It had been a few months since Cassie had ever seen Michael. Well, in person, to be exact. Of course she had seen his albums and DVDs in stores.

And those trashy tabloids at the newsstand.

She despised those publications, if printed rubbish could be defined as that. Once when she was buying a loaf of bread, a young man nearby picked up one of those papers and paid for it, all the while smirking at the derogatory title. It was disgusting, the way people would pay to read lies. They could buy a dozen of good books to read with all that wasted money  ...

How does Michael deal with all this? Even if he didn't read the actual article, he was bound to learn of the contents from people around him. His name, his face, stuck in the middle of utterly twisted tales ...

People say: "Just ignore it." It was easy to bestow wise advice when one isn't at the receiving end, thought Cassie. A physical object isn't needed to wound. Hurtful words could also cut a person deeply, especially with its cumulative, unconscious effect ... She knew that feeling all too well. The scoffs and sneers and isolation she had endured ... Like the cold, sterile surface of a blade.

"Pfft, she's such a retard."

"She doesn't know anything! How slow she is on the uptake ..."

Lying in bed, she clutched onto her blanket tightly, finding comfort to calm herself. Those years have passed, Cassie reminded herself, she was now an adult and she wasn't going to allow anyone to victimize or make fun of her again.

Her eyes stared at the veil of moonlight on the opposite wall. She thought hard, searching for a happy memory in her head.

"You're very talented. I love them. Thank you."

Michael. Yes, she had been thinking of famous Michael Jackson before her thoughts drifted away.

It was one thing listening to Michael's voice in a song, but to hear his actual voice, the voice that wasn't coming from a speaker or amplified by a microphone ... How lucky she was!

But perhaps that was the first and last time she would meet him personally. Cassie sighed, but immediately rolled her eyes at herself. Stop mulling over this. Many would probably eat their furniture to be in my place.

Settling on that conclusion, Cassie snuggled into her blankets. She should be turning in. She had a busy day tomorrow: the president of an orphanage had hired her photography services for their anniversary celebration event. Cassie would need to be energetic and active to follow the playing kids around.

Orphanage. Kids. Her thoughts were floating away again. Women, somewhere, had given birth to these children, but neither they nor the fathers were here to take care of the children ... 

Inexplicably, her dozing mind's next thought was of her cousin, Alica, whom Cassie had not seen for years, and would never see again ...

She brushed the image of Alica away quickly; that was another unhappy memory ... Instead she thought of the children's happy faces, and smiling, she finally fell asleep.

* * *

Cassie checked her camera's battery as she poured fresh cat food for Queen and fed her goldfish, Mr Tubs. After examining her various equipment one last time, she set off.

"See you guys later," she said, closing her apartment door.

Cassie was walking towards her car when her phone rang. It was an unknown number; probably a customer.

"Hello, Cassie of Woods Photography."

"Miss Woods." It was Mrs Bailey, the orphanage president.

"Oh, Mrs Bailey. I'm already on my way now. Is there a problem, a change in timing or ...?" asked Cassie, locking her camera stand in the car boot.

"Nothing, really ... Is there anyone around you?"

Cassie frowned. This was a rather odd question. "Er ... no?"

"Actually ... there's a special guest coming to our event." Mrs Bailey took a deep breath and finished her sentence in a whisper positively quivering with excitement, "It's Michael Jackson."

"Huh?" said Cassie. The information didn't seem to make much sense to her. "Michael -?"

"Shh!" Mrs Bailey hushed. "He wanted to be discreet about it ... Bless. But yes - yes, it's him!"

A ten-second pause followed. Cassie didn't realize her mouth was already opened until she finally said, "Wow."

"He called about a week ago," Mrs Bailey explained. "And we've met to discuss a bit ... I can't believe it, even till now, so I thought I'd better inform you beforehand this morning. Oh, the children will be so happy to see him!"

"Wow," said Cassie again. "I didn't know ... I mean - him - visiting - ?" She never thought Michael would visit an orphanage; it was a rather eye-opening insight.

"I never knew this, either. He was ever so polite, such a dear. He'll be arriving in about half an hour, to meet the children first thing when they wake up. They'll be thrilled! Well, I think I better hang up now. See you soon, Miss Woods."

Cassie placed her phone down slowly, letting the fact sink into her head. She couldn't believe it; she was going to see Michael again. Something once-in-a-lifetime happened to her - twice! She wouldn't get her hopes up, but still, she wondered if Michael remembers her ...

* * *

"Oh my God," said a girl faintly.

"Are you really Michael Jackson?" asked a boy, his mouth agape.

"A-A pleasure to meet you, Mr Jackson," another said, his voice barely containing his nervousness.

Along with the chatter were loud squeals of delight. Mrs Bailey gently pushed the door opened, and both women came in to see the children holding Michael around the elbows. Some were circling around him, others simply silent, their eyes sparkling in awe. Michael kneeled to hug each of them. Mrs Bailey blinked furiously to restrain her tears.

"Mr Jackson, this is our photographer," she introduced Cassie.

"Cassie Woods," Cassie smiled and held out a hand. Michael shook it and came to look into her eyes, seemingly searching for something. "Have I met you before?" he asked.

For a moment, Cassie was dumbfounded. What? What did he say? Amidst the confusion in her head, she miraculously managed to grasp a wisp of logic for an answer.

"Well ... Yes, Mr Jackson," she said. "You might not remember but ... I'm the photographer who gave you an envelope of photos - " she drew a rectangle in mid-air. " - erm, after an interview?"

"Oh, I remember!" Michael said instantly. "Stuck to my promise - didn't tell her a single word," he winked. "It's nice to meet you again."

Michael probably met dozens of people a day, but he recalled their conversation! Cassie simply wore a polite smile at him, as Michael now ruffled the hair of the nervous boy, saying, "Hey, you guys don't need to address me formally. 'Michael' will do."

* * *

The children had the best day of their lives. To the eager and excited screams, Michael moonwalked and performed some of his signature moves. Then, there was a treasure hunt, where the children had to find various items by decoding the given clues. Michael joined in, though he purposefully ran slower than them after he got the first few objects.

In the late afternoon, everyone sat beneath a tree as Michael told a story using puppets.

"Benny the Bear ate all the honey, not realizing Mother Bear had come home!" he gasped dramatically. The children rolled over laughing at Benny's doom.

Cassie giggled quietly as she squatted close by, taking pictures. She had to be soft-footed, as though she wasn't there. Most of the times, the best pictures were those taken without the photographed's immediate knowledge.

And that was why Cassie might have cracked a rib bone from trying not to laugh aloud: Michael had pinched his nose with the bear puppet and was now screaming for the children to save him.

*    *    *

It was the evening when Cassie talked to Michael again. They each sat on one of the playground's swings.

"You're a natural with kids," said Cassie. "You're like - with your home called Neverland and all - you're a real-life Peter Pan."

Michael downed his head, smiled, and was momentarily lost in his own thoughts. "I am in my heart," he said gently. "And it makes my heart so full of joy to see children happy. I love them, I care about them, I really do."

They fell silent for a few moments.

"If I were living for nothing except to help kids," said Michael softly. "That would be enough for me. I'm not complicated or weird ... I'm not like what the press says at all. Do you believe me, Cassie?"

He turned to her and Cassie could see the pain and sadness in his eyes. She glanced at his hands, the only exposed parts of his arms ... His skin, one of the tiring, never-ending controversies.

"Yes," Cassie answered. "I'm not one who always follows the crowd ... I do believe you. Now, you believe me when I say that," she added light-heartedly.

"Thank you," said Michael, and his voice was so genuine and sincere that Cassie couldn't even begin to phantom how could anyone in their right mind not believe him.

There was another calm silence before Michael asked, "Can you develop a copy of today's photos for me?"

"Sure," said Cassie.

"You must have a lot of photo albums," said Michael.

Cassie nodded. "I have a whole shelf of them. I can show them to you if you'd like next time."

"I'd love to," he smiled. "How can I contact you?"

"Well ... maybe I can give you my number?" Cassie suggested.

"Okay," said Michael.

Cassie pulled out a notepad and pen from her waist pouch and scribbled her phone number. She handed it to Michael. "Here you go."

"I can call you some day, then? I do want to see your photographs."

"Of course, call whenever you aren't busy."

When it was time for Michael to leave, he hugged every single child tightly, and whispered comforting, affectionate words to each of them. A little girl walked over to Cassie, and pulled the hem of her shirt. "I don't want Michael to leave," she said quietly, on the verge on tears.

Looking into the girl's innocent, now watering, eyes, Cassie felt a sharp pang in her chest.

Cassie kneeled down, so that she was at eye level with the child. "What's your name?" she asked kindly.

"Heather," the girl answered.

"Heather's a beautiful name," Cassie smiled encouragingly. "Michael's a fun person, isn't he?"

Heather nodded.

Cassie carried her up, pecked her on the cheek and walked towards Michael.

Cassie was astonished at how Michael understood what children were thinking: before she had even spoke, Michael had already patted Heather's hair while saying gently, "Hush, hush ... You're going to see me again. Don't cry. C'mon, smile!"

Heather looked unsure.

"I swear I'm not lying," Michael said solemnly. "Come here ... I'm gonna let you in on a secret. This is between you and me, okay?"

"What secret?" asked Heather curiously. Cassie raised her eyebrows, wondering what the secret was about herself.  She leaned closer so that Michael could speak into Heather's ear.

"Don't eavesdrop on what I'm saying," he warned Cassie playfully. She laughed and rolled her eyes.

After he spoke, Heather's eyes widened in amazement.

"Promise?" she asked.

"Promise," said Michael, and he kissed her forehead. Cassie placed Heather down.

As Heather skipped happily away to join the other children, Cassie couldn't help but asked, "What did you tell her, exactly?"

A grin on his face, Michael shrugged. Cassie reckoned she would only find out what it was all about when it happened.

- - -

A/N: Ooh, Cassie gave Michael her number. And what do you think Michael told Heather? ;)

Oh, some dessert this time! How about ice-cream? Chocolate? Vanilla? Hazelnut? :3