Mary in Time {Michael Jackson Fan Fiction (maybe...??)}

Mary in Time - Part 1

Mary in Time - Part 1

Michael Jackson opens the door and steps into what is a representative living room of his presidential hotel suite. Sunlight floods through the undrawn curtains into the warm stillness. He's made up and ready with still some 20 minutes or so at his leisure.

He's popping a little rhythm of Ps and Ts under his breath to release some tension as he strolls into the room looking for nothing in particular, just for something to occupy his mind for the remaining time.

In the corner of his eye he sees a movement by the window and glances over. Someone is standing there. The shock makes him jump and then freeze in his tracks. The little rhythm dies in his mouth and is wiped away.

It's a woman about his own age. She is wearing a whitish dress that's camouflaging her against the folds of the white curtains. She's looking at him from where she's standing, and he's staring back as adrenaline is washing through his body making his heart race and tightening his throat. He has to swallow to make some space for his voice.

Then what he has been taught for such encounters kicks in. He allows his features to melt from shock to surprise, and then into a soft but winning smile as he assess the situation. He considers making a run for the door but decides against it. What if it is purely a mistake, and he just hasn't been told? It would be hard to make amends for such behaviour, then. And what if she's armed?

Her hands are empty for all he can see. He quickly seizes her up and down and tries to estimate if her dress offers any hiding place for a secret weapon. It seems unlikely, but he can't be sure.

Be calm, relaxed, friendly, and keep your eyes open.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't know anyone was here."

"I know. You couldn't know."

So there. No mistake on his part. She's here on her own accord and she's not supposed to be. The realization puts another jolt of adrenaline through him. If this ends well he'll have to have a serious word with security.

Keep talking, make conversation.

"What's your name?" he asks as casually as he can manage. She doesn't look unfriendly but that doesn't mean much.

"Mary," she says. "My name is Mary."

She is standing fairly still. She doesn't make a move towards him. And there's something odd about her dress. He can't really place it. It's just not what people wear. The way it's cut it looks somewhat out of fashion, maybe, but if so, he can't say in which decade it might belong. Or more like a costume. And she's not staring at him like fans normally do. She's looking at him, yes, but then there are moments when she looks past him, not really at anything, it seems, staring unfocused into space. Her whole appearance is unsettling.

"How long have you been here?"

She looks a bit troubled. Then there is that unfocused look on her face again. "That's difficult..." she says finally.

Obviously she doesn't want to go there. Michael Jackson is frantically trying to think of something else to say, but his brain feels empty. The silence becomes uncomfortable.

"Would you like an autograph, Mary?" he asks lamely. He can't think of something better. She turns her gaze back to him, surprised, shocked even, but doesn't answer.

Focusing on a hotel pen and notepad on a side table next to the couch, Michael Jackson slowly starts walking towards it.

"Please don't be afraid," she says suddenly.

He stops in his tracks and looks up at her. So much for appearing calm and relaxed.

"Afraid? No. Why? Should I be?" His voice sounds casual and mildly surprised.