THANKS to NickiTine, who, without her knowing it, got me into this.

and to Michael Jackson. :)

The sparkling blue sea sang a most calming melody as the setting sun kissed the horizon. Orange, red, pink, purple… the sky was a majestic palette of colors as the last rays of the sun set light on the almost empty beach. Two figures walked barefooted on the sand, their hands intertwined like vines, basking in the beauty only a Hawaiian sunset has to offer.

"We should spend more time like this." The girl whispered, the breeze blowing her soft brown curls off her pale face. She reached her free hand out to the man's face to brush his curly, jet-black hair off of it, revealing warm brown eyes that seemed to stare deep into her soul.

"I know. I wish we could." He sighed. "But everything's just too messed up right now, what with the trials and everything…" his gentle voice broke, trying to fight back tears.

"Shh, Michael... let's forget about that for now, okay? We didn't rent this whole place to ourselves only crease our foreheads with worry about those crazy allegations, did we? We're here to take a break." she smiled. He stopped walking and turned to face her.

"Yes, we could forget about those for now. We should forget about that stuff. " he cradled her face in his hands, his long, pale fingers gently caressing her alabaster skin.

"I love you, Claire." he breathed, his lips finding hers. His lips were urgent and fierce, as if he needed her so much. Claire grabbed Michael's hair on his nape, where it started into a loose ponytail. They shared a passionate kiss, their shadows becoming one upon the sand, fitting perfectly into the portrait of the setting sun.

Tom Sneddon, a juror for the Jackson vs. Chandler case, smirked at Michael. He was, in Michael's view, the coldest man on earth. Today, the jury will either vindicate or vilify Michael against Gavin Chandler, the 13 year old kid who filed for child abuse and molestation.

"Michael, don't worry. You're innocent, we all know you are." Thomas Massereau assured an anxious Michael. He offered his lawyer a small smile. It was all he could do to keep Thomas from worrying about him more than he already is.

The judge called for order in the court. Everyone fell silent, waiting for the verdict. "Tom Sneddon, the verdict?" the judge prompted the juror. Tom stood up and cleared his throat.

Michael's heart pounded wildly against his ribs. He threw a small glance at Gavin Chandler, who was playing with a bottle of water as if he didn't give a care whatever happened to this trial.

Why, he thought, would Gavin ever do this to me? Gavin has been a good friend of his… so why this? Michael could not figure out why the child he so loved and treated as family would accuse him of doing such a horrible act.

"We find the defendant…" Tom started, but he was cut off.

"Wait!" Gavin interrupted as he stood up. Everyone looked at him with dropped jaws, surprise evident on their eyes. He looked Michael straight in the eye. "Sorry, Mike," he said to his friend, his voice on the edge of tears. "I shouldn't have done it."

His father pulled his arm, yanking him down to his seat. "Excuse my son, he's not himself when he's nervous," he lied. "He says and does nonsensical things."

"No I don't!" Gavin yelled. He pulled away from his father and ran to Michael's stand. Everyone gasped in shock as Gavin hugged Michael, tears streaming from his eyes.

"I lied. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He managed to whisper to Michael in between sobs.

"It's okay Gavin. Stop crying, please. Now, you have to tell them the truth, no more lies okay? There, there, stop crying kiddo." Michael said while patting Gavin's back.

"Great, that's what we need." Thomas said in a low voice. He stood up. "Your Honor, I believe the jury has to hear what the plaintiff has to say before the verdict." He said in a clear voice, victory ringing in every syllable.

"Objection, your Honor! The time for that has now ended! In any case, the father clearly said that Gavin tends to be nonsensical when he's nervous." the Chandlers' lawyer cried. Gavin's father glared furiously at Michael. You'll pay for this he mouthed. Michael broke eye contact and turned to Gavin.

"Your father… he's the one who told you to do this, isn't he?" he asked. Gavin nodded, burying his face into Michael's chest as another round of tears came.

"Order!" the judge called out as he pounded his gavel repeatedly. "Tom Sneddon, please take your seat for awhile."

Tom Sneddon opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut anyway. He threw Michael a menacing glare as he plopped back down on his seat.

"Mr. Gavin Chandler, please explain the sudden change of sides." the judge ordered.

"Your honor, we can't have that, it's-" the Chandlers' lawyer complained.

"We must have it." the judge butted in, shaking his head. "Now, Mr. Chandler, you realize that what you did has greatly messed up court proceedings? Would you mind telling us why you did what you did?" the judge asked, his voice resigned.

"Because I lied." Gavin admitted. "Michael never did anything bad to me. He's not a pedophile. He didn't abuse me. He never forced me to drink alcohol, nor did he put alcoholic beverages in soda cans. He never… masturbated in front of me, nor did he ever mention it. He didn't show me his pornographic magazines. He didn't sleep in the same bed as I. When I did sleep in his bed, he took the floor. He never held me and my family hostage in Neverland. He didn't do anything wrong…

"Michael has done nothing but good for me. When I came to him back in 1985, I was sick with cancer. I was bald, thin, and weak. My doctor said I was going to die in less than a year. My mom, she knows how much I love Michael, she took me to Neverland to meet him, my idol. Every week or so, we would visit and have a grand time. He hung out with me a lot, playing with me or telling me stories. He said I wasn't gonna die so young. He promised I wouldn't. Sure enough, a year passed and I'm still alive.

"In 1986, we moved to Neverland. By then, my hair was growing again, I grew taller and was generally healthier. My mother was suing dad for divorce because he's a git." Gavin said with contempt, glaring at his father. "But it didn't push through because mom doesn't work and she can't support me and my three siblings without dad. But we lived in Neverland without dad. He would visit occasionally, mostly to borrow money from Michael for his stupid films. See, dad likes making and producing films. One day, he came and asked for ten million like it didn't cost anything. Mike said sorry, but he couldn't at the time because he had his own stuff to produce.

"Dad was fuming mad, of course. That's when he told me to lie and testify against Mike. He threatened that if I didn't, he's gonna file for divorce and take me under custody. Of course, I didn't want that. That's why I'm here." he finished. His eyes dropped to his feet, afraid to see what his father's face might look like. The room was silent and still. All eyes were on the standing figure of Gavin, his head still down. He could feel the crowd's confused eyes on him, like they were pricking his back. He didn't know if they pitied him, or maybe they were disgusted. He didn't care anymore, as long as Michael could be spared from his and his father's wrongdoings.

"Well," the judge broke the silence. "that changes things completely, doesn't it?"

"I beg to disagree, your honor." Tom Sneddon said wickedly. He stood up once again and faced Michael.

"Mr. Sneddon, wouldn't you need time to discuss your decision with the jury?" the judge asked, almost ordered.

"No, your honor," he said. He walked slowly towards Michael. "The jury finds defendant guilty of all charges," he said in a booming voice. "and plaintiff shall receive Claire Denworth for all damages." He finished with a menacing laugh just like Vincent Price's on Thriller.

"Claire? No! You heard Gavin! He's telling the truth! Why Claire?" Michael yelled furiously. He looked around for Thomas, begging for help, but Thomas was nowhere to be seen. Instead he saw Mr. Chandler pulling his son back to their stand.

"Gavin was telling the truth, I didn't do anything wrong." he pleaded. Tom Sneddon strode towards him until Michael could see every little wrinkle the man had on his smirking face.

"We don't care if the child was telling the truth or not. We just want you to go down." Tom spit through his clenched teeth. Michael faintly heard the Judge calling for order, but the room was in havoc, everyone's shouting and crying and booming with laughter.

"Why Claire?" he asked in a small voice, his brown eyes seeking a little bit of heart from the wicked old man before him. "That's illegal." he added, his voice close to tears.

"Because," Tom answered, still smirking. "this world don't give people like you justice. You already have everything in the world, so we take away a little of your happiness and ruin your life."

At that moment, the doors flew open as two men pulled in a huge sack made of cloth. "Here it is," one of them said "safe and sound, Mr. Sneddon."

"Michael, why don't you open it for us?" he said with mocking innocence. Muffled moans escaped the sack, where a huge dollar sign was printed in black, above a smaller print that read DAMAGES. Michael, realizing what –or who- was in the sack, dashed to the sack and ripped it open.

"No! You can't… not… Claire… no!" Michael yelled pleadingly.

Claire tiptoed to the door of Michael's bedroom to see if he's still sleeping. She thought it was quite stupid that they still had to sleep in separate bedrooms when they've been informally together for, well, forever. Every other couple in America sleeps in the same bed, Mike. She argued. Well, Claire, we're not married. And, we're not like every other couple. He countered with a smile. Claire gave in, knowing that she didn't stand a chance against virtuous Michael and all his values. She laughed quietly to herself, finally reaching his door.

"No! You can't… not… Claire… no!" Michael yelled. She tensed, starting to panic.

"Michael? Michael, open up!" she called. She twisted the knob and found out the door wasn't locked. She barged in on Michael, who was still in bed, staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily.

"What's wrong, Mike?" she asked, sitting at the edge of his bed. He turned his head towards her and answered. "Nightmare." He said with a smile.

"Poor kid," she said. "smiling after a nightmare. Have you lost your mind, Michael?" she said, laughing.

"I don't think so, no. It was pretty frightening, but I'm not gonna freak out with you here." he answered , shuddering a bit as the image of Tom Sneddon passed through his head.

"Bet you wouldn't have had one if I was beside you." she teased. She ran her fingers through his hair playfully. He caught her hand and held it to his chest, covered by the red silk of his pajama top. "Promise me something, Claire." he said, his eyes closed.

She bit her lip. God, he is so bloody perfect. That long curly hair, those warm brown eyes, those amazingly full lips, that sweet smile, that soft and gentle voice, that vitiligo'ed skin... I wouldn't have anything, or anyone, else in the world for him.

Claire marveled at how physically far this Michael lying beside her was from the young Michael she first met. But she couldn't deny the fact that this 27 year old Michael still carried the loving heart of the adorable child from the Jackson 5ive, something that most grown-ups leave as they step out of their little childhood playpens and into the everyday complications of the real world. This Michael, in red silk pajamas, would always be a child because he never really had a childhood. Claire first met him when he was 7 and she was 5, he in his costume for a performance and she in her trick-or-treating Cinderella ensemble. "Look honey, the Jackson 5ive." her father, action star George Denworth, pointed to the five lads, who were going to perform on Ed Sullivan's that Halloween. As her father left her with them to talk with Ed Sullivan, the five introduced themselves. Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon, and Michael were all dressed in matching flowery suits. She started introducing herself but Tito interrupted her. "We already know who you are; you're George's daughter, Claire, right?" he said, "I love your father's films!" he added. She sat timidly with them as they talked about his father's action flicks, growing impatient. She wanted to go trick-or-treating already, but her father's new project with Ed Sullivan stood in the way. "Hey Cinderella, wanna go play?" Michael asked her while his brothers argued over the best action flick of all time. The two of them had a grand time pretending they were pirates, then witches, then pizza delivery men. Half an hour before the show, Michael and Claire sat, tired little children, talking about Halloween. She found out he's never been trick-or-treating before because of his career. Her little mouth popped into an "O" in surprise. She found out he's always had to work, even on school nights when she was being tucked into bed and getting a bedtime story, even on the sunniest days of summer when she would be playing under the sun, even on his birthday, which he didn't celebrate because his religion didn't allow it. Hearing those, young Claire took it upon herself to make her new friend live as kids should: fun, careless, and always having a grand time. She told him he has to go with her that night, after his performance. He agreed excitedly, and sure enough, they both had a grand time fooling people that Michael was dressed as Michael Jackson from the J5 and they had a sweet night, stuffing themselves full of all the chocolates and candies they collected. From then on, they've been best of friends. Ebony and Ivory, George liked to call them when they were young.

"Claire? Are you even listening?" Michael asked, snapping Claire out of her reverie. "Uhh, not exactly. Sorry." she said, blushing.

He laughed that sweet laugh of his, still holding Claire's hand to his chest. "You have the most beautiful soul on this world, Claire." he said, closing his eyes again. Claire curiously tilted her head to one side. "Promise me, Claire, that you'll never leave me." he said sweetly, but Claire could hear a tinge of uncertainty.

"I, Claire Harriett Denworth, promise never to leave you, Michael Joseph Jackson, whatever circumstances may face us, ever." Claire promised. Michael opened his eyes and flashed her a blinding smile that knocked her out of her senses. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it while his other hand closed around her other hand. "Gotcha," he said with bright eyes. He tickled her waist while she laughed and struggled to free her hands from his grip.

"Cheater!" she accused jokingly as she finally managed to wriggle one hand free and attacked Michael's foot, making him laugh uncontrollably. Moments later, they both collapsed on the bed, still shaking with laughter from the tickle war that ensued.

"All that tickling made me hungry." Claire said, chuckling. At that, Michael hopped off his bed and carried Claire to the pristine white kitchen. "What do you wanna eat, my princess?" he asked as he settled her on a leather stool by the counter.

"Since this is Hawaii… how about a pineapple upside down cake?" she challenged. He scratched his head and walked to the telephone, getting ready to call for delivery. "You sure you don't want something we can cook?" he asked, almost begging her to change her mind. He really wanted to make something special for her, but he can't bake.

"Lemme think." she said playfully, putting her elbow up on the counter and resting her chin on her hand. "How about banana and choco chip pancakes?" she said, poking the bananas on the fruit bowl in front of her. Michael perked up, "Sure. We'll have the upside down cake some other day, I promise." He said as he poked around the shelves to find what he needs.

He sang as he worked in the kitchen. Claire happily followed him around, licking bowls and spoons whenever he allowed. They finished eating and decided to go swimming.

Michael laughed and smiled genuinely again for the first time since he was accused for molestation and abuse. Claire sighed happily as she watched Michael build a sandcastle, bringing out the lovable child that he is. Michael felt light and happy, an ocean away from all his problems. As a wave took his sandcastle down, he laughed and went to sit beside Claire.

"Thank you, Claire," he said, resting his head on her lap. "for bringing me here. We've only been here for four days and it already feel like we've lived here our whole lives. This place is just perfect, mainly because you're here."

"I didn't bring you here, you're the one who planned all this." She said, confused.

"Yes, but it was your idea. Remember the day the letter came from the Santa Barbara County?" he said, going back to the day it all started.

Michael was in his private recording studio In Neverland, doing the demo version of a new song he wrote. He'd just gotten home from lunch with Quincy Jones, who was working with him for his new album. "We gotta show 'em you're bad, Michael." Quincy told him, laughing at his own pun. The two of them decided Michael should reinvent his image, going from pop's good boy to butt-kicking bad. Quincy said the reinvention would be good for sales since it will boost the audience's interest, but Michael had other reasons he kept to himself. Lately, he has been the target of outrageous rumors from the press. He remembers reading a newspaper article headlined as "WACKO JACKO SLEEPS IN OXYGEN CHAMBER", and a guy from an art museum he visited asking why he wanted to buy the elephant man's bones. He doesn't know where these lies came from, but he does know they have to stop. I'll show them who's bad, he thought. He sang his fury out until he felt good again.

Leave me alone

Stop it

Just stop doggin' me around

He was just finishing up when he heard some knocking –no, sharp, terrified rapping- on his door. He opened up to see a flushed and panting Sam, his personal bodyguard, handing over a white envelope. "Why didn't you just leave it in my office, Sam?" he asked. Sam didn't speak, but motioned for him to turn the envelope over. SANTA BARBARA COUNTY was printed on it. This is trouble… he thought. He opened the letter with fumbling fingers and words jumped out at him… molestation, child abuse, Gavin Chandler, words that didn't make sense. He had to read it again to figure out what it was saying. The paper fluttered from is frozen hands, his face turning pale. "Sir, you okay?" Sam inquired, worry evident in his tone. Michael shook his head and crumbled to the floor, feeling the world crashing around him. Bam! Down goes his career. Crash! Down goes his life. Down, down, down…

Two days later, Michael was still in Neverland when he was supposed to be in Tokyo, Japan for an awards show. Kai, his chef, tries to get him to eat something more than water and bread, but he wouldn't. Sam's been urging him to go to Tokyo for the show but he didn't. Quincy even dropped by the day after the letter to rage about the rumors that Michael's involved in some stupid court case. "It's not a rumor." He said lifelessly, thrusting the letter into Quincy's hands. "But it's not true. I'd never do that." he added miserably. Quincy encouraged him to continue working on the album. "Show them what you got, m'boy! Don't let this stupid child's lies ruin your life." Quincy bellowed. "But Q, I can't. And if I did finish the album, who'd support it?" he said, his vacant eyes idly staring into space. Quincy left in dismay; he didn't think Michael would give up this easily. That night, the evening news was full of the speculations: "MJ a pedophile?", "Jacko's weak spot for young boy", "Wacko: abuser". Michael sat in front of the television, drinking all the crap in. He didn't even notice Janet, his sister, come in until she turned off the telly. "Why are you watching that?" she asked, hugging him. "Janet? Shouldn't you be in DC for your concert?" he asked in return. She explained that when she heard about the… news, she decided to call their mother, Katherine, to ask if she's going to Neverland for Michael. Katherine very much wanted to, but she was sick with fever, so Janet decided to cancel one night's concert to check on Michael. "Mother sends you her love." she said. In his sister's embrace, he finally broke down and cried his heart out. He cried until no msore tears would come out, and the sun was creeping out of the horizon. Janet wanted to cancel the rest of her concerts but Michael wouldn't let her. He urged her to go back and do her concerts, reassuring her that he'll be fine. She left, promising to be back as soon as she can.

That same day, Claire came to Neverland. "Hold on, ebony." she said, holding his hands tight in hers. They were seated facing each other, a round breakfast table between them, where a slice of cake sat untouched. She's been trying to make him eat like Kai did, but he still wouldn't. "C'mon Mike, I know you're better than that. You're not one to let your life go to waste just like that, I know it." she said, gripping his hands tighter. He looked up at her and smiled a bit, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't know what's happening. I keep hoping that this is just a nightmare and I'll close my eyes, thinking I'd wake up soon enough. But it isn't. When I open my eyes… I'm still in this nightmare." he said, a sad smile playing on his lips. "But this is a nightmare. None of this is real… well, true anyway. I think you need a breather, go away from this mess for awhile and clear that head of yours. When you get back, you'll be ready to face everything with your head high." she said, making him consider her idea. "You know what? I think you're right." He answered, his eyes shining with a little glimmer of hope.

"Yeah, I remember. This is my idea after all, huh?" Claire said, watching the waves break on the sand.

"Yep, so thanks." Michael replied, watching Claire, lost in her thoughts. "What are you thinking about, Claire?" he asked, marveling at how beautiful her blue grey eyes were.

"Nothing," she answered, turning her face to his. "Let's go inside, the sun's climbing too high up, it's bad for you." she said, getting up and pulling Michael out of the sun to protect him and his way too sensitive skin.