A/N: Here it is, the last of the rewritten chapters!

You still there?

This scene was one of the main reasons I wanted to do this prologue rewriting in the first place. I had so many problems with it, especially when I had to refer to it in recent chapters that I won't spoil, that it led to this.

I may have added a teensy bit more blood. So, yeah, if that's not your jam, you've been warned. Story's rated T for a reason.

Try to enjoy.

It was a very quiet morning. The sky was clear, the birds did not sing on the still branches of the trees, and the air was stifling if one chose to breathe the wrong way.

Mike was up in his attic, putting the finishing touches on his costume design. "Wait til Trent sees this…he's gonna love it," he said to himself as he admired his handiwork, carefully done in the past few weeks. He was hoping to show his mother before he left for rehearsal-

"Michael! Where are you?!" Noah suddenly called out from downstairs.

Mike looked up to hear Noah climbing the stairs to the attic. "What is it?" he asked, shocked merely because Noah never spoke very loudly, and certainly had never yelled. He almost didn't recognize his voice.

Noah breathed heavily, as he was not very athletic and had raced up the tall staircase at full speed. "It's…" He exhaled. "Your mother."

Mike's eyes slowly widened, knowing that tone of voice all too well. Now in even more shock, he dropped the sketchbook and pen silently on the bed.

He followed his step-father downstairs to a scene he had always hoped to never see: his mother, in a dress Mike's father had given her once, on the wood floor of the kitchen, coughing uncontrollably. A tray of food lay scattered on the floor beside her.

The fit ceased briefly, enough for her to look up and offer a weak smile to her son and husband, her mouth blotted with dark red.

"Mother-" Mike started to speak, feeling his heart beating like crazy in panic.

She coughed again. This time, her hand dripped red.

"Please, let us take you to your room, Kate," Noah said stiffly as he tried to help his wife up. Her legs were too weak to hold her, however, and she collapsed again, coughing up even more blood.

"No, Noah…leave me. Please," she insisted, her throat incredibly dry and her voice weak. She then told Noah to tell his sons her time was short, and leave her with her own child.

After he reluctantly walked out, she grabbed Mike's arm and stared into his eyes. This led to him getting down on his knees to meet her gaze and also prevent injury to himself.

"Michael… Promise me you will take care of this place when I'm gone. For me, for your father, for Mal…" she requested, following it up with more coughing.

"What are you talking about, Mother, you're going to be fine-!" Mike tried to be assuring, but it was like he was still talking to himself. "We can get the doctor, it's not th-that far-"

She held his face with one hand, accidentally using the one she'd coughed into. "Please, take care of Noah. He needs all the love he can get, and his sons won't give it to him," she insisted while she weakly sniffled. "I swear, there is a great man inside him you can't see." With her fading away it was hard to tell that she, too, was trying to convince herself of this.

Mike's eyes welled up. "No! You can't go, you can't. Please, Mother, let me help you to the couch…" he offered and, without waiting for an answer, began moving her towards the living room. He wasn't strong enough to carry her, but he could hold her up okay. He tried to ignore the sticky feeling on his cheek.

"Don't…give up acting. It can be your greatest strength…." she mumbled and slurred her words as Mike placed her on the parlor couch. He covered her up to her face with a blanket that was nearby, trying to keep himself together one last time for her with a kind, trembling smile. "Michael, come closer…." she murmured.

Mike lowered himself to her level and held her bloodied hand. Her typically radiant skin was now pale, her touch weak and fragile. "I'm here," he said with all the voice he could muster.

"Stay brave. Stay… kind. Stay…." Her head tilted back towards the shut front door. He felt her hand slowly grow cold, the pulse in her wrist crashing to a halt.

Mike couldn't tear his gaze off of her as he waited and waited for her to finish her sentence. "What, s-stay what?" he asked as the front he'd just put on crumbled instantly. When he received no answer the floodgates exploded, and he cried into the blanket that covered his deceased mother, still holding her lifeless hand.

Noah soon appeared behind him with Scott and Vito in tow. The three stopped and stared as Mike continued to cry, unaware he was being watched now. Scott watched with a small frown while Vito looked off to the side, as if ignoring what was in front of him.

When Mike's eyes finally dried up from crying for so long, he stood up slowly, hands shaking as they covered his mother's face with the blanket. He didn't think to close her eyes.

He then proceeded to turn to the people whom he had no blood relation to but were his only family now.

As soon as they'd arrived, they were all that remained.

He sniffled as he stared at his stepfamily. "Well? Are you going to s-say anything?" he asked with a frown at their silence. "Anything at all?" His hands, one still unfortunately stained with his mother's blood, clenched into fists. 'I'm sorry for your loss?' 'Sucks you don't have any more real family?'" He used his clean hand to wipe his eyes.

None of them spoke a single word to him in response.

"Come on, give me something!" Mike said desperately as he began to yell despite his throat being dry as a desert. He had taken a couple steps towards them, his hand opening.

Noah closed his eyes and let tears that were previously not there at all roll down. As he swiped them away he looked at Mike with a great deal of his own anger and disappointment. "How disgraceful can you be to ask for such selfish words of pity?" he asked with a well placed shake in his own voice. "You're not the only one who cared about your mother, you know. This affects us all. How dare you disrespect her-"

"Disrespect. You really… think I'm the disrespectful one here?!" Mike asked with much anguish. "You were the one who came here and, and…" The longer he thought about it, he wasn't sure what Noah had done to deserve such a response. In fact, he had done nothing inherently wrong. His only crime was marrying Kate, that's it.

Why do I feel so angry then? Mike wondered to himself in confusion.

…I need to get out of here. Clear my head. Figure this all…out…

Mike shut his mouth into a firm line, which quivered as he felt himself starting to cry again.

"Pathetic," Scott commented quietly with disgust.

With that remark thrown his way, Mike ran. He ran away from their judging looks at his reddened eyes and face, finding refuge in the one place they still hadn't ruined: Mal's bedroom.

As he had many times before he collapsed at the foot of the bed and let it all out. He almost worried he'd choke from breathing through the sobs and the tears. "Th-this isn't happening…not again…i-it can't be…!" he tried to convince himself.

"Why d-does everyone I love leave me?"

This has helped me more than I thought it would. Maybe chapter 67 will get written in the next century after all-!

*writer's block comes in with a steel chair*

okay, maybe not…I'll g-get back to you on that…

Thank you to the original reviewers of the third chapter: LaViolaViolaRossa, digimon100, Bloodylilcorpse, and DarkAngelofSorrowReturns. :)

Rewrites end here. If you continue onward from here, I hope you end up sticking around to the end. If not…thanks for reading this far, at least. Let me know any thoughts on this chapter if you have them.