Authors note: I'm supposed to be working and I'm about to get back to here. Just so you know that I'm not forgetting about you here is a new chapter. it's a flashback, sue me. Everyone wanted to know where Matt's other half came from here it is. Feel free to message me, I'll reply when I can. Thanks for reading and I apologize for errors. I haven't read over it and I was in a rush. Here it is. Read, review and enjoy.

Equivalent exchange

The thumping had been going on for nearly an hour. During this time Mail had learned from past experiences and crawled under his bed, covered his eyes and put his hands over his ears. Daddy was home again and Mother had changed the locks so that he couldn't get in. They both knew the truth though she believed him too young to comprehend what was happening. It was always the same. She would vow it would be the last time, she would change the locks and then he would get in anyway. Daddy would only leave if he were dead. For mother the death of daddy would be a bad thing but Mail wasn't too sure about how he felt about it.

He understood death. Once a dog in the neighborhood had bitten his hand and made him bleed while mother wasn't paying him attention. They took the dog away and later mother had said that the dog had died. Death. It meant that dog would never bite him again. It would never bite anyone again but it also meant that he would never see it again. That was the only part that bothered him. It would make mother sad if daddy never came around anymore but Mail was positive that death was the only option for the bad things to stop.

The pleading and screaming had stopped. He could hear it in the muffled silence before a loud, angry kick broke in the front door or maybe a window. He wasn't sure. The instant sound of footfalls on the wooden floor as his mother scurried towards his bedroom.

"Mail, Mail! Where are you Mail!" She cried instantly dropping down to her knees and spying him back far against the wall under the bed. She smiled, red hair falling over her eyes. Red hair much like his own. It curled and cascaded down her back but now she looked so disheveled, so worried that Mail couldn't think of his mother as pretty. She was scared. Her green eyes were wide and fearful but not for herself. She was worried about him. She pushed herself back up backtracking to the door before shutting it as quietly as she could and locking it. Seconds pasted and Mail nearly thought she had gone out the door before she dropped back down and crawled under the bed beside him.

Gently her arms wrapped around pressing him lightly into her chest as she rocked the two of them. The banging had resumed, this time at Mail's bedroom door. She removed his own hands and tilted his head up, "Mail I need you to promise me that you won't come from under this bed." Her eyes were dark but he assumed it was because of the light under the bed. "No matter what happens I need you to be quiet and stay under the bed."

He blinked, "You'll come back right?" He asked softly.

She smiled sadly, "Of course. I always come back. Don't worry about that just don't move."

The door rocked heavily on its frame as she glanced up. "You fucking bitch!" The deep angry tone came as the door rocked again. "I told you I would come back. Who the fuck do you think you are taking that kid and running away? Where is that little bastard anyway?" His voice was slurred, angry and a bit distant.

Gently his mother eased away. "Stay Mail, don't come out. No matter what." He nodded reluctantly releasing his mother. Something about this didn't settle right in him. It was something about his demeanor that spoke that something more was wrong than usual. She spent several seconds just gazing into his eyes before leaning down and kissing him gently on the forehead. Then she slid from under the bed just as the door splintered under the ministrations by daddy.

"Please calm down…" His mother screamed before the part that Mail didn't like the most about daddy happened. He grabbed his mother by the shoulder before a spray of language came from his father. He wasn't sure what any of it meant but he was positive that daddy wasn't saying he was leaving. Instead mother begun to cry and speak back to him in the same language as before.

Mail pushed himself further back against the bed as his father switched to English. "You thought I wouldn't know? Who the fuck do you think you're fucking with? Where is he?" He hissed shoving Mail's mother and stalking through the room and jerking the closet door open. He always looked in the closet first.

The woman spun around, "You leave him alone. He's not home." Her voice wavered and from under the bed Mail could see her fist clenching over and over again.

The man stumbled back over towards the woman. "And why did you send him away?" He asked in a mocking voice. She didn't respond. "Who did you send him to? Where is he?" She continued to stand her ground in silence. He laughed, coldly, as he stood in front of Mail's mother. "The kids not mine, right?" She didn't respond. "I should have known that shit. That kid's too smart for his own good. No kid that smart could be mine and not you either. Where is he?"

"I will never give you my son." She said defiantly. "He did nothing to you. Your quarrel is with me."

He sniggered, "Quarrel? Did you learn that from your bastard son?" He snarled using his hand to grab Mail's mother by the curls on her head. She released a strangled scream, her hands swinging upward to block the hit that was surely coming. She was late by several seconds as the first hit struck her on the side of her head. The next few followed knocking her off her feet and onto the floor. She laid there on her stomach doing her best not to look at Mail under the bed.

"Leave. Him. Alone." She hissed in response as the subsequent hits came to silence her. His fist struck her several times in the face, shoulders, neck and just when Mail believed he would leave his mother alone a new wave began. He wanted to cry out. He wanted to help but his mother was enduring all this for him. His mother loved him and because of that he would obey her wishes and stay silent.

He sneered, "You think you're getting away with this right?" A familiar click sounded around the room and Mail stiffened. He had watched enough television dramas with mother to know what a gun sounded like. "I'll ask you again, where is he?"

Her eyes, though swollen, grew large. "Please don't. Emilliano, please." Her voice shook in desperation. "Who will take care of Mail? Don't do this. Please, don't do this." The gun came across her fact once throwing blood across the floor towards the edge of the bed. Mail nearly gasped as the woman stared long and hard at him. She smiled, calmly and mouthed 'mummy loves you. Be quiet.'

"I said where is he?" Before the answer could come from her lips the shot echoed around the room. Mail's mouth opened before closing as he stared at where his mother's head once was. Pieces of brain and skull flew upward and splattered elsewhere. The green of her eyes faded but the smile remained. Fluids that Mail couldn't fathom dripped down the side of her skill mixing and dabbling with her red hair. "You should have just told me Juliet."

Again Matt's mouth opened and closed. He couldn't speak, his throat contracted. This was too much. The world split dropping into things so diversely different he couldn't even begin to think of it. For several minutes he couldn't remember anything. The world around him tilted on its axis and then completely blacked itself. Darkness enshrouded everything.

Matt crawled from under the bed doing his best to avoid the mess that was all over the floor. The man had left, or at least he assumed the man was gone at this point. Most people fled from their crimes, right?

His head hurt. It was the pounding of his other half in an emotion uproar while he wished for silence and calm. The first thing he did was pad across the hallway into another bedroom.

"Where's the gun Mail."

The tiny voice came back, "Who are you? Why are you here? Why didn't you help my mother?" He gasped as if through heavy crying but in reality the tears had never come.

"I'm you. Or a part of you. I just want to help you but we can't help Juliet anymore. I'm sorry but she helped you. Don't let that go to waste. What should I do if he's still here?"

The boy was silent for a few seconds before whimpering. "In the top of the closet." He whispered.

Mail nodded beginning to stack shoe boxes on top of each other to get to what he needed. He wasn't too familiar with guns, he didn't know any more about them than Mail did. He didn't know anything other than what Mail knew and that it was his duty to protect the fragile individual that was torn into piece. He would protect him. He had to.

The gun wasn't big but it was enough. He worked his way through figuring out how to load it one bullet at a time.

"What are you going to do with that?" He asked softly.

Mail shrugged. "Don't know yet. Maybe nothing, maybe something. We'll just have to see." He laughed quietly to himself before stopping. Footsteps in the hallway. "Maybe something after all."

He jumped landing with a light thump on the floor his eyes wide.

"Where are you brat? I know that bitch was lying." He hissed stopping at the door to the bedroom. Mail cocked the trigger but didn't respond. "Where are you?" He stomped forward into the bedroom turning the corner to where Mail had the pistol leveled on his face. "What you know about shooting a gun kid?" He chuckled.

Mail tilted his head to the side like he didn't understand. "Just about as much as you do. You pull the trigger. Bam." He smirked. "Why don't we try it out?"

~*xXx*~

"His mother and father were both found dead inside the home." The female ambulance attendant whispered to the man beside her. She gave Mail a side glance but he continued to stare into space. He hadn't spoken since the emergency call. "They're not sure what happened but they don't want to question the child. What could he know?"

Mail glanced over towards the road where his mother's car still sat. He shook his head. "Sleep Mail. I'll deal with this. I'll make sure I deal with this."

"Are you Mail Jeevas?" The voice startled Mail out of his silence. He jumped glancing up towards an older man that smiled kindly. The smile reminded him of mother and almost instantly he was soothed. He nodded simply. "I've been watching you Mail. You know now that you no longer have your parents they'll send you off somewhere." He watched the boy look down and shrug. "I can offer you safety. Your intelligence is probably wider than any of the people standing here and I want to help you cultivate that intelligence. Would you like to come with me? There are other children for you to play with."

He glanced up, intelligence beyond his years communicated within the depths of his eyes. "Will you take care of me?" He whispered. The man nodded. If this man would take care of him then it wouldn't hurt to let Mail go with him. There was nothing wrong with safety.

~*xXx*~

"This is Mihael. Mihale this is Mail." Roger, Mail's new caretaker spoke gingerly tapping the red head forward. "He's been here a while and I'm sure the two of you would get along."

Mello blinked, large blue eyes. "Why do I have to share a room?" He questioned aloud.

Roger frowned, "Mello you need human interaction. That's why." He stepped back leaving Mail alone in the middle of the floor. All his stuff was new. Nothing to remember his previous life. "I have other things to attend to. He's new. Don't upset him, he's still very fragile."

Mihale nodded slowly as the older man disappeared out the door. The blond boy sat on the bottom bunk of the bed. "So, what happened to your parents?" Mail blinked. "Everyone has a story. What's yours."

Mail shrugged. "I-I don't remember."

Good. You don't need to.