Maria's P.O.V

"Could you tell me where Destiny Tate is?... er, please?"

My fingers drummed impatiently as the receptionist seemed to take forever getting up her file.

"Hm, well she's currently in intensive care, which is a strictly parent visitor only area. I'm sorry Maria"

"Well surely you can just book me in as part of my rounds tomorrow? I need to see her, I need to know that she's okay"

"Maria, I can't do that, play nurses are never allocated to that ward. And besides... look I don't really want to tell you this, but the Tate family have requested that you are not involved with Destiny anymore."

"WHAT?! But tha-that's ridiculous, her family really liked me! What did I do?"
"Well they were starting to feel pressured by the media's interest in Destiny Tate. You see this whole thing with you and Michael Jackson, or not, whatever, well they were speculating that you two were planning on adopting her, and Mr Jackson was going to buy her parents out in return for the adoption papers. And your frantic behaviour the other night seemed to confirm their theory"

I stared dumbfounded by this new information. Why would anyone believe that? Why would I or Michael want to in effect buy a child?! Were they for real?
Me and him hadn't even confirmed that we were a couple, we had only known each other for a week, and they thought we were going to start a family? It made no sense.

"You can't tell me you honestly believe that, right?" I scoffed.

She looked at me then away.

"Oh my god are you seriously saying that I would ever do something like that?" I was positively fuming.

"Well I know it sounds odd on the surface Maria, but... well look who you are: you're a nurse in a children's hospital so you know all the inside information of these places. You go to Michael Jackson's concert, he has a thing about children-"

"A thing about children? What's that supposed to mean? He loves children just as much as you or I, if not more so, and he feels their pain so he visits these places to make them happy. What's so wrong with that? Have you ever considered that maybe this is the only outlet he has, away from the spotlight?"

"Look would you let me finish? I don't know if that's what it's about or not, but the bottom line is, it's just too much of a coincidence to not be suspicious. Why would he even be interested in you unless you could give him something that's worth all the hassle? What if he's obsessed with children? Celebrities are strange people you know, they have all sorts of things going on, and personally I wouldn't want my children to be part of a media conspiracy. Have you considered that maybe Destiny's parents really just want time to themselves so they can focus on their child's recovery? She's very sick, Maria, and I think maybe you're being a little unreasonable, I don't know but I think you're the one obsessed with her, not Michael, especially since they never said they didn't want Michael around her, just you. And if you ask me, if anyone has an obsession with Destiny, I'd say it was you."

I felt like I had been punched. Obsessed with a child?!

"What the hell? What are you saying?!"

"I'm saying that you always have to know what's going on with her all the time, she never does any wrong in your eyes and then you get more upset than her parents when she was taken to surgery. It's like you are obsessed with having to fix her yourself, that only you can touch her. Don't you see how worrying that is? Mr and Mrs Tate wanted her discharged months ago, but it was you who insisted that she wasn't ready, and then she had her seizures... well they saw it as an omen you created"

She looked at me intently, like I was crazy. I wanted to wipe that look off her face.

"Well I want you to know that's not true at all. I just care about her, that's all. It's my job. And how dare you imply that I am to blame for Destiny being sick! I never wanted that, nobody wanted that. But you know what, if that's what everyone else thinks then maybe I should quit. I'm going to hand in my resignation, that is if you don't mind."

I was trying hard to be defiant and indifferent, but it was hard to keep the tears from welling up in my eyes. I couldn't believe it. I knew that I was never good enough for Michael, but I knew he loved me, or had loved me at some stage, why else would he have asked me to marry him?

Unless... no, Michael would never do that. But I had to admit, it was all rather sudden.
But why now just dismiss us as nothing, that we had never happened? Was it because he realised that I couldn't give him what he wanted? What did he want?

I had to talk to him, no way was I going to let him go that easily.

And as for myself, I was becoming more and more unsure. I was terrified about what that receptionist had told me, how she looked at me, I felt I was losing my grip on life. Did I really have a problem? Was that why I could never remember things that had happened to me? What if I was crazy?

No, I couldn't get caught up in that bullshit, I was fine, it was that damn media that was doing this to me. I had to get out of there, I needed time to myself to think.

I sat on a waiting room chair and scribbled my details onto the little yellow slip. There was no way I could face any of these people again.

I had filled out my form and made my way to the far side of the hospital, in the nurse's communal lobby. There were a few of my colleagues there, but all I was greeted with was a disgusted look. I suddenly couldn't wait to get out of there.

I went into the supplies cupboard and picked out what I needed, placing it in a cardboard box and taping it shut. In the dim light of the cupboard, I sat on the floor with a pen and wrote.

Michael's P.O.V

"Okay Michael, you're on in five"

I nodded and bounced on the balls of my toes, sipping the bottled water I had taken from the conference, the buzz of the atmosphere soaking into me.

This was what I was meant to do, not chasing after women or anything else. I was in this for myself, my fans and the world.

The sooner I got this tour over with, the better. It was going to be the night that I'd tell them all that I couldn't do this anymore. I was going to say goodbye to my brothers and my father, I couldn't work with them professionally because I never got what I wanted, I could never do things the way I needed them done.

They were holding me back. And this crew and my whole production team, well I knew something was going on with them, I knew that if I didn't get out of there that night, I'd never get out at all. I was nothing more than their puppet, and I'd had enough.

I felt my cue in my bones and ran out onto the stage, dazzled in the lights, the drone of the fans hitting my ears, the bass throbbing through my body.

Everything stopped as the music took control of me. I thanked God every day that I had this escape.

As the concert came to a close, I addressed the audience:

"This will be the last concert you will see me and my brothers perform. I love you England! Goodnight!"

I caught the astonished look on my fellow brothers' faces, but I was so enfused with the music, I just ran off the stage, deciding to finish with my spin before I was out of sight.
The crowd went wild and so did my heart.

As I sprinted to my trailer, I had never felt more free, even as I shoved through the paparazzi who were just as puzzled as everyone else.

But I wasn't. Maybe I had made a crazy mistake but I felt I had made the best decision of my whole life.

I was still on a high as I entered my hotel room, I had refused every interview, including a meeting with my father. He knew it was coming, but perhaps not so suddenly. He wasn't alone, I didn't think I had it in me either, what had come over me to make me do something so reckless?

I was just starting to relax when I heard a knock on the door.
I got up reluctantly, knowing it would probably be more of my crew members demanding an explanation.

I opened the door, but there was no one to be seen.

Then I spotted a box by my feet, with nothing more than a white envelope taped to the top with "Michael" written in a blue marker.

Puzzled, I took it inside and placed it on the bed. I tore open the envelope only to see more thick blue writing. It looked like it had been written in a hurry, it was a mess. Nevertheless, I began to read:

Michael,

Allow me this last opportunity to explain. And apologise. You must know that I never meant to hurt you. Everything I did was to protect you from Craig.

My fists clenched the paper as I realised who had sent this. I didn't want to know, but at the same time, I didn't want to not know either. I continued reading, my pulse quickening with every word.

This may seem difficult to believe, but you once told me that you trusted me. I hope that this hasn't changed.

I cannot completely deny the things Craig told you. Partly because they were true to an extent, but for the most part because he had me trapped. He threatened to destroy your entire career if he couldn't have me for himself. I had to go along with what he said or he was going to make his threat a reality. Your friend, Matt, joined forces with Roxanne to stop him, but their plan didn't work out and before I knew it, you were gone.

I need you, Michael. I love you, and I know that I will never be good enough for you, I can't give you anything more than my everything. I owe my life to you, and I owe you my heart. But I understand that this isn't enough. Maybe you need something more, but I don't know what that is.

You have to know that me and Craig are over, he is out of my life entirely, and tomorrow I am going to make sure everything he left behind is erased.
If you still want me, if everything you whispered to my heart was true, please, don't leave. I cannot live without you now, you've started a fire inside my heart, that if left untouched will consume me.

But with every passing hour, I realise that maybe we were never meant to be.

Every minute I spent with you, is one I'll never forget, and every kiss we shared, every chance we took, I'll never regret.
With all my heart and soul, body and mind, I love you.

If you leave, at least take this with you. This, and the very thing that started it all.

Forever yours,

Maria
 

My mind was reeling from what I had just read. She had poured her heart into this one letter.

In almost a robotic motion, I tore open the box. I immediately recognised Maria's smell, memories of the closeness I had shared with her flooding back. My hands started to shake as I looked inside.

There, folded ever so neatly, was a nurse's uniform.

I lifted it out and suddenly my head started to spin wildly. Before I could sit down, I fell to the floor and everything faded to black.

*

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