A/N: Okay, I must be completely honest: I haven't posted any of my works online in nearly four years, so I might be a bit rusty. But I honestly love to write and I think I'm about overdue to share.

This idea was originally born when an author on , ShantiJ_Jackson, proposed writing a series of one-shots for the fans who wrote her a description of themselves to be inserted in the stories. It involved a romantic (or otherwise) relationship with Michael Jackson and the reader whom the one-shot starred. Needless to say, this caught my attention; I thought it was very generous and considerate of her to make such an offer, so naturally, I wanted to participate. After sending a description of what I would enjoy to see in my one-shot, I got to thinking and anticipated when I would read it. Then I decided to share my version of what it could turn out as – with one major twist.

YOU – that's right, YOU – are the main character. The main premise of what I had originally imagined will be used, but it will be loose enough it to fit you and your life/situation as best as it can. (Of course, this is fantasy, so not everything will make perfect synchronization.) My imagination tends to run marathons, so the story will be just a little more complex than just a simple one-shot. I hope you like a good adventure in love, life, and drama!

Enjoy and please tell me what you think! I live for feedback!

(Your name will be signified with ******)

Disclaimer: This is an AU FANFICTION story. Nothing depicted here is true, nor is anything meant to cause offense. I love and respect Michael dearly and it's because of my innate love for him that inspired me to write this. RIP, Michael. WE LOVE YOU!

In Dreams

Chapter One

The woman in the mirror stares back at you. Impeccable. Flawless. The epitome of perfection. You gaze stoically in envy.

Image holds all the power. The mirage is so strong, so believable, the possibility of it all being a mere illusion never crosses the mind. You are the sole exception. You know the truth, familiar with the gimmicks. You've become a master at the art. Sleight of both hand and mouth are your weapons of choice – and has been for longer than you care to remember. They are no longer skills; they are your lifestyle.

You're unsure of how long you are stuck in your reverie, yet when a sudden rap sounds at the door, you do not stir. You know who it is, anyway. Your pathetic attempt at a smile disgusts you as your dear friend sidles through the door, two shot glasses in his hands.

A few years ago, you would have never even given the idea of drinking before a performance a passing thought. Nowadays, both of you know it's the only barrier between you and melting down in front of thousands of people. You would take numbness over internal agony any day of the week.

He softly shuts the door behind him before making his way over to your chair where it sits in front of your personal vanity mirror. It's obvious his smile is forced, but you appreciate the effort; there aren't many people you can trust enough to hold close anymore, but Sammy is one of those who had been with you since the beginning. Sure, you have many acquaintances in your field and industry, but he is one of your true friends. You would even go so far as to say he's the closest thing to family you have.

Sammy is a handsome man – talented, and very dedicated to his work. The instant you two met, years ago as individual street performers, you both knew it to be an instant – as well as infinite – friendship. Deciding to team up turned out to be the best verdict either of you could have made in your lives and careers.

From the very beginning, both of you knew you could be freely open with each other. Trust quickly became established. It became clearly evident early on that he would always look after you, and vice versa. You've stuck together through thick and thin, and you've gotten each other through numerous tribulations throughout the years. In fact, if not for Sammy (and one or two others) you would have long ago lost faith that good men exist anymore. You've even caught yourself pondering that, even though your relationship is nothing more than platonic, Sammy is probably the ideal man you would have married.

The reminder that even that small inkling of possible happiness will never be yours only makes you want to down an whole case, rather than just a mere shot. Nonetheless, you smile as best as you can in thanks as your best friend sets the tiny glass in your hand.

"Showtime's in ten," he says. The two of you clink glasses before throwing back the harsh whiskey. You minutely shudder as the burn envelopes your entire senses.

You're staring at your reflection again. Oh, how you loathe it, yet you cannot bring yourself to look away. Sammy notices. He follows your gaze for a split second, and then looks back at you, lifting your chin with a gentle finger to direct you to meet his eyes.

"You're thinking too much again. This is a special night tonight! You can't be distracted."

You smirk a little before laughing bitterly, "It's always a special night, Sammy. What's so different this time?"

"There's a certain guest coming to the show tonight. Says he's been wanting to see the show ever since it hit What's On magazine."

"There's always a 'certain guest' coming to the show," you sigh. By now, you've once again turned your attention to the repulsive mirror. "How many comps did we give for his group this time?"

"It's just him. And he insisted on paying his way."

Your eyebrows arch. That's interesting. Usually, 'Important Guests' only support your show if their time is compensated. (In other words: "Yeah, I'll grace you with my priceless presence. All I need is free tickets. You're still not as good as me, though.")

With one last glance in the mirror, you stand and give Sammy's shoulder a slap with the best grin you have in your arsenal, "Well, let's make this a show he won't forget, then."

But he doesn't move. Instead, his dark eyes penetrate you, knowing – understanding, "It'll get better, okay?"

Your smile drops and for the first time tonight; your fatigue – both physically and mentally – shows, "Sammy, I'm starting to lift. Down tie me back down."

"I'm not trying to. But you don't have to put on an act for me. Got it?"

You feel a bit of warmth envelope your chest. Maybe it's the booze. Maybe not. Still, it doesn't feel out of place when you reach over to hug your best friend and he instantly reciprocates. You hold yourselves there for a moment – or a few hours; you're not entirely sure at this point – and you silently thank whatever greater power that might be up there for small treasures.

As the two of you finally pull away, a light smudge of color on Sammy's black jacket catches your attention. He instantly moves to touch up your make-up, but your mood has already sunk again. And it wasn't even the mirror taunting you this time!

This was going to be another long night…

…...

He doesn't come to Las Vegas often. In fact, he didn't even come this time; this was just a via point to get home. He'd never been on a road trip before, and he'd always wanted to just watch the countryside pass by with his travels. He'd had enough of airplanes anyways.

He couldn't help but wonder just what exactly all the fuss was about the place. It was noisy, it was crowded, and quite honestly, traffic was scary. He'd almost regretted stopping to stay for the night. But he was determined to have a little fun away from everybody and just focus on himself for once.

Options were considerably scarce, however. He wasn't much of a gambler – never could see the appeal in it. A nightclub probably wouldn't be a good idea; even if he reserved an area to himself, it's inevitable he was going to get harassed, one way or another. Besides, sitting in a corner trying to keep hidden wasn't his idea of a good time.

Well, another attraction Vegas was known for were its shows. Comedy shows, dinner shows, Cirque du Soleil was very popular, there were performers in town for select nights – oh, he'd always loved magic shows!

Siegfried and Roy's beautiful work with animals fascinated him for as long as he could remember! And speaking of animals, just where did Lance Burton pull all those doves from? And who could ever forget David Copperfield walking through the Great Wall of China?

A show was starting to sound nice to him. But which one? He was leaving again tomorrow; he only had time to see one, MAYBE two while he was here. When he'd asked for a second opinion, he'd only gotten a shrug and an 'I dunno. All of 'em, I guess.' Very helpful.

After awhile, a particular marquee caught his eye.

BELLAGIO

Hotel and Casino

Presents

"IN DREAMS"

starring

Featuring

Las Vegas' Newest Young Stars!

Dare To Be Amazed

Tues – Sat

7 p.m. 9:30 p.m.

His interest piqued and his memory reeled. Yes, he'd heard of her. Quite an astonishing talent if he did say so himself. A fascinating individual. A little young to be starring in her own Las Vegas show, in his opinion. Still, someone that young had to be good if they were headlining.

Why not, he figured. He'd heard some good reviews overall so far. It just might be worth a gander…

…...

This time, you do startle as a louder, much sharper rap hits your dressing room door. Sammy almost fouls up your make-up. He growls lowly before admitting whoever is at the door.

"Where have you two been? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

You move to address Alexander, your stage manager, but Sammy keeps you facing him as he covers up the last bald patch in your foundation, "We just had a little technical difficulty, that's all," He explains.

"This isn't a very good impression to be giving with a star audience member sitting out there. He came all the way just to see you and we're keeping him waiting!"

"We're doing as best as we can," you barely keep yourself from snapping. "I can't go out there looking like Two-Face."

Sammy lightly slaps your arm in reproach, "Ten seconds. We'll right be out."

"Get yourselves set up. I'm going to run the intro," With that, Alexander steps out. You suddenly feel edgy again. You definitely wouldn't mind another drink right about now.

Sammy seems to notice your racing thoughts again. You realize he's watching you – like a bomb squad tentatively watches on, anticipating whether it's going to blow in the rookie's face. You don't even attempt smiling this time. Instead, you sigh, signaling to the door and he leads the way.

You stop for a second. You take in your private dressing room, your own make-up desk, that damned mirror. You can't help one last glance and you scowl. You hate that woman staring back at you, but you're stuck with her. There is no changing that. Nothing's free, and lately that statement has made more and more sense by the day.

Your stare is blank and you try not to meet the dual image's eyes. Finally, you turn and follow Sammy out.

"Showtime."

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this first installment! I would love to add more ASAP; I would just like to know what you all think so far! I'm very excited to hear your thoughts. Please let me know if you love it, hate it, have input, anything. Remember, this is YOUR story! Much loves!