his room.

Now, don't get me wrong. I've never been much of a video game person, but it cheers him up when he's down. I've known how to read since I was two; I knew how to read in four different languages as well. So, my days were spent curled up in the reading room with Mamma or Anya, reading anything I could get my hands on. The days I spent with Anya were the most fun because she'd often tell me stories about her little brother, Nicolai. She'd say I reminded her of him, and she'd always call me her 'Little Nico'."

I missed Anya, though. I was the only one she would ever really talk to. She never told me about her past, but she trusted me with a lot more than she ever trusted Aunt Svetlana. It was sad, though, because I could never get her to believe that God would help her. I'd tell her, time and time again, but she just couldn't come to believe that if some greater power cared for her, it would so easily let her be hurt. In that way, Matt resembled her a lot. He didn't believe God could have any precedence or any meaning if he would so easily let someone be hurt.

We stayed in his room that night. After a few hours, I got tired of playing but I let him continue. I knew he'd fall asleep eventually. Sure enough, when I woke up the next morning around quarter to five, I was still sitting cross-legged with my back against the wall by his bed and he was curled up with his head resting on my lap, sleeping peacefully.

Matt yawned quietly and sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Morning," he mumbled.

"Mm." I was still lost in my memories until he poked my cheek playfully.

"Hey. Earth to Mel," Matt said. "I said 'Morning'."

"What? Oh. Morning, Matt," I said distractedly.

"Uh-oh, you're thinking. That's not good," he joked.

"Shut it," I said, rolling my eyes and pushing him playfully.

"Okay, okay. So, what are you thinking about?" he asked.

I stood up and stretched. "Stuff," I answered cryptically.

"Stuff, huh?" he queried, looking up at me. "About what? Before you came here?"

"Yeah," I answered.

Thankfully, he didn't push the matter. Instead, he just smiled and got to his feet. "Oh, alright. Just know I'll always listen, okay?"

"I know," I answered. It made me feel bad that I wasn't telling him. I could usually guess what he was thinking, but if I couldn't, all I had to do was ask him and he'd tell me; but I couldn't bring myself to tell him, just yet. I'll tell him later, I promised myself.

"Hey!"

I blinked.

"You're doing it again," Matt said, sighing.

"What?"

"You're doing that thing where you drift off and don't listen to me," he answered.

"I'm listening," I countered.

"Really? Then what did I say?"

"Well…"

"I knew it. You weren't even listening to me," he pouted.

I rolled my eyes. Pouting didn't work on me and Matt knew it.

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled, shaking his head. "I was just rambling anyway. Come on, we should get to breakfast."

"Okay."