"Dreaming, I was only dreaming
Of another place and time where my family's from
Singing, I can hear them singing
When the rain had washed away all these scattered dreams
Dying, everyone's reminded
Hearts are washed in misery, drenched in gasoline
Laughter, there's no more laughter
Songs of yesterday now live in the underground"
-Green Day, Before the Lobotomy

By the time Mihael Keehl had woken up that morning, Mail was already over and eating breakfast at the Keehls' kitchen table. Mihael's father had already left to overview a meeting between one of his men and a man from a different gang, someone with plans to overtake the mafia. Mihael's mother was home and sitting at the kitchen table with Mail, the long-haired blonde women dressed simply but still beautiful and holding the appearance of a model. The woman smiled warmly at her son as he wandered into the kitchen with sleepy blue eyes and blonde hair tangled with sleep. The Keehls didn't force their son to cut his hair to a more "manly" style like most parents would have; in fact they thought their son looked rather charming and lovable with his hair that ran past his chin.

"Hi, Mail," Mihael grinned as he caught sight of his friend. Mail looked up from his cereal and smiled a bit but his dark blue eyes were clouded with pain and fear. It was probably caused by his parents, no doubt. Mihael sat next to his friend as his mother poured him some cereal.

"Mom," he said impatiently. "I can do that myself."

Mrs. Keehl smiled her son's face fixed with stubbornness. Mihael was a very emotional and determined child, he never liked it when things didn't go the way he wanted them to, and in fact he would usually get mad about it and pout. She hoped the little girl growing inside of her wouldn't pick up on her older brother's impulsive behavior. She was a happy women with a wonderful family and a golden future but still, she worried like there was no tomorrow.

Her husband lived a dangerous life with the position of power he had over the mafia, he was a target and every day Mrs. Keehl would wonder if he'd ever come home. She also worried about the Jeevas child, Mail. The Keehls adored Mail and treated him like a second child, invited him over constantly, fed him and clothed him. They looked at the brown-haired child like he was a gift, his parents, however, looked at the boy like he was a curse. Mrs. Keehl would often find the young boy with fresh bruises on his body or locked outside when he came home late. And Mrs. Keehl didn't know what to do.

Mihael was doing a very good job at cheering up his friend with talk of Mail's favorite thing, video games. Mail was a smart, smart kid but when it came to knowledge of video games, the kid was even smarter. He could tell you the date and time that the first Mario game came out or exactly what Pokémon could dominate another.

"Mrs. Keehl," Mail said politely in his quiet voice. "Would it be alright if I went to dinner with you and Mihael and Mr. Keehl?"

"Of course, dear," she said softly. "But we have to do some running around before that." Mail nodded and pushed his empty cereal bowl but Mihael groaned a bit.

"I don't wanna spend hours in the car," he said stubbornly, crossing his slim arms.

Mrs. Keehl sighed a bit. "How's this? After we finish getting groceries, you both can pick out something special."

Mihael smiled a bit and Mail looked up, a bit shocked and it broke Mrs. Keehl's heart how the boy was always so surprised at anything that was given to him, or promised to him.

Mihael and Mail both washed out their cereal bowls and put them away in their proper places like the good boys they were as Mrs. Keehl laid out Mihael's clothes for him to change into. After she heard the bowls clank back into their proper spots she began to put on her shoes.

"Mihael, get dressed dear," she called out.

"Can't I just wear this?" The blonde boy asked from the kitchen, referring to his pajamas.

"You can't wear pajamas to the store, silly," She laughed. "Now go get changed."

Mihael sighed and trudged into his room. Mail came out into the living room where Mrs. Keehl was waiting, her stomach protruding a bit due to the child forming inside of her and put on his sneakers. He stared at the mother-figure's baby bump for awhile since he had very little exposure to pregnancy and babies. Mrs. Keehl smiled a bit at this and sat down on the dark couch.

"Do you want to feel her kick, Mail?" She asked softly. Mail tilted his head to the side in wonder.

"Kick?"

"Yes, she's on the move right now, here, I'll show you."

Mail hesitantly stepped towards the pregnant women who gently grabbed his hand and pressed it against her abdomen. Mail flinched as he felt something move inside of the blonde women. Then the brief confusion faded and fascination took place. He was fascinated by the life inside of her, the movements of the child growing. Mail had looked up at the older women and smiled a bit.

"I feel her… it's a bit weird… I mean, where do babies come from?" The brunette asked.

Mrs. Keehl chuckled and removed Mail's hand from her swollen abdomen.

"That can wait until you're older," she said amused.

Mihael came out moments later wearing almost all the clothes his mother had picked for him. He traded the blue jeans for black pants and the socks were mismatched but it was acceptable. Mihael put on his shoes and coat and helped Mail zip up his because the zipper got stuck on it again. Mrs. Keehl led the children to the car which she unlocked by using the unlock button on the keychain. The boys climbed in the back of the silver car and buckled themselves up because they were "big boys" like Mihael always made a point of saying.

She climbed in a bit slowly, remembering she was pregnant but the doctor said she could still drive, thank God. She pulled her seat belt around her and put the key in and turned it bringing the car to life. She pulled out of the driveway and began to head to her first stop.

Mihael ran down the aisle of the store with Mail following behind him. He was tired of being in the car all day and having to stay by his mother in all the stores. But now, now mom said he could get anything he wanted for being a good kid.
"What are you gonna get, Mail?" He asked his best friend as he began examining some candy.

"I erm kind of like these," Mail said, showing Mihael a pair of orange goggles he had found. "They look cool… what about you?"

Mihael looked over the selection of candy before picked up a foil wrapped bar of chocolate.

"I'm going to get this," He stated. He hadn't had chocolate much, only in cakes and milk, but he liked both of those a lot. He wandered around with Mail until he found his mother.

"Have you guys decided what you wanted yet?" She asked as she caught sight of the two kids.

"Yup," Mihael declared and held up his chocolate bar proudly. Mail nodded and looked down at the goggles in his hands.

"Alright, let's go pay for it," She said cheerfully and walked over to the check out area where a middle-aged, red-headed woman was waiting.

"What adorable children!" She exclaimed. "Are they both yours?" The cashier slid the eggs Mrs. Keehl had picked out across the bar scanner.

"Why, yes," she said smiling. "They're both wonderful."

"But… you're not my mom, ma'am," Mail said a bit sadly.

"I already think of you as a son," she said softly to Mail who looked rather touched by the comment.

The cashier smiled and scanned the chocolate bar. "When are you expecting?" She asked as she caught sight of Mrs. Keehl's belly. Mihael wasn't sure what that mean exactly.

"In August," Mrs. Keehl said as the check-out lady scanned Mail's goggles.

"Congratulations," She smiled and handed Mrs. Keehl the bag of goods and called the next costumer over. The blonde-haired women and Mihael and Mail got back into the car after all helping to load the groceries into the truck of the silver car. She kept the boy's treats out, however, and handed them to the boys as she climbed back into the car.

Mail put on his goggles after adjusting the straps to fit his head. Mihael tore open his chocolate bar and bite into it, his eyes lighting up instantly.

"Clean up after yourself," she reminded her son. Mihael rolled his eyes at this reminder. Sometimes parents seemed to forget he knew what to do, his school counselor even said he was a genius. But he knew his mother meant well so he stuffed the foil into his coat pocket promising to throw it out at the restaurant.

"You look pretty awesome," He said as he caught sight of Mail in his goggles. Mihael took another bite of the heavenly tasting bar he held in his hands. Mail smiled and thanked him, pushing the goggles to the top of his head, pulling his reddish-brown locks up with it.

Mihael laughed. "Now you look funny."

Mail laughed and got a bit embarrassed and pulled to goggles down to cover his eyes. Mihael's mom looked in the mirror at the two boys.

"Now, we need to stop by home first, it looks like it might rain and your father didn't take his jacket with him today."

The kids nodded and looked out the window to see that the sky was in fact cloudy and growing darker as night came quickly, eating up the daylight like a hungry monster. Mr. Keehl had wanted to meet up with the family, and Mail, at a restaurant for dinner after he finished with that day's work.

It was dark outside when Mrs. Keehl pulled up in the drive way of the Keehl household, left the car running, and made her way into the house, leaving the boys inside the running car.

She came out a few moments later, her striking blonde hair covered up by the hood of Mr. Keehl's jacket that she decided to put on instead of carrying it out. Her model body with the addition of the baby bump little Morgan was causing was covered by the thick material of the jacket Mr. Keehl always wore. She was a beautiful angel covered with the warmth her husband had unfortunately left home that night; because in the black of the dying light she looked like Donovan Keehl, a powerful hand in the mafia.

The boys looked over at the blonde mother-figure just in time to see her crumple to the ground as a silenced bullet shot straight through her head. She fell back instantly as blood erupted from the back of her head, her brain killed and her skull blown away. Both boys could only stare at the blood and the mangled angel lying on the cement.

Mihael was dead silent until he started to scream.

Mr. Keehl was a stone statue of a man when he came into the living room of his home.

"Nathan? Are they boys okay?" He asked his associate in a dead voice. Mail had called Mr. Keehl on the family's house phone along with 911, Mihael had been shaking too bad to do it himself. In response to that quiet voice shakily saying, "Mr. Keehl… She… she… died….," he had sent one of his best friends to watch over the children as he made official arrangements with the police and the morgue.

Nathan nodded, "They're asleep…" Nathan's voice was laced with pity and compassion but Mr. Keehl was too dead to even acknowledge it. Not only was his beautiful Marcena dead, the life blown out of the back of her scalp, but also his unborn baby girl. Someone had taken away two of his dear ones with the pull of a trigger.

He felt empty, lifeless, like he had nothing but then he remembered his son sleeping upstairs in his room, probably being plagued by nightmares. Mr. Keehl still had his son, and he also had Mail.

Mail…. He's parents have no idea where he's at…

"Nathan…" Mr. Keehl said, his voice hallowed out like a log. "I'm going to go next door to the Jeevas's house, to tell them that Mail will be staying the night here…" He didn't wait for a response, he just shrugged on a different jacket that was free of his wife's blood, and trudged out the door.

The Jeevas's were still up, probably due to the sirens that had kept the whole neighborhood awake. Their house wasn't as grand as the Keehl house but it was nice none the less. Mr. Donovan Keehl knocked on the door, not really seeing, his mind was drifting to the day he and Marcena had gotten married.

Mr. Jeevas answered it. "Hello, Donovan, come in, I'm so sorry to hear about Marcena." Did he seem smug? Mr. Keehl followed Mr. Jeevas into the house, and looked over to see Mrs. Jeevas had locked the door. He wasn't sure if to panic or be glad about what he knew was going to happen.

"If only it was you I shot instead of your pretty little wifey," Mr. Jeevas explained. "I didn't want to shoot her, but I thought she was you, Donovan, I apologize." Mr. Jeevas smirked a bit. Mr. Keehl finally understood all about what he had been warned about.

"Our enemies have contacts near your home that could be bribed with a bit of money, sir…"

"Vi mislite da me briga više?" He muttered in the language he was raised on.

Mr. Jeevas clearly didn't understand.

Donovan continued, "Moj život je završio minute njezin život bio otpuhan. Niste čak ispod premlaćivanja svog sina, ti prljavi gad."

Mrs. Jeevas just sighed and struck the match.

"Oprosti mi, Mihael."

Mail looked out the window as the fire started.

By then it was too late.

Mihael stared out the plane's window, watching the world below him. His family was dead and there were no relations to take care of him, he was alone. No not completely alone, he had Mail who was sitting beside him. They both were being sent to Winchester together to a special orphanage for gifted children. Mihael ran his new name through his head a few times as the clouds lazily strolled by the plane. Mello… Mello…. Mail, no wait, Matt had his head bent over a Gameboy that Mr. Wammy, wait, Watari, had given him before taken off.

Mihael didn't want to go to a school for smart people, he wanted to be home, he wanted his mom and dad, and he wanted his old life back. But no tears fell from those light blue eyes; in fact Mihael began to wonder if his life before the pull of that damned trigger was just a dream.

It was such a shame that they had to miss the funeral to be dragged off to this place.

A/N: Yay I updated pretty quick thanks to the song Before the Lobotomy by Green Day. Man, I'm just Terrible! D: Thanks to you who reviewed! You know who you are :D And yes this was a soley Matt and Mello chapter, sorry all you Near and Butterfly fans, they'll be back in the next chapter.