A/N: An indirect continuation from Scene IV - Conversations. Second concert here. :)

- - - 

Different country, different city. Yet there it was, filling the whole stadium just as it did two days ago: the same deafening cheers, the pouring adulation from the audience. All those people, so many of them, were overjoyed to see him. He garnered the loudest applause, the most ear-splitting screams ...

Cassie stood transfixed, mesmerized by the pulsing energy the crowd radiated. It was contagious. Watching from the wings with the children, she felt goosebumps all over her arms. The large white fabric now draped down the stage and she watched Michael showcasing his practiced routine behind it before revealing himself to the euphoric crowd.

The song ended on a high as the lights went out. A section of the spectators looked as though they have balled together in search of the hat he had just thrown.

Making his way towards his team, he caught her eye and waved. He looked briefly tired out, breathing heavier than usual, but pleased. She smiled and waved back, pointing towards the sea of people, giving a little thumbs-up, and mimed excited applause. Pride and warmth filled her insides.

A change of outfit. Another track. Prince was stomping his feet along with the music, though he didn't quite follow the rhythm and kept missing the beats. Cassie tousled his hair fondly as darkness cloaked the stage once again to present the penultimate performance ...

"Cassie, here's this hypothesis I always had," Michael told her. She was all ears. "See, people are actually the same ... no matter where they come from. I also have the evidence!"

"Evidence?"

"Yeah! I travel to so many different countries to perform ... When we present our show on stage, certain parts, people cry at the same time, they hug each other or hold hands at the same time."

"No matter where we go, it's the same," he continued eagerly. "It's like there's this invisible cue for humans to respond in a way when we're together and experiencing certain emotions together ... It's beautiful, it's amazing."

She observed the audience moving with the music collectively as one. It was true; in South Korea the other day, they were holding up those lighters. Now in Germany, the same. It was grand and magical to see strangers connecting through the world he created. Maybe this was what made him a beloved public figure; he connected with people's deepest anguish, yet reminded them of their greatest hopes and dreams.

He was at the bridge now. The usual showmanship. Pyrotechnics and smoke effects went off on either side.

But the center section detached itself and rose upwards. Unnaturally upwards. She stood up, her heart in her throat and felt a sudden stab of fear. That wasn't supposed to happen. 

Instantly, stage personnel were shouting instructions. Others had their mouth agape at the malfunctioning equipment. The crowd, not knowing this was not part of the performance, were shrieking more excitedly than before. 

In the next second, whatever suspending the entire metal weight seemed to lose its hold. He was standing right in the middle and grasping the railings when the heavy setup plunged with him.

The smoke was so thick she could barely see him. But crew members immediately spilled onto the stage, ready to check the fallen equipment and cart him right back for medical aid. One or two of them rushed forward to assist him but he hauled himself back onto the stage.

"Mr Jackson says he's continuing. No intervention necessary," one staff relayed. The smoke was clearing but Cassie couldn't really see what he did; maybe a hand-sign. Or he switched off his microphone to inform them. 

She spotted Michael's moving figure, still feeling disturbed and troubled. Even some of the background performers who just joined the stage seemed to be staring at his movements with mild confusion. He was flinging his arms, walking from one side of the stage to the next, and punching the air to the emotional sentiment of the music as though nothing had happened.  An absent-minded elbow colliding against the door frame was an arm-numbing accident enough. How could he just clutch that metal contraption, crash down from that height, and not be injured at all?

The moment the song's extended sequence ended, he was once again surrounded by his team for touch-ups. He didn't catch her eye this time. His team were fussing about him, visibly concerned. Cassie saw him shook his head at them, holding his hand up, looking a little annoyed and exasperated. She felt slightly relieved. If there was anything major, she trusted that he would tell them. It's okay, she tried to reassure herself. There was only one more song. In an hour, he'd join them back at the hotel. She could check on him and ask questions later.

Thankfully soon, the last ballad concluded. The lights dimmed for the final time and fireworks were set off in the distance. The exhilarated crowd were still yelling in high spirits as he retreated backstage, where the flurry of activity began to wrap up the show. People bustled here and there, wires sprawled over floors, heaps of clothing moved about, orders were hollered around.

His bodyguards were about to escort her and the children back to the vehicle when twenty feet away, amidst the commotion, she took a glance at his silent, exhausted figure walking gingerly towards his team.

And she saw him collapsed.