To the Moon and Back (MJ fanfic)

Birthday Blues

I had once read a quote that said "When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storms all about." I couldn't remember exactly where that came from, but I hoped to God that it was based off of truth.

It had been a couple days since we found out that our secret was floating around the press, now we were just waiting for it to sting. Still holding onto the little drop of hope that this might just blow over yet.

The days were filled with quiet apprehension, but what made it bearable was that Michael didn't need to go out of the country. The furthest he went was LA or Vegas, and even that was just for photo shoots and other things pertaining to the Michael Jackson Enterprise. But for whatever reason I was glad - I didn't think I'd be able to make it with out him.

We both tried to act as normal around Liam as we could, even the security team was under strict instructions not to say anything around him. Of course Michael was better at acting than me, and when ever I'd get too lost in my head - worrying about what would come - he was my rock, keeping me grounded through the fears that plagued my mind every second of every day.

Of course he and I were still on different sides when it came to how we wanted to handle this if it were to explode, but in the end I knew we understood how it would go down. It was scary to think about, but it needed to be done. We were both parents of the child that this would effect the most so we needed to sit down and talk about what we'd do and how we'd handle things when it got to that point.

We had both come to the conclusion that we wouldn't stop him from being in public all together - that wasn't even an option, but Michael was adamant that Liam would wear either a mask or a shawl on his face at all times. We'd want him to have as much privacy as he could, because we knew how big of a deal it would be for the press to get pictures of him and how hard they would try. He was the child of the King of Pop... If that didn't cause paparazzi frenzy then I didn't know what would. We needed to be prepared for the worst possible scenario. And while I had no idea what that was like, Michael had too much experience with it, so I left most of that up to him. He was the expert in that area.

I had been having restless nights, tossing and turning like crazy. Once even accidentally hitting Michael in the chest, which I felt horrible out. Very horrible. At one point I even suggested that I slept on the floor so I couldn't hurt him again, but he argued that he wouldn't be able to sleep at all without me there, and he'd rather have nights with bad sleep than no sleep at all if it involved me and him in the same bed. And to be honest I didn't want to give up that part either. He was my solace, the one person who calmed the bad thoughts that seeped in uninvited, and I didn't want to give that up for either of us. Not when it felt like it was the only sane part in our hectic lives.

"What do you do when you're on tour?" I asked one night as we laid in bed, Liam between us sleeping soundly. "How do you sleep?"

"I don't." He answered simply.

"Like... at all?" I gaped at the canopy above us.

"Not really." He replied. "And if I do it's just for an hour or two, and all my dreams are filled with you."

"You have to be lying." I said, even though I felt he was most definitely telling the truth. My husband was a horrible insomniac, but I never saw that side to him when he was home.

"Nope. I guess unconscious me is just as in love with you as conscious me." He laughed quietly, which made me smile in the dark.

"I don't sleep well either." I confessed. "Before, when I still had the guest room, I'd sneak a pillow out of your room. The smell helped me sleep because it reminded me of you."