A/N: writers block. It's the worst, isn't it?

Another chapter(finally), because motivation hits at the weirdest times for me it seems

Also this fic is over a year old now so that's kinda crazy :0

Thank you to Bloodylilcorpse for reviewing the last chapter :)

Enjoy!

It was a struggle to get back into the house without being noticed. Mike was aided by his friends, thankfully. Manitoba had a ladder, luckily, and he used that to scale the wall up to the attic window as the sun began to se. He waved down to Mani and Brick, who had helped as well, and walked quietly into his room, setting his bag down and starting to crawl into bed when the light was turned on and he flinched.

"Well well well...look who's home," Scott sneered, standing next to the lamp.

"Scott? Wh-what are you doing in my room?" Mike asked fearfully.

"There's a front door, Mike, it's there for a reason," another familiar voice spoke from the shadows.

"I-I...I'm sorry, Noah, I-I really wanted to go to the wedding, and you didn't say no when I asked...please don't hurt me…" Mike pleaded.

Noah rolled his eyes.

Scott punched Mike in the stomach as he was looking towards where Noah's voice had come from in the shadows. Mike doubled over in pain, and Scott then kicked him to the ground, dirtying his clothing and causing a sharp pain in his side. He'd changed back into his less fancy clothes so he wasn't ruining the outfit from Brick, the one minor positive to this situation. Noah watched and smirked to himself from the shadows.

After Scott had finished beating him up, he left and Noah began making his exit. Mike crawled onto his bed, nose bleeding and everything else in pain. He started quietly crying as he looked for something to stopper the blood coming from his nose. He found something eventually and quickly dealt with the blood before lying down and struggling to fall asleep.

O-O-O

The next morning, having had little sleep the night before, Mike got up and painfully started his chores. Noah was up early as well, reading some files in his office with the door open so he could keep an eye on Mike.

Mike had difficulty with most of his usual tasks, due to a feeling in his ankle each time he took a step that left him in pain. He feared the worst injury but also saying anything to provoke another beating or more ridicule, so he was quiet as he swept and occasionally stumbled, knocking a few objects over and breaking one of them. Hearing the crash Noah closed the files, stood and left his office to watch Mike hurriedly pick up the mess and mutter apologies. "Dumb servant," Noah muttered venomously.

Mike sniffled hearing that. It wouldn't be the last time he was called it, either.

In the next months he was rarely addressed as himself, but as 'servant', 'dumb servant,' 'bastard cleaning boy', and on rare occasions still by Scott,'multiple Mike.' That was only if he was reading aloud from old scripts. Mike never talked back to any of them except for a 'yes, sir,' or 'right away,' as he fell deeper into a state of hopelessness at anything changing.

He'd been barred from leaving the property except for rare occasions, so being in another show was out of the question. When Trent had come to the house to ask about it Noah had stoically told him Mike did not live there.

Time crawled slowly on, the days in the house blended together. Scott and Vito had grown lazier and spoiled everyday, Noah seemed more bitter, and Mike hid any sign of depression from them.

It was only one day, about a year following the last show, that a knock was made at the door.

Mike had been dusting a table in the front of the house. He'd changed in appearance in that year, and when he opened the door to see who it was the person nearly didn't recognize him. It took a minute. "Mike?"

"...Duncan?"

"Yeah. Man, it's been awhile…" Duncan said with a half smile as he took in Mike's battered, older appearance. He himself looked different as well, having been married for nearly a year and working.

"Yeah, sure has...come in," Mike said in a quiet, deeper voice than he had last they'd spoken, at the wedding.

Duncan entered, and after a few minutes of catching up chat he pulled something out of his pocket. "I'm supposed to deliver this, it's to promote the show…"

Mike nodded in understanding. "I'll take it, I can give it to Noah…"

Duncan nodded and handed him the paper. "It kinda sucked not having you this year, there was a part you would've nailed," he admitted.

"I couldn't do anything about it, I'm not really allowed to-"

"Servant, whose voice is that?" Scott called from another room.

"It's a messenger, sir…" Mike replied tensely, as if embarrassed because Duncan was there.

Scott walked in, in a white shirt and brown pants. "What'd he bring in?"

"Nothing, I'll tell you and the other two later…" Mike replied.

Scott frowned. "Tell me now."

"Why should he?" Duncan asked, looking at Scott.

Scott looked at Duncan and narrowed his eyes. "He's a servant," he spat in reply.

Mike looked at the floor.

"You should go," Scott said to Duncan. "You wouldn't want Dad to see you here…"

Duncan glared at Scott then looked at Mike again. "Don't worry, I'll tell people about this," he promised as he started to leave.

Mike wanted to ask him to stay but he kept looking at the floor. He had no power over Scott. If he resisted that order he'd be beaten or maybe starved for a couple days, whatever mood Scott and then Noah was in.

Duncan did tell the people that mattered what was going on in that house. They all tried to think of ways to get Mike out of there. They could remember last year at the festival, those that had been there and were still with the company.

There was a way, but it relied on Noah being lenient, and listening to the words written on a piece of paper.

Please review if you feel so moved, they're always appreciated. :)