A/N: Hellooo darlings! I know you must be dying to see what happens next, but first, a brief request!!! My goal for each chapter is 20 votes, could you help me there? Just the tap of one button loves :) Always feel free to go and vote on any chapters you read before!! ILYSM, enjoy this chapter!!

My heart drops through the floor, where my jaw was already resting.

"W-what? What do you mean 'your father's rape victim?'"

He turns away from the window, drifting away from me slowly. "I wish I could make you understand. It's over your head." His voice is hollow and empty, so lonely and longing.

"Please, Michael, you have to tell me what's going on here," I beg, stepping towards him again.

The room is cold, the light seeming to have been tinted blue by the pale moonlight pouring in through the window. I can feel his pain like I can feel the air in my lungs, all I want to do is take it away.

I can see the conflict in his eyes as he finally turns to face me. "How do you know about it?" I ask quietly, tentatively, trying to begin to pull the story out of him. "I was 11. I saw it." His sentences are short and choppy, and he's no longer looking at me.

"Saw it? It must be a hard image to forget."

"I see it... every night in my dreams. Every night I hear her screams. Every night, I see her struggling underneath him... I see the blood.." He trails off, his pupils dilating.

"The nightmares." I realize. Every night, in his dreams, he revisits his father's mistakes, he relives the possible worst day of Celeste's life, the event that scarred him. Changed him forever.

"I was 11." He begins again, sitting on the bed. "We lived right down the street from Motown, we were home from touring the Jackson 5. Joe was down at the studio, working on something. Kate told me to go get him for dinner and..."

He draws in a quivering breath, looking up at me. As he speaks, he's like a vulnerable little boy again and it's killing me. "I walked into the studio, up the stairs. I was going to his office." Half of me wants to know what happens next, and half of me already does, it's a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"First I heard yelling. I heard him tell her to lie on the couch... over and over he yelled at her. Then, I heard her scream. It was shrill. I ran up the stairs, and the door to his office was cracked, so I looked through." His eyes fall shut briefly, before they open again, and he continues.

"I saw him wrestling her into submission, I saw things I could never possibly communicate to another human being. I wanted to stop him, I wanted to help her, but I... I couldn't. In my mind, she was the woman having an affair with my father, voluntary or not. I just... a kid should never have to witness his father do something like that..."

I nod, understanding completely. "Why does she still come around? I mean... it was... rape... was it not?" I feel the need to whisper the word, like it shouldn't be said aloud. "Yes. She did still come around, but she never said a word about that day. And now... they're in 'love.'" His voice turns from a sad sound to an enraged screech.

"I can't imagine everything you must be feeling about this right now..." I tell him, rubbing the back of my neck with a hand.

I can't believe Joseph. If I were Michael, I'd be yelling and insulting him, not Celeste. She seems like little more than a victim stricken with Stockholm syndrome, not someone anyone should hate. Joe is a fool for bringing his mistress around his family, especially Michael. I feel no sympathy for him, but no ill feeling toward Celeste.

"Please... let's just leave." Michael says quietly, having calmed himself a little. "Leave? Back to New York?" He nods quickly, standing. "Please. I just.. can't look at her face any longer, I already see it every night." That guilts me, I know whenever I sleep beside him his nightmares disappear.

"Yeah... alright." I tell him, walking over to my things in the corner. A few moments of silence pass, the thoughts of what I've just heard tumbling around wildly in my mind.

"You were right." I whisper, standing with my bags in hand. He takes them gently, holding his own in the other fist. "About what?"

"There was really nothing you could say to prepare me for this." He looks at me a long while, staring into my eyes as if he's trying to see through them. He gives a brief nod, and then leaves the room.

I know this might sound bad given the circumstances at the moment, but I'm glad and flattered he told me about this. It's a huge deal for me, a huge milestone really that he would open up and tell me such a big secret. I could see how that night haunts him, it was written all over his face, and he let me in. It's all I ever want from him.

Kate doesn't seem surprised when we come down the stairs, bags in hand. She only nods, walking over to give us both tight hugs and kisses on the cheek. "I'm so sorry it went down this way." She tells me truthfully, holding both of my hands in hers.

"No, I'm sorry," I tell her and mean it. She nods solemnly and walks away to the kitchen to oversee the clean up.

I catch one last glimpse of Celeste as she climbs into Joe's limo in the driveway. Her eyes meet mine, and they're the saddest pair of eyes I've ever seen. They're cold eyes, caged eyes... empty eyes.

****

Michael seems better when we can finally be back in our element the following Saturday at the hospital. He didn't talk for a long while when we got back, and then he began to speak again, in short sentences, only to me. It couldn't have been easy on him to meet the woman who haunts his dreams every night.

I chew my lip nervously when Michael catches me staring as I update some charts. He was studying the OR board, probably pondering which surgery he should try and get in on. He needs to cut, mindlessly cut and get Thanksgiving out of his mind.

I tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn't let me. It's clear that talking about Celeste was strictly a one-time occurrence, and that he won't be telling me about it, or talking about Thanksgiving in general, for a long time.

"Skipper!" I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of the most familiar voice in the world. "Skipper? Skipper!" It can't be... I must be hearing things. It's impossible...

I turn around slowly to see my Moonsie running across the hospital lobby like a wounded deer. Her eyes are bright and frantic, her clothes disheveled and loose, her hair uncombed and her makeup sloppy. What could possibly be going on?

It seems everyone has turned around to look at this woman, Michael included. I trip over my feet to get to her, and she places her hands on my arms. "Skipper! What are you doing here?" "Moonsie, lower your voice," I tell her calmly, trying my best not to draw attention and cause a scene.

"You are 9 years old! How many times have I told you that you're not supposed to wander off on your own!" My heart sinks, my emotions beginning to bubble up again like an over-boiling pot. "Moonsie-" "I am your mother! You're supposed to listen to me!" Tears begin to run down her face.

"Moonsie, please." I whisper desperately. She sags, sniffling a little. "It's just... you're all I have left in this world since your father left... and... you're my everything, baby. You didn't come home from school, and I was so worried," She cries. I reach up and grip her face, looking right into her big brown eyes.

"Moonsie. I love you." I tell her, and she nods. "But I'm not 9 years old, remember? I'm 15, I'm away at boarding school. You must have had to know this, or you wouldn't be here... in New York." I can feel Michael's eyes on me, but I cannot meet them. I'm too ashamed that I never told him about Moonsie.

"But... that can't be right," She whispers, her shoulders shuddering. It's hard to touch her, she towers over me.

"Junior? Who's this?" Will says softly, standing beside us. It's hard to hear him over Moonsie's sobs. I sigh. "This is my mother." I tell him, brushing tears from her cheeks with my thumbs.

"Your mother." "Yes. And she needs a neuro consult. Immediately."

Will nods once, touching her shoulder. "Hello, Ma'am? Can you tell me your name?" Moonsie looks over at him, attempting to control her tears. "I... I don't know you... Who are you?" "I'm Chief Rose, your daughter's boss here at the hospital. Did you know she works here?" "How could she? She's only 9 years old... She's only a little girl," She rambles. His eyes widen, and he looks down at me.

I nod once, and he takes a deep breath. "Ma'am, would you follow me? I need to take a look at a few things, alright?" She looks down at me, and I give a reassuring nod. "Go ahead, I'll come right along."

Her hand slips into mine as we follow will down the hall to one of the examination rooms. Michael runs up to me, slipping into the room before I can shut the door. "Can you take a seat here?"

"She's 9... She's my little baby. How could she work at a hospital? That doesn't make sense..." Moonsie proclaims as she slips onto the examination table. Michael stares at me wide eyed. Will shines a flashlight in her eyes, shifting between each pupil. "Can you tell me the year, ma'am?" "1977." Will gives me a look, and I walk over to the table.

"It's 1983, Moonsie. 1983." She doesn't respond. "Can you tell me what you had for breakfast this morning?" She opens her mouth to answer the question, but no sound comes out. I see the gears in her brain working, but she comes up with no answer to the question. Shaking her head, she sighs. "No... I... I can't seem to remember. Skipper, you were there. What did I eat?"

I shake my head at Will, and he sighs deeply, turning off his flashlight. "I can't know what's going on until we get some scans." He whispers to me, and my heart sinks. Something's going on with her, and I've known it this whole time.

It takes a lot of sweet talking to get Moonsie into the CT Machine, and then the MRI machine to get a good look at what's going on in her brain.

The results print themselves out immediately, and Will posts them on the wall.

My throat closes up completely. With one look at the scan, I want to die. I want to melt into a puddle on the ground, curl up in a corner and cry. If god exists, why would he give my only parent a tumor the size of two baseballs?

A choked sound escapes my throat, and I can't breathe. I begin clawing at my throat, and looking at Michael. His eyes are pinned to the floor. "I..." I look over at Will, who's face is stony. His eyes are wide and kind, but his mouth is set. "Junior..."

I already know what he's gonna tell me. It's written all over his face. The tumor is huge. It's pressing against almost every area in Moonsie's brain, and it's a miracle that she's even alive right now. It's pressing on the memory center of her brain, which is causing the spells. It must've been growing for years to have reached this massive size. She should be blind, it's infiltrated the optic nerve.

The most important part? It's completely inoperable. And it's growing fast.

I look at Will again, my whole body shuddering and shaking.

"The tumor.... it's-" "We're gonna try, Junior." Will says, facing me. "But look at it! It's like a human child or something! I can't believe I didn't see the signs! I should've taken her to the hospital years ago! This is all my fault-" He grips my shoulders, looking down at me.

"Stop it. Stop it right now." Will's voice is short and harsh. "This is not at all your fault. You were a child, who had no business taking care of her mother alone. There's no way you could've prevented this, so don't add fuel to the fire by blaming yourself. Ok? We are gonna operate on this tumor."

I shake my head, shrugging his hands away. "There's no point." "Where is she now?" "Back in the examination room." Michael snaps. He didn't have any advice for me, but he has the right to be mad when Will does?

"Have her admitted immediately. We're both gonna operate on this, Junior. Me and you." I look at him like he's trying to swallow an apple whole. "Are you kidding me?" He shakes his head. "I'm not sending her home. We're trying. Do you want to be the one to tell her?"

I take a shallow breath. "Do I have to? She might believe you over me, I'm 9 years old, remember?" He chuckles softly, and nods.

I wait outside, my arms crossed as I watch Will talk to Moonsie. His face is grave, and his words are soft and hushed so that I cannot hear them.

I see her reaction when he drops the news. Her beautiful face conforms to sadness, her shoulders shake again and she begins to sob.

I turn away, unable to see my mother this way. I felt deep dismay at first, but now I feel nothing. It's like my feelings have been replaced with a cold pit of emptiness.

I notice Michael standing off to he side, studying me with a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Michael?"

"Skip."

"You saw the tumor."

"Yes." He nods.

"My mother's gonna die, isn't she?"

He pauses a long time, and he looks truthfully remorseful as he stares at me.

"I'm so sorry, baby girl."

I'm so depressed, god :'( I knew this was coming but it's still so sad!!! Remember my goal of 20 votes. Can you help me out? Much Love to All!! Comments are always welcome ^_^