Disclaimer- Not mine. Don't own the characters, or the song. The song is by Sting.

Author Notes- I never really do prequels...or sequals for that matter. This is the first Prequel I ever did, and most likely, my last. Thanks to everyone who reviewed Angel, I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this one as well.


If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one

Drying in the colour of the evening sun

Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away

But something in our minds will always stay


My tears won't bring my father back to life. That's what I kept telling myself during this whole ordeal. My real dad Chet, he died of a heart attack. He died on my birthday. Nothing worth celebrating anymore, I may turn another year older, but he'll never live another day. But tears won't bring him back. After we heard the news, I tried to reach out to Shawn, but he pushed me away hard. He continued to do so through the days that followed. It came time to clean out the trailer. I went to him, and he told me that since Chet was gone, there was no real connection between us anymore. That stung, it stung bad. I recoiled from him then, quickly leaving, and trying not to let him see how much that hurt. He must have seen, because he came down to the trailer, apologizing in typical Shawn form. He helped me until he came across the letter he was never suppose to know about. How my family helped Chet put Sean through college. He was so angry with me then. Since then I've made sure to stay out of his way while he grieved.

I feel so alone. Shawn has his childhood friends, and he has Angela, and they are more then willing to help him pull through. And he did. It's been a while since our dad died, and Shawn doesn't broad much anymore. At least, not over his death. I had Eric, and Rachel, but I screwed both those up royally. What was I thinking dating Rachel? I messed up the best friendship I had ever had, and if Rachel and I hadn't both agreed, I may have lost her friendship too. Eric surprised me when he welcomed me back into his life with open arms. Since then there have been a lot of shuffles about who was going to live where, finally settling on, Eric, Shawn, and I living in the apartment, with Rachel and Angela living in the dorm. I have people who would be willing to help me. Shawn was very wrong when he said I turned out okay.

'okay' is such a horrible term to use for how someone is. Okay, is something I'm definitely not. If I were okay, I wouldn't have come to Philadelphia to find my biological father and half brother, and then stick around even though Shawn made it clear as day he didn't want me around, and Chet died. I have to admit, my reasons were not wholly on finding Shawn. I wanted a stable family, even if it were just for a little while. My life wasn't as good as everyone believed it was. Sure, I had a nice house and lots of money, but I didn't want that. I wanted parents who were there, and not traveling all the time. What good is a big house if your the only one in it? No one ever questioned my reasons for not going home for holidays. Eric was only to willing to let me tag along with him, and I was thankful I could be with a family, even if it was not my own. I've spent holidays alone before, and if given the choice between my friends, and a cold empty house, the choice is obvious.


Perhaps this final act was meant

To clinch a lifetime's argument

That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could

For all those born beneath an angry star

Lest we forget how fragile we are


Shawn made it obvious in every way but coming right out and saying it, that he was in pain. Everyone saw it, and everyone tried to help. He would accept only a few people's help though. I was not one of those people. I hurt too. I still hurt, but no one noticed my pain. I can't blame them, with Shawn screaming pain with his very movements, it was easy to overlook me. They should over look me. Shawn lived with Chet, he was his son. No one seems to remember I'm his son too. That alone hurts more than Shawn can ever know, we may be half brothers, but Chet was my dad too. But I'm the lucky one, at least according to Shawn. I didn't live with him, so there was no need for me to go through any pain. It was naive of him to say. Yes, for him, Chet was a crummy dad who was never around. He knew him though, and that's more than I can say. I won't ever be able to change that either. I never knew, and now I'll never know.

Tears prick behind my eyes. Once more, Shawn pushed me away. You would think by now I would be use to him thwarting my attempts at getting closer to him. Like the fool I am however, I keep trying, and it always stings just a little bit more when he shoots me down. We might be half-brothers, but that still makes us family in my eyes. Shawn doesn't see it that way. All I wanted was to know my little brother, why does it have to be this difficult? Its been nearly six months since dad died, and Shawn and I have less and less contact with each other. A little more of me dies each time he makes it clear Cory is more his brother than I could ever be. I saw this play called Chicago once with my mom, there was this character, Amos I think was the name, and no one ever saw him, he was a good guy, but looked over more times than not. He sang this song, Mr. Cellophane, its just popped into my head. I'm just like that guy. Easily over looked.

Being alone was never so bad, I guess I got use to it after a while. I guess I'm kinda use to being overlooked as well. Sure I have a few people who seem to enjoy my company, okay, well one person enjoys my company. Eric never seems to tire of me being around. Though he's a great guy, he's oblivious to a lot of things. Sometimes I wonder if it matters at all. I doubt it. I could die tomorrow and I doubt anyone would even notice I'm gone.

of course I've been dead on the inside since Chet died. Why not finish the deal and have the body die as well? I saw no point in living when I was dead inside. It's like I'm controlled by a voice in my brain that won't allow me to give up. Simple commands I must obey, I'm just going through the routine. What chance in hell do I have of surviving, if my own brain has given up on me?

Here comes Eric, smile, wave, walk. Good boy Jack.


On and on the rain will fall

Like tears from a star like tears from a star

On and on the rain will say

How fragile we are how fragile we are


Would it be wrong for me to say I thought Chet was selfish for dying on us? Didn't he know his son's needed him? Shawn needed someone stable, I needed to know my real dad. Why couldn't he do this for us? Why did he have to die? How I wanted to confide in someone, to have them know what it feels like to be empty. A shell of someone you use to be hiding in a world of people who can be themselves. No one knows me, not Eric, not Rachel, and certainly not Shawn.

They think I'm just Jack, a rich kid with no problem his step-dad can't fix. If they only knew. There's a lot I never told them. A lot they don't need to know, a lot I don't want them to know. There is no reason for any of them to need to know that I cry myself to sleep sometimes. No one needs to know that because I came here to find Shawn and Chet, my step-dad has asked me not to come back. That 'Shawn is Jack's brother, so he's like family' bull they gave Chet was a bold face lie. That was more of my mom's doing than his, I kept pleading with her to help, and she convinced him. Just like she convinced him that he couldn't disown me because I made a choice he didn't agree with. Of course he's always made it painfully clear, he only put up with me because I was my mother's. When she would go on holiday alone, or he would meet her there a few days later, I would be left alone with him. It would have been better if I had been completely alone. A person can only take so much for so long.

They mark boxes fragile when there's something delicate inside. You should handle it with care. We should be able to stamp people too. Shawn is angry, and I understand that he is, he's angry and upset. He takes it out on me, and I let him. Better me than someone he could regret saying it to later. My mother told me I'm to sensitive. I pretend things don't bother me, I bottle it up and I store it away and pretend it was never said. It was said, and it does bother me. It's like a pressure cooker, its getting to be to much. Everyone expects something. Everyone wants me to be or do or fix or fail.

Everyone WANTS something from me, and I'm so concerned about making sure everyone gets what they want, I forget what I want.

Its time for me to be selfish, I'm going to make sure I get what I want.


On and on the rain will fall

Like tears from a star like tears from a star

On and on the rain will say

How fragile we are how fragile we are


It didn't even hurt. I thought it would at least sting, I didn't feel anything but relief. It was as if my pain flooded out of me with my blood. I never really took the time to notice the color of blood before. Its almost a crimson color. The once clear water is now red and the water keeps pouring into the tub, I begin to feel light headed, but keep staring at the bloody water.

It kind of looks like a shark attack. Yes, its like a razor blade shark attack. People don't often survive shark attacks.

I won't survive mine either.


How fragile we are how fragile we are