Author's Note: Okay, so I'm uploading chapter's early today because tonight my son and I will be spending the night at a friend of mine. The heat is ridiculous in the Pacific Northwest right now, and we live on the second floor apartment where the heat is just unbareable, believe me it is. Yesterday it hit 94 in our bathroom, bleh. Anyways, so I wanted to get a few more chapters posted up today for all of you guys. Once again the song used in this chapter is Need by Hanna Pestle. No copyright infringement intended. I hope you all enjoy it. Read/Enjoy/Review!

Chapter 25: A Part Of History

" We cannot change our memories, but we can change their meaning and the power they have over us,"-David Seamands.

I'm three hours away from the most important performance of my life, okay perhaps that sounds a little dramatic, it's the most important performance up until this moment. Nevertheless, the butterflies are alive and warring in my stomach as Javier, the make up artist Margot hired for me, playfully smacks my shoulder for the millionth time.

" Honey, you need to calm down," Javier says as he expertly spreads foundation on my face. I take a deep breath, though it doesn't really help and close my eyes.

" Sorry," I murmur smiling lightly when Caleb hands me a bottle of water before squeezing my shoulder offering me a toothy grin, " Thanks."

" Hey anything for my 'date,'" Caleb teases fluidly taking my mind off my frayed nerves by making me giggle at his words.

" Ugh, don't make it sound like that," I laugh closing my eyes as Javier brushes powder over my face, a small chuckle coming from him.

" What? I cant help it, I'm flattered that of the thousands of men who would line up at your door to be your escort to this shindig, Michael being the first of them, you chose me," he says leaning his hip against the vanity table, one hand buried in the pocket of his slacks.

" Yeah okay, believe me there wouldn't be thousands of men lined up to go out with me, and Michael definitely wouldn't be at the front of that imaginary line of yours," I say cursing the fact that my heart beats rapidly in response to the mere mention of Michael's name.

" Brooke, you know, in the short time I have known you I have discovered your one of the dumbest smart girls I've ever known," he says suddenly which causes me to choke on my water my eyes watering when my sudden movement causes Javier to poke me in the eyes with the eyeliner pencil.

" Ouch," I laugh out breathlessly.

" Damn it Caleb," Javier and I say in unison which only leads to more laughter, this time my brother and make up artist joining in.

I stand outside of my dressing room a hand pressed tightly against my stomach as I pace back and forth trying to steady myself. It doesn't help any, not when I know that I will be hitting the red carpet in just a little under twenty minutes, which brings me only that much closer to my turn onstage. I close my eyes as I lean against the door, my skin prickling when the cold metal of the door brushes against me. Everything would be okay if Olivia was here, everything would be even more than okay if Michael was here. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that I haven't run into him, even though we are in such close proximity of one another. Margot has been good at keeping me busy. I suppose I cant blame her. Seeing Michael would only send my emotions into overdrive, spiraling out of control. I close my eyes again. If I could just see him, just once, I could look into his eyes and know that I would be okay, that I would be all right. That even if I went up on that stage and made a total and complete ass out of myself as long as Michael was there it wouldn't matter.

" Brooke," a familiar voice murmurs to me quietly and I open my eyes slowly turning my head to find Michael a few steps away from me, the sight of him making my heart slam roughly against my ribs. His hair's different a little shorter, shinier, and yet he's the same. The same Michael that I spent so much time with, laughed and cried with, fell in love with. Lights shine off his shirt and jacket as he slides on hand into the pocket of his pants.

" Michael," I whisper taking a slow step towards him hesitating slightly. My eyes start swimming when he comes closer standing in front of me, a hand extending towards me cupping my face.

" I've missed you," he whispers pulling me into him, his warm hands pressing against my skin.

" I've missed you too," I say realizing the truth in that statement. I have missed him, missed this. Missed the way that his mere presence seems to make every worry just disappear.

" Brooke, oh sorry," Margot says as she steps out of the dressing room and I smile slowly pulling away from Michael shaking my head.

" No it's okay, Margot this is Michael, Michael this Margot, my manager," I say watching as they shake hands.

" I'm sorry to interrupt but Brooke we really must go, the red carpet is waiting for you," Margot says and I nod my head as I turn to look at Michael.

" Sorry, I have to go. I really want to talk to you though, are you busy after the show?" I ask taking my handbag from Margot my eyes never leaving his face.

" I'll come find you," he says stepping forward to brush a blush inducing kiss to my cheek.

" Okay, see you then," I murmur allowing myself to look back at where he's left standing, as Margot leads me away.

I smile as the flashes of camera's go off letting Margot lead me down the line of reporters, to answer the same questions over and over again. Who am I wearing? How does it feel to be one of the most talked about new Motown artists? Am I nervous? Does it really matter what name is on the label of my dress? I'm not the only one who is new to Motown this year so I don't really consider myself one of the most talked about, and finally duh! Who wouldn't be nervous? At least those are the answers I want to give. Instead, I smile, bite back the sarcastic remarks, and answer the best that I can without sounding condescending. It's not that I don't appreciate everything that I now have, I just hate this part of it. The intrusiveness of some of the questions, or how dumb some of them seem to be to me. I mean, does it really matter what name is on the label of my dress? If I had my way I would show up in a paper bag, that would really get people talking.

" Okay Brooke this is your last interview, I promise," Margot murmurs to me as I flash a smile at a few more screaming photographers.

" Thank God," I murmur through clenched teeth approaching the last interviewer.

" Brooke, you look beautiful tonight," the young woman says smiling at me.

" Thank you," I say blushing, no matter how many times I hear people say that to me it never gets any easier to hear.

" I have just one question for you," she says and I nod my head leaning in to hear her over the crowd, fully prepared to answer one of the same old questions that I'm used to hearing, " An inside source said that the break up between you and Michael Jackson was pretty messy. Do you feel any sort of bad feelings towards Michael and his date Tatiana Thumbtzen?" I stare at her for a minute, shock coursing through me as I try and control my emotions.

" She will not comment on this matter," Margot interjects and I shake my head holding strong to my spot when she tries to pull me away.

" I have no ill feelings towards either of them, Michael is amazing, and Tatiana is a sweet girl," I say fighting against my pitching stomach finally letting Margot lead me away. Caleb takes my hand as Margot wraps an arm around my waist.

" You okay?" Caleb asks, and I nod violently trying to make them believe I'm okay. I cast a look over my shoulder to see Michael and Tatiana not that far behind me a wide smile on both of their faces.

Whoever said an all ready broken heart cannot break again was sorely mistaken. Believe me, I know from first hand experience. I stand in the darkness of the backstage, my heart aching as I fight to control my emotions. The journalists words whirling around in my head. 'The messy break up…ill fillings towards Michael and his date….'

I guess I shouldn't have been so stupid to believe that after all of this time that everything would be go back to the way it was, before everything in my life went completely topsy-turvy. Everything felt like it was going to be all right though, for those few short moments that I was in Michael's arms again, breathing him in. Is a few moments of peace worth the heartache I feel now? I jump slightly turning quickly to find Margot standing behind me, concern in her eyes as she hands me a bottle of water.

" Brooke," Margot murmurs, " I'm so sorry. I had no idea that anyone knew about what went on between you and Michael. Then again, who am I kidding this is Hollywood, the walls talk. I should have told you Michael was here with her."

" Don't apologize Margot," I murmur taking a small sip of my water, " It isn't your fault."

" I know that the last thing on your mind right now is your performance, and I understand that, but you need to just push everything aside, just until you get through the song," she says hugging me closely. I find comfort in her arms. In the last three months Margot has gone from being my manager to one of my closest friends. She will never replace Olivia, but she is a good friend, one of the only people that I have to lean on, especially with my best friend so far away.

" Brooke your on in three minutes," one of the backstage workers says to me and I nod pulling away from Margot.

" Your going to do great," she reassures me and I smile weakly at her. I turn towards the stage when Margot slips away and take a deep breath.

" In 2005 I was given the great honor, albeit difficult job of running Universal Motown. Barry has the honor of claiming great acts such as J5 and many others, now including Michael Jackson's solo career, however I believe with everything that is inside of me that I have found someone who can and will quickly rise to the same level of former Motown artists. With no further ado, singing her first single, Need, Brooke Nichols," Sylvia says, her voice echoing and drowning in applause. I take a deep breath as I navigate towards the piano on the darkened stage, trying to clear my head. 'Just play the song, do your best,' I think to myself. It doesn't help. Not one bit. As much as I fight to bury the heartache and pain, it doesn't go away. Quickly my mind races back to the first weekend spent at Neverland with Michael. When he pushed me to use my emotions, my most painful memory, to sing the song. To make it human, to make it real. I sit on the bench, my fingers hovering above the keys. I start playing, my heart hammering rapidly in my chest as the light continues to grow, bathing me in it. Its so silent, aside from my singing and the music flowing from the piano, not another sound could be heard. Its just the music and me, as I pour my soul onto the stage for the entire world to see. I feel the first of many tears slide down my cheek as the words tumble from my mouth. If nothing else is going to get through to Michael, this will. In the months of silence I thought I had built strong walls around myself, but one hug from him is all that it took to send all of those carefully placed defenses tumbling to the ground. This song will show him, will tell him everything that I feel, everything that I need.

" Etch this into my brain for me,

Tell me, how its supposed to be,

Where everything will go,

And how I'll be without you by my side.

My hand searches for your hand

In a dark room

I cant find you

Help me

Are you looking for me?

My hand searches for your hand

In a dark room

I cant find you

Help me

Are you looking for me? "

I end the song, more aware of the tears that have been falling steadily down my face as I sing, jumping slightly when the audience erupts in applause. I wipe at my cheeks furiously as I turn, my eyes scanning the room finding Michael. I stare at him for a moment my heart screaming out to his before I stand, take my bow, and rush off stage into the waiting arms of my brother.

Michael's POV

I slip from my crowded dressing room, escaping the constant chatter of my brothers and family to find a few minutes of peace. These last few months have been hell, finishing the album, agonizing over what song should be performed for the Motown anniversary show, all of it done without Brooke. One of the hardest things I have ever been through. If I could just see her one more time, tell her everything that I need to tell her. How much I have missed her, how much I need her. I guess it will all have to wait though, Lord knows when we're on tour together we will have more than enough time to talk. Problem is, I want everything fixed before that. I want to go into this tour with her. I want to face everything with her. I turn when I hear the door of the dressing room open and smile at my date for the night, Tatiana.

" Thought I would find you out here," Tatiana says smiling as she straightens my jacket for me.

" Just needed a few minutes without the noise," I murmur trying not to meet her eyes.

" You know, if I was any other girl I would be pretty pissed off at you," she says and I chuckle in confusion.

" Why's that?" I ask leaning against the door looking up at her.

" Its more than apparent another woman is on your mind Michael," she says, and I wince.

" Is it that obvious?" I ask jamming my hands into my pocket.

" Only as obvious as the nose on my face," she jokes and I shrug my shoulders, " But it looks like you two think the same." I stare at her confused when she nods her head in the direction behind me. I turn and see Brooke, my heart soaring.

" Will you excuse me a minute," I murmur walking away before I can hear her response. Her back is turned to me and I take a deep breath before calling out to her.

" Brooke," I murmur almost breathless when she turns to me, her hazel widening in shock as she realizes who it is that just called her name, as I slip a hand into my pocket.

" Michael," she whisper's taking a slow step towards me, hesitating slightly. My heart breaks slightly when her eyes start swimming as I come closer stopping to stand in front of her, lifting my hand to cup her face in my palm.

" I've missed you," I whisper pulling her into me, my hands pressing against her skin.

" I've missed you too," she says, her voice slightly muffled since her face is buried in my chest.

" Brooke, oh sorry," someone says as they step from Brooke's dressing room.

" No it's okay, Margot this is Michael, Michael this Margot, my manager," Brooke introduces us and I take Margot's hand firmly in mine.

" I'm sorry to interrupt but Brooke we really must go, the red carpet is waiting for you," Margot says, Brooke nodding her head as she turns to look at me, her eyes shining as she smile apologetically at me.

" Sorry, I have to go. I really want to talk to you though, are you busy after the show?" she asks taking her handbag from Margot her eyes never leaving mine.

" I'll come find you," I say, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. I smile at her my heart sighing when I see that she blushes deeply.

" Okay, see you then," she murmurs as Margot leads her away. I sigh, patting my hand to my heart.

Red carpet events are all the same, and yet so different. The same old questions, just different people asking them. Its every once in a while that a question will be asked that sends me for a loop. I hold Tatiana's hand lightly in mine as we approach the end of the line and I turn towards the young woman who stands holding a small tape recorder.

" Michael, I just had the honor of meeting your ex," The woman says, and I smile at her confused.

" I'm sorry who did you just meet?" I ask leaning forward so that I can hear her.

" Brooke, Brooke Nichols," she says a wry smile on her face, " I must say with everything that has been said about the messy breakup between the two of you she had nothing but nice things to say about you, and your date."

" I'm sorry but you must be confused, there was never a messy break up between Brooke and me, it was a misunderstanding and poor actions on my part," I say, my voice heating as she nods and smiles.

" According to close sources Brooke left in quiet a huff from your property a few months ago. I guess none of the really seems to matter since you both have obviously moved on," she pushes and I shake my head. Tabloid journalists are as bad as they come. They will claim to have sources and use what little of the story they know to make it a huge ordeal for anyone involved.

" I don't know where you get your sources Miss, but I can assure you I haven't moved on, and I don't think Brooke has either," I say getting ready to turn and leave when she grabs my arm lightly.

" You may not have moved on Mr. Jackson, but I'd say Brooke has," she says pointing to our left. I look over and see Brooke walking, her fingers laced with another mans and my heart sinks.

I sit in my assigned seat watching the stage with blind eyes as Sylvia announces Brooke's performance. How could I have been so wrong? I messed things up beyond repair months ago. I should have learned from Brooke's persistent silence that it was too late. I was too late, but when I held her, felt her in my arms, her heart beating against mine I believed that everything could be okay again. I jolt slightly when the music starts playing, the light on the stage growing steadily brighter until all that can be seen is Brooke and her piano, all that could be heard is her voice and her music. I listen as the emotions pour out of her my throat thickening, making it hard to swallow when I see the tears start falling down her face, and I curse the fact that its me that she sings about. Its her plea to me, to show me, in her own way, that she needed me, and I failed her. I watch in amazement when the audience shoots to their feet and applaud her. I sit, frozen in the moment when her eyes find mine, her hands brushing the tears that stain her cheeks away before she bows gracefully and races from the stage.

Brooke's POV

Twenty five minutes later I smile at Javier when he sets aside his make up brush.

" There, good as new," he murmurs and I sigh looking into the mirror. Not a sign that I had been crying left behind, except for the small hint of red in my eyes.

" Thank you," I murmur smiling slightly when he squeezes my shoulder before leaving Caleb and me alone. I stare into my lap lifting my head slightly when Caleb comes to kneel in front of me.

" Are you all right?" he asks and I roll my eyes as I shrug my shoulders.

" I don't know," I whisper, " I feel like an idiot. Crying in front of all those people, I'm such a joke."

" Hey, Brooke, stop it," he says grabbing me as I get up from the chair turning me towards him, " Your not a joke. That performance was hard, and beautiful. All of those people out there stood to their feet, for you. You made them all feel something Brooke. So don't every call yourself a joke." I smile nodding my head.

" We better get back out there," I murmur, taking his hand in mine.

The butterflies dance a happy jig in my stomach as I watch Michael and his brother's hugging each other on the stage, Michael holding the microphone in a gloved hand. The applause is thunderous as Michael smiles widely.

" Aww, your beautiful," Michael says, his voice soft and full of thanks, " Thank you. Thank you. Ya those, those I have to say were the good ol' days. I love those songs, those were magic moments, with all my brothers, including Jermaine. But uh, those were good songs. I like those songs, but especially I like the new songs." The crowd erupts in fevered cheers as he places the microphone on the stand. I watch every move he makes, soaking it in as he turns and picks up his fedora snapping it on his head. His movements are hypnotic as he moves his pelvis and women in the room scream louder shooting to their feet to scream and clap. I knew Michael could dance, had witnessed it many times, but never like this. Michael was laying his soul and talent out for the entire world to see. And all I could do was sit and watch, mesmerized by him. Then it happens. He pushes himself backwards, his feet gliding across the stage in a move that I couldn't even begin to understand, that ends with a spin that leaves me dizzy. Everyone screams as I sit watching him sing Billie Jean, knowing that I had a small part in all of that. I watched as he scrutinized over every lyric, at times threatening to scrap the whole song. Michael Jackson just made history, and I watched it happen. I get to my feet when the song ends and clap, fighting the urge to cry, and to race backstage to be the first to congratulate him, instead I drop to my seat heavily, officially star struck for the first time in my life.