Michael, I want you to know that you don't have to hide from me. I don't want you to hide from me" I stress, now watching the water relieve him of suds.

"I'm not hiding. It's just... It's hard Jess. It's hard trying to be perfect" He admits.

Taking another inch towards him, I cup his chiseled jaw in my measurably smaller palms.

"Michael, you are perfect. Not the dictionaries definition. You're the true definition of perfection. You really are Michael"

"Jess... I'm not. Not at all" He sighs, now avoiding my eyes.

"Baby look at me"

He obeys, his eyes reddening.

"In my eyes, you are every bit of perfect that you don't see. Michael don't shut me out. I love you. I love you so much" I stress, feeling the sting of tears as well.

Slowly wrapping his arms around my waist, he carefully steps closer. Anxiousness still very well resides in his eyes as he dares himself to press our bare bodies against each other. Whether it's the water evaporating from the showerhead or the mere fact that Michael and I are this close, I'm warming inside.

At this moment alone, I know there's not a doubt in my mind. I love Michael Joseph Jackson.

"You want to what now?" He asks, his tone tenses and certainly unfocused.

It's been confirmed, I'm a little over a month now. There is indeed a bun in my oven.

I found out during a recent in-home doctor's visit (After having a positive pregnancy test). Where indeed Doctor Arnold confirmed that we shall be expecting a little one in a matter of eight months (Give or take a few weeks).

I'm excited, anxious, and definitely, a tab bit terrified. This will put another damper on my tour. In four days I'm expected to be on a plane to Tokyo. I don't know if Mark knows about my pregnancy or not, but I do not he's really counting on me to be there. Well, it is my tour. I don't want to let him down, or my growing fan base.

It's a huge deal for me to choose between. If I stay in California, I'll be here for two months until Michael goes back on tour. If I leave, I'll be leaving my family and I'm sure Michael will worry about me being "Alone". This has been eating at me since I confirmed my pregnancy. I wish there was an easy way out, but there isn't.

It's either my dream or my family.

"Baby, I want to continue my tour..." I repeat eying him carefully.

Loose curls frame his face carelessly. A thrown-on v-neck covers him snugly. His almonds, gleaming without luster. His expression, pained and distant. He isn't happy and it visibly shows.

Tomorrow we have a planned meeting with Evan and his lawyer. He requested that Michael meet him at this secluded location with a checkbook; alone with his own lawyer. I of course refuse to allow that to happen, so tomorrow I will be accompanying Michael on this little "business exchange." Michael and I hope that this will shut the great prune up for good. We don't necessarily know what he wants, but I'm sure is rectangular and green.

In addition to his worries about Evan and the meeting, he's been having a hard time wrapping his head around my unexpected pregnancy and both of our resuming tours. He believes and wishes to trust I would stay home or just travel with him until his tour is over. He claims it's the only "safe" way to solve this problem.

I disagree.

"Babygirl, why? You can postpone it, can't you?" He stresses, running a frustrated hand through the careless curls.

"For eight months plus the six months, I have for maternity leave? Michael no... This is my first tour. I rather have five full months to finish up my tour. I worked so hard for this, baby. I worked so hard." I whimper, a flash of every trial and error running through my mind for a quick moment.

He closes his eyes and motions for me to come to him. I join him on the bed and wait patiently for him to speak.

"I know. I know what you're telling me and I hear you. I hear you. But, babygirl I need you safe. I need to be there for you. Noah needs you. I hate to tell you to... Babygirl I know how bad you want it... This won't be a setback, I promise." He stresses, taking my hand in his. "You've come so far, girl. Your dream isn't a dream anymore. Those people screaming for you, are people who know who you are and look up to you. The journey doesn't always define you, he prepares you. Let this prepare you." He concludes bringing my hand to his lips.

I silently watch him kiss every knuckle, only to press my palm against his heart with a deep inhale.

My thoughts simmer. My heart calms. My body relaxes.

How does he make this seem so simple? How does he calm those agonizing thoughts of doubt? How do a simple gesture and few sentences clear up the cloud of emotions?

However he did it, I'm glad he did.

"You'd stay with me forever Michael?" I ask, plopping beside him on the love seat.

He glances up from his chicken scratched notepad and licks his with a curious smile.

"If it's God's will and you allow me to, yes." Simple, but honest.

I cheese, glancing around our suite. My eyes fall on the visible light from the windows, fighting to seep through. The night is still lingering behind those beautiful, linen curtains. It's times like these that enjoy Michael the most.

Our late night-early morning talks.

Just mesmerizing.

"Will you stay with me forever?" He mocks, placing his notepad on the coffee table only to inch closer to me. "Will you Jess?"

I giggle, squeezing his palm against mine before leaning into him.

"Forever and ever. You'll never have to worry. If I ever leave, know that I will always return..." I whisper, our lips just an inch away from uniting.

"Always?" He repeats, his eyes flickering between my eyes and lips.

"Always..." I repeat, our lips finally meeting.

Tahari Papyrus Cotton-Blend One-Button Cuffed "Sarona" Blazer. Diesel Hushy Ankle Gazey Skinny Jeans. Completed with Diane von Furstenberg Jodi Strappy Suede Platform Sandals.

I want to be comfortable, but I want them to know I come with a "No nonsense tolerated" attitude.

Today's the day of the dreaded meeting with the devil's spawn (Evan). Michael didn't sleep a wink last night, and frankly neither could I. This day could make or break him-us. We have a set plan to walk in with our heads held high and exit the same. Mister Branca has brought enough files to fill a premature law firm, but Michael has enough confidence to lend a squirrel.

I, on the other hand, am ready to silence and chew off any head that messes with my family. I sat quiet enough with these vile people. I'm sick of being silenced and playing fair.

If they want a war, I'll commence the battle.

"How does this look?" He desperately sighs, exiting the closet with a small grimace.

I glance up from lacing my sandals and giving him a small smile.

Slim fit one-button jacket, peaked lapels, flap pockets, center vent. Slim trousers. Finalized with a freshly waxed pair of midnight penny loafers.

He looks dashing. Handsome. Flawless. Delectable.

"You don't like it, do you? God, I really don't want the bastards thinking I'm some trash... The media would have a freaking parade about this one. I'll go change." He sighs aloud, turning around.

I giggle and casually walk to join him in his closet. I hate seeing him so stressed. It makes me stress, which makes the little bun stress and we all know that we don't need that.

"Baby, you look fine. I was just... Speechless for a moment. I would tell you what I truly think, but I just attempted to do my hair and refuse to go through that process again." I giggle, trying to lighten the mood.

Turning away from his rack of blazers and suits, a smirk spreads his lips cooly before he replies.

"You're trying to make me happy by hinting about your dirty thoughts? That's a new one." He chuckles, finally removing his hand from the button of his blazer.

Guilty is charged.

"That's my job, make my man feel good. Did it work?"

"Wonders, babygirl. Wonders." He lifts a suggestive eyebrow and chuckles once I cheese.

I love this man. I love how strong he is. I love how vulnerable he can be. I love the way he speaks light and gently. I love the stride in his walk. I love the passion that drifts from those peach lips of his when he sings. I just love the little things about this man.

I love Michael Jackson.

"Good. I'll go change Noah and make sure he's okay for travel..." My smile widens as I discretely admire him.

So I thought.

"Don't tease yourself, girl. Whenever you want it. Whenever you need it. It's yours." He cockily cackles, stealing a quick kiss before I can retort.

"Hey, lovebirds... We gotta get going if you won't be on time!" Bill calls from the bedroom door.

Michael and I chorally bite our lips and step away from each other. I maintain my starry eyes and he maintains a small gleam of excitement before it disappears within seconds.

"I'll get Noah. You can go to the car..." He finally sighs, quietly exiting the closet.

Silently I watch him follow Bill out of our bedroom. His mood hasn't fluctuated this much since yesterday morning, after his meeting with John. It kills me to bear witness to. To see evil just take innocence. It's insane. It's absolutely insane the power evil can have if you give into it. I'm trying to be as strong as I can for Michael, but I know when it comes down to it, Michael has to choose whether to falter or rise above.

I hope he rises above.

"Strength comes from determination that was never deterred." Bill offers a smile through the rearview mirror.

Five minutes.

We are five minutes away from meeting the bastard that tried to take away my happiness. The very bastard that allowed my fiancé to falter at the lies of his mate and offspring. He took everything from us and I refuse for him to take anymore.

Not this time.

"Strength is also found in inspiration," I ad-lib, glancing at a cooing Noah.

I didn't want to leave Noah with a nanny, not today. I want Evan to see what he is doing what he is ruining should he decide to take things any further. A real man will not be able to look in a child's eyes and still have the evil-dark heart to want to cause any emotional harm. He can't look into Noah's eyes and still try to request to have Michael's head on a silver platter.

There's not enough evil in the world.

"I get what you guys are saying, and I appreciate it. But that basta- that man wants whatever and won't stop to get it. What if he says one thing but asks for more? I can't afford to do this and play a game with him. I have to worry about other stuff. My-"

"Fiancé..." I smile, glancing away from Noah.

Offering a small smile of his own, he creeps his hand in mine and nods.

"My fiancé. She's pregnant and my tour... I just don't have time. I definitely don't have the energy either..." He exasperates, earning a few perplexed glances from Bill.

We haven't completely come out and told Bill about my pregnancy. Michael wanted to wait for a special dinner or until the dreadful meeting was out of the way. He's afraid of what Bill will say and he actually wanted to have his family at this future dinner to tell everything.

In my opinion, I agree and disagree with Michael. Yes, Bill is known for his brutal honesty. Yes, he is more likely to disagree with certain things rather than agree and be quiet about those things. But, this still doesn't justify keeping something like this from him. I honestly think it hurts him. It pains him when Michael and I keep these little secrets; especially when it comes to Michael.

"I see. Well, congratulations and just pray, and let's get this over with." He forces a smile through the rearview mirror.

Poor Bill.
_____________

"Nice to see you again Mike." He beams, a smirk confidently playing along with his words.

Evan Chandler. A true Devil's spawn. Manipulative. Abusive. Dark. Evil. Callous. Selfish. The list goes on. The man has no censor and neither does he have boundaries. How was something like him created?

Hell if I know.

What a waste of human.

"Evan, I'm not here to play games. Let's get right to the point, please." Michael calmly acknowledges the amused man.

Slipping from behind Michael, I try to fight back my urge to lift a middle finger, roll my eyes, or gift him a piece of my mind. I'm trying to be sane for the sake of Michael, Noah, and our little bundle. But the bastard is making it a plausible lost cause with that stupid little smirk of his.

Disgusting.

Finding my seat adjacent to Michael, with Noah's stroller safely placed next to me, I offer a tolerable glance before giving Michael a glance for him to keep calm. He takes my notion and exhales heavily, obviously feeling the same as I am.

"Ah... A straight-to-the-point kind of man huh? Were you like that with every one of those innocent children? You know that's real sick, real fucking-"

"Watch your mouth around my child!" Michael snaps, glancing over me to check on a quietly observant Noah.

Chuckling maniacally, he licks his lips and shakes his head before exchanging a quick glance with his lawyer.

"I see someone came with a temper? That's real cute Mike. But sadly, that little chihuahua thing you got going on, isn't going to get you out of deep shit like this." He chuckles out, glancing over at Noah. "Cute kid. Must be nice to know he doesn't look like you, not anymore at least..."

"Okay! Williams, get your dang client! This is not professional nor appropriate!" John stands up from his seat, glaring daggers at Evan.

Michael's grip on my hand tightens a little more at the scene. If looks could kill, Michael would be sentenced to life for a brutal homicide. I don't ever think I've seen him so enraged. His almonds aren't even almonds anymore. They are dark orbs. Just dark orbs uncomfortably nestling at the daggers of Evan.

Can't say I blame him.

"I'll do with my client as I damn well, please. Any smart man knows not to bring a child into a discussion like this!" Williams protests, forcing John to silence. "Now, I do agree that we should act as adults and continue this conversation like so."

"Good idea Bryan. Now, I've done you a favor and typed out a few things that I think you should know..." Evan lulls, retrieving a yellow envelope from his briefcase.

He slides it across the table, maintaining his smirk as Michael catches it swiftly. By the amused glances of Evan and Bryan and the worried lines on Johns's forehead, I know this isn't good.

It never is good.

Slowly, Michael opens the envelope and begins to inspect it. All the while the room falls silent and all that is heard is the rustling of the papers in Michael's hand. My heart is beating wildly and now that Michael's hand isn't in mine, I feel a hint of anxiety running through me. This is just all too much.

"What is this Evan?" Michael demands, flipping the college ruled paper over in his hands.

Evan leans forward and glances at me before returning his gaze ok Michael and the college ruled paper.

"That... Mike. That is your death bed. I told you I would get you. You obviously ignored my threats. Or were you too busy dipping in your vanilla and chocolate ice cream?" He chuckles once more, glancing directly at me with his last statement.

Sick bastard.

"Williams... Your client is entirely way too inappropriate! He's taking stuff too far and I swear we will leave right now and-"

"No... He wants to talk like a man. Let him talk." Michael directs at Evan. "Bill can you take Noah out of the room until we're done here, please." He instructs, not breaking his glare from Evan.

Without a word, Bill moves as told and collects Noah before exiting the room. Once the door is shut, Evan clasps his hands together and nods in approval.

"There's the intelligence I knew you had all along." He astutely replies, giving me a sly once over. "You must've told her to keep quiet. Nice that you have control of your women. I can understand that completely. Guess we're not so-"

"Look you son of a bitch. I don't know what you think this is, but let me tell you something now. I don't play with ignorant ass men. I can't stand dumb ass people. And I damn sure refuse to play or tolerate your ass today. Leave your absurd comments at the door, and tell me what in the hell it is that you want." My grits through clenched teeth.

I try to stifle a giggle at Evans's dumbfounded expression.

Rarely does Michael use profanity as a means to convey his feelings. He tries to refrain from it at least, but how can anyone sit in the same room with a cretinous man? It's merely impossible. For the human that can, all praise goes to him.

"Well, well. Not so innocent anymore huh? Okay, let me pick your brain real quick. Tell me what you see on those papers."

Michael reluctantly breaks his icy gaze and examines the paper.

"Someone's handwriting..." He thoughtfully answers.

Another grin from Evan.

"But whose is it?" He lulls, his grin, if possible, grows wider with the passed seconds.

Michael glances at me then glances at the handwriting once more. By the look on his face, I know who that handwriting belongs to.

"Jordy..." He swallows harshly, biting his lip as a sign of the pain of the name.

"Exactly. You see Mike, what you have in your hand is something that will break your little ass in pieces. Your family, bye-bye. Your career, ostella veista. You, oh you'll wither slowly. I'll enjoy every bit of the years you spend behind that metal."

"W-Why? What in the hell is wrong with you!" Michael trembles, allowing John to slip the paper away from his hold.

"You thought I was going to let you take my family away from me? Did you really drill in your studded as head, that I would allow you to fill shit in my son's brain?! Hell no! You're going to get what you deserve you piece of shit! Dumb as wacko Jacko! That's all you'll ever be! I-"

"That's enough Evan..." Bryan warns his client, earning a glare from John and I.

I want to say something. I want to rip his head off, but I promised Michael I wouldn't. I'm still in my first trimester and have been very careful about keeping my blood pressure low. With acknowledging and correcting the foolery of this imbecile, I'm sure my heart rate and blood pressure would be through the roof.

If only.

"This isn't justifiable. How do we know you didn't force the boy to write this. You need actual evidence Mister Chandler, not some handwritten note." John scoffs.

"You're right Johnson-"

"John..."

"Whatever. That's why he has a journal. A journal that he has kept since meeting his idol. Everything that has been said and done is accounted for. Now you try and tell me that's not justifiable." Evan retorts, leaning back in his seat as if he's won.

"This was all a plan? This whole damn thing was a sick-ass plan! For what?! What do you want from me!" Michael rises from his seat, tears now shielding his almonds.

My heart is breaking.

"I want what you took from me. But I can't have that, so I'll settle for numbers. Numbers are a lovely thing. Here's a few of my favorites. Show'em, Bryan."

Bryan nods and does as told, sliding a sticky note towards John. John glances at it in repudiation before mumbling the inaudible and passing it over to Michael. It was Michael's turn to glance at the post-it in pure disgust before returning his gaze on Evan.

"You're sick. So fucking sick up there." He bridles, ripping the post-it in two."I'm not paying that shit. You don't deserve a lick of my hard-earned money."

Evan shrugs impassively at Michael's reactions, his plaster smirk still held high.

"That's nice to know Mike. Just know, I'll see you in court soon. If that's how you want to play. You see, I tried to be nice-play fair. But with big bankers like you, I can't. So, I'll do the next best thing. Watch you half white ass falter in court."

"That's it's! That's enough! You will not, I repeat will not sit here and speak to my husband that way! Do you even understand or even care the least bit that he has a family?! You saw his child! You liked right into his eyes and you called his father a sick bastard! You liked right at me and called my husband the worst name he has ever been called. I don't know how inhumane a person can possibly be, but I refuse to let this go on any longer. He'll give you the money-"

"Jess-"

"No Michael. You're going to give the bastard what he wants. Then, I don't want to see you. Talk to you. Be in the same room as you. I don't even want to hear your name. You've messed with the wrong people Mister Chandler. Take the money and go. You have your family back, leave with that." I conclude, swiftly placing my purse on my shoulders before turning to Michael. "Come on, baby. Let's go home."

Michael reluctantly stands, eying the silent Chandler cautiously. I'm sure the bastard wants to say more, but if he knows what's good for him, he'll keep quiet. I'm not playing around. No one will disrespect my family and especially my Michael.

"We'll have your check by Wednesday," John explains, nearly smirking at the silenced.

Surprisingly the men didn't utter another word as we took our leave. I can only hope that means that they will back off. I don't think I can take blowing up like that again, but I will if I have to. Michael strives to protect us (Noah and I) and I will do the same.

I'll do this every time if it means getting bastards like Evan to understand that Michael Jackson nor his family are pushovers.

"You didn't have to do that, girl. I was going to give him my own mouthful." Michael gives a half-smile as we exit the building.

"I'm sure you were, but I think guilting him is going to make him back off. I'm sorry about the money-"

"Oh, I got that. I'll probably leave him a little note on the check. Better yet I should give him an insufficient one." Michael jokes, actually cracking a genuine smile.

I giggle and peace his cheek.

"It's over. Okay? No more of this craziness."

"Hopefully, babygirl." He sighs, licking his lips. "Hopefully."

I nod and allow him to assist me in finding my seat in the SUV. Once I'm safely buckled, he joins me and offers another smile. I return his smile with a wider one, stealing his hand for a squeeze. I'm sure he's going to feel the sting of the words exchanged later. Knowing Michael, he'll probably want to be left alone. But I won't allow that to happen. We're a team and I refuse to let him cry alone. We will cry together.

We will always cry together.