One (A Michael Jackson Fan Fiction)

Chapter 14

The interview was the talk of the day until the concert arrived and we were all back in performance mode. Michael's mother, Katherine, had arrived moments before the pre-show to watch. Michael was relaxed when she was around. She was his anchor, keeping him grounded in all of this. His mother was the one person in this world that he trusted with no questions asked. This fact alone made this performance all the more nerve wracking. I could not mess this up.

Katherine sat in the wings stage left, watching as her son took command of the stage. I would sometimes catch a glimpse of her down below, singing the songs just as loud as he was. In typical fashion, as the lights faded to black and the final notes of the finale blasted through the arena, Michael crossed down below, greeting his mother with an embrace.

Their conversation halted, attention turning to me, as my feet struck the ground. Michael's face lit up with joy. He grabbed his mother by the arm and practically dragged her toward me. "Quinn, meet Katherine. Katherine, meet Quinn." he beamed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jackson." I said with a nod of respect.

She returned the same pleasantry. "You've made quite an impact on the news lately." her brow raised in concern, watching Michael slip away from us with Bush by his side.

"Involuntarily." I assured.

"He's got a flaw, you know." Katherine's voice was tender and caring. "He trusts too easy and he loves too hard. I'm afraid he got that from me."

"He sees the potential good in everybody... if only people didn't betray that." I agreed.

"The world would be a better place if we all saw it like he does. All he sees is hope and love." Her lip turned upward, satisfied with the way he turned out.

"It's intoxicating in all the right ways." I replied.

"He trusts you more than most. I can see it in his eyes. I don't think he sees you as just a friend. Friends don't look at friends the way he looks at you. But it isn't a look for lovers either. It's a rare kind of bond, one that develops into something as close as, if not closer than family." Suddenly, Bush ran up to the pair of us and whispered something to Katherine. Her face grew weary and she turned to follow him back to Michael's trailer. I followed at a distance, not wanting to intrude, but curious all the same.

Mother and son were in there for near an hour, muffled voices leaking through the walls. Something had upset him. I sat on some emptied electrics box, fidgeting with the lid when Katherine finally emerged. Michael still sat like a shadow in the corner, allowing the door to close behind her. She nodded towards me then walked away so I moved to take her place, hesitantly approaching the door. Just as I lifted my hand to knock, his voice interrupted. "Come in."

I pressed open the door and slipped inside. The only light in the room came from a small desk lamp illuminating today's paper. I looked down at the headline and my heart sunk. They had moved on from me for now, but the rumors around Michael would never come to an end.

Jackson ashamed of being black? It read, showing two images side by side. One from Thriller, and one from this tour. There was no question to it. He was getting lighter.

"It's a disease." he explained, drawing my attention to him. The dim light reflected off a single tear that rolled down his cheek. "These tabloids... they're ruthless. They don't think to ask for the truth. They just make up lies that explain any oddities. Quinn... They forget that I'm human too..."

I wanted to hold him in my arms and tell him it would all be okay... but it wouldn't, and he knew that as well as I did. "But even in the darkest of days; you still shine." I told him, fumbling with the strand of beads that hung from the lamp. "Do you know why?" There was no response. "Because only light can drive out the darkness." I concluded, pulling the switch.

Michael flinched away from the light, but made no move to hide or turn it back off. A line crossed the center of his face, tracing under his eyes and nose and down his neck. On one side, he was as dark as he had been in the years before. On the other side, the pigmentation had gone. "They call it Vitiligo." he admitted when my eyes had finished taking it in and instead looked into his.